Day Thirteen -  Saturday - Bashi Creek to Sunflower Cutoff

          Today is another long travel day as we hope to reach Sunflower Cutoff 72 miles downstream.  Today is also a milestone day.  We will lock through Coffeeville Lock and Dam and it is the very last lock heading south on the Tenn-Tom Waterway.  Once we pass through, AURORA will be at sea level and will have dropped an astounding 415 feet since Pickwick Dam.   That is a long way down even if it is only 30 or 40 feet at a time.   I was going to put a picture of a 40 story building in here and then I thought, “Just to satisfy those who need pictures in their reading material?”  Nope. No skyscraper pix today.  Sorry for you word challenged souls… I won’t mention any names, Jerry. 

          While I am thinking about this last lock and dam I cannot help but hear the voices in my head of my conservative friends (yes I have far more than you would imagine in spite of my liberal leanings) who eschew not only government mega projects paid for with tax dollars but generally wish to get rid of government in it’s entirety. Do I think there is government overreach? Of course! Are there useless people in government? Of course! Do I want to get rid of government? Let me just say that in my life, I have traveled in places without government. It was never pleasant. It was never a place I ever wanted to be then or again. Never. Not. Ever. Again.  And yes, I can hear those voices of close friends who excoriate me for my unbridled paranoia about Big Brother.  If truth be spoken, there are many things our government has done right.  Our National Park System is one, but right up there with that mega project is this Tenn-Tom Waterway and the entire system of locks and dams throughout the eastern half of the US.

And here is another personal observation.  AURORA has now traveled through a dozen locks and dams all of which work 24/7- 365 days a year manned by people who are employed by that Big Bad Government so many of us love to hate. And to a person, every one of them we came into contact with was helpful, gracious, friendly and courteous. And I mean EVERY single one we dealt with on this trip.  Not one individual had a bad day and was curt or discourteous to me, not one individual was arrogant when a newbie like me did or said something stupid, not one individual was anything but highly professional. Where in the world do they find these folks? I would have killed for employees with those attributes while I was in business. So thanks and gratitude to all those folks who safely dropped me from the equivalent of the top of a forty story building to the basement! I am quick enough to find fault with Big Brother and think it only fair I acknowledge a Big Brother success. Thank you. 

Our last lock at Coffeeville is no different than any of the previous ones except that locking through has become old hat and Brett is now multi-tasking. 

Locking and multi-tasking

I also want to point out the alacrity with which the herons and egrets use the leaky lock gates to scoop up small fish slipping through the openings. Oblivious to us, they are steadfastly focused on the warning bells as a lock begins to empty and swoop in to claim the best vantage point for acquiring snacks.  

Dennis on VELA NARCOSIS just ahead of me, radios to ask if I saw the alligator as we came out. We have finally arrived at sea level but still have many miles to go before we enter the Gulf so we are surprised about the gator. Both Brett and I grab our binocs and scan the shoreline. We see nothing but I am anxious to spot my first gator on this trip so for many, many, MANY miles I spend far more time scanning the overgrown shoreline than watching the chart plotter and my course headings.  Finally Brett, who has grown weary of the sharp corrections in my steering when I do look at the chart plotter, gently taps me on the shoulder tells me to go sit on the back deck and look for gators. I get the hint. I am still uncertain that Dennis is not laughing this very moment and telling everyone within earshot of RK’s erratic steering ever since “gator watch” commenced at his instigation.  One word, Dennis… Karma.  I expect to see you again and will demand answers. 

Tonight we will anchor on the river proper but outside of the navigation buoys to be well out of barge traffic lanes.  We’ve not seen a great many barges, averaging perhaps 2 or 3 a day as we’ve come down river but as I have mentioned, they are massive and a bit scary.  I do not expect to sleep well tonight knowing they will have to pass me while I am at anchor and am totally helpless should something go awry with their steering.  Our anchorage is on the main river but at a wide bend and any barge coming from either direction has plenty of room and can easily spot us from a long way off.  We give the required radio warning about anchored boats and our position but I wake and climb up to the pilot house several times during the night regardless.  Although the sound of the passing barges is noticeable, it is not overly loud. It is the incredible intensity of several million candlepower lumens from their spotlights invading my aft cabin as they scan the width of the river constantly checking buoys and shoreline that is so disconcerting in the black of a moonless night.  My aft cabin lights up as though a lightning flash has penetrated the decking.  I estimate 9 or 10 barges pass us in the night more than we’ve seen during any day the whole trip.  None come even close to us and my uneasiness is groundless. 

But my uneasiness is not groundless regarding the remnants of Hurricane Patricia and her precipitation amounts.  Flooding across Texas and continuing to blow towards us, she definitely is not dying out. We may have weather decisions to make on the morrow.  

