landing in a village.

as the store boat turns around in the river and sets up for a landing. it was easy to hear from up and down the bank.
store BOAT!!
taking the braided eye of a 1.5 inch manila rope, from the center of a rope rug neatly coiled on the bow deck.  i'd jump onto the beach. run the line out toward a possible anchor. sometimes hard to find,
occasionally village boats had to be moved. maybe an extra length of line needed to reach a fish wheel raft, a stake, or old boat.
heavy loads prefer a deadman.  as it's called in the trade, a cable and log buried in the bank.
tie shackle. take in slack on the 2 foot galvanized bow cleat tie her up....signal wheelhouse.
watch it tighten up. doesn't slip? or move?  we're good to go... except for a light stern line on a breezy day.

by the time the barge is secure, people have gathered on the bank. occasionally running to help and show good spots to tie up, but mostly watching with interest and maybe a bit of curiosity about this different plywood tug and barge with a store and family..  was one of two covered barges at the time.

dad shuts down the motor, comes forward and slides out the gangplank.  step onto the beach and starts shaking hands..but not immediately with all the men standing there.  he'd  go to each kid down to see the excitement, and shake their hand first.  then turn and greet others.  mom would come out to the bow by this time.
dad and i would reset the plank, barges move ever so slightly after engine shut down.  stepping once into the shore water we'd hold mom's hand on each side and off comes mom to make her own beach greetings, asking which of her buddies were in town.  she never did like gangplanks. in bad spots i would bring her ashore with our little sounding boat.  and she'd be off, sometimes saying, soups on the stove just have to heat it up. i'll be back in a moment.

by and large the store was ready to open before landing.  with everyone back on board, it was time to open up.  dad's best buddies might come aboard and go back to the ramona galley, engine room, or wheel house. not an area where most people could freely walk around. but the closer the friendship the more relaxed people felt about going through the store , and back to the tug. was still a boat, and respected as our home by all.

people in and out of the barge for the rest of the day.  their eyes widen when it rocks ever so gently after a boat passes.
many liked to come aboard the tug into our home in the evening,
but on occasion we'd be invited "up the bank" to someone's home for dinner.
it's there in a normal house where i could still feel the rock of the ramona.
it's gentle sway lives with me long after weeks of being on the water.

then it's but just a few days before it's time to move on.
as a teen i wanted to stay longer, especially if there was "action" going on.  4th of july, nuchalawoiya, a wedding, or boat races. but dad would always gently but firmly say...no..we have to go, the ice is gonna run!

it could be +90 on the water and it was always the same,let's go... ice is gonna run.

dad warms the engine, a quiet rumble while i wait to cast off from the front deck.
with the stern line gone he turns the wheel in, engages the engine. when the bow line goes slack, someone there to see us off would untie.  once the line was pulled in..dragging end in water to clean.  signal wheel house.
turn around in the river, and we're off...Open her up....afterall, the ice is gonna run...24 hrs a day movement.
not long before we hear again,

STORE BOAT! ccommiing.