Month: March 2020

We anchored in Gulfport the next evening and had Molly and Bill over for dinner. We chatted and laughed well into the night and discussed how the travel days to come left us with great anticipation–both of the warmer weather and the new territory were we about to discover.

Arriving in Sarasota the following afternoon, we secured a mooring at Marina Jack’s. A definite perk to having a mooring as opposed to anchoring was that I had privileges to wash all the laundry that had accumulated and was practically taking over the boat as well as take a luxurious shower in a high class marina. It had been a long time since I was worried about spiders invading my shower space.

Walking the grounds, we stopped by O’Leary’s Tiki Bar and listened to the band playing at Happy Hour on the beach. Crossing into town, I directed us to Owen’s Fish Camp which I had read rave reviews about. We sat at the bar and enjoyed a delicious lobster dinner while conversing with the bartender about the area and listening to the band playing out on the porch.

In the morning we took the dinghy to shore to meander through the Farmer’s Market. To our delight, this was a true market with fresh produce and fruit galore as well as homemade breads and pasta. We didn’t know where to shop first but had to exercise some restraint not having space to store an exorbitant amount on the boat. Pleasantly satisfied, we headed back to our floating condo and were soon on our way into Roberts Bay.

Passing the white beaches of Venice, the Captain chowed down on some newly purchased funnel cake trying not to get powdered sugar all over the controls. But, the go-fast boats buzzing us along the way were making that effort extremely difficult. The Florida boaters we’ve encountered so far loved their fast toys and loved waking us even more so I was still preparing the cabin for “rough” seas every morning.

Anchoring that night off Englewood Beach in a snug spot before the thunderstorms hit, we were enjoying some wine in the cabin staying dry when bright lights lit up the sky. Running to the window, we had front row seats to the town’s Christmas boat parade.

The rain was still coming down in the morning when we hoisted the anchor, motored around the shoals and powered on further South. Crossing the Charlotte Harbor was worse than the trip across the Gulf. Things were so rough and rocky that Duane increased our speed to ease the incessant banging of the bow being buried in wave after wave. Salty Paws was already tied to the Cayo Costa State Park dock and texting us words of encouragement in our battle across the harbor. Helping us tie up, I was happy to get on solid ground and see Molly and Bill. Taking a walk a half mile through the island, we arrived at the Gulf beach. After collecting some shells, we sat on the sand and watched the waves crash from a different and, much more comfortable, perspective than we had earlier in the day. We had a fun night on Salty Paws that evening playing cards and enjoying some wine and rum punches. Poking our heads out to step on the dock and walk the few feet back to the boat, we were immediately hit in the face with pelting rain and raging wind. Quickly jumping aboard Bella Donna and closing all the windows, we watched the waves violently crash over the docks and were so glad we were not at anchor bouncing around.

The four of us made plans to meet at Cabbage Key the next afternoon to have a “cheeseburger in paradise” at the Inn. Arriving earlier in the morning, we tied up at the dock and took Baby Belle to tour the Tunnel of Love before lunch. Not sure who named this winding maze of brush and marsh, but there was nothing lovely or romantic about it. We had to crouch down in the dinghy and ward off spiders and low branches with our paddles as we made our way to the clearing. The area beyond the narrow overgrown creek was pretty and serene, but I was not looking forward to the return trip.

Molly and Bill had already arrived by the time we made it back and we had a pleasant lunch on the porch and then contributed our dollar to the memory wall before departing. Biding farewell for now to Molly and Bill as they drove away, we took a quick walk to see the resident turtles and tried to beat the storm rolling in, but we did not quite make it. We were soaking wet by the time we anchored in Glover Bight off the banks of the Westin Hotel. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and we will be at Fort Myers Yacht Club for a week celebrating the holidays.

• 

We and many of the cruisers went to Fathoms that evening to clear our minds and relax. Although the crossing was the major topic of conversation, we had a great evening and decided to let be what will be. None of us could change the impending weather conditions so we had to wait for things to unfold the next day. To gain as much knowledge as we could, Duane was was all over the current forecasts, one of the boaters signed up for Chris Parker’s weather report and guidance and we were meeting with a local Captain the following morning to get additional input.

Getting together at 1pm Duane started the gathering by telling everyone the local Captain did not see today as a good opportunity for anyone to make the crossing. The winds were against us and her exact words were “there is no amount of duck tape” to keep your boat and crew secure. Chris Parker was even skeptical but gave us a detailed course to navigate if we choose to venture out in the predicted conditions. At the closing of the meeting, most boats were paired up and 4pm was the estimated time of departure. Most boaters were confident in following the Chris Parker track and thought the local Captain was being overly cautious. Rushing back to the boat, I busied myself rearranging the cabin by securing all the glass and putting anything that may become a projectile low to the ground. Duane went through his engine and maintenance checklist as I packed a cooler to last us the next 24 hours and also make a comfortable area to nap at the helm. If it was going to be lumpy and bumpy, we were planning to camp out on the flybridge and only descend into the cabin by sheer necessity.

