Finally! Walking together on white sand beaches!

May 24, 2013  Friday ( I had to check my phone for that info)

                                    Happytat anchored off the beach with local wild-wife in foreground.

                                                    Our first "landing" on a beach with Titanic.

I am gently rocking back and forth on the boat as I write this. We are anchored a few hundred feet off Santa Rosa Island in sight of Pensacola Florida.  There has been a wonderful warm breeze ever since we got here of between 8 and 14 mph and the boat rocks up and down to the waves in a hypnotic way.  I find myself sitting silently for long periods on the deck, feeling the wind on my body and being rocked to sleep by the gentle waves.  Ordinarily I would have a book to read in idle times like these, but somehow I am just not interested in anything but enjoying the moment.  Many times I have driven or flown to a beach and have usually enjoyed the experience of walking or wading in the water, then going back to my air conditioned hotel room.  But it is quite a different experience for my "room" to be a boat sitting on the water.  I am a part of the wind and waves, not just a spectator or visitor.  And I worked damn hard to get here.

It is the fulfillment of another long held dream!  It adds to the pleasure that it has been a hard-fought-for achievement   I have fought head winds all the way here, literally and figuratively. Not only have I worked incessantly for a year for this moment, but the dream started many years ago.  And now it's here.  I've done it and it has been worth it all.  I'm reminded of a Beatles lyric: "For a man must break his back to have his day of leisure..." What a pity it would have been had I worked so hard and never had the reward of that day of leisure.  Many men have done just that.  There are still many experiences remaining, but if I never sailed another mile, I can say "The record shows, I took the blows and did it my way."

The past two days Alison and I have rowed ashore and spent wonderful hours at the beach. The day before yesterday, I got the sailing rig out and was going to finally take the Titanic out for a day sail.  So I let her down off the davitt, installed the mast and sail, slid in the centerboard and put the pintles in the gudgeon of the rudder.  I sailed only a few hundred yards before I suddenly lost rudder control.  I looked back and the pintle had broken off the rudder and I had no control over the direction of the boat.  So I rowed back to Happytat unhappily.  That night, I thought I'd try some trusty epoxy on it, so I carefully re-installed the pintle and glued it back in with a generous layer of epoxy.  Next day, I put the sail back on, the centerboard back in and put the pintle in the gudgeon again.  I got maybe 50 yards this time before my repaired pintle snapped off again, this time at a different place than the epoxy repair.  The plastic is just too fragile too repair.  Later that day, we rowed Titanic to shore and couldn't get the home made plywood center board to come out of its slot. When we got to shallow water, we pushed down on the boat to get it to come back out and it broke in two. So now Titanic has no centerboard or rudder.  Time to spend some more money!

About 1 minute after Alison took this picture, the pintle broke.  But it's a fun little boat to sail when it works!

Yesterday, Alison and I waded in the ocean and sat by it for a few hours; then we walked back to the protected side of the Santa Rosa barrier island and snorkeled some shallow waters near the boat.  In about three feet of water, we saw sand dollars and several dozen starfish.  It was an idyllic day, holding hands while jumping over big waves, sitting by the beach soaking up sunshine, then snorkeling together.  We returned to the boat exhausted, hungry and very happy.  I was whistling the old Bobby Vinton tune: "As we walked down the sand together, holding hands, walking all alone.  So in love are we two, that we don't know what to do, so in love, so much in love..."  or something like that.  It was one of those romantic days that couples dream of.

There was a strong SW wind by the time we were ready to head back to Happytat and Alison and I began rowing upwind toward home.  After rowing for quite some time, Alison realized that we weren't getting any closer to the boat.  I had been just rowing against the wind without making any progress.  So I rowed back to the shore, got out and walked the dinghy several hundred yards to where I was upwind of Happytat.  Then it was an easy row downwind to home.

After two weeks at the marina in Mobile, I was afraid that the temptation to stay in the comfort of a marina with electricity, unlimited water supply and a firm attachment to terra firma would tempt me to stay longer and longer until the dream of sailing to distant shores became a distant "if only..."  I fear few things but I truly fear that Comfort will enter a guest and become my master.  Honesty though, we really did have to get well, then do some boat repairs and upgrades before moving on to bigger waters.  But I was eager to throw off the dock lines again and get moving toward the ocean.

