When we first arrived, I had to go to the lodge to sign in, so I started walking toward it. It turns out we are facing the rear of the lodge so the entrance to the main lobby is not plainly marked. So I'm walking around, looking for an entrance when the first likely entrance I come to is blocked by a bride standing there with a man I assume was her father. I noticed there was music playing softly outside and looked around to find that I had walked into a wedding! There were white plastic folding chairs arranged on the lawn with flowers and a burlap isle with flower petals scattered for the bride. I still needed to find the lobby, so I walked on behind the audience and past the wedding area to find the registration lobby.
Later, Alison and I went for a walk around the grounds and passed by an older black man sitting in a chair on the lawn. I said hello as we passed and he looked up from his book and said hello. I recognized him! It was James Earl Jones! When he speaks, it sounds like the voice of God!
But let me fill in the last couple days previous to this:
After driving in the marina courtesy car (thanks Guntersville marina!) all day Monday trying to find the single bolt I needed to get the boat running again, I had to come back to the marina empty handed. It's a special bolt called a "banjo bolt" and it has a hole drilled in the center of it for fuel to pass through. I found a supplier on the internet and ordered the part. Since I had spent the day looking for the part, I was too late to get it sent over night that day, so we had to stay at the marina until Wednesday.
Tuesday, I took down the bimini (the awning that covers the cockpit) and, using the awl we bought a few months ago at Harbor Freight, began learning how to sew canvas. The threads on the bimini had deteriorated and the whole thing was in danger of falling down on my head. So, I decided that this was the time to fix it. I had all day and nothing else to do! I watched a Youtube video on how to sew with an awl, threaded the awl and got started. The first few stitches took an hour to get right. I got faster with practice, but the project took about 10 hours to complete. The end result isn't pretty, but the bimini will not fall down on my head now.
Wednesday, the part came and I rushed to pick it up. On the way, Alison and I stopped at a delightful restaurant called the Rock House and had a nice lunch. After lunch, we put some gas in the old Toyota pickup the marina loaned us, then went to the marina that had ordered our parts. The parts, a bolt and six washers, came to $80! Only ten of that was shipping! I reached into my wallet for my debit card and it wasn't there. We searched the car; I searched my pockets; Alison searched my pockets; but the more we looked, the more it wasn't there. Now this is a serious problem. I had enough cash to buy the parts, so I paid for them and we went searching for the lost debit card. Retracing our steps, we first went to the Rock House restaurant. I went in to ask if they had seen it, while Alison searched the parking area in case I dropped it. The lady at the restaurant said she hadn't seen it, so I sadly left. But Alison was walking quickly toward me saying "I found it!" She had found it laying on the street by the parking spot we had just left. We were so relieved!
So we went to Walmart and got some food supplies, then back to the boat. It took me no more than 5 minutes to install the bolt and washers. I started the motor and it ran perfectly! Yay! We could finally leave. Alison searched the maps and guide book for a good anchorage and we decided on one that was only an hour's sail away, since it was already about four o'clock. I paid the marina bill, filled the water tanks and we headed for freedom!
Did I mention that the weather was predicted to be pretty scary the following day and night? We chose the anchorage because it looked like a good place to anchor the boat and wait out the 20+ mph winds and storms that were headed our way. The thing is about the weather when you live and sleep in a boat is that the weather can ruin your day if you're not prepared. On land, a summer storm can blow some shingles off your roof or even break a tree limb and drop it on your house. In a boat, a strong wind can take your entire house (boat) and blow it away to places you don't want your house to be!
So we found this beautiful little cove right by the dam that we would have to go through when we went downriver. It was deep enough, but narrow. We motored carefully into the cove until the depth got too shallow for my six foot keel (the big heavy blade sticking down from the bottom of the boat to keep it from tipping over), then backed back out a few feet. I dropped the big "Claw" anchor, then got in my little rowboat (dinghy) and took another anchor about 50 feet off the stern (rear) of the boat and dropped it into the river. The first anchor was to keep the boat from being blown backwards in the strong southerly winds that were predicted. The second anchor was to keep the boat from swing too far to one side and perhaps swinging into shallow water or trees. That done, we relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the evening, knowing that the boat wasn't going anywhere.