Leaving the dock we waved goodbye to Greg and Pam who were going home for Christmas and radioed Tom and Riley on Dancing Bears who were to be our buddy boat. Dancing Bears was having voltage issues, which was not a good omen, but decided to continue on and followed us into the open water. The first few hours were not terrible as we all checked in on the hour to get updates and adjust our course for a more comfortable ride by what was being relayed back to us by the faster boats. In all, Bella Donna, Dancing Bears, Short Vacation, Samantha, Salty Paws, Archimedes, Alcyone, Here’s To Us, We Wine A lot, God’s Grace and Reel Grace were proceeding forward into the unknown.

It was soon pitch dark and very unnerving not to see where the next wave was coming from while we waited for the moon to rise. The quiet seemed intensified by the blackness and we were startled when Riley’s panicked voice came on over the radio. Dancing Bears had smoke in the cabin! Upon hearing that, Duane flipped the boat around and we turned on every light so they could locate us in the distance. As we tried to make our way back to them we were pounded by waves and being thrown around mercilessly. Duane called the coast guard and was instructing me to get fenders and lines ready in the event we had to get them off the boat as he tried to keep the boat as steady as he could as waves crashed over the bow. At the same time, Kirk and Cathy on Samantha had turned around and were making their way back. It was soon determined that the engine had overheated due to a pump failure and coolant spilled out on the hot surface filling the boat with steam, not smoke. With no fear of fire and me now violently getting sick, Duane flipped the boat back around and idled along our previous course standing by to see how the situation unfolded. Kirk and Cathy were amazing and coordinated the radio calls with the coast guard, Tow Boat US and made sure Dancing Bears was anchored and secure awaiting help. We felt horrible leaving them, but once we heard they were in no eminent danger and the anchor was holding, we began to increase speed and move away. It was still early in the night and we had many hours ahead of us.

My stomach settled after a few hours and the moon was soon high in the sky providing a bright light on a clear night. This was one development that was going in our favor. The rest of the night passed without incident as we took our shifts driving switching every two hours. As Duane said, he was “Auto” and I was “Pilot.” The tediousness of manual steering with no object on the horizon to focus on, was a challenge. Well a challenge for me at least, as I somehow managed to flip the boat around and blamed the little boat marker on the computer screen I was supposed to be following the course of which was now upside down. Duane just rolled his eyes, put us back on course and laid back down.

The sun was soon up and I felt much more at ease even though we had about 8 hours to go until we reached Tarpon Springs. As we made it closer to land, we were able to check in with our fellow travelers to see how everyone was faring and get tips on avoiding the crab pots. About 20 miles off the coast, the winds picked up and the water became extremely choppy as we banged against wave after wave. The Gulf was not letting us off that easy. Five miles off shore with land in sight, the water calmed and I was getting the anchor ready. We decided to anchor and get some sleep and catch up with everyone the following day. At 2:53 pm, almost exactly 23 hours after our departure, we were safe and secure beside Anclote Key. I checked in with Tom and confirmed Dancing Bears had made in back to the marina in Carabelle, opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate our arrival and we were fast asleep by 7pm.

Moving into the Tarpon Springs Marina next to the famed Sponge Docks, we were elated to see a few boats from the crossing tied up there. Bill and Molly from Salty Paws accompanied us to lunch at Mama’s located in the Greek section of town off the docks. Over authentic gyros, we recounted the previous day’s adventure. Later that afternoon, a larger group gathered at the Dock Bar and toasted to our accomplishment.

• 

A cold front had moved in overnight and wind and rain soon followed. My family was driving up to visit us and we planned to have dinner at Hella’s that evening. My cousin Brian and Teresa arrived earlier in the day, so after giving them the grand 5 minute tour of the boat, we went to have cocktails at a courtyard bar across the street and then drove over to Captain Jack’s for Happy Hour. My Aunt Anita, George and cousin Scott also braved the stormy weather and treated us for a delicious meal at Hella’s–A Greek staple in Tarpon Springs. It was so good to see them after all these years and after so much time away from home.

There was a chilly brisk wind blowing the next day and we decided to take the trolly to Clearwater beach for lunch. Patty from Alcyone came along as her boyfriend Todd was not feeling well these past few weeks and was resting. Although it was unseasonably cold, the three of us had a fun afternoon on the Jolly Trolly tour strolling the beach and having some frozen cocktails. As cold as the day was, it felt good to have sand between our toes once again.