Day Twelve -  Friday - Demopolis to Bashi Creek

            We do not get as early a start as we had hoped.  A loaded barge is locking through and the lockmaster asks those of us coming out of Demopolis to wait while the barge clears downstream.  By the time the lock is clear there are a whole slew (a technical term meaning there were 8 of us meandering around the lock gates) and I was curious to observe the manner in which 8 boats race for the floating bollards to secure their favorite locking location.  Dennis is right up near the opening while the rest of us are strung out along the bay. The lockmaster asks the first boats in line to go all the way in to the last bollards before tying up. To my surprise, each boat gets on the radio and asks for a specific side, port or starboard and the grand entrance is not a clusterf*^k  but rather, an orderly slow parade of boats.  The previous hour watching 8 boats weave in and out of one another’s way while we waited for the lock to clear gave absolutely no indication that this would be so easy and painless.  Boats have gone out of their way to accommodate the boats nearest them. Every bollard is taken with the faster boats up front so they will exit before the rest of us slower craft, meaning none of those huge wakes from big passing boats when we do get out of the lock.  Very civilized... and totally unexpected.

          The first order of business is passing the slow barge that locked through before us.  It goes easily and in spite of our late start we travel the 70 odd miles to Dennis’s choice for our anchorage this night, a tiny little tributary to the waterway named Bashi Creek.  We pass four different boats that have pulled off to the side of the main river channel and are anchored for the night because the sun is setting but our destination is only a few more miles further downriver. When we arrive at Bashi Creek it is tiny but well out of the main river.  Dennis pulls further in while I am forced to back in because there is not enough room for me to turn AURORA around once I get past the opening. I dislike backing up AURORA because she has a miniscule rudder the size of a dinner plate and a massive prop which results in her backing up in anything BUT a straight line.  Over the years I have learned to compensate but still, it is sometimes a crapshoot as to where I will end up. I get lucky and the position is perfect when we drop the anchor and better yet, it sets and holds immediately. This should certainly be the quietest anchorage yet.  Yup, right up until the crickets, frogs and a few other creatures I am unable to identify begin their nightly serenade.  I am sure they could easily hop from branch to our deck.  We are that close to the bank. 

   

        Strangely enough, despite the raucous night warblers, it IS peaceful.  Brett and I stuff ourselves with the last of the knockwurst from my favorite German sausage maker, Usingers, while we mull over the scuttlebutt from this morning’s weather reports.  Hurricane Patricia is doing severe damage in Mexico and dumping record amounts of rain across the southwestern US and moving east.  This storm is not going quietly into that good night, but raging, raging, raging all through Arizona, New Mexico and Texas.  Predictions are that we could well see some of Patricia’s rage on Sunday or Monday.  Oh well, it is still a long way off and will probably peter out long before it reaches us.  We have another 70 miles to go tomorrow and we have just experienced a “red sky at night, sailors delight,” sunset promising another beautiful tomorrow. But being a conservative boater, I can’t help but be a bit concerned. 

Day Eleven -  Thursday - Cochran Cutoff to Demopolis 

          Once upon a time, in a place far, far away, Kristine accused me of fraud.   I had convinced her to quit her job, (no small feat as she was president of a 500 person company) and come with me on AURORA to live in Mexico for 6 months.  Reminding her more than once that the pressure of running that company was making her old before her time, she finally relented when I told her we’d motor down the coast of Baja, around Cabo and slip up into the Sea of Cortez.  Once there, we’d catch fish, snorkel, eat clams and lobster everyday for six months and recharge our personal batteries.  The final selling point for her was the prospect of floating down the Pacific coast, binoculars in hand, window-peeping for hundreds upon hundreds of miles. I did NOT clarify that we would be anywhere from 20 to 50 miles off the coast all the way south.  Minimal window-peeping opportunities.  Kristine is not a boat person.  She does not like big waves and she does not feel safe if she cannot see land.  The first night out, we had huge 12 to 14 foot rollers lifting our stern and pushing us south making us an actual Jamaican “Hill and Gully Rider.”  Her real fright was only partially ameliorated by her subsequent week- long haranguing of me for fraud.  I admit to a sin of omission but that first night was the worst seas we encountered the entire six months.  (I had worse on the return trip but Kris had wisely flown back to the US while a friend and I brought AURORA slowly back to LA bucking the “uphill bash” all the way.) 

And now another accusation of “fraud.”  This time from several of you on my distribution list.  I inadvertently failed to mention I was filing my trip reports from my office in MKE, AFTER I returned from Mobile.  We had very spotty wi-fi and cell service while on the waterway and besides, I wished to re-live the experience by going over my log reports of each day’s events with a bit of reflection time.  If I have deceived you it was unintentional, so get over it Doug!  

Brett and I prepare ourselves for a long day expecting to travel a little over 70 miles to Demopolis.  Our weather window continues with blue skies, sunshine and warm temps but we are keeping an eye on Hurricane Patricia which is predicted to bring rain to the southwest and all the way to Texas.  That's a long way from where we are and where we are going.  Life is good.

We also have been told by Dennis to expect a dramatic scenery change.  The wooded river banks we've seen for the past few days are prime buffets for the herons and egrets but as we round a bend, the shore line does change character. 