When I finally threw off the lines and sailed (motored) into Mobile bay, there was a brisk 14 mph wind blowing from the South -the direction I was going- and 2-4 foot waves.  I remembered that this is the kind of water I get seasick on and I have no anti-nausea meds onboard.  I sailed on, expecting any moment to begin to feel that familiar queasiness, but it never came.  Alison and I both had no sea sickness all day, even thought the water was pretty rough most of the day. When our course finally turned to the East I put up the jib sail and motor sailed for about an hour.  It was good to finally have some wind in my sails!  When we left the big bay and entered into the Intercoastal Waterway, the wind died and I tried to douse the jib sail but it jammed and wouldn't wind up like it was supposed to and flapped around like a fish out of water.  So I removed it from the fore stay and stowed it on the deck.  Next morning I was able to untangle the rope that caused the problem and re-install the jib sail.

                                           Happytat comfortably tied to the dock in Mobile.

Back to Mobile:
Ever since the first day I saw this boat for sale, I have wanted to paint the deck.  The original owner had slopped on a horrible coat of gel coat over everything, including the areas that were supposed to be non-skid. There were drips and streaks everywhere and it just looked dirty, no matter how much I scrubbed it.  When we got to Mobile, I could barely walk on the deck because it was so slick in the morning dew.  There is supposed to be a special type of paint called "non-skid" on the parts of the deck that is walked on and needs special traction to keep from falling.  Imagine trying to go to the front of the boat to raise a sail or drop an anchor or untangle a line on a wet slippery surface that is rocking and rolling violently.  Add to that the fact that if you fall off in an open sea, it is very unlikely you will be found, and the non-skid surface becomes one of the most important safety features of a boat.  So now that I was facing the probability of sailing on the open ocean soon, I decided that now, here at Mobile, was the time to paint the non-skid.

Surrounding the areas of non-skid is the pretty part of the paint: the non-textured shiny paint.  In the cockpit that is most of the surface area.  Because the previous paint job had been so sloppy with paint drips and deep brush marks, I had to first sand down all those surfaces before I could paint them.  Gelcoat sets up like hard plaster and is very hard to sand.   It took three long days of constant sanding to finally get the cockpit ready to paint.  My hands and fingers still ache from those long hours with a vibrating sander in them, pressing as hard as I could to grind down the old gel coat to a flat surface.  A fourth day of painting and the cockpit was finally done!  The non-skid works great to keep from slipping and the flat shiny sections look much better than  before. Unfortunately, I ran out of energy before I got the rest of the boat painted.  But since we have decided to go back to Cleveland in June instead of continuing South, the rest of the painting can wait.

Return to Cleveland:
Speaking of going back to Cleveland, I'll explain.  When we left Sale Creek in April, we knew we were heading South just in time for Hurricane season, when most cruisers are heading back North.  But I was so determined that I would not spend another summer there that I was willing to take my chances.  Leaving in Spring almost caused problems at the outset because the rains caused the rivers to rise above normal levels and bridge clearance became an issue all the way down the river.  We barely made it in time before the levels would have caused me to have to either stop my journey where I was, return to Sale Creek, or have the mast taken down.  When we got here, I researched the remainder of the trip to the Keys and found that the prevailing winds in summer are from the South.  That would mean that I would have to motor the entire 450 miles against both a strong head wind as well as seas against me.  That would be miserable travelling.  In Fall, the winds are more from the North and East, which would make the trip far more enjoyable.   So weather placed high on the reasons to delay our journey.

Mark, our neighbor at the Mobile marina suggested that we just stay in the Mobile and panhandle area for the summer, then go South in October or November.  As that thought sank in, I thought "If I'm going to delay the trip till October, I'd rather be in Tennessee than here."  Alison was excited about going back, so it was decided to play at the beach for a few days, then go home.

Other very important reasons are that we miss family and friends in Cleveland, and our cruising fund needs to grow substantially.  For instance, the painting of the deck cost about $300 in materials, I made a few other minor repairs and upgrades for another hundred or two as well as $100 per week of marina fees and another $169 for the first payment on boat insurance.  Add to that other unexpected personal costs and my measly monthly check went pretty quickly.  We still need many other things to make the boat safe to sail on "big wa-wa," such as another anchor and anchor rode, mail sail repair, a set of charts, inflatable life vests, jack lines, hand rails and many other important purchases.

So we have decided to leave the boat at the marina in Mobile, which is an official "hurricane hole," for a few weeks and return to Cleveland. if a hurricane hits Mobile while we're gone, the marina will haul the boat to dry dock for us and tie it down securely.  If the boat is damaged, we now have insurance to cover the damage.

