After a rain storm, the weather gets really soft and nice. Our plan was to travel to a place called Bashi Creek for the night. Sometimes I wonder who goes into these places. I checked out the anchorage on a number of sites and all said it was a reasonable place to be. However, when we got there, it did not look promising. However, we thought we'd give it a shot. Once we nosed in and dropped our bow anchor, the wind picked up and we almost got blown onto the bank. However, we got our stern hook down and then pulled in some of the chain on the bow to straighten out. Unfortunately, it did not feel right. So, we decided to try it again.
Well, as I was trying to pull the stern anchor, I discovered it was connected to a really big log. Luck is a strange thing. When you want that anchor to hook on and hold, it does. Unfortunately, the anchor took a liking to this log, so it was a real hassle getting it out of the flukes. So, I pulled up more bow chain to hold us in place while I deployed the dinghy to get the stern hook off the log and into the boat. It worked. I just had to get a better pull angle on the anchor so the log would fall out. Once that was taken care of, we finished weighing the bow anchor and had to back out. That was dicey, but Brenda did a great job and we were back out on the river. We circled around a bit and discussed our options. Just outside Bashi Creek is another spot. It's a bit more exposed, but it was in a place whee you could anchor and not get hit by a passing towboat and barge.
What you have to do is think about where and how these boats make turns. If you can stick it in the apex, the two boats will pass you at a good distance and they'll be flanking out away from you in either direction. It's a good strategy in a pinch.
So, we spent that night out in the river. It was very nice.
The next morning we left and headed for the next stop on the way down, a place called Old Lock One Cutoff. When we got there, we had to negotiate a very narrow little creek. Fortunately, there was plenty of water under the boat, if not on either side. It's rather disconcerting to have 25 feet under the keel, but having branches scraping the sides of the boat and leaves falling on the bow as you go into a place. I'm thinking to myself, please God, I do not think we will be able to turn around in here, so....
Anyways, the creek opened up into this absolutely beautiful lake and we found the perfect anchor spot just north of this old lock. There is a gorgeous park there that is owned and operated by the ACOE. There are wonderful oak and pecan trees dripping with moss. It was apparent we were now back in the south. So, we hopped in the dinghy and went to short. We tied up to an old ladder and climbed up the rip rap and started walking. It was sunny out and perfect.
So, we're walking down this path and we come across this old guy sitting in his van which was parked in the camp host spot. We waived and kept going. On the way back, however, he was standing out in the trail and, as we approached, offered us two candy canes and a wish for a merry Christmas. For a moment there, I would have sworn it was Old St. Nick. He had a big white beard, and a jovial smile. Although he wasn't from the north pole, he might as well have been. He is what landlubbers call an "Itinerant Traveler." We boating enthusiasts call it "transient." Nevertheless, he was from North Dakota and stops a little here and there and keeps moving. We spent some time listening to him regale us with stories of his 1200 mile walk on the Appalachian Trail. It was Christmas Eve and the gift of a "howdy" and the candy was really cool.
In the morning, Christmas Morning, Brenda and I both awoke at the ridiculous hour of 0200. So, what did we do? We cranked on the genset, pulled the screen outside on deck, turned on the heater, and watched "It's a Wonderful Life". Outside it was raining and raining and raining. All day, it rained. We had a great Christmas - just the two of us, watching movies in the rain, dry and snug as a big in the proverbial rug. I roasted a turkey and made the world's best smashed potatoes. It was a delightful day. So good that we stayed another night in this magical spot. I must say that in nearly 8000 miles, this is one of the most spectacularly beautiful anchorages we have been to.
Well, in the morning, we awoke to the sounds of gun fire. It was interesting. The day after Christmas, and all the rednecks in the world were out on the banks of this lake, tucked neatly in their cute little camouflage duck blinds trying desperately to blow the hell out of a hapless duck. Didn't they know Brenda likes to sleep in? What the hell? So, we decided it was time to get moving. It was pretty funny. Brenda said I should wear body armor to go out on deck to pull the anchor. While I don't have any of that, I was hoping I at least might find one of those florescent orange hats that the ducks and deer apparently can't see. Hunting is a strange sport. I cannot see myself ever having the unmitigated gaul to use a firearm on a bird or Bambi. I know lots of folks do and that's fine, but if I want a steak or a fowl, I can go to the freaking market!