Egret awaiting breakfast

  

White cliffs of Epes

         

         As we glide past the Epes cliffs, I am once again reminded of my good fortune and as happy as I am that Kris is back in MKE earning money, I cannot wait for her to retire and join me whenever and wherever we travel. The 70 miles go by quickly and we pull into Demopolis Yacht Basin behind VELA NARCOSIS.  In the slip next to them are boat neighbors from Green Turtle Bay,  Gerald and Phyllis Harrison on their catamaran, ALLY CAT.  Several other boats we have met along the way are also in the basin and it feels like old home week. Dennis and I both decide to fill up our jerry cans with fuel since there is only one more place between here and Mobile where fuel is available. The fuel dock is about a half mile distant around the basin and we need to use a golf cart to transport the weight. As we drive the path, Dennis asks me if AURORA is up to three more days of 70 mile runs.  Explaining that anchorages and fuel stops are few and far between from here on in, he is giving me a welcome heads up for planning the next few days.  

Day Ten -  Wednesday - Columbus to Cochran Cutoff  

        We’ve been averaging between 35 and 50 miles a day so far but as we move further south, marinas and anchorages become less plentiful.  Today’s run will be about 60 miles to an anchorage named Cochran Cutoff.  I am not mentioning the locks because Brett and I have become adroit at moving in, tying up and leaving.  How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, practice, practice.  And we have practiced and with only one small scrape on our rub rail, I have managed to remember where the boat ends and the harsh concrete wall begins in each lock.  Kristine’s pristine varnish work on AURORA’s bright-work remains largely unblemished.  Lucky for me, I might add. 

Fore and aft secured to floating bollard in lock

Do not scratch the varnish! 

         The original Tombigbee River was a serpentine nightmare.  Now the dredged waterway roughly follows a straight line that looks just like the vertical line intersecting the ess on our US dollar sign. Some of the old riverbed off-shoots are still deep enough that one can pull in a ways and safely anchor out of the main waterway channel for the night.  Cochran Cutoff is one such location. When Dennis and I arrive at Cochran Cutoff, we are alone and per common courtesy, I drop my anchor a good hundred yards away from VELA NARCOSIS. I could have anchored much closer but giving the other boat the privacy of distance is an unwritten rule amongst cruisers.

Perfectly serene anchorage

This unwritten privacy rule was taught to me indelibly while I cruised and lived aboard AURORA in the Sea of Cortez for six months.  I was a sailboat person for all of my life before AURORA and when I took her from LA down past Cabo San Lucas and up into the Sea, I had previously only anchored in bays with other sailboats.  However when I pulled into small bays in Mexico and angled towards where another boat or two were anchored, it became immediately apparent that they were horrified that a power boat would be a close neighbor. It took a few cervezas (ok maybe more than a few) on the shore one night with a couple of sailboat people to learn the reason for the obvious cold shoulder. They expected any power boat would run a generator all hours destroying the serenity of a quiet anchorage. I never ran my generator after 4 or so in the afternoon and as a result of the grapevine amongst cruisers in the Sea, AURORA was welcomed often in small bays regardless of where we anchored within the bay.  This acceptance may also have had something to do with the sheer volume of storage in the hold for stashing multiple cases of beer and wine aboard AURORA. 

            The Cochran Cutoff anchorage was the quietest anchorage of our journey so far and rivaled those tiny bays in Mexico for serenity.  It remained so even when a second sailboat slipped into the anchorage between Dennis and me.  Still plenty of space and privacy as Brett and I sat on the aft deck with a cup of tea and a quietly setting sun.  And then a 60 foot power boat came in and dropped his anchor between the new boat and up close to Dennis. After setting his hook, he finally turned off the huge twin throbbing engines and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief.  Two minutes later he started up his generator. So much for serenity and solitude. Brett and I retreated to the main cabin where we could not hear the grating rumble but I know that both the other sailboat and Dennis could hear his generator clearly even while below deck in their boats.  To his credit, the powerboat did turn off the noise maker around 10 PM but cruising is different than being at home.  When it gets dark, you go to sleep. When it gets light, you get up…  unless of course, you are a big power boat with many electrical gadgets that need AC power.  Then you run your generator and ruin an otherwise perfect anchorage. 

Not quite as perfect... but still pretty good

Day 9 - Tuesday - Smithville to Columbus  

Another early start

         Tuesday is another busy locking day with three locks today starting with Wilkins Lock.  We wait for about 20 minutes for a barge to clear Amory Lock but it is smooth sailing through Aberdeen Lock with the gates open as we arrive.  Today we are reminded that this is a working waterway as we pass some large and long tows. I find it interesting that these tugs (actually pushers) have propellers that approach 6 feet in diameter but they do not throw up nearly as big a wake as the fast pleasure boats that pass us.  

 It's a working river

And they are BIG

           The roiling of the water in their wake however is another matter.  The turbulence is strong and both Brett and I can feel AURORA moving erratically a few feet in either direction whenever we are at the wheel and a tow boat passes us or we pass one of them. This movement is in contrast to our normal solid, straight-as-an-arrow wake from AURORA’s full keel.

