My Grandpa worked on a ferry on the Ohio River as a teen. They i.d,'ed the steam tugs by the raunchy little ditties they played on their calliopes, one's for coming up river, other's for going down. Music was way ahead of radio and radar. As foggy as the road's in the river bottoms are, you couldn't have paid me any sum of money to work on a boat on that river.
I walked into that river getting set up to go after blue catfish early one morning as a teen. I could hear the waves lapping at the bank, but damned if I could spot that half mile plus wide river in the fog and pitch dark?