Hurricane Eta finally decided to stop harassing the Gulf coast, and we were free to proceed south. If we ignore a near collision, a serious medical scare, and numerous mechanical failures, it’s been a great week!
Our last day in Demopolis was spent taking a nice long walk through the park to stretch our legs, with a bonus opportunity of getting rid of all trash onboard. This park had a dumpster...we love to find a dumpster! Once we leave this beautiful anchorage we will have 4 straight travel days, with questionable anchorage areas, until we reach Mobile.
When walking through the woods, I always ask Keith to lead the way so he can act as the human spiderweb sweeper. He usually shakes his head and rolls his eyes, and generally thinks I’m being silly about avoiding a web across my face...until now! Luckily, this spider built about 4 inches over Keith’s head, and he walked right under it. However, he must have caused vibration, which caused the spider to move, which caught my eye...yikes! It may have been a mistake to call him back and show him what almost wrapped around his face😬 hopefully I didn’t scare him out of the lead position on future walks. Note: things in this picture may appear larger than actual size, this spider was approximately 1 1/2 inches across.
On the morning of Thursday, Nov 12 we pulled anchor at 7:00 am and headed into Demopolis Lock. We had been anchored less than 1/2 mile from the lock, and now understood the noise we had questioned for the previous 6 days. This is our first attempt at using the panoramic feature on the camera, so please ignore the misaligned picture (we’ll practice).
The morning was grey and misty, but we were happy to be moving again. Keith had first helm duty on that morning, and the next two hours were uneventful. There was a lot of tow/barge traffic on that part of the river, but we had probably met/passed close to a hundred tows during our 5 months in this river system, and we regarded all captains as friendly and helpful...UNTIL we met ‘Terah Huckabee’.
Our AIS (automatic identification system) allows us to ‘see’ oncoming vessels on our chart plotter, long before we can make a visual contact. Normally, we radio the oncoming tow to ask which side of the channel they would like us to be on when we meet. On this morning, we could see Terah Huckabee approximately 2 miles down river heading in our direction around a very sharp bend. Keith attempted to make radio contact using channel 16 (specifically designated for hailing and distress). After several attempts with no answer, he switched to channel 13 (bridge to bridge) and attempted contact again. After several attempts he finally got a reply, but to our shock and dismay the reply was, “you shouldn’t be using this channel, stay on 16.”
What??? Keith returned to 16 and attempted contact again, but received no reply. Alright, maybe there is a problem with the radio?? We were quickly approaching the bend, and decided the safest bet was to stop forward progress and hold station on the inside edge of the channel to give the tow use of the entire channel in the bend...so for 10 minutes we did not move. We watched the tow move closer on our screen, but still had not been able to put eyes on her. Finally, we saw the first row of barges peek around the bend.
If you’ve never been on the water, let me explain that in this type of situation it always looks like the other boat is heading straight for you. However, once they are able to straighten out from the turn the ‘lanes’ become visible again and it is easy to proceed...but that did not happen! He kept heading straight for us, and Keith kept asking me...’when is he going to straighten out?” It quickly became clear that he had no intention of straightening out. At that point he made radio contact to tell us that we were in his way. With a wall of barges heading straight for us, Keith had to give full throttles and aim for the river bank. At that point we were concerned about running aground, but that fate was better than definite death if we didn’t move quickly.
Thankfully all 240 horses responded and moved us in time to avoid collision, but if anything had gone wrong in that moment the outcome would have been very different. I am convinced he intentionally tried to kill us. But he wasn’t done...he actually had the nerve to come back on the radio and say, “I don’t know where you are from, but around here we have the right of way!” At this point of the story all I can say is it is a really good thing Keith was at the helm and had the radio in his hand, because my filter was gone! I am very proud to say that Keith responded in a calm but firm manner and informed him that none of that would have happened if he had simply communicated with us...kudos to Keith...I would still be cursing the guy!
That night we squeezed our girl into a tiny creek, only about 50 ft wide, and tied off to trees to avoid anchoring anywhere near the channel. The next day we covered a wonderfully uneventful 60 miles to tie up at Bobbie’s Fish Camp.
This is ‘Terah Huckabee’ passing us, while we were tied to Bobbie’s dock, a day after the ‘incident’.
Bobbie’s is a single pier at a small camp ground where local fishermen and hunters keep their trailers. It is located in the middle of no where Alabama, with the nearest town of Jackson being approximately 40 miles away. We had to pay to tie up there because there is absolutely no place to anchor along this stretch of the river. Within 2 hours of tying up, Keith was in his recliner doubled over in pain. Earlier, he had complained about a little ache in his lower back, but the situation changed quickly. I ‘diagnosed’ a possible kidney stone, since we had been in this exact situation about 20 months ago. Time to line up resources...just in case.
After administering drugs (left over from the last kidney stone) I walked around the campground until I found a person, and asked about the nearest medical facility, taxi/Uber services...etc. The answers to my questions (40 miles, no/no) were not good, but this woman agreed to drive us to the hospital in Jackson if things got worse. Our options were very limited, as we knew from experience that the hospital (after hours of waiting) would just give him pain meds and tell him to contact a urologist. Since we had the meds onboard (and limited transportation options...how would we get back to the boat) my priority was to get him to civilization, but we were still two days away.
