Mark Richardson
Active Member
Houston to Dallas – By Trinity River in an Amphicar!
Tuesday, September 20, 1966
Cleveland Grammer, Houston Post
Would you believe driving 507 miles up the Trinity River by car – in the river?
George Butler of Garden Motors in Houston (Dickinson) Texas did it in 1966 to prove the practical use of the little vehicle to sportsmen, as an emergency vehicle, or people who live in the boondocks. The stunt was done to improve his sales pitch and to show what the car can do – the hard way.
Butler thought he could do 40-50 miles a day going upstream with the car, which has a 43 HP engine. While the maximum speed on land is 75 MPH, that is cut to 10 MPH on the water but going up stream against the current would be more like 7 MPH.
Butler drove into Galveston Bay at 9:00 AM on Tuesday, September 20 at the public boat ramp at White Heron Park to head for the mouth of the Trinity River. He figured that they could reach Liberty by Tuesday evening and Livingston by Wednesday night. When asked, he said “beyond that, we’ll know when we get there”. The article for this day ends by stating that whatever the hazards might be in store for the little craft going upstream, it has one safety factor going for it. There has never been a reported incidence of an auto collision in the middle of the Trinity River.
We got off to a late start and were scheduled to meet a television camera reporter upstream, but faulty navigation took us up the wrong stream and we lost 3 hours of time.
We drove into the bay to a modest crowd and tested the weight capacity by taking on 310 pounds of passenger weight, camping gear and a 40-pound anchor to see how the car would perform before starting out. We were satisfied the car – named Donna for Butlers daughter – would be seaworthy and could carry all the supplies needed for two people to make the trip.
Shortly before noon we drove away with only shore birds as spectators. The trip to Wallisville was to be a timed leg to help set a miles per hour baseline. The 5.5 miles to Wallisville were made in 1.5 hours, not counting the 45 minutes lost due to taking a wrong fork in the river. From that we calculated making the 40 to 50 miles per day and that would get us to Dallas in 10 days. Next stop is Liberty which is 27 miles away and should be 5 hours upstream.
September 21, 1966. Cleveland Grammer
“Amphicar’s Trinity Trip Gets Fishy”
On the second day, we were on the way to Liberty when we had a collision with a Gar as big as the car. About a half mile from Mark’s bend (they were learning new designations on the river) there was a thump and a big splash at the bow and a huge tail fin broke the water and splashed the crew who had remained dry until then. We were making good progress and navigation was a challenge, but we were still heading in the right direction.
We were also learning about fuel consumption. About halfway to Liberty, at a friendly place called Moss Bluff, we found the fuel supply depleted by a little more than half. It became apparent to the amateur river skippers that they couldn’t make it to Liberty on a half empty tank. They were past the point of no return. Then a friendly summer home builder in Moss Bluff helped fetch them another seven gallons of fuel for the 13-gallon tank. They also added 2 five-gallon cans of gas at Liberty.
They next came to a place called Dead Ray Bend when two women boaters came along to satisfy their curiosity. Between the whine of the outboard engine and the churning of the Amphicar, all we could make out they were saying was “what is it”?
The main thing they learned on this day was how to increase their speed from five miles an hour to eight miles per hour. With a little shifting of the passenger (journalist) weight, the anchor, and the camping gear further aft, they raised the front of the car and cut down on water resistance which increased speed.
The navigation was being done using U.S. Geological Survey charts, circa 1961, consisted of marking Xs on the mapped ribbon of river as they went along. This was being done by comparing the sharpness or lack of sharpness of the channel bends, marked pipeline crossings, and tributary confluences. Grammer writes that “at first the river was about the same one place as another – sheer beauty all the way, but we found it helped to know about where we were in all this beauty”. Marking Xs on the map was working fine and with the eight mile per hour speed the calculation was becoming almost accurate. He stated “next we try night navigation, and we hope to be in Trinity by Thursday morning. We also hope the gars don’t get any bigger”.
“Seein’ Things in the Night Mist”
Friday, September 23rd.
You don’t need LSD or other hallucinogens for weird sensations. Try the Trinity River at night. And to add to the effect, do it from midstream by amphibious car.
