GREAT OUTDOORS: Memphis memories included snow and a glimpse of Graceland

For two years following high school, I worked for Westinghouse Environmental Systems, later called Environmental Impact Associates (EIA) in Pittsburgh. The company performed environmental consulting work for the power industry. The untimely death of Lisa Marie Presley last week rekindled some memories of the times I spent working on the Mississippi River in Memphis. They included two near-crashes of the van and boat trailer rig that I was driving, almost sinking the boat, sampling during a lightning storm, skinning a beaver in my motel room and other recollections. EIA was contracted to evaluate the potential environmental impacts of a proposed coal gasification plant on Lake McKellar adjacent to the Mississippi River near Memphis. For 14 straight weeks during two consecutive springs, our field crew flew from Pittsburgh to Memphis on Delta Airlines to net larval fish samples, electrofish and net adult fish. We surveyed the bottom life and collected water quality data. Before we could sample from our 16-foot aluminum Valco work boat, which is now owned by Stone Laboratory at Put-in-Bay, I had to drive it there on its trailer. The project was almost doomed twice before I even got there, which may have been omens of what was yet to come. On I-70 in southeastern Ohio, I had a rear tire blow out. For a few seconds, the front tires lifted off the road, preventing me from steering. As the van slowed, I was able to muscle it to the inside shoulder lane. It was 1978, way before cell phones. I displayed a makeshift cardboard sign to each passing trucker that said, "Call for help" and waited hours for an Ohio State Highway Patrolman to arrive. After an emergency roadside serviceman changed the tire, I continued to Memphis, where a minor spring snowstorm had vehicles moving at 10 mph over the inch of snow covering the busy avenues. Assuming that these Southern drivers were being overly cautious due to their lack of practice with freezing precipitation, I began passing cars while driving the heavily loaded van and trailered boat. As I gained speed to about 20 mph, I hit a stretch of road with a glaze of ice under the snow just before an intersection and spun the whole kit & caboodle 180 degrees. It was a miracle that I did not hit any crossing vehicles before coasting to a stop against the curb on the other side of the intersection, facing in the opposite direction. For the remainder of the drive, I followed the local customs and drove less than 10 mph to the marina on the unsalted roads, where I unhitched the boat before heading to a motel. Nearby, I passed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard, where several months after his death there was still a line of people waiting to enter the grounds of the estate. The following day, a co-worker prevented an imminent boat-sinking when our Ponar dredge sediment sampler got stuck in the gravel bottom of the 60-foot-deep Mississippi River and the 7-feet-per-second river current began bending the 3-inch galvanized steel winch boom downward. Once it reached the stern of the boat, the vessel began to descend into the river. Quickly brandishing cable-cutters, he severed the 1/8-inch stainless steel cable, donating the heavy dredge to the river, which allowed the unencumbered boat to spring back up. That evening, after returning from a well-earned steak dinner, I heard a faint knock on my room door. There, a nice lady in the hallway asked me, "Do you want a date?" I told her that it was too late to go anywhere that night, but I was hoping to see Graceland sometime. I didn't realize that she was a hooker, but my co-worker who poked his head out of his room next door did. He answered that I was not interested. I never did get around to taking the Graceland tour. Part Two: Catching new fish species, skinning my first beaver (in my motel room) and being forced into playing chicken with lightning.