August 30, 2007
Bobby’s Fish Camp, Coffeeville, AL
After the great day we had yesterday, we didn’t get up as early, figuring we would have time to make it all the way to Okatuppa Creek at Mile 123. But still, we were up and off to a good start for day two of our river adventure. With the coffee made and the engine warming up, I went forward to weight anchor at 06:37 in the morning.
Tied to the Dock at Bobby’s Fish Camp on the Tenn-Tom Waterway
Except we weren’t going anywhere. As I cranked, I became aware that the river was not going to give up our anchor. The poor old boat began to moan under the strain of me grinding away at the windlass. I knew we weren’t going to get our primary anchor back when I heard the dry-rotted wood in the bowsprit cracking and splintering under the load. It was as if the boat was telling us “I’m tired. Please, just take me home.” No matter what I tried, the anchor was not going to budge. I secured the chain and tried motoring around to see if I could free it from what ever it was wrapped around, but all that would happen was the bow would get pulled downward and the boat would jerk to a prompt halt.
Bing and her Mayfly friends.
After wasting the better part of an hour trying to retrieve our old rusty hook, we decided to do the honorable thing and cut it free – knowing there wasn’t much life left in the old anchor any way. So chalk one up for the river as our 45 pound CQR rests at the bottom of the channel leading to Three Rivers Lake. I find it odd that we sailed and anchored for months and were always able to retrieve our anchor. Only on this last voyage does something like this happen.
At 7:18 a.m., we were on the river, running at the same moderate engine speed. I missed the tides, as the head current slowed us – not significantly, but a noticeable half knot. But, we were moving.
A HUGE Storm on the Waterway
And it was hot – I mean Alabama hot. The sun was like a hot iron skillet on my neck. To hide, Binga and Vanessa stayed below in the sweat-box of engine heat and low ventilation provided by the cabin. I don’t think it mattered where you were, it was just plain miserable until 1:25 in the after noon we we were visited by a giant Thunderstorm at mile marker 102. I could have done with out the lightning, which was striking the ground way to close to us, but the rain was worth it. It rained hard for twenty minutes – long enough for me to grab a bar of soap and take a shower on deck. Vanessa and Binga wouldn’t join me with all the thunder, but I had to be on deck anyway, so I figured I may as well be clean.
The rain cooled us off significantly and I was pleased to notice we were back on schedule. We did well, arriving at our first lock at 3:36 in the afternoon.
Exiting the Coffeeville Lock
The Coffeeville Lock doors where open and ready to receive us. We were lucky, as it can take a while to drain and prepare one of these big locks. We were even more fortunate there wasn’t a barge locking through, as it can take hours to lock a tug and its load through the locks. Commercial traffic has priority.
In we went. We have plenty of locking experience and this lock wasn’t any different except its size was enormous. Its lift was thirty-five feet and took us a little over twenty minutes, doors closed to doors open. Away we went, heading to our final destination at Okatuppa.
Then, I noticed the engine tack wasn’t working, meaning the alternator has burned itself out . . . again. This is the third alternator I’ve had on this engine, and I won’t be replacing it with another one. I’m going to have to rework the wiring to accommodate a better alternator with an external regulator – a nice computer controlled one that will shut the thing off before it burns itself out. The problem is that the engine idle is set too low and the alternator can’t generate enough power at low idle, but it tries – tries hard – burning up in the process. I don’t want to increase the idle because the tranny slams too hard when I shift into gear, so I’ll examine other options. Not a big deal, just another line item on the list. Chalk up another one for the river today!
However, we now have a problem: without charged batteries, or charging capability, we won’t be able to survive two days and two nights on the river. We are forced to stop at Bobby’s fish camp, only place between Demopolis and Mobile that has a dock and fuel.
We had originally planned to stop at Bobby’s to take on fuel, but since we hadn’t emptied one tank yet, we planned on continuing on, using as much of the onboard fuel as possible. Now we need Bobby’s for electricity to charge the batteries (and sleeping with air conditioning will be nice, too!).
We pulled in, tied up, and plugged into the one outlet on Bobby’s dock. No problem, however as we were the only ones here. That is until a big power cruiser pulls up to the dock. They inquired about being plugged in and I explained that I was plugged in to charge my batteries – kind of an emergency situation and all.
“Oh, no problem,” they replied, “We have a generator to run our stuff with. We just like to plug in to do some battery chargin’ ourselves.” So I helped them. Battery charging is no big deal. I’m accommodating and set my charger to draw less off the circuit. Then, we all went to eat at the Fish Camp dining room.
Now, I’ve never been a fan of catfish at all (something about bottom feeders doesn’t appeal to me), but catfish was their big specialty. We pride ourselves in living the experiences of the locals. In this case, they were proud of their catfish dinner. We ordered it and, boy, did we get it! They brought us a pile of catfish fillets and a mountain of fries that would feed a boat load of starving sailors for a week! There was no way we could eat all that food, catfish or not!
After we choked down as much catfish as we could stomach, we returned to the boat where I found our neighbor, a self proclaimed “electrician,” asking me if we had power. We didn’t. I asked him what was going on and he explained that they tried running all their systems, including TWO air conditioners off of that one tiny little shore power circuit. Expecting that these guys were not rocket scientists, I had already inquired at the dining room as to the location of the breaker box. I showed Mr. “Electrician” where it was. It took him five minutes just to open the lid.
It wasn’t obvious as to which breaker tripped. We didn’t want to start flipping breakers, flashing on and off lights across the camp. He felt that, somehow, his opening of the lid may have forced the breaker to reset itself. I never mentioned that I have plenty of electrical experience. Nor did I mention that I thought he was full of shit. Never-the-less, we returned to the dock, only to find the power was still off. Hmmm, imagine that.
I ducked below to grab a flash light and screw driver, figuring the two of us would go back and get this straightened out. Stepping back on the dock, I was blinded by the brightness of Mr. “Electric’s” boat. He had started his generator, had both air conditioners running full tilt, and had on every light possible. I could plainly see him inside tinkering with his fully powered electronics gear. His boat was lit up like the Las Vegas strip, and all he could say when the circuit breaker went was “Is your power out?” My question should have been, “Did your mother have any children that lived?” He actually had the nerve to claim to possess expert electrical knowledge, then do stupid electrical stuff (which robbed me of desperately needed power), only to turn around, abandon the whole problem and return to the brightly lit comfort of his air conditioned cabin. This is the asshole that gives the rest of us boaters a bad name!
The only thing keeping me dragging him ashore and making him fix his mistake was that I knew I could actually fix it, while I was sure he couldn’t. I grabbed my tools, opened the box, traced the circuit, and reset the not-so-obviously tripped breaker. Then, I closed the box, labeled the switch (because I know this will happen to the next guy and it’ll just make it easier for everybody), returned to the dock, and unplugged Mr. Electric’s shore power cord. Running his generator, he never even noticed. I returned to Nereus to sit in my air conditioning to watch my batteries charge and drink a cold beer, and marvel at the audacity of the moron next door before turning in. If he boats the way he “electrifies” things, the people down river better watch out!
Today’s run: 48.8 hard won Nautical Miles in a long 8 hours 40 minutes.
What a day.
– Steve