George Butler, a salesman at Garden Motors in Dickinson is driving an amphibious car from Houston to Dallas. This reporter is riding along to se if and how he does it.
Thursday afternoon we stopped for a rest at a Texas Highway Department bridge project on New Farm Road 162, a little south of Livingston in Polk County.
It was a little after midnight on Wednesday when the hallucinations started. The river started steaming early in the night and the mist layer over the water gradually grew higher as the night drew on. At the wheel of the Amphicar, the water was not visible, and the effect was that of flying above a cloud layer.
We were getting high on a natural hallucinogen. But as the swirling mist got higher, too, weird shapes that appeared as trees, logs, people, and several kinds of animals loomed ahead.
This was our first try at night navigation. We did well until the midnight encounter with the mysterious mist that turned into a pea soup fog. Before long, after the fog engulfed us, a seemingly endless sandbar halted the car midstream. The wheels of the Amphicar were holding solidly in the sand. So, we put up the top, rolled up the windows, sprayed the interior with mosquito repellant, and went to sleep.
In the morning we put the wheels and propellers in gear and pulled off the sand bar. We found a narrow channel deep enough to float and drove on. During a stop for breakfast on a dry sand bar, a resident fisherman grounded his outboard boat to comment that he didn’t know how we got our car out there but offered to get his truck winch and pull us out. The front wheels were out of the water on the sand bar and the back wheels were in the water at the time.
Early the night before, we stopped at a lighted fishing camp north of Liberty and were greeted by a Channelview couple, Mr. & Mrs. McKnight, who were vacationing there. Mrs. McKnight said when she saw the car crawl out of the river like an alligator that if she had been out there on the bank alone, she would have thought she was seeing things. Grammer wrote “we too have been seeing things. Next stop, Trinity!”
“Fresh Amphicar Takes Over”
Tuesday, September 27, 1966
A fresh amphibious car, sent splashing into the Trinity River near Crockett, reached the halfway point in the Houston to Dallas river run.
The red Amphicar, being given an endurance test by the auto dealers in Dickinson, has been using its wheels on the river bottom almost as much as its twin propellers while beating upstream the past two days. George Butler started the trip in a white Amphicar last Tuesday with reporter Cleveland Grammer along for the trip.
Grammer writes, “we were nearly past Polk County when a wired motor mount came loose and put our propeller shaft out of commission. The wheel drive was still working, and Butler had the car pulled from the river by a tractor, then drove to Huntsville to send for another Amphicar.
With some boiled Trinity River water still in our canteen, Butler christened the red car “Donna,” the same name he had given the white Amphicar at the start of the trip.
Much of Sunday was spent driving up and down the river on the highway in the Walker-Trinity-San Jacinto County area looking for a boat ramp or sloping bank accessible from the road.
There is a dearth of boat ramps along this stretch of river, and folks up here just don’t build roads to sandbars. So, we picked a lock. The lock we picked was the flood control lock west of Crockett, where the Amphicar made the biggest splash of the trip.
From a steeply sloping bank just above the lock spillway, the little red car nose dived into the water full tilt, with a splash that sent a wave over the windshield and the convertible top. Fortunately, the top was up.
The car was afloat only briefly when it began bumping on underwater rocks. The river became progressively rough and shallow for a quarter of a mile until the wheels were only a few inches in the water in mid-channel. Since then, the stream has been rough, lonely and loggy. The daily stop for phoning and fuel Monday required a five-mile hike on an old oil field road between the river and Grapeland.
After walking five miles, we hitched a ride with an oil company gas line pumper who was on an inspection tour. Besides taking us to a rural store near Grapeland, the pumper also gave us an idea of where we were.
Butler’s case of river maps neglects 30 miles of the Trinity. This is that part of it. A highway map is being used now to estimate progress. The wheels of the car have been on the bottom of the river so much that such a map seems fitting.
We figured Monday that we were halfway up the 507 river miles to Dallas. One of our troubles is the increasing weight abord the Amphicar. Each night we camp on a sandbar, the tent and gear pick up several more pounds of sand.
