Bill elected to pour both of his 5-gallon cans into the tank and go for bust. He passed under a few bridges and was amazed at the engineering involved to construct them as 40 plus years of weather and heavy vibrations try and bring them down. He observed the Army Corp of Engineers and their massive sand-sucking dredges try and keep a 9′ channel. He watched 50MPH Bass boats fly by and family loaded pontoon boats trickle along so as to let all those who observed that they were all color coordinated. He saw wildlife and big power plants on the shoreline and, most importantly, watched that gas gauge drop. As 6PM rolled around and he was on the Wisconsin side, a gas station sign poked above the railroad track levy. He headed towards shore. The bank was at a 45° angle and 12′ over the water. Throwing the 2 empty cans ahead of him, Bill crested at the tracks. The gas station laid 300′ away on the other side of the highway but a moat of water blocked his path. A driveway 500′ south crossed the water trap, and the highway shoulder provided a path to the station. Ten more gallons had he. Here is where Bill faced his declining years. With 70lbs. of fuel dangling from his 2 arms and a 12′ cliff to climb down, his failing body complained loudly; but Bill was on a mission. He was back in the boat with fresh petrol. Traveling through a section of the Mississippi River with lots of campers and cottages, 2 different Indian Tribes had met their demise trying to get away from the white man. The town is called Victory. The sun set as Bill used starlight to stay in the river channel. It was surreal as the weather was perfect and progress was being made. Up ahead, lay the 4th lock but restricts recreational traffic to daylight hours only. With barely any fuel and 11PM on the clock, Bill was forced to put his boat behind the concrete lock wing wall. Settling in for the night, Bill was going to learn about what goes on behind the scenes nightly on that river. 

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