Our last lock!! Thanks for the picture, Blondie!
My plan was to keep him drugged while we traveled for two days to Mobile. There I would be able to dock at a marina and rent a car. The only down side to this plan was the final lock (Coffeeville) we were scheduled to transit the next morning. The thought of single handing through the lock was stressful, but doable if necessary. I went through the procedure (in my mind) a million times that night, and felt confident that (while it might not be pretty) I could handle it.
Fortunately, he woke feeling better, and he was able to stay at the helm for 90 minutes before the pain returned, once again pain meds to the rescue while I took over the helm. Thanks goodness we made it through the lock before the pain started. While he did start feeling better that afternoon, he couldn’t return to the helm with narcotics in his system. Once again we anchored in a swampy area that required passage through a long narrow entrance just wide enough for the boat to pass through.
That evening Keith informed me that he needed to change the oil in the injector pumps. I knew he was feeling better at thatmoment, but what if the pain came back in the middle of the job? Two major concerns immediately came to mind; how would I get him out of the engine room; and how would I get the boat out of the swamp the next day, with one engine, if the pain came back in the middle of the job? Keith convinced me that I would be able to put the engine back together and get it running if need be...so down to the engine room we went for my lesson. I videoed his explanation of the whole procedure, which led me to agree that I could indeed get everything back together. Luckily, my new skills were not required.
The next morning we wanted to get an early start, because we knew it would be a long day. We slipped out of the swamp without a problem, but after a few miles we came upon a pretty dense fog. Within a few minutes I heard Keith say, “oh no...Terah Huckabee is three miles downriver and heading our way.” At this point we were both loaded for bear, and just wanted to get out of this river. However, before we got within two miles of her another boat heading downriver hailed ‘Terah Huckabee’ on the radio, and we waited to see how this would play out. Almost immediately a very happy young man answered with the normal reply, “meet you on the one captain”. Hallelujah, Terah Huckabee had a different captain on this morning, and we too met him on the one (which means ‘leave you to my port’) without incident. Our jubilation was replaced with ‘oh crap’ the minute the guages on our port engine went crazy!
I took the helm, while Keith went below to analyze the problem. A fuse, coming off the alternator, had melted (we think a nut came lose causing too much heat). Thankfully, there was nothing flammable close by, because this looks like it could have started a fire. Keith was able to bypass that fuse, since there is another fuse at the other end, and we were back in business...and still no pain today👍
Finally, welcome to Mobile, but what should we do? We hadn’t planned to stop in Mobile before the pain started, since Keith was not in pain at that moment we decided to keep moving.
Crossing Mobile Bay, a little rough, but happy to be in wind blown waves!
It felt great to be back in the land of the pelicans!
In an attempt to get as close to Pensacola as possible, we traveled until the last possible minute before anchoring in the southeast corner of Mobile Bay.
I was at the helm the next morning, and as we prepared to pull the anchor I lost the port engine. After several failed attempts to restart I called Keith off the bow. Once again, a trip to the engine room was in order, and he quickly determined there was air in the injection line. After bleeding the line, we were back in business. At that time we didn’t know how the air got in there, but eventually we would find out...
Hello our dolphin friends! Swim with us to Pensacola.
Our happiness for being back in saltwater, quickly turned to somberness for the people who have been hit so hard this season.
We saw a lot of roof damage, but thankfully most houses seemed structurally sound.
There was a lot of boat and pier damage.
We found all of the missing piers. There was a mile long stretch of coastline piled with lumber.
We anchored in Pensacola Bay near the north shore to get protection from a strong north wind. There was a fabulous park with docks, pavilions, and walking trails. We took the Whaler in and walked a mile to Publix to restock on fresh fruits and veggies. Upon our return we were watching a windsurfer enjoying the strong breeze in the bay. Apparently he wanted a better look at the boat and decided to sail right behind us. Well, if you have ever been on a windsurf board you know that as the wind pushes/pulls against the sail you must lean back in the opposite direction to balance the force. He came so close to our boat that he lost his wind (because it was blocked by our boat) but he was still leaning back...so...splash. Too funny! Thankful he didn’t hit his head on our swim platform...he was that close!
And here we are today, Wednesday, Nov. 18. Three more travel days to reach Carrabelle. However, at 11:30 we were looking for an emergency anchorage, because the port engine kept losing power, spitting and sputtering. The first time it happened, Keith changed fuel tanks and attributed the problem to a clogged vent line. Everything seemed fine for about an hour, then the same problem...port engine. Keith decided it was time to change the fuel pump. With the wind being strong and conditions a little rough we decided it would be better to anchor than for him to attempt to work while I ran on one engine. This picture is our beautiful repair anchor spot.
Good news! After the fuel pump change, the port engine ran like a champ the rest of the day, but Keith actually believes that the fuel pump was good. He discovered the line coming into the bottom of the pump had a slightly lose fitting, which might have been allowing a little air into the line.
Bad news! Keith’s pain has returned and once again I am worrying about how to get him off the boat should he require medical attention in the middle of the night.
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