AURORA's full keel = straight course

         Between Amory and Aberdeen we encounter an Army Corps of Engineers barge dredging the main channel.  I am thankful for Brett’s good eyesight because mine is not. When the barge captain asks us to pass “on the two,” I have trouble spotting his port and starboard visual signals (there are a lot of posts, flags and other paraphernalia hanging on a dredging barge in operation) but Brett spots it immediately and we pass the dredger starboard to starboard without incident being mindful to thank the barge Captain for his help in keeping us out of trouble.  

Passing barge "on the two"

        We have a pleasant surprise awaiting us upon our arrival in Columbus.  Two boats that have passed us previously are on our dock and both are from the Wisconsin side of Lake Michigan and we mutually congratulate ourselves for not having to winterize and haul our respective boats.  An even bigger surprise it that Dennis and Wanda off of VELA NARCOSIS are at the marina having spent a couple of days here visiting with local friends.  Ever the organizer, Dennis has arranged for a courtesy car and we six are re-united for a fun evening in town at one of his favorite restaurants along the Tenn-Tom route.  In spite of the lateness of the evening after waaaaay too many toasts to new friends, Brett and I still expect to push off in the AM once again.  Sadly, James and Stacey want a day of rest and will remain behind. I can only imagine Louie is ecstatic over enjoying a day on land sniffing and lifting a leg to mark new territory.  On a positive note, Dennis is also ready to shove off in the morning and we agree to buddy boat the next few days. One door closes but another opens.  I am happy to accompany Dennis since he is on his sixth round trip to Florida and has all the local knowledge of anchoring spots that I do not.  It is a great weight off of my shoulders to be able to tag along with VELA NARCOSIS particularly in light of the fact we travel at similar cruising speeds. 

Our last view of GLASS SLIPPER for a while

  

Day  Eight – Monday - Bay Springs to Smithville  

Halloween decorations in Bay Springs Marina

Sun-up and AURORA prepares to leave Bay Springs

            Locks, locks, locks.  For the next few days Brett and I will have much opportunity to practice our locking-through techniques with four on tap for today.  First will be Whitten Lock, followed by Montgomery Lock, Rankin Lock and finally, Fulton Lock.  Whitten, the first, is just a mile from our Bay Springs dock and after contacting the lockmaster and letting him know we are 15 minutes out, our mid-western twang must have alerted him to our orgins because his reply comes back with a smile we could hear even if we could not see it.  “Y’all come on in… we’ll be a-waitin’ for y’all.”  GLASS SLIPPER and AURORA share the lock with one other boat, James preferring to tie up on his port side while Brett and I prefer our starboard side tie.  As I maneuver AURORA close to the floating bollard and use reverse to stop the boat, Brett is standing right at midships with the line from our stern, takes two wraps on the bollard moves a few feet forward and efficiently secures the end of the line to that infamous forward cleat.  We are now secure both fore and aft in moments. It is amazingly quick when one has the proper length of line and a little hard earned knowledge from our Pickwick disaster. The lockmaster will not begin the water transfer until all boats in the lock have radioed him that they are secured to the wall so James and I report in as does the third boat. 

 

GLASS SLIPPER  port tied to wall

We drop 35 feet while the doors hold back the lake

Doors open and we exit Whitton Lock

Brett and I give each other the thumbs up sign as the water drains out of the lock and we rapidly go down with the receding water. That thumbs up signal brings back a humorous memory for me even if it was at the time, less so for Kristine.  We were driving the Dalmatian Coast Road in what was Yugoslavia at the time and decided to take the “road to Setenj.”  One guide book described it as scenic while another warned it was “adventurous.”  That was the draw for me because I love mountain roads.  Kris… not so much.  In fact she stashes pounds of chocolate in the glove compartment for the express use on RK’s forays on switchback, single lane scary roads.  This particular road climbs up the side of the mountain range and has no less than a dozen sharp switchbacks, none of which have shoulders or guardrails.  Kris’s knuckles are white as she clings to the door handle while stuffing large chunks of chocolate into her mouth.  Her logic is unassailable.  As she puts it, “If I am going to die on this road, I want to gobble as much chocolate as I can because it will never get to my thighs!”  The first few switchbacks go uneventfully but as I make the blind turn midway up the mountain, YIKES, directly a few yards in front of me is a huge tour bus taking up the entire road!  There is an old sailor proverb that says regardless of who has the legal right of way, tonnage rights will prevail.  And this tour bus has tonnage rights over our little rented Fiat.  I turn my head and begin backing down the road about a quarter of a mile until I find a small indentation in the face of the mountain where I can squeeze up against the rock face.  Kris is nearly apoplectic as chocolate disappears into her mouth by the handful.  As the bus slowly but carefully skirts the edge of the road to pass by us, the driver looks at me, gives me a great big smile and then holds up his hand with the thumbs up signal.  I smile at him and return the universal signal.  Kris breathes a huge sigh of relief as we resume our climb up the mountain side.  When we reach the next blind turn on the switchback, there is another tour bus right in front of me.  I repeat the nerve wracking backing-up to the very same indentation in the rock face as her chocolate supply rapidly disappears.  In this country, thumbs up is not the universal sign I had thought it to be… it is how one says, “There is one more bus behind me!”  Kris and I laugh about it now but she was not laughing at the time. 