We took a side trip in the dinghy and paddled back into the cove until we got to the little creek that fed the cove. It was a lovely place. The smell of honeysuckle drifted by from time to time and two resident ducks paddled slowly around nearby, completely ignoring us. And no city noise. It was a lovely sunset that night. The temperature was in the 70's and didn't drop below 60 all night. Perfect sleeping weather! And we slept well. That was not to be the case the next night.
As the day progressed, the winds got stronger and stronger, just as predicted. Even in the cove, surrounded by trees on a pretty high hill, we were hit by gusts of 15 mph or more from time to time. Later that day, Alison asked if the boat had moved downwind from where we had started. I looked carefully at the anchor buoy and at the surrounding trees and concluded that, yes, the boat had indeed moved from where I had dropped the anchor! The wind had blown us back out toward the lake and the dam by at least 30 feet. That meant that my main "claw" anchor hadn't held.
We knew that the worst of the weather wasn't over, and we didn't want to wake up in middle of the night somewhere out in the lake, so I proceeded to re-set the anchors. I started the motor, then pulled up both anchors, moved the boat further into the cove and dropped the anchors again as before. Then, to be sure the main anchor held, I put the motor in reverse and tried to back up. The anchor held firmly. But I still didn't trust it, so I watched it until well after dark, especially every time after a strong gust had blown us around. It was holding perfectly.
Before we went to bed, Alison asked if it might be a good idea to tie a rope to a nearby tree to be sure we didn't move. That meant letting down the dinghy off the davit (a mounting rack on the back of the boat for carrying the spare boat), paddling against fierce wind across the creek and tying a rope to a tree. The anchor had held for hours against strong winds and I didn't feel like I needed to go to all that trouble. The anchor is all we would need for tonight. After all, I would be counting on this anchor to hold the boat all night in ocean winds soon, so I might as well trust it here in this little protected cove. I would later regret this decision.
So I went to bed, confident that the storm and winds would not be a problem. Alison was still nervous and couldn't sleep, so she stayed up. I was sleeping soundly when Alison came to the bed and said: "The boat is only a few feet from the bank and I think it has dragged farther down the creek!" I was groggy, but this couldn't wait, so I got up, put on some warm clothes and went outside. It was about 3:30 am, very dark, spitting an occasional shower of rain, and blowing the boat around smartly. I got out our big spotlight and looked around. We had indeed drug anchor and were only 20 feet from the bank and 50 feet from the lake! I had to get away from the bank and farther into the creek, then re-set the anchor again. Only this time it was dark, rainy and very windy.
But first I had to pull up both anchors before I could motor up the creek to safer water. The stern (rear) anchor had to come up first, so I started pulling the rode (anchor rope) in. The boat swung around toward the stern anchor as I pulled, but after pulling in most of the rode, I wasn't able to pull any more. No matter how hard I pulled, the stern anchor would not come up. I tied the rode onto a winch to get more power. It was firmly stuck. The stern anchor was on a 75 foot rode, so I decided to just release the stern anchor rode and let it run free as I motored farther into the creek.
I turned my attention then to the main culprit of this mis-adventure: the bow anchor, also known as the "claw." I motored forward to where the yellow milk jug tied to the anchor showed me the location of the claw. I went forward, opened up the anchor locker, sat down, planted my feet firmly against the front wall of the locker, and started pulling up the anchor while the wind tried to push the boat back to where I had just come. It took every ounce of strength to pull the anchor up, more than usual I thought. But it had to come up, so I pulled and pulled until I saw it. The anchor had wrapped itself around a large tree branch! The wind was howling and it started raining again. How was I going to get this branch off my anchor before the wind blew us back into the lake? I went back to the cockpit and motored back into the cove farther and decided to do what Alison had originally suggested: tie the boat to a tree. I gathered up a long rope and told Alison to pass it to me when I came around in the dinghy. I lowered the dinghy again and rowed around to the front of the boat where she tossed me the rope. Then I rowed against strong winds toward the bank, spotted a tree that hung over the bank and tied the rope to it. The stern anchor was doing a great job of holding us off the bank and the tree would keep us from being blown downwind and into the lake.