SEE PART 2 FOR MORE
Tuesday, September 20, 1966
Cleveland Grammer, Houston Post
Would you believe driving 507 miles up the Trinity River by car – in the river?
George Butler of Garden Motors in Houston (Dickinson) Texas did it in 1966 to prove the practical use of the little vehicle to sportsmen, as an emergency vehicle, or people who live in the boondocks. The stunt was done to improve his sales pitch and to show what the car can do – the hard way.
Butler thought he could do 40-50 miles a day going upstream with the car, which has a 43 HP engine. While the maximum speed on land is 75 MPH, that is cut to 10 MPH on the water but going up stream against the current would be more like 7 MPH.
Butler drove into Galveston Bay at 9:00 AM on Tuesday, September 20 at the public boat ramp at White Heron Park to head for the mouth of the Trinity River. He figured that they could reach Liberty by Tuesday evening and Livingston by Wednesday night. When asked, he said “beyond that, we’ll know when we get there”. The article for this day ends by stating that whatever the hazards might be in store for the little craft going upstream, it has one safety factor going for it. There has never been a reported incidence of an auto collision in the middle of the Trinity River.
We got off to a late start and were scheduled to meet a television camera reporter upstream, but faulty navigation took us up the wrong stream and we lost 3 hours of time.
We drove into the bay to a modest crowd and tested the weight capacity by taking on 310 pounds of passenger weight, camping gear and a 40-pound anchor to see how the car would perform before starting out. We were satisfied the car – named Donna for Butlers daughter – would be seaworthy and could carry all the supplies needed for two people to make the trip.
Shortly before noon we drove away with only shore birds as spectators. The trip to Wallisville was to be a timed leg to help set a miles per hour baseline. The 5.5 miles to Wallisville were made in 1.5 hours, not counting the 45 minutes lost due to taking a wrong fork in the river. From that we calculated making the 40 to 50 miles per day and that would get us to Dallas in 10 days. Next stop is Liberty which is 27 miles away and should be 5 hours upstream.
September 21, 1966. Cleveland Grammer
“Amphicar’s Trinity Trip Gets Fishy”
On the second day, we were on the way to Liberty when we had a collision with a Gar as big as the car. About a half mile from Mark’s bend (they were learning new designations on the river) there was a thump and a big splash at the bow and a huge tail fin broke the water and splashed the crew who had remained dry until then. We were making good progress and navigation was a challenge, but we were still heading in the right direction.
We were also learning about fuel consumption. About halfway to Liberty, at a friendly place called Moss Bluff, we found the fuel supply depleted by a little more than half. It became apparent to the amateur river skippers that they couldn’t make it to Liberty on a half empty tank. They were past the point of no return. Then a friendly summer home builder in Moss Bluff helped fetch them another seven gallons of fuel for the 13-gallon tank. They also added 2 five-gallon cans of gas at Liberty.
They next came to a place called Dead Ray Bend when two women boaters came along to satisfy their curiosity. Between the whine of the outboard engine and the churning of the Amphicar, all we could make out they were saying was “what is it”?
The main thing they learned on this day was how to increase their speed from five miles an hour to eight miles per hour. With a little shifting of the passenger (journalist) weight, the anchor, and the camping gear further aft, they raised the front of the car and cut down on water resistance which increased speed.
The navigation was being done using U.S. Geological Survey charts, circa 1961, consisted of marking Xs on the mapped ribbon of river as they went along. This was being done by comparing the sharpness or lack of sharpness of the channel bends, marked pipeline crossings, and tributary confluences. Grammer writes that “at first the river was about the same one place as another – sheer beauty all the way, but we found it helped to know about where we were in all this beauty”. Marking Xs on the map was working fine and with the eight mile per hour speed the calculation was becoming almost accurate. He stated “next we try night navigation, and we hope to be in Trinity by Thursday morning. We also hope the gars don’t get any bigger”.
“Seein’ Things in the Night Mist”
Friday, September 23rd.
You don’t need LSD or other hallucinogens for weird sensations. Try the Trinity River at night. And to add to the effect, do it from midstream by amphibious car.