• 

Stocking up on Greek pastries and sweets to keep us satisfied through the next few days, we had agreed we should move on. We had Christmas plans in Fort Myers with Renee and Pierre and were so looking forward to seeing them. That night we had docktails and dessert on Short Vacation along with Patti. It was very much appreciated by all of us that Pam and John had downloaded some very useful information to aid in our travels down the Florida coast and on into the Bahamas–a crossing we were planning to tackle the beginning of February.

With the Gulf crossing now behind us, we took off South toward warmer weather to spend the next five days exploring before we headed into Fort Myers for Christmas Eve.

Leaving our little furry friend to watch over the boat, we packed a bag and headed off to the Greyhound station in Mobile for a two hour ride into New Orleans. The station was, for the lack of a better word, “eclectic.” In any event, we grabbed seats in the first row and decided to keep to ourselves. We haven’t been on public transportation in months or traveled over 10 mph in weeks so it was a very enlightening experience.

Arriving at the bus station in Louisiana, we jumped in an Uber and headed off to the Big Easy. Dropping our bag at the hotel, we busted out onto the streets of the French Quarter. The warm feeling of the Christmas season was oozing from all the establishments as the lights twinkled, drinks flowed and the music played. It was definitely the downtime we needed to recharge our batteries as we soaked in all the sights in between the delectable beignets at Cafe Du Monde, Hurricanes at Pat O’Brien’s and as many charbroiled oysters that we could get our hands on….which were especially delicious at the Royal House. That night we crashed hard sinking into the king size bed after a long hot shower…the Hilton never felt so luxurious. After pounding the pavement for a few hours the next day, catching some time to have a drink at the Carousel Bar in Hotel Montelone after hitting the Farmer’s Market in Jackson Square, we grabbed Po-boys at Erin Rose for tomorrow’s lunch and hightailed it over to Superior Seafood to indulge ourselves further for a fabulous dinner. After a whirlwind of a day, we hopped on the bus back to Mobile to get the boat ready for the next leg of the journey across the Florida Panhandle.

After getting the boat sufficiently provisioned for the next few days, we headed over to the Grand Mariner for a Looper gathering. There were 12 boats in attendance and it was a pleasure to met new boaters as well as catch up with BackAtcha and Salty Dog. Along with ourselves, many boats would be crossing Mobile Bay in the morning as the weather forecast was stellar with low winds and calm waters.

Not sure if it was the salt water from the Gulf or that we were further south, but sunrise was especially bright that day as it rose over the shrimp boats in the harbor and we untied from the dock.

After crossing Mobile Bay with ease, it was smooth boating to Lulu’s which was our lunch destination with Salty Dog and Nex T’ See. Lulu was the sister of Jimmy Buffet and we were told that her restaurant was a most stop on the way to Florida. We had our first dolphin sighting along the way, but in my opinion, since we travel slower than a turtle, she was soon bored and quickly on her way. After a nice lunch on the patio enjoying the warm sunshine, we were hoping we had finally caught up to the weather we had been waiting for.

Ingram Bayou was a beautiful secluded anchorage where we decided to settle in for the night that evening. As we idled into the far corner of the cove we caught a glimpse of two sailboats who just happened to be friends we have not seen since Michigan. Hopping into our dinghy we motored over to reacquaint ourselves with Maggie and Chuck on Timbuctoo and Joe on Breeze who had many stories to tell about their travels since we last parted. The moon was high in the sky when we decided to get back to the boat after one, or three, glasses of wine and prepare for the travel day ahead. We weren’t traveling too far as we had reservations at Orange Beach Marina a few miles away from the anchorage.

The Orange Beach area just screamed money as we passed home after home of beachfront property and private docks. From our recent experience, this was definitely a far cry from the modest homes on the rivers. The marina had covered docks and, after backing into our slip, we hooked up the power to charge the batteries and then checked in at the marina office. The grounds were meticulously maintained and pelicans adorned most of the pilings. This was most certainly a cruiser’s paradise.

Lisa from BackAtcha suggested going to Cosmos’s for dinner so we climbed into two rental cars with her, Chris, Patti (Alcyone), Tom (Dancing Bears), Ed and Kathy (Vitamin Sea). The food was great and we all chatted about our plans going forward. Besides Tom and ourselves, who were moving on in the morning, everyone else was staying in Orange Beach through the holidays.

And just like that, at 8:01 the following morning, we were in Florida. Duane said he felt the atmosphere definitely change as we crossed the border, but I think it was just us getting anxious for the inevitable and dreaded crossing of the Gulf of Mexico. I had been trying to get excited for the open water trip through shark infested waters, but, at this moment, I was very uneasy about that upcoming leg of the adventure. So much of the trip depended on good weather, cooperative winds and calm seas. At this point we were almost certain we were going to take three days and travel the rim route as opposed to an overnight crossing into Tarpon Springs— a 170 mile trip which, at our speed, would take about 22 hours.

