My Large Family and Our Houseboat Vacations

On Fourth of July memories and being a River Rat

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In case you haven’t read my About page, I grew up in a large family - 11 siblings plus Mom and Dad.  With a large family we couldn’t take long car rides across the country to visit the national parks or travel up North to a cabin by a lake. Until I met my friends in elementary school, I never knew that people traveled during their summer vacations. My friends would talk about how their families drove or took a plane to places like Yellowstone, Knotts Berry Farm, the Florida Keys or the Wisconsin Dells. 

When I was a year old, my dad bought a blue-and-white, forty-eight foot houseboat, a River Queen. He named it Queen Margy, after my mom. 

So I became a River Rat. I grew up learning about the Mighty, Muddy Mississippi as we took trips up and down this renowned river that splits the eastern and western states of the US. For my family, this was our version of vacation. For my dad, it was his childhood dreams coming true - of having adventures on the Mississippi River like Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn.

Our Queen Margy houseboat on the Mississippi River.

During the humid weekends of June, July and August, we could usually count on an excursion from St. Paul where we lived to the smaller towns in southern Minnesota or western Wisconsin. There were also shorter day trips to some of the beaches along the river. 

A vacation for us was a long weekend that started on a Friday afternoon. This took a lot of planning and preparation. All your clothes and belongings for 3-4 days had to fit into an Applebaum's grocery bag or one of those flowered plastic totes. We'd pile into the station wagon and take the scenic drive along historic Summit Avenue. Many of the buildings were churches or mansions.

Do single families really live in these big houses? 

Sometimes we’d point out the ones with turrets that looked like witches’ caps and wonder if they were haunted. And of course, we drove by F. Scott Fitzgerald’s house many times before I knew who it belonged to.

Moving toward Ramsey Hill, we’d close our eyes so we could be surprised when the road dipped sharply as we drove down the “big hill.”  Many houses lined the hill and I’d wonder how people could live on a steep hill like that without sliding down to the bottom. 

Onward, we’d drive through downtown St. Paul to the Mississippi River where our boat was docked. There was a long set of wooden steps down to the harbor and we made several trips up and down those stairs with our “gear” and supplies.

My dad would fit everyone under 12 with a life jacket—bright orange rectangular pillow-like things that hung from your neck, strapped around your waist, clipped in the front and severely limited your movement. Then he would lift each kid by the collar to check that the life jacket was properly secured.

We usually went to Colville Park in Red Wing for the Fourth of July.  From the Twin Cities to Red Wing is an easy 90-minute drive.  By boat, it might take a couple of days. 

On the boat at slower speeds, if you peered out over the back railing of the boat, the engines would stir up the waves so they looked like foamy root beer. Sometimes Dad would go fast and then the propellers would shoot out two streams of water that crossed and looked like a wishbone from our Thanksgiving turkey. 

The first night we would often park at Sandpile Island which was a favorite of my Mom and Dad's yacht club members.  The island, I believe, was created by the dredging of sand to clear the channel.  I remember earlier days when it was flatter, but as I got older, the mountains of sand rose up from the shore almost as high as the boat itself, and we had to dig our feet in to go up the sandy bank.  Our feet would burn from the scorching sand until we were able to run pell-mell down the bank to cool them off in the river.  We'd collect shells and rocks.  There were also paths through the woods, and I quickly learned about and was able to identify poison ivy after I got those itchy red bumps on my skin.

Being a River Rat meant you also knew how to steady yourself as you walked on deck and later had to adjust back to walking on land when you still felt the ghostly rhythm of the residual waves in your body. You knew the difference between port (red) and starboard (green) for lights and buoys along the river channel. You knew what a wing dam was and why you should avoid them. (They’ll wreck your boat!)

My mom made food for all of us in the small galley kitchen. Somehow we found places for everyone to sleep at night.  There was a set of bunk beds in the back, a sleeper sofa in the wheelhouse that my mom and dad pulled out and slept on, and the kitchen table also folded into a bed that might hold 2 or 3 small-sized bodies.  There was also the top deck where we would lay in the sun, and at night we could sleep under the stars if it wasn't cold or rainy.  My older siblings slept in the hatch which was the compartment under the wheelhouse.  There was always something soothing about the waves lapping on the shore or slapping on the sides of the boat while we slept in the hatch or on the bunk beds.

To get to Red Wing we had to go through 2 locks.  (Lock & Dam 3 in Hastings and Lock & Dam 4 in Red Wing). The Lock & Dam system is like a series of stair steps on the river to help boats and barges travel the river channel. If there was a barge in front of us, they had priority and it usually took a long time.  If there was no wait, we'd enter the lock, lower the fenders on one side, and hang onto the wall with ropes that the lock masters threw down to us.  Going down, the rope got shorter and tighter in your hands, and the walls would rise up around you so you felt like you were in a huge bathtub. You’d wait for the lock doors to open and when they blew the LOUD horn, (plug your ears!) you could let go of the ropes and toss them up on top of the wall or leave them to dangle.

When we got to Colville Park, many boats were tied up at the docks or along the shore.  In the park you could play on the swings and slides, go to the concession stand for everything from ice cream to corn dogs to cotton candy. There was also a pool—pay once in the morning and you could have in-and-out privileges the whole day.  

On the evening of the Fourth we'd watch the fireworks from the top deck as they were shot from across the river.  It always amazed me how colorful and spectacular they were. 

Because I was the youngest, I took a few longer trips with my mom and dad. I was 13 when we took a two-week trip down river as far as Dubuque, Iowa. At that point I had only been to 2 states in the U.S. - Minnesota and Wisconsin. This time I added Iowa and Illinois to my travels.

My dad sold the boat in the mid-90s because it got to be too much work and as he used to say, “A boat is a hole in the water in which you pour money!”

Since then I’ve taken a lot more vacations to other places - other U.S. states (25 now), Canada, Mexico as well as overseas trips to France, Guatemala, Trinidad and China. But I will always consider myself a “River Rat.” Whenever I’m near the Mississippi, especially close to one of the spots that we stopped or passed by on our boat, I remember my mom and dad, the fond family memories, and I feel like I’ve come home.

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