Now that we were secure, I turned my attention to the anchor. It hadn't held because it wasn't dug into the creek bottom. Instead, it was busy rolling around with a three inch thick, twenty foot long tree branch! It was wrapped around the branch several wraps and I couldn't get it unwrapped sitting in a small row boat. I paddled back to the rear of the boat and tied off the dinghy. I climbed into the mother ship, went to the tool shed and got my big, manly Black and Decker battery powered reciprocating saw with a long wood cutting blade. I went forward, leaned over the bow of the boat and sawed the limb right where the chain had wrapped around it. It cut through easily and fell off the chain. The anchor was free! But the rope that held my little yellow anchor marker jug was still tangled. So I pulled on the rope until the remainder of the branch was within reach of my saw and cut it loose. The boat was secure and I was wet, cold and exhausted. So was Alison. We got out of our soggy clothes, climbed into bed and, despite the lightening and wind outside, fell quickly asleep at about 4:30 am.
Now one would think that after a night like that, I would have slept till noon. But no. I woke up at 6:30 am! The wind had died down considerably, it wasn't raining, and I wanted to be back underway. The temperature had dropped overnight and was considerably colder than the balmy night before, so I put on my insulated underwear, several layers of clothes, ate a bowl of hot oatmeal (I was out of cookies), and went topsides. The dinghy was full of water from the rain and a small leak in the drain plug, so I bailed it out enough to use it, then paddled over to the tree and untied the boat rope. Then I went back to the boat and used the motor to force the recalcitrant stern anchor loose. By then it was about 9:00 am. I called the dam lock operator and told him I was heading his way and to please lock me downriver, then motored the boat toward the dock.
I should have known it was going to be a rough day when I first entered the lake. It was blowing like stink and cold as a witches titty. The wind blew so hard on the lake that the boat heeled over six degrees with no sails up. But no, I will not be a slave to comfort! I must go forward no matter the conditions! Sometimes I wonder about me.
I made it into the lock perfectly and they lowered me down to the downriver lake level. I still think that's cool. But when they opened up the towering lock gates to let me out, the wind shrieked into the lock like an angry demon. The boat was still tied to the bolster on the lock, but blew back and forth like a scared horse. It was all I could do to keep her off the lock walls. Alison meanwhile was missing all of this because I didn't wake her. She had been up most of the night. I released the rope and powered up the motor to leave the lock in defiance of the angry wind. The wind blew the bow of the boat into the wall momentarily, but I powered up more and pulled away from the lock.
The rest of the day was brutal. The temperature never went above the upper 40's and the wind blew at 12-16 mph all day directly in my face. When Alison came to the cockpit at about 10:00, I was shivering cold. I hadn't dressed for this kind of weather. She brought me more warm clothes and hot tea. That made it bearable, but far from comfortable. But for hours Happytat and I plowed on into 3 foot waves that made the boat bounce up and down like a wild horse. Alison located a public access area where we could pull in for a while and I tied Happytat up to a dock and took a much needed hour-long nap. Then we threw off the dock lines and motored out of the quiet harbor and into the merciless wind and waves.
For three hours more, we plowed into the wind and waves, heading for a marina in Decatur, Alabama. Finally, after hours of wind and waves, I had the bridge in sight that marked the location of the harbor just on the far side of the bridge. It was just then that my motor coughed. The RPM meter had been reading a steady 3000 RPM all day, but now it dropped to 2200, then back to 3000. Then it dropped even lower, then back up, then lower, then the engine died. All of the bouncing up and down had probably stirred up more crap in the fuel tank and clogged the filter again. In the face of 20 mph winds and within sight of the harbor, the engine died! It's like a repeat of the "shipwreck" of a few days ago. I'm within sight of the harbor and the engine died- again.