We anchored out with Dancing Bears the next four nights slowly making our way to Carabelle where we would stage waiting for a good weather window for the crossing.

It was a gorgeous 70 degree day and our first stop was Navarre Beach located between Destin and Pensacola on Florida’s Emerald Coast. A quaint anchorage, we took the dinghy ashore with Tom to enjoy tuna tacos and drinks at Juana’s Sailors Grille. There was a live band and we were lulled to sleep by the tunes of Jimmy Buffet echoing from the beach.

We were on the move again by 6:30 in the morning and made a pit stop by the Fort Walton city docks to perform a much needed pump-out of the holding tank. Protective gloves and safety googles in place, the Captain took charge of the dirty task at hand as I stood well away from any potential mishaps. It was a little choppy under the Bay Bridge in the Choctawhatchee Bay where we dropped anchor later that afternoon. Sitting on Santa Rosa Beach outside the Bay Restaurant that evening, we relaxed while having a few rum cocktails watching the boat bounce in the current. A rough sleep for sure, we happily moved on once the sun rose.

Passing through 28 miles of a narrow channel dubbed the Grand Canyon, we anchored in the beautifully serene Pearl Bayou in Bay County on the third night after leaving Orange Beach. Tom invited us aboard Dancing Bears for dinner and to meet his friend, Riley, who had flown in to accompany him and his dog, Ripple, on the Gulf crossing. After a very pleasant evening, we boarded Baby Belle back to Bella Donna and were no sooner asleep when a torrential downpour descended upon us. The thirty cent fix was proving its worth keeping us dry and the boat was getting a much needed wash down so we didn’t mind the racket playing out above our heads all that much. And the wine may have helped just a little.

Moving further east the next morning toward Cypress Swamp, we entered the Eastern Time Zone for the first time since we had arrived in Michigan City on October 9th and thus lost an hour of daylight travel time. We dropped anchor outside the city of Apalachicola. Fishing boats and fresh seafood shacks lined the waterfront so we went ashore to purchase some fresh catch and browse through the shops. While Duane was mulling over purchasing some Mahi-mahi, I treated myself to a nautical necklace at the local shop. We all have our priorities!

• 

Our reserved slip at the Moorings of Carabelle was a 4 hour trip the next day as we received a positive push on the St. George Sound. After filling our near empty tank with gas once we arrived, we parked ourselves right next to Salty Dog. Greg and Pam are the friendly faces we have looked forward to seeing at many stops along our journey and it was nice to catch up over drinks that evening. It was now December 10th and there hadn’t been a good weather window to cross the Gulf since Shoreline Traveller and Adagio left with a group on the 5th. All we could do now is watch the weather and be patient…which was a hard concept with Christmas approaching.

Over the next four days the number of boats waiting to cross had significantly increased. Each day we chatted with other boaters and enjoyed what the local town had to offer. The marina cooked a hot breakfast each morning for all the transient boaters so we were able to bounce ideas off each other in regard to prospective weather windows and routes across to the West Coast. Over the course of our stay, we also learned there was a resident bear who lived in the IGA parking lot, The Fisherman’s Wife served the tastiest fish baskets and the all-you-can-eat crab leg special at Fathom’s Oyster Bar and Grill was the highlight of my stay. In addition to the great food, Fathom’s had a local band which entertained the crowd each night —the lead singer and guitar player was the marina diesel mechanic and also owner of the bar. Even the laundromat, which I was skeptical about at first sight, was a pleasant rustic experience.

After a few nights of good food and entertainment, there was an overwhelming consensus that our opportunity to move on across the Gulf was materializing. I was getting so antsy, I even let Duane cut my hair as I felt it was getting very unruly the last month down the rivers and across the Panhandle. He was more than happy to oblige which made me nervous and take offense at the same time.

On the 13th, Duane decided to see if all the other boaters wanted to get together to go over ideas and weather reports in the lounge. In all, twelve boats gathered and we discussed everything from boating safety, wind conditions over the next few days, possible routes and various forecast predictions. We put together a list of boats and tried to pair vessels up based on speed and we all planned to met at 1pm the next day as late that afternoon seemed promising with the current information we had.

That night the Captain sat me down and pleaded his case to sway me into the overnight crossing. I knew Christmas was ten days away and we needed three good weather windows, not just one, to boat along the rim route, but I was still nervous. The overnight trip was something I had been adamant against doing since the beginning as it would be the longest and furthest distance we had ever gone— traveling all through the night on one engine. In the end, he won me over and I trusted his judgement. Tomorrow is most likely going to be the big day! Fingers and toes crossed all goes well.