Back on the Tombigbee, with GLASS SLIPPER repaired, we have the locks pretty much to ourselves today and make good time through the series of drops but decide to stop at Smithville for the night.  It is a tiny marina with one long pier that both of us tie up to and we follow the elderly gentleman up to the office to settle our overnight fees. In an effort to be polite I motion for James to go first with his credit card while I wait until he is finished.  The elderly man helping us is not the owner but simply a resident on the dock who helps out when needed.  Unfortunately, he punches in James’s $33 dollar fee as $333 dollars.  About 40 minutes later after James has talked to the credit card company and corrected the error, I sheepishly ask him to run my credit card as well.  The elderly gentleman is happy to let us do our own punching in of the numbers. James laughs at the snafu and says next time I can go first.  

 

Some boats are more tired than others

Day Seven -  Sunday – Grand Harbor to Bay Springs

AURORA and I wave good-bye to my all-time favorite crew member

At 6:00 AM I wave goodbye to Kristine who has a long drive ahead of her back to MKE for a few welcome billable hours of work and a Green Bay Packer football game. For a person who has never been a boat person she seems sad and reluctant to leave. I think it comes as much of a surprise to her as it does to me.  She had expected to merely tolerate one more of RK’s weird adventures but instead, has found it exhilarating and enjoyable. Who’d of guessed?  

Captain Kris

Brett and I have poured over the charts and cruiser’s guides and set our goal for today to reach Bay Springs a mere 35 miles down the waterway and just before the Bay Springs Lock and Dam, our first together.  The first 25 miles will take us through the “cut” also sometimes referred to as “the ditch.”  It is a straight section that was dug out to connect Pickwick Lake with Bay Springs Lake and the south-flowing Tombigbee River.  Warnings abound that it is verboten to anchor anywhere along this section so my natural tendency to listen carefully for any engine aberrations is only increased tenfold. Our speed increases since we are now motoring with the current not against it as we were on the Tennessee River. Passing a barge and being passed by several faster pleasure craft does nothing to lessen the enjoyment of watching the egrets and herons ignore us while they hunt for their breakfast along the rip-rap lined shoreline only a few scant yards away.  Pulling up to the dock in Bay Springs Marina, we have a pleasant surprise.  James and Stacey (and Louie their dog) from GLASS SLIPPER are still at one of the slips. 

Several post ago I related how my disastrous mistake of running the engine out of fuel had caused us to stop at Clifton rather than going further.  It was serendipitous as we re-connected with both GLASS SLIPPER and VELA NARCOSIS for the following few days. They left a day ahead of us while Brett and I drove to and from Mobile and we had expected to miss their company the rest of the way south.  Now a mechanical problem has forced them to return to Bay Springs Marina after having transited the lock where they had lost reverse gear leaving the lock. So another mechanical issue has brought our two vessels together once again.  Is this some sort of sign? 

James has diagnosed the problem. Three out of four bolts have sheared off of his shaft connection. It is serious but if he can find stainless steel bolts of the correct size, (the sheared bolts were too short and only barely threaded into their respective nuts) and if the steel plate holding them can be re-bent to the proper shape, he would be good to go. It is a Sunday but the young man at the marina offers his car and we drive a couple of miles to what he referred to as a “great hardware store.” I accompany James and Stacey hoping to replenish the fresh vegetables on board but also hoping to find a piece of hose for a minor problem that has cropped up on AURORA.  Bay Springs is really an out of the way place and neither James nor I have any high expectations of finding size specific stainless nuts and bolts or the proper hose size.  Our hopes are not buoyed when we see that our destination is a Piggly-Wiggly grocery and ACE hardware combined in the same building.  But we are both shocked to find not only the exact repair materials we need but the groceries are fresh and plentiful.  Judging the book by its cover once again proves misleading.  James retreats to his boat for his repairs while Brett and I tackle a vexing issue on AURORA.  Those of you not interested in mechanical issues may want to skip the next long and boring paragraph. 

My main fuel tanks port and starboard hold 125 gallons each of diesel. While running however, I feed the engine from a 14 gallon day tank that I fill each day through a dual filtering system to insure I am always using clean fuel. Diesel engines do not use all the fuel supplied to the cylinders and in fact a good portion of the fuel is returned to the fuel tank, in my case, the port main tank.  Since we have now been running the engine for nearly a week, fuel is noticeably down in my starboard tank, the one I draw out of to fill my day tank each day.  However, the port main tank is still full!  In fact it almost looks as if it could overflow. If the unused fuel being returned to the tank has nowhere to go… it could conceivably stop my engine. For an unknown reason my two main tanks are not self leveling even though we have checked all the valves and connections. The only explanation is that the line leading from one tank to the other is clogged and not allowing fuel to flow from one main tank to the other. I want to pump 10 or 20 gallons of fuel out of the port tank into either the opposite tank or into 6 gallon jerry cans I keep below decks.  Disappointingly, Brett and I are unable to hand pump any fuel up the three feet from the tank to the deck and into any other containers. I do not have an electric pump on board that can do it either. Our temporary solution is to release any pressure build up in that clogged tank by opening the fill caps periodically. It will have to do until I can figure out a way to get fuel out of that port side tank.  As my friend, Big Jim has said to me many times back in Kentucky, “Roger, it’s a boat.”  Hey Big Jim… you’re right again, there will always be something that needs attention on a boat.  