So, as we are pulling out of the anchorage, through this same little passage, I can see several of these floating duck blinds. They weren't fooling me. So, I wave at the guys and they just sit there pretending they were invisible. What a joke. Just then, Brenda spouted out one of those little pearls of wisdom we lovingly refer to as a "Brendaism". She says, "So, when you are leaving an anchorage surrounded by duck blinds, don't get on the loud hailer and say, 'Foxworthy was right!'" And that, my friends, is the end of that story.
We ran a long way the next day. Due to weather in Demopolis and the wonder of a beautiful anchorage, we had to make up some distance so we would be on time to meet my friend Dan who was flying into Mobile to meet us on 12/27. We actually were very close to making it all the way there, but of course, there were the inevitable delays. We got stuck behind two barges on hairpin turns. I guess there is something to this. The have to almost stop, slam it in reverse, swing the ass end around, and then let the river current catch it after they plant their nose in the opposite bank. It takes a while. Then, they call you on the radio and let us pass. It works, but when you are trying to get someplace, the delays are frustrating. Then, you get to 14mile Bridge, and this guy likes to take things real slow. So, by the time we were in striking distance of Mobile, Alabama, and not knowing exactly where we were going, once again, discretion being the better part of valor, we held up short and anchored for the night in Tensas Cut, a mere 12 miles from Mobile. I figure with all the steel moving around in the Mobile Harbor area, it was better to secure my fiberglass ass and not attempt it in the dark.
We had a nice night in the Cut and moved on early in the morning those final 12 miles to Mobile. Finding the city dock was easy. Getting to it was hard, or should I say the landing was a little hard. The river was flowing pretty good and there was fluky wind, so we didn't make the soft landing I am usually proud of. No, we did not do any damage to us or to the dock, but I wouldn't be nominating that landing for the top 10 of the year. Anyways, we got to Mobile.
Dan got there in the afternoon and it was sure great to see him. We hung out on the boat a while and then headed out onto the town. We had a nice dinner in a sports bar and then walked over to this club. We put a serious dent in the city's supply of Coors Lite that night. We laughed, danced, partied, etc. until the wee hours and then stumbled home to the boat.
In the morning, we hit the town again. What a beautiful city Mobile is. The downtown area is very much designed in the French fashion and looks a lot like New Orleans. There are lots of old brick buildings with ornate metal works and balconies. The streets are narrow and very festive. We walked and walked all day and had lunch at the highly recommended Ok Bicycle Shop for lunch. There the menu includes Mexican food and Sushi. ????? Yes, you heard me correctly. So, a couple fish tacos later, and we were off in search of fishing licenses. We got a cab and it took us out someplace I cannot even tell where. But, we made it to an outdoor outfitter and took care of that business before heading back to the boat. By this time, it was late afternoon and we were all beat so we took a break.
For dinner, we went to Wentzil's Oyster House. We sat at the bar as the guy shucked the oysters right in front of us. They were pretty good. We leaned that these oysters came fresh from Louisiana each day. I have had a few fresh oysters on this trip, but these were the best. The walls of this place were covered with placards containing little pearls of wisdom. Not an inch of space on the walls was open. We read quite a few of them and laughed a lot. It turns out one of the old guys shucking there had been shucking oysters at this place for 41 years! This place has also been featured on more than one Food Network shows, and is the situs of a number of raw oyster eating competitions. I'm not sure I could compete with the guy who holds the record at 42 1/2 dozen. That's a little much slimy for me.
Well, tomorrow (or rather, later today) we will depart Mobile and head for the finish line, so to speak. We expect to cross our outbound wake thus concluding the Loop. We'll let you know how that goes.
More later. Bye for now.
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