We were up the next morning before the herons and were in and out of four locks over the course of six hours. Fall had all but faded by now and the overcast skies were intensified by the dust and smoke being emitted by the industrial plants along the route….namely the Port of Amory which was grinding up trees in massive quantities.

After traveling consistently for continuous days now, we decided to tackle some boat projects and linger for a day or two at the Columbus Marina. Captain Duane needed to tend to the alignment on the “oh so temperamental” port engine which was getting little to no playtime these days. I also had some labor intensive tasks to occupy my time as the laundry was mounting and someone had to replenish the drink supply.

The next afternoon the marina was having a Pot Luck Turkey Fry as Thanksgiving was the following week so I headed to the Farmers Market to pick up some pie and also vegetables to make a pasta salad which was my contribution to the festivities. Watching college football, we caught up with Mark, Lana and Analise while dining on the Harbormaster’s delectable deep fried turkey, dirty rice and various side dishes supplied by other cruisers. Lisa and Chris aboard BackAtcha had arrived earlier that day and we exchanged cards making plans to leave the dock at 6:30 the following morning. It was predicted to be a crisp, sunny and calm day on the water so we were headed to an anchorage —Sumter Recreational Area—which was highly recommended located well over the border into Alabama.

The Sumter anchorage definitely lived up to all the hype and more. The scenery was mesmerizing as the sounds of wildlife echoed through the trees. By sunset, the five boats which powered down the river and through the locks all day together were securely anchored in the confines of the cove…along with Bella Donna were BackAtcha, Fish Vicious, Dixie Moon and Nex T’ See. We hadn’t officially met Doug and Nancy on Fish Vicious, but they came to collect us on their dinghy to have docktails with Chris and Lisa that evening aboard their boat. Little Winston was there to greet us and Duane was head over heels for the little guy who played fetch with him most of the night. It was truly a spectacular day and a very pleasant night to round it all out.

There was frost on the deck by sunrise, but the sight of the mist glistening over the water negated the harsh temperatures so much so that I volunteered to put my gloves on and hoist the anchor. We were well on our way before the sun burnt off the fog and soon brought into focus the extraordinary White Cliffs of Epes. The Captain was so taken by the limestone formations along the Tombigbee River, we came precariously close to a huge log barreling in our direction. We were dodging and weaving through debris most of the day and let out a sigh of relief as we entered Lake Demopolis. Weary from the constant maneuvering, we were ecstatic to grab a glass of wine that evening and check in with our buddy boats once Bella Donna was gassed up and comfortable in her slip at Kingfisher Marina. In addition, as a testament to the resolve of the boating community, a wonderful couple we had never met before, Donna and Alan, just happened to be walking by us as we were discussing an issue with our engine belt and went out of their way to go pick up new belts for us while we tended to the problem of the overheating engine. New belt installed, the following day we hit the town and treated ourselves to lunch a Stacy’s Cafe accompanied by Chris and Lisa.

The next three nights required us to anchor out along the Black Warrior -Tombigbee Waterway as there were no marinas or services until Mobile, AL. Mobile was our last stop before we crossed Mobile Bay and entered the Florida Panhandle.

To our excitement, the current on the waterway was exceptional and was pushing us along at a mind blowing 9.4 mph. Considering how much commercial traffic moves up and down the waterway each day, there is so much history behind the industry and what was required and sacrificed to build up this part of the country. Today we passed the remnants of Rooster Bridge which was the sight of the Cahaba tugboat accident of 1979. Amazing no one onboard the tug was injured as it was thrown sideways going downstream and sucked under the bridge upside down.

The first sight of a beach brought cheers from my side of the flybridge as we passed Four Mile Bar. Soon after we were anchored in Turkey Shoals off Coffeeville Lake which seemed aptly named for our timing as tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Since we were right off the channel and the tow traffic would be passing closely, we kept the radio on and informed each tow captain of our whereabouts once their spotlights were visible. Ever so courteous, the few that idled by after dark, wished us safe passage and a Happy Thanksgiving. In between sleep and radio calls, we debated whether the sounds echoing through the dark were owls or wolves and were glad we didn’t have a dog to take ashore and actually find out the extent of the wildlife in the darkness.

It was a bittersweet Thanksgiving Day. This was the first family holiday we were away since we started dating and, while grateful for this amazing experience, we did miss everyone back home. Since we were in no place to have a home cooked meal, I had whipped up some turkey wraps and heated up sweet potato pies purchased a few days earlier in order to adhere to the basis of the traditional holiday meal, even though it was somewhat of a stretch. In any event, the Captain praised my efforts and thoroughly enjoyed the Thanksgiving feast. He even had a chuckle as we motored by Turkey Point while shoveling the hot off the engine pie into his mouth. Arriving at the Coffeeville Lock we were looking forward to a quick passage so we could anchor and enjoy the rest of the gorgeous day. Well that was not to be the case….the lockmaster must have been in some sort of turkey coma himself as it took him 20 minutes just to acknowledge our presence outside the lock and then an additional 40 minutes to let us in the gates. Once the water level was even, we waited 15 minutes totally bewildered as to what was going on. Duane radioed the tower to make sure the lockmaster didn’t forget about us, after which, the doors quickly opened so surely he had.