Day Six - Saturday - Grand Harbor  to Mobile, AL… and back  

Welcoming AURORA's new crew, Brett Bockhop

Brett and I arise early and as we walk past GLASS SLIPPER, her lights come on and we know from dinner last night that they and VELA NARCOSIS will be heading out today.  It is bittersweet because we have enjoyed their river knowledge and waterway companionship but they are anxious to move on and so we wave as we walk past their boat.  Climbing into our cars, him in his Camry and me in Kristine’s Mini Cooper, we head off for Mobile, Alabama 450 miles south on the Gulf of Mexico. We will pre-position his car at the marina and then come immediately back to Grand Harbor. In a week or two after getting AURORA to Turner Marina, we will drive his car back to Wisconsin. Just recently retired as a a Wisconsin DNR forest ranger, Brett has taken a part time job managing one of our state forests in the far northern wilds and would like to be back in the woods in early November.  Kris will be taking her Mini and driving back to MKE tomorrow morning while Brett and I head off down river with AURORA.  

Saturday traffic is light and we make slip arrangements, park his Camry in the lot and head back to Grand Harbor 450 miles north.  Brett did ask if the marina wanted a key to his car but they declined saying they had no need of it. The ride back is long but arriving at the boat around 8:30 PM we take note of the empty slip where James and Stacey’s boat had been berthed when we left early this morning.  More surprisingly, we find that AURORA is flanked by several large and expensive-looking boats including GOLDEN GIRL on the outside of our pier.  She is massive next to us, around 100 feet, with lights in the main salon revealing a chef and deckhand serving the main course to her owners. Both Brett and I glance up just a little jealously but when we step down into AURORA’s main salon, Kristine has set a table with bowls of hot chili, toasted garlic bread and a cold drink.  It occurs to me that we are receiving exactly the same service as that multi-million dollar vessel moored next to us and my penis envy evaporates like the steam arising from my bowl of chili.   

Penis envy averted... mostly!

Kris relates her day’s adventures including watching two other boats come in behind us and on the other side of the slip, both 10 to 15 feet larger than ours.  As she observed the two captains talking to each other, her thoughts ran to two men comparing penis size as they surreptitiously eyed each other‘s boat.  And then GOLDEN GIRL pulled up to the dock dwarfing both of their boats.  Serious penis envy must have ensued on their parts because they both stopped talking and disappeared below decks not to be seen again. A valuable life lesson... there is ALWAYS  someone smarter, richer, better looking than you.  Damn.... I really, REALLY hate that lesson!

Day Five - Friday -  Diamond Island to Grand Harbor 

          This is a big day for AURORA and me personally. Several milestones will be encountered this day.  First, and one that has given me the willies since I decided to take the boat south, it will be the first lock and dam for AURORA and me. I’ve been through the Panama Canal locks but only as an observer, not the captain of the vessel.   I’ve watched a dozen videos, read the instructive notes from the other loopers and I know the procedure.  However, as life has taught most of us, book learning is not necessarily useful knowledge. Hence my trepidation. Secondly, we will leave the Tennessee River above the dam and enter the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway also known as the Tenn-Tom.  And lastly, it will be Kristine’s last day aboard as she will return to MKE for work and earn a little money so I can continue my chosen lifestyle as a boat bum. We will also meet my pseudo-nephew, Brett, who will join me as crew for the final 2/3 of the Southern Sojourn.

          Kris and I pull up our anchor with a little breeze still pushing us around and watch as GLASS SLIPPER does the same.  Both of us do a few doughnuts (go around in a circle) while Dennis on VELA NARCOSIS hand over hand raises his anchor chain.  He is obviously tiring but the anchor is not giving up its hold on the bottom.  After ten minutes we get on the radio and Wanda tells us the anchor is hung up on something big underwater.  Another 20 minutes go by with no progress and James puts his dinghy down and goes over to see if he can help.  By now we can all see that Dennis has raised the anchor high enough to have a huge branch protruding from the front of his bow but he cannot raise it any further.  Whatever it is beneath the surface, it is big and very heavy.  Dennis is breathing heavy as well and Kris and I stay as close as we can to the stricken vessel but without a clue as to how we could be of help. 

VELA NARCOSIS fouled anchor

James, with the wind picking up and the surface getting choppy, has deftly maneuvered his dinghy so he now has a hold of the tree branch but still cannot raise the anchor any further. 

Branch of underwater log

Finally, the two of them realize the anchor chain has wrapped around the log. Inch by inch they move the chain around and unwrap it until finally it releases the huge log and VELA NARCOSIS is free and clear. James is our hero, having saved Dennis from jettisoning his main anchor and chain to get free.  It is an auspicious beginning to the day but not in a good way. Luckily, the 11 miles to the dam goes smoothly, if slowly, in the current racing past us down river. The dam is obviously releasing water downstream but following Dennis we approach the lock. It is one of the higher locks on the Inland River System rising 85 feet before releasing us into Pickwick Lake. But first…. the lock.  

