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Bill Wilson, whose company carries about 300,000 passengers a year on its Natchez steamboat in New Orleans, said his captains have a good relationship with river pilots and work together to stay safe, especially when the water is high. "We pretty much stay out their way. They're the big guys," said Wilson, vice president and general manager of the New Orleans Steamboat Co. Many ships entering the river are bound for the Port of South Louisiana, which lines both sides of the Mississippi north of New Orleans. It's the nation's largest port in terms of tonnage, and it handles more than half of American grain exports. Barges travel from farm country down the Missouri, Ohio and Mississippi rivers. When they get to the port, the crops are put aboard massive grain carriers for shipment overseas. Or the grain is put into tall elevators to await later shipment. The port handles about 60,000 barges a year, along with 4,500 to 5,000 deep-draft vessels. That kind of commercial traffic means closing the river is costly. Huge ships waiting to take on cargo can run up expenses of $40,000 a day. Port officials say the total cost of a single day's closing can top $300 million. When the water began to climb, the shipping industry was one of the biggest proponents of opening spillways to divert excess water from the Mississippi. The Army Corps of Engineers first opened the Bonnet Carre spillway north of New Orleans, then the Morganza spillway north of Baton Rouge. Those actions helped keep ports open and eased pressure on the levees protecting Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Ports downstream are still open until the surge of water arrives. But in Vidalia, about 140 miles upriver from New Orleans, a lot of business has come to a halt. The river crested in that area Friday at nearly 14 feet above flood stage, a level that was lower than first predicted but about three feet higher than the 1937 record. Forecasters said it could be days before the water begins to recede. Carla Jenkins, whose family has been in the towing business for generations, said her boats stopped accepting work orders Tuesday. And at a spot where barges are usually tied up, brown river water sweeps over three buoys in the river. The barges are gone. "I told everyone to come and get them," she said. "I couldn't guarantee they would be safe now. I've never seen anything like this and never hope to again." Her offices, built between the river and the levee and standing atop 10-foot pilings, now have several feet of water in them. The river has torn off the steps and swept away the wheelchair ramp. Acres of land where she stores limestone gravel are now beneath as much as 30 feet of water. She estimates she's losing $70,000 to $80,000 a week in towing alone
-- in addition to losses from the gravel business. For a small operator like Batson, the flood could be financially devastating, but he insists he won't venture onto the Mississippi until it quiets down. "You couldn't whip me and make me go out there now," he said.
[Associated
Press;
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