Exiting the lock we were now back at sea level. This was a true milestone for our 35 year old boat since we had entered our first lock in Troy, NY over 2,500 miles ago. But Bella Donna was right at home in the salt water. It was her crew who needed to get used to the tidal changes and saltwater air once again. After a 10 hour day, we dropped anchor at Old Lock One and watched the dusk turn into night.

Lowering Baby Belle in the morning, we took a dinghy ride through the old dilapidated lock and watched the sunrise over the horizon. Soon enough we were on our way and smack in the middle of a busy day with tows appearing around every corner. Some passed with not so much as a ripple as others created what seemed like a tsunami in their wake. This was one aspect of the travel day I will not miss in the coming days as the anticipation of passing the massive barges is beginning to wear on my nerves. Safe and sound, we anchored off in the Tensas River. Bass fishing boats were zipping around to unknown creeks in the distance and I was a little wary when one pulled up beside the boat. Noticing not only an ax but a shotgun in the boat, I was more than a little skeptical as I grabbed for my boat hook. All in all, the occupants decked out in all camouflage were a lovely couple who were curious about the Great Loop and our travels thus far. But, the New Yorker in me did rear her head back in suspicion when they requested we come with them to their camp sight 10 miles up the river. Needless to say, we politely declined as I locked and barricaded the door…dueling banjos playing over and over in my head as Duane rolled his eyes.

Four hours into our trip the following day we entered the Mobile Shipping Channel. Here we saw our first building since St. Louis, passed by a Carnival Cruise ship at the Mobile Convention Center and encountered more tows and turbulence in this industrial area than we have in the last thousand or so miles. At the end of all the mayhem was Mobile Bay and eventually the shallow narrow channel leading to Dog River Marina. We tied up in front of Next T’ See across from the local shrimp boats and were glad to be taking a breather. Walking up to the Yacht Club for dinner and to catch up on the news, we bumped into Greg and Pam from Salty Dog. It was great to see them and we were excited to be able to get together in the next few days when we returned. We had just made a last minute decision to get off the boat for a night and take the Greyhound bus to New Orleans in the morning. Can’t wait to indulge in some scrumptious beignets!

It was a crisp 40 degrees when we departed the dock, but the sun was shining and the winds had subsided. Beginning this leg of the journey on our own, we hoped to soon cross paths with other boaters. The Barkley Canal converged with the Tennessee River and we were soon battling the current once again. Weary after a long day, we decided to tie up at Paris Landing Marina. Being late in the day by the time we arrived, in addition to the unseasonably cold weather and recent tornado which swept through the area, the marina was deserted. We figured we would catch up with the Harbormaster in the morning. Duane proceeded to complete the set of fleece sheets he started back in Kentucky, which now seemed a dire necessity, as I whipped together a batch of chili. By the end of the evening we were both toasty warm inside and out.

Settling up in the morning and filling the tank with gas, we left the channel for points South as the boat was covered with a layer of frost overnight. The Old Louisville-Nashville Railroad Bridge was soon on the horizon and not too far after, we cruised onto the Kentucky Lake. The channel into Pebble Isle Marina was extremely narrow as we traversed the waters, but the scenery was spectacular as the sun hung low in the sky. We were awake and back on the water again by 6:30 the next morning in order to make it to Clifton by dark. The engine sandwiches were sufficiently toasted halfway through our journey so we enjoyed a nice hot meal cruising passed the limestone formations of Denison Island and counted the numerous uprooted trees- casualties of the tornado. Though I wished we had been further along in our journey, we were very fortunate to have not been traveling through these waters, as other boaters had been, when the storm decimated the area a few weeks ago.

There were finally signs of life when we arrived at the Clifton Marina so we tied up and hopped off the boat. The restaurant/bar/store/boater’s lounge was a quaint and welcoming establishment and we grabbed a drink, paid for our slip and placed our dinner order for that evening— home cooked lasagna was on the menu. To our surprise and delight, Harold and Deb strolled in to greet us. While we were elated to see them, we were dejected that they were sidelined by engine issues and not sure when they would be moving on. Catching up that evening and hearing about their engine woes, we were introduced to a lovely couple, Mark and Lana, and their daughter, Analise, aboard Nex T’ See docked across from us who would also be leaving the harbor in the morning.