I started making contingency plans. This time at least, I had the sails ready to hoist which would at least keep me off the bank and in control of my boat. But the wind was again coming from exactly the direction I need to go! I could only get to the harbor by sailing back and forth until I could get close enough to drop sail and coast into the harbor. Furthermore, I had to somehow do this back and forth in a way that got me under the bridge without hitting the bridge supports. It just didn't seem possible in these winds and waves. So I reached down and turned the key to start the motor. If it would only run long enough to get me to the harbor... I turned the key and nothing. The boat was already being blown back up-river and away from the harbor and the bridge. I turned again and it hesitantly started, coughed, then slowly the RPM gauge climbed to 2000, 2500, then 3000 and held steady. The boat turned back into the wind defiantly and we motored directly toward the middle of the bridge. If the motor quit now, I could still turn back and not be in danger of hitting the bridge supports. I passed under the bridge and now I had to turn ninety degrees right to get to the harbor, which was within sight now. Just as I turned right, the motor died again. I could be blown into the bridge supports if I didn't do something immediately. I quickly reached for the jib sail furling rope and pulled out a few feet of jib sail. The wind grabbed it and immediately the boat regained some forward speed and pulled away from the bridge.
Now that the bridge wasn't a threat, I had to somehow get to that narrow harbor entrance under sail with a 20 mph wind without crashing into anything. I reached down and tried the motor again and it started. Once it seemed that the motor would keep on running, I dropped the sail and headed toward a dock. I made it to the dock and with Alison's help tossing me the ropes, I tied us off. We were safe!
But the angry wind blew the boat against the dock like it wanted to crush the boat between the wind and the dock. The fenders that protected the hull against the dock weren't meant for this kind of brutal beating. I had to do something. I couldn't count on my motor to pull back away from the exposed dock and motor me to the safe, protected harbor just yards away. If the motor failed while I was on my way, I would be blown back toward the bridge I had just passed.
There was another dock about a hundred feet away upwind. If I could tie up to that dock, it would be upwind of the boat and we wouldn't be beating our brains out against the downwind dock we were on now. I got out my 250 foot anchor rope, untied it from the anchor and walked it around the dock to the other dock upwind and tied it off. Then I went back to the boat and tied the other end of the rope to a strong winch. I went forward and slowly, with all my strength, pulled at the rope and pulled our 13,000 pound boat against the wind and toward the upwind dock. As the bow of the boat pulled more into the wind, it presented less windage and became easier to resist the wind. I pulled and pulled until my arms and back could pull no more. I went quickly back to the winch and used it to pull the boat toward the dock. It was easier, but moved the boat only a few inches each turn so it took longer. After winching until my winching arm was exhausted, Happytat was finally hanging from a rope tied to a large bollard and no longer bashing against a dock. After several tries, I managed to toss another rope to a cleat on the dock and pull the boat parallel to the dock and tie her off securely.
I was cold, exhausted and hungry. Alison had prepared a hot, delicious supper and we ate and rested. It had been one of the roughest days I can remember, but it was done. We both went straight to bed and despite the howling wind outside, slept soundly.
Next morning, I changed the fuel filter, started the motor and it ran perfectly. I looked downriver and there was a railroad bridge just ahead with only a 20 foot clearance. Alison found the call number and I called the bridge to ask them to raise it for us. They raised it and we motored happily on our way.
We were approaching the Wheeler dam and preparing to go through the lock when the motor coughed again and stopped. This time, though, we were in the middle of a large lake with a gentle 8 mph wind. No worries. I put up the main sail, opened up the jib and began sailing across the lake. Alison had located the Joe Wheeler marina that was just before the dam, so we were headed that way. It's hard to sail into a marina and I'm not that good of a sailor yet, so I tried the motor again and it worked fine to get us into the marina slip where we are now.
This place is so nice and we have had so much trouble, I am tempted to stay here a while. But we'll probably leave and head down river again this afternoon, after I've worked some more on the fuel system, that is.
Sometimes this adventure reminds me of The Hobbit: Scary times mixed with occasional peaceful and happy times.
Fantastic. What a story! I love reading it! I am so glad you are doing this!
ReplyDeleteI love the foreshadowing, too. I was so into the story that when your engine started sputtering again, I inadvertently said out loud, "OH NO!" Terry looks up from his video game so I had to tell him your engine died again. LOL.
Every time I read your exciting stories it makes me happy to be safe and sound here in my comfy home. I sure wish you had a better motor. I'm glad everything turned out ok, but it sounded pretty scary, not to mention exhausting. You'll certainly be in good shape from all the work you're doing. Hope the next few days are smooth sailing for you.
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