Time: 1:50 p.m.
Location: 41° 46' 12" North; 88° 9' 30" West
Conditions: 77 degrees, skies clear but threatening, no wind
Crew: Self, Master; Henry, Ship's Boy
In the afternoon, decided to take the boat out for a short voyage of exploration and discovery on the DuPage river. Portaged PV Merganser ("Ruddy Duck")* to point of embarkation (DuPage River, near Centennial Park).
Found a suitable launching site not far from the parking lot. Got the boat in the water and loaded her with supplies (captain's seat, paddles, water) and Ship's Boy boarded. Captain climbed aboard (no ceremonial piping nor Marines), and we pushed off.
This section of the river is wide, calm, and deep. The Ship's Boy was shown the rudiments of paddling (how to grip a canoe paddle, how to row a stroke) and, after showing proficiency, was rated Able Seaman.
I set a course for the Naperville River Walk, a stretch of the DuPage with sidewalks and parklands on both side. We have often walked there, and thought about being out on the boat there.
Thus, we paddled downstream (east southeast, a half east) where the lookout reported troubled water ahead: we were heading straight for a waterfall. Veered off to starboard to assess the situation. Remembered that this was a voyage of discovery, after all, and so circled back to survey the waterfall area. Turned beam-on to the rapids, and felt the accelerating pace of the current pulling us towards the precipice; not unlike a lee shore.
Through valiant rowing, we pulled clear of the current and back into the pool. By this point, there were several local residents observing our progress from a bridge suspended above the beginning of the rapids.
Upgraded Able Seaman to Master's Mate, and thereby discussed with him the best course for action. It was determined that the sea is no place for cowards, so we decided to brave the rapids. I steered the boat towards the rushing water, looking for the deepest, smoothest passage through the falls.
The water grew much faster as we approached the edge, and we were pulled into the current and over the falls. Halfway through we hit a rock, temporarily grounding and pulling the stern of the vessel around so that we were broadside to the oncoming current. I ordered the Master's Mate to avast rowing, stow his oar and clap on to the gunwales. I effectively club-hauled us off of the rock, allowing the stern to pay around with the current and pull us off the rock. After one more bump we were clear, and by dropping a sea anchor (my paddle, thrust perpendicular to the current), I brought about the head and we were able to pay off downstream.
It was a most exciting few moments.
After we got back underway (much to the delight of the onlookers), we took stock of the ship and the crew and found all was well: The Ruddy Duck had weathered the current well. But we were far from clear.
We continued downstream, approaching the River Walk proper and familiar surroundings. However, between us and our goal was another set of rapids, and this one looked shallower. After nearly grounding in the previous falls, I chose to bring the vessel about and go back upstream, choosing to scout that water before sailing there.
We proceeded upstream at a very slow pace; with both myself and my mate paddling, we made progress, but against the current it was slow going. I thought it might be easier to get over the shallow draft if we lightened the ballast, so I headed for a nice cove and put the Mate ashore, instructing him to forage ahead, cross the bridge over the rapids, and meet me on the bank in the calm water.
I found the way easier in the shallows, where the current was not so strong. Still, it was slow going, and with all of the assembled natives on the bridge watching my every move, I made the decision to land the craft and continue upstream by wading and pulling the boat through the rapid shallows.
I was barefoot, and the water was cold, but not unreasonably so. I was very pleased to find the footing solid and smooth; it took little time to get up under the bridge and (despite offers of assistance from above), I proceeded in a very seamanlike manner to the pool, where I re-boarded and proceeded to the rendezvous, where I picked up the Master's Mate.
After showing such bravery through this adventure, I rated him Midshipman.
We decided to continue the exploration upstream, but as we paddled away, one of the old salts on the bridge (no doubt a former captain himself, perhaps now an admiral) called out that "there's weather brewin'!". And, sure enough, a glance to the west showed dark clouds lowering.
We set a course for the cove from where we had departed and, as soon as the Midshipman disembarked, the heavens opened and rain pelted down.
I was able to get the Ruddy Duck out of the water and to the car, where we sat for 10 minutes, waiting for the driving rain to slacken. When it did, I loaded the boat back onto the car and portaged home.
* A note about the name:
While I have chosen "Ruddy Duck" for the actual name of the boat, I felt it needed a little bit more for a proper formal title. So I went back to naval history (specifically the Royal Navy), and found that ships generally had an abbreviated description of the service to which the ship belonged, then a description of the vessel type, and then the name itself.
For example, HMS Frigate Boadicea would belong to His Majesty's Service (i.e., in the Royal Navy), would be a frigate-class ship (38 guns), and be called the Boadicea.
Privateers, which were ships licensed by the King to attack enemy vessels but were not part of the navy proper, were signified "HMHV": His Majesty's Hired Vessel.
I have taken that to the next (logical) step to come up with "PV": Private Vessel.
As for the class my boat belongs in, I don't know that there is one: It's no doubt a pirogue (flat-bottomed, double-ended canoe), but it will eventually sport a single-mast square sail and, perhaps, a transom. I doubt any such vessel has ever existed in the history of boat building. So I determined it is a new class, the Merganser class. This is in tribute to Fred, in gratitude for all of his invaluable help on this project. (Fred had proffered the name "Merganser" or "Smew" for the boat, when I was casting about for names.)
A Merganser is a fish-eating seaduck, although almost all mergansers live in and on rivers rather than the sea. While a Ruddy Duck is not technically in the merganser family, I thought it was close enough.
So, the offical name of The Boat is PV Merganser "Ruddy Duck".
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