After a lovely evening with old and new friends, we awoke in the early morning hours to prepare the boat for the travel day ahead in addition to catching a quick shower in the marina bathroom/laundry room. We are always intrigued by the layouts of the various marinas we visit and the amenities offered to boaters. Peculiar indeed was this particular setup as the one unisex shower was located in the same room as the washer and dryer with a separate entrance directly into the marina store/restaurant. As I was not aware of the second door, the owner strolled in to do a load of clothes while I was shaving my legs. And so it goes in the day in the life of a transient boater.

As I emerged from the shower, fog had enveloped the entire area so there was time to order breakfast sandwiches as we waited for the visibility to improve. 45 minutes later, with two of the heaviest bagel sandwiches in tow, we were on our way to begin a pleasantly calm day on the river system. You know you are in the South when your hearty breakfast sandwich consists of sausage, bacon, egg, Swiss AND American cheese with cream cheese AND butter all crammed on a bagel. Before the last bite was even in his stomach, the Captain looked at me with his droopy eyes pleading for a nap. It was a calm day, and not many logs or barges had encroached on our path thus far, so I complied with the plea as long as he kept the radio handy in case I was in need of assistance.

The day crept by and we were soon anchored behind Diamond Island positioned for another amazing sunset. The rain came in with a vengeance that evening and, if I have not mentioned it previously, a 30 cent resolution has made a real difference in a pleasant night’s sleep as opposed to being woken up rudely to cold water dripping on my head. That’s all it took…a quarter and a nickel wedged under the latch to stop the water from seeping in and ruining my pleasant dreams. With all the recent rain and overcast skies, the batteries needed a jump in the morning to coax them to motor on as the solar panels were barely able to charge them.

Once the engines kicked into gear, we pulled anchor and off we went toward the Pickwick Lock and Dam. There were ten locks on the stretch of the river system beyond Green Turtle Bay and, once we exited at Pickwick, we were traveling with the current again and getting a good push at that. At roughly 34.9956 degrees N and 80.20 degrees W in the vicinity of Yellow Creek Falls, we converged on the precise spot where Alabama, Tennessee and Mississippi met. It was one of those excitable moments only understood after days of monotonous travel at 7.5 mph when the world passes by in slow motion, so I requested we make a U-turn and relive the experience one more time. Once we had sufficiently satisfied ourselves and, before anyone would think we were in distress for going around in circles aimlessly, we made our way to Grand Harbor Marina where Nex T’ See had already arrived.

The Harbormaster was full of information and, as another example of southern hospitality at it’s finest, lent us his car for the rest of the afternoon. After loading up on much needed groceries at the Pickwick Supermarket and sweets to avoid a “hangry” Captain, we made our way to The Outpost for lunch. The food was outstanding and the setting right out of the Wild Wild West. After Duane ordered an additional two sandwiches for us to consume on tomorrow’s travel day, I noted that some extra trips up and down the fly bridge steps were in order to counteract some of the calories consumed today.

Leaving the marina at sunrise, we were navigating toward the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway which was a 25 mile man-made passage about 11 feet in depth which allowed us to travel further south to Mobile, AL. The waters were extremely calm and easy to maneuver, so I took over at the helm for a few hours. Needless to say, the photographer on call dropped the ball and missed our photo op of a deer crossing in front of the boat while I was assuming the driving duties. But, to his defense, he did capture one of the man-made dams which we remarked looked more like the Plinko game from the Price is Right.

After a delay at the Jamie Whitten Lock and Dam, we were able to make it through the Montgomery Lock before it started getting dark about an hour later. As I pushed the boat away from the wall and we exited passed the dam, Duane, trying to always be the comedian and lighten up the mood, yelled to take a “dam” picture, which, I could haven taken literally or figuratively in the given situation. After snapping a few shots, I gave him the thumbs up and acknowledged his witty pun which only egged him on further. As the sun began to set, we decided to anchor right outside the Fulton Lock and be in a prime position to continue on in the morning.

It was now the end of October and we had given up wishing for an Indian Summer. We planned to leave the boat at the marina for over two weeks so we were assigned to the resident dock which was a short walk to where the other boats were tied up. That night I reluctantly put on a pair of jeans and we boarded the golf cart shuttle bound for the Thirsty Turtle at the other end of the property. The drinks flowed and the heat lamps were fired up as a group of us enjoyed dinner reminiscing about the last few long days on the rivers.

Green Turtle was a resort located in western Kentucky and a renowned Looper gathering spot. The resort overlooked Lake Barkley and had many amenities, including a spa, which added to the appeal. We had a few days to enjoy the surroundings before we had to be in a Nashville to catch our flights, so we made the most of them.

