Day 5: Stayin' Alive

We (Piers, Bennett, and Clement) awoke at the Dubuque Yacht Basin to fishermen launching their boats around us. They were not friendly and did not reciprocate when, shirtless, we poked our heads out of our hammocks and waved. This is probably because we were parked at the launch of what turned out to be a very unfriendly yacht club. After waking up, I, Clement, had to poop really badly and so Bennett and I walked around to the yacht club buildings. We saw man unlocking the gate to a bathroom and ran up. 

"Where do you guys think you're going?" said the man. 

"We were just wondering if we could use the bathroom quickly."

"Where are you from?"

"Milwaukee originally, but-"

"That says it all. Why don't you guys get out of here. You can't just walk in, this is private property, it says right there."

And so it was that I was the first to poop in the bucket, beneath a privacy tarp tastefully draped over me.

After that, we had the maiden voyage of Cat-Sass, up river to the much friendlier Dubuque Municipal Marina, recommended by River Dog (advisor in planning our trip who has made the same trip a couple times before) himself. The journey was successful except for the loud beeps of the incorrectly wired low-oil alarm. We docked without issue, and started rearranging our boat tarp. A very friendly mechanic fixed our beeping for free! Soon after the rush of knowing we could boat without beeping, heavy wind and rain kicked up, and we spent the next few hours setting up tarp walls for our Bimini. 

The wind did not help, and neither did our drill battery, which kept dying. Finally we got the walls set up right as the rain stopped, and cleaned up the boat until Nick arrived at the hated Yacht Basin (we forgot to tell him we had left it).

Earlier that day, Nick ventured thru the city of Madison with an anchor in his pack. He took the 4:30 bus to Dubuque to meet up with the rest of the crew and met Delores the bus driver. Over the course of the four hour ride Nick and Delores, the only two people on the bus, talked about family, religion, giants, jewel weed and strange visitations, including the time a seven year old Delores watched a divine sunbeam arc through the window of her schoolhouse and warm her body. The two became fast friends (Nick likes to think). Thanks Delores! for all of your kind advice and happy company. Nick will not soon forget it. Nick got dropped off at the marina and had a tearful reunion with the rest of the crew as they picked him up from the dock and whooped and hollered accordingly. The gang was back together at last.

We drove back to the Dubuque Municipal, and shared a bottle of champagne to christen our beautiful boat. We cooked beef ravioli on our stove, and ate it for dinner with a side of bagel. We pitched tents on the deck, and set up our sleeping bags listening to the not-so-faint sounds of a country music show on shore. The friendly former dairy farmer Dan walked up and asked if we had any women to keep us warm in the tents. When we replied no, he sighed and said, "I guess that's how they do it in Europe."