I have prepared a line with which to tie off to the floating bollard that will rise with us as we go up with the filling lock.  Kristine is on deck with the line in hand, me at the wheel, both of us wearing lifejackets as per rules for all individuals on a boat while locking through. The technique is simple.  One, drive the boat close to the wall, two, wrap the line twice around the floating bollard and secure it to the boat’s midship cleat. (a cleat that is halfway between the front and rear of the boat)   Now the boat cannot float away from the wall.  Finally, try to keep the boat from rubbing against the wall and dirtying your rubber fenders.  Simple… except for one fact.  My midship cleat is NOT in the middle. It is only about a third of the way from the bow, nowhere near the middle and as the water rushes into the lock, my stern pushes away from the wall tightening the line forcing my bow into the wall.  Kris tries valiantly to hold the bow off the wall but the boat weighs15 tons and it is far beyond her strength or mine or anyone’s for that matter.  Our anchor scraps nosily along the wall as the AURORA rises making white gouges in the cement surface while my stern is ten feet away from the wall.  I try my best to keep the stern in with the engine but because it is over one of the welling up geysers of incoming water, we continue to point 45 degrees at the wall and leave anchor marks and loud screeching all 85 feet up to lake level.  My first locking is an absolute disaster because I did not look carefully at the placement of my “midship” cleat.  I feel embarrassed but mostly… just plain stupid.

Leaving the lock I cannot look in the direction of the lockmaster, merely thanking him by radio for our safe arrival in Pickwick Lake.  I know exactly how to solve this issue but it will wait until we dock at Grand Harbor in a couple of hours.  My two traveling companion boats did not apparently see this bit of entertainment so I will have to describe it again in minute detail for them. These are the stories that are never forgotten. Sunny days, quiet anchorages are wonderful but forgettable. It is dumb mishaps that make boater’s tales memorable. Tying up, Brett meets us at the dock and comes aboard AURORA for the first time. While Kris shows him his forward stateroom bunk and he stows his gear, I am busily splicing together two 20 foot pieces of dock line to make a new locking line that will reach from my stern cleat to the bollard, make two turns on it and then all the way forward to that infamous “midship” cleat forward.  This will attach the AURORA both forward and aft to the bollard. We have another dozen locks to pass through before we get to Mobile. Granted from here on out the water flows downstream towards the Gulf and all the succeeding locks will be going down rather than up, but I will not be caught unprepared a second time. James and Stacey and Dennis and Wanda and Kris and I along with Brett go out to dinner and with smiles all around, celebrate completing the first of the three legs on our Southern Sojourn.     

AURORA out of Pickwick Lock & Dam

   

Day  Four - Thursday - Clifton to Diamond Island Anchorage 

AURORA ready to leave Clifton Marina

          There are times when hurrying makes no sense. It has taken me about 30 years to learn this lesson.  There is a road that hugs the Adriatic Sea for several hundred miles along what is now Croatia but when I was driving it, was still known as Yugoslavia under Tito.  It is a daunting path mostly two lanes carved out of the mountain range on one side and precipitous drops to the sea on the other. This picture is new but when I was driving it there were no guardrails, just loose gravel and a lot of air all the way down to the rock-strewn shore. 

Adriatic Coast Freeway

Because it was the only coast road, it was heavily traveled by slow trucks of all dimensions and I reveled in pushing the under-powered Fiat rental car to its limits as I brazenly passed truck after truck on this narrow two lane deathtrap.  Youthfulness promulgates the denial of reality.  After a couple of hours of this daredevil foolishness, Kristine espied a scenic overlook ahead and demanded I stop so she could empty the contents of her stomach that threatened sudden release due to my insane driving. While she got her stomach under control, I watched at least thirty of the trucks that I had painstakingly passed, go by with more than a few of them blowing their horns, waving and laughing at me as they whizzed past our parked car. What was I thinking? We were vacationing and I had no earthly reason to be in a rush but being in a hurry is an affliction that percolates steadily in the young. Standing on that gravel shoulder watching those whizzing trucks was not my sea change moment, however. That lesson would take a few more years to take hold in my reasoning process.   

As AURORA pulls away from the dock at Clifton, we have a relatively short run to the Diamond Island anchorage and we all dial back the RPMs to match the slowest of our three boats, GLASS SLIPPER. There is no rush, no need to hurry today.  We want to arrive at Pickwick Lock and Dam in the morning in case of heavy barge traffic.  Commercial traffic has priority on the Inland Waterways and pleasure craft must wait for barge traffic to pass through the locks first. Arriving in the AM allows plenty of time to traverse the lock regardless of the traffic. The Diamond Island anchorage is only a ten or eleven mile run to the dam and even with the strong current below the dam reducing one’s speed by two or three knots, it assures one plenty of time to get through the lock.   