George Butler, a salesman at Garden Motors in Dickinson is driving an amphibious car from Houston to Dallas. This reporter is riding along to se if and how he does it.
Thursday afternoon we stopped for a rest at a Texas Highway Department bridge project on New Farm Road 162, a little south of Livingston in Polk County.
It was a little after midnight on Wednesday when the hallucinations started. The river started steaming early in the night and the mist layer over the water gradually grew higher as the night drew on. At the wheel of the Amphicar, the water was not visible, and the effect was that of flying above a cloud layer.
We were getting high on a natural hallucinogen. But as the swirling mist got higher, too, weird shapes that appeared as trees, logs, people, and several kinds of animals loomed ahead.
This was our first try at night navigation. We did well until the midnight encounter with the mysterious mist that turned into a pea soup fog. Before long, after the fog engulfed us, a seemingly endless sandbar halted the car midstream. The wheels of the Amphicar were holding solidly in the sand. So, we put up the top, rolled up the windows, sprayed the interior with mosquito repellant, and went to sleep.
In the morning we put the wheels and propellers in gear and pulled off the sand bar. We found a narrow channel deep enough to float and drove on. During a stop for breakfast on a dry sand bar, a resident fisherman grounded his outboard boat to comment that he didn’t know how we got our car out there but offered to get his truck winch and pull us out. The front wheels were out of the water on the sand bar and the back wheels were in the water at the time.
Early the night before, we stopped at a lighted fishing camp north of Liberty and were greeted by a Channelview couple, Mr. & Mrs. McKnight, who were vacationing there. Mrs. McKnight said when she saw the car crawl out of the river like an alligator that if she had been out there on the bank alone, she would have thought she was seeing things. Grammer wrote “we too have been seeing things. Next stop, Trinity!”
“Fresh Amphicar Takes Over”
Tuesday, September 27, 1966
A fresh amphibious car, sent splashing into the Trinity River near Crockett, reached the halfway point in the Houston to Dallas river run.
The red Amphicar, being given an endurance test by the auto dealers in Dickinson, has been using its wheels on the river bottom almost as much as its twin propellers while beating upstream the past two days. George Butler started the trip in a white Amphicar last Tuesday with reporter Cleveland Grammer along for the trip.
Grammer writes, “we were nearly past Polk County when a wired motor mount came loose and put our propeller shaft out of commission. The wheel drive was still working, and Butler had the car pulled from the river by a tractor, then drove to Huntsville to send for another Amphicar.
With some boiled Trinity River water still in our canteen, Butler christened the red car “Donna,” the same name he had given the white Amphicar at the start of the trip.
Much of Sunday was spent driving up and down the river on the highway in the Walker-Trinity-San Jacinto County area looking for a boat ramp or sloping bank accessible from the road.
There is a dearth of boat ramps along this stretch of river, and folks up here just don’t build roads to sandbars. So, we picked a lock. The lock we picked was the flood control lock west of Crockett, where the Amphicar made the biggest splash of the trip.
From a steeply sloping bank just above the lock spillway, the little red car nose dived into the water full tilt, with a splash that sent a wave over the windshield and the convertible top. Fortunately, the top was up.
The car was afloat only briefly when it began bumping on underwater rocks. The river became progressively rough and shallow for a quarter of a mile until the wheels were only a few inches in the water in mid-channel. Since then, the stream has been rough, lonely and loggy. The daily stop for phoning and fuel Monday required a five-mile hike on an old oil field road between the river and Grapeland.
After walking five miles, we hitched a ride with an oil company gas line pumper who was on an inspection tour. Besides taking us to a rural store near Grapeland, the pumper also gave us an idea of where we were.
Butler’s case of river maps neglects 30 miles of the Trinity. This is that part of it. A highway map is being used now to estimate progress. The wheels of the car have been on the bottom of the river so much that such a map seems fitting.
We figured Monday that we were halfway up the 507 river miles to Dallas. One of our troubles is the increasing weight abord the Amphicar. Each night we camp on a sandbar, the tent and gear pick up several more pounds of sand.
SEE PART 2 FOR MORE