The next day we caught up with Renee and Pierre and heard stories of their travels since we parted in Chicago which now seemed like a lifetime ago. We were greeted by Poilu, who welcomed us aboard and let Duane pet him before he scampered off. Laughing over drinks, we also met a few Loopers they had been traveling with the last few weeks. Gallus and Adagio were scheduled to leave in two days, so we made plans to have dinner on Pete and Teresa’s boat with Dave and Denise the following night as a sort of “until we meet again” celebration. Pete was a Doctor of Poultry Science and served up the most delicious wings we have ever tasted. He gave me some pointers but I still have not mastered the recipe. Between laundry duty, packing and taking the courtesy car to Walmart, we went over to say Goodbye to Greg and Pam on Salty Dog as they were going home to visit with family and may have moved on by the time we returned. On the walk back, we bumped into Geoff and Ruth who had just arrived on Geru. They had some tales to tell since we last physically saw them in Alton. It strangely felt like we were all leaving on a break from college as we wished everyone well and vowed to keep in touch. A lot could transpire in the two weeks we would be gone.

The last to arrive before we left were Jim and Wendy on My Everything. It was so great to see them since our solemn parting back when the port engine was still in pieces. Group 1.5 was well on their way toward Mobile at this point and we gave up hopes of seeing them until possibly Florida. Jim ended up renting a golf cart and we all went to town to see the Christmas light spectacular and have dinner. Duane was very excited to see his buddy Pumpkin, their sweet cat who reminded him of his kitty, Val, who passed away before we left.

We had been torn between renting a car or taking an Uber two hours to Nashville the next day to enjoy a night out before our separate trips when we saw Harold and Deb from Columba who were heading that way with Zyg in the morning and they offered us a ride. Our sailboat friends saved the day! Zyg was only a few days away from crossing his wake and was going home for a visit before he brought his sailboat, Domino, to its original and final destination.

Nashville was a treat. We walked the streets past one bar after the other playing live music before settling on Whiskey Row and then parking ourselves on the rooftop of Kid Rocks Honky Tonk. Before dropping us off at the airport hotel, Zyg gave us all a tour of Opryland which was a marvel to see.

That night I took a nice hot shower not worrying about time or water consumption and tried not to sway too much on solid ground. Don’t get me wrong, being lulled to bed by the slapping of the waves on the hull can be soothing, but after 83 days on the water, we were immensely looking forward to being stationary for a few days.

In the morning we hurried to get ourselves together and board the shuttle to the airport. I was off to Texas to visit family and Duane was off to a job in Maine. Realizing we were headed to different terminals, it hit us that after being together in such a small space for almost three months, we would not be squeezing passed each other to grab a glass or use the bathroom for the next ten days. I know he was secretly elated at this prospect as he could now leave his socks hanging from the hotel light fixtures if he so desired.

I hadn’t seen my brother, Jim, or Linda and Nicholas and little Lily in a year and a half so I was very excited to arrive and spend the next week with them. It was great to catch up and spend some quality time in their beautiful home. Linda and I were able to squeeze some shopping in as well as pamper ourselves with pedicures and massages. The boys caught up with us for dinners and Nicholas introduced me to my first experience as a character in a virtual reality game. It was a great time even though I could not quite get a handle on my super powers. The Escape the Room challenge was more my speed. All in all it was a terrific week and I was sad to go, but hoped I would see them somewhere along our travels soon. Before I hightailed it back to Bella Donna, I was able to spend a quick weekend in Nashville with my old friend, Tara, who flew in from New York. For two days we hit all the hot spots and enjoy great music, food and conversation.

It was now Nov 11th and I was headed back to Grand Rivers, KY. As I grabbed an Uber, I was now feeling anxious to make sure our home was safe and secure. The skies were grey and dreary as the chill descended upon us. I was elated to see Bella Donna and realized how much I missed the comfort of her surroundings as I unpacked and reluctantly plugged in the heaters for the first time. That night was terribly cold and, to my shock, it snowed two inches overnight. I woke up to an unexpected winter wonderland and to the sounds of boaters hammering away at dock lines to free themselves from the cleats. A wave of emotions flowed over me as Duane was not expected to be back for two more days, and I was now stuck on the boat as the dock was a complete sheet of ice and the beer stored under the dinette was as cold as the beer in the refrigerator. I could not resist sending a picture of the bright blue mountains on the Coors Light can to Duane to emphasize my plight as I gathered all the available blankets and hunkered down with the three small heaters pointed directly at me. It was a very long and frigid 48 hours before I spotted Duane making his way down the icy dock to the boat. Before he even had a chance to step into the cabin, I informed him not to get comfortable as there was no time to waste as we needed to get ready to depart our present tundra as soon as possible. Winter had made an early appearance and I wasn’t waiting around for her to settle in.