The run up river is uneventful and we three select our anchoring spots behind Diamond Island with Vela Narcosis going in first, me heading a bit further up and finally Glass Slipper sliding even further up river than AURORA. The sun sets on a most idyllic scene.  

Diamond Island

The previous night, James and Stacey had mentioned an ugly night they had spent a couple of years ago in this very same spot. Listening to the crickets and frogs dial up their evening symphony, it seems the perfect anchorage… off the main channel and well protected from anything but a north wind. 

       Whenever I am on the hook I sleep lightly being attuned to changes in the sound of the wind and the movement of the boat. Sure enough, at two in the morning, the wind has come up and it is out of the north.  It is not a strong wind but I get up to check our position regarding the close-by shore.  I have an all chain anchor rode and it is easily keeping us out of any trouble, but I notice in the moonlight that James is out in his dinghy.  He is setting a stern anchor to keep him away from the shoreline.  I know he’s using all rope for his main anchor and I am thankful for my heavy chain lying on the bottom holding our position. Although I get up a couple of more times before sunrise, we do not move very much in spite of the unexpected wind out of the north and I rest easier than I would have imagined under these conditions.  Perfectly content to not being in a hurry, I must have lost my youth somewhere along the way while I was not paying attention

Day Three – Wednesday-  Cuba Landing to Clifton Marina

            Dumb strikes again. I am not an anal individual by anyone’s standards and as a result I have learned the hard way over many years experience that boat procedures are critical to trouble free running.  It is a little like when a few days ago when I opined about leaving friends.  I mentioned several individuals, boat slip neighbors who had become fast friends.  The one person I did not mention was the one person instrumental in my decision to move the boat to Kentucky Dam Marina in the first place. Brenda is their office manager and in the fall of 2013 when I had driven down to the Kentucky Lake area to visit marinas and decide which would become the fresh water destination for AURORA the following spring, KDM was the first of a dozen marina visits.  Wow, this woman could market ice cubes in the Arctic.  I have never seen her without a smile and a kind word for whomever she was with at the moment.  Although we had visited a ton of marinas and were greeted by wonderful folks, I kept coming back to that woman, Brenda, who convinced me her marina was the best place for AURORA.  And she was right. 

            So what does this have to do with me and dumb?  It points directly to my dumb “caught–up-in-the-moment” nature.  I was so anxious to relate my sadness at leaving dock neighbors, I had forgotten to mention the very reason I had met those boat neighbors, the marina’s public face, Brenda Simpson.  Sorry Brenda.  I consider those lapses dumb and try desperately to limit them.  However,  I did not succeed in limiting them this morning in Cuba Landing.  

       Morning River Fog blankets our marina and the main river as well so we have a second cup of coffee to wait it out.  When it begins to clear, I start up the engine and wave to our two new sailboat friends who were headed out of the bay ahead of us.  As I untied the last dock line, our engine coughs and dies.  Quickly re-tying the lines, I climb into the pilot house and attempt to re-start the engine. No luck. With a sinking feeling I open up the engine room to investigate this very disturbing occurrence.  This is a single engine boat and no engine, no control, no go… anywhere.  At least I am still tied to the dock rather than dodging barges in the river channel.   As soon as I glance around, I realize that in my haste last evening to socialize, I neglected to follow through on my usual procedure to turn my fuel switch from the “fill day tank” to “run engine.”  I have run the engine out of fuel and in the process allowed air into the fuel lines and the engine.  The entire engine must be bled of air and fresh fuel fed into all the lines.  I have never bled the entire engine before.  I have bled the lines when I changed fuel filters but this is far more extensive.  With my engine manual spread across the main salon floor and a myriad of tools scattered about, Kris accesses the internet (thank heavens we are in coverage with her phone) and for the next two and a half hours I learn a new skill.  When the moment comes to try the engine again, I hesitate, hoping I have done everything correctly and not made a bad problem worse.  Kris hits the start button and I watch the air bubbles release from the loose connections, tighten them and then…  VROOOOM.  My old Perkins sparks to life with a smooth roar and I breathe a huge sigh of relief.    Dumb, dumb, and dumber for not following through my normal procedure and triple checking to make sure all was ready for the next day’s running regardless of the distractions.  Procedure IS important.  I wait another ten minutes to make sure everything is working properly and we finally pull away from the dock far later than we had intended. 

       Originally we had expected to travel to Riverstone but due to our late start have shortened our run, instead stopping at Clifton Marina where our new friends had already stopped for the night.  Clifton is a cozy marina with a narrow entrance and little maneuvering room for our single engine sans thrusters 40 footer but there were half a dozen folks patiently waiting for me to line up the boat and bring her in to the slip.  Among those waiting to receive docking lines were James and Dennis our new sailboat acquaintances.  Even after a few cold beers, no one reminded me of my stupid mistake.  I think we have found real friends and we three boats agree to pot along together to Pickwick Lock and Dam.   So we have a plan for day four and day three was ok in spite of my dumb forgetfulness.  At least I now know how to bleed the entire engine.  Progress. .. I think. 

Will never again question turtle on a fence post