We'll stay here near the beach for a few more days before heading back to Mobile. My great little brother Robby has agreed to come spend a few days of vacation with us and bring us back in about a week.  We will be getting the RV ready to live in while in Cleveland, picking up our Suziki,  and I will be working part time with Tony in the business to earn some extra money.  We plan to return for the boat in August or September and may take a road trip or two over the summer.

Thanks for reading!
Capt'n Larry

Resting and Recuperating in Mobile

We're parked for now in Turner Marina in Mobile, Alabama for some much needed rest and recuperation.  I had been sick with a ferocious sore throat and persistent cough for a week, and Alison had caught the same bug a few days after me.  Since getting here, we have been to a doctor, gotten our medicines and are feeling much better, though Alison is still coughing and feeling bad (Friday).  We also needed to catch up on laundry, fill our tanks with water and fuel and clean up the outside and inside of the boat.  We'll probably stay here another week, then head east toward Pensacola on our next leg.

 This is Turner Marina on Dog River in Mobile.  Happytat is the middle boat in the three in center.

                                             A closer shot of Happytat, happy to be at rest for a while.

Let me say, I have not particularly enjoyed this river trip.  Most days have been cold, wet, and tedious, and since I was on the steep end of the boating learning curve, it was exhausting.  I sat at the helm for ten to twelve hours per day, wrapped in layers of clothes and insulated underwear, a jacket, a fleece and a hat and hoodie over my head and winds that were consistently 10-15 mph in my face much of the time. There were moments when the pleasure of being outside and on my boat was enjoyable and I enjoyed the challenges presented by successfully passing under low bridges.  Some of the little coves we anchored in were nice, but I was so exhausted by then, the only thing that interested me in the evenings was a good night's sleep. With the exception of the Grand Canyon of the South just past Chattanooga, the scenery has pretty much been a green tunnel.  I would not be interested in being a river cruiser for fun.  There are people who do the Great Loop and cruise rivers and coastal waterways all around the Eastern United States.  I don't see the pleasure there.

                                              We did see some wildlife on the shore. Once.
It is lovely here in Mobile, though.  It has been warm and sunny for a change!  We did our laundry yesterday and plan to stow away all our winter coats and most of the cold weather clothes.  I hope to not see them again for a long time!

When we arrived in Demopolis, the weather was predicted to be rainy and I needed to do a few minor boat repairs, so we docked at the Demopolis marina.  At Demopolis, the river changes from the Tenn Tom to the Tom Bigby Waterway.  The only thing that made that significant was the way they change how they list bridge heights on the official charts.  As you know from previous blog entries, my mast needs 52 feet to clear a bridge, so bridge clearance has been a concern from the beginning of this trip.  Because of the predictions of rain and the rain that had already fallen in the past days, I was very concerned about bridge heights below Demopolis.  The numbers I was getting off the Corp of Engineer's internet site seemed to be telling me that the river below Demopolis dam was 25 feet above normal.  That would mean that a 52 foot bridge would only have 27 feet of clearance, so I expected that I would have to wait until the river went down to be able to continue our journey; and that might take weeks if it kept on raining!  I talked to a river boat captain and the owner of the marina and consulted internet sites and came up with inconclusive answers from each source.  Fred, the marina owner showed me some charts that I hadn't seen on the internet and told me I should not have any problem clearing.  The tow captain tried to be helpful and told me I should not have any problems, but couldn't show me how I could get under a bridge that had 25 feet of water under it above normal levels.  I even called the Demopolis dam operator and he told me I was okay to go.  But none of them could explain how I could clear the bridge with the water that was 25 feet above normal.  I didn't want to find out they were all wrong as the flooded river drug me into a bridge with 25 feet of clearance! It finally dawned on me that the charts I was looking at for the lower Tom Bigby river listed bridge clearance not in terms of "normal pool" as in the Tenn Tom charts, but in "Normal High Water".  That single fact made all the difference in my understanding and meant that I could actually clear these bridges that were listed at 52 feet clearance even if the river was 50 feet above normal!  I had plenty of room.

The next day was predicted at 90% chance of rain all day and I had expected to be confined to the boat all day, but when I awoke, the sky was clear blue.  I checked the weather forecast again and all the rain was over and we had a clear day to sail downriver.  I quickly got the boat ready, fueled up and paid the bill, and we were off again, perhaps weeks earlier than I had feared.

Our next stop was to be Bobby's Fish Camp, fifty miles farther downriver.  It was Sunday and they were closed, but the guide book said he had a dock we could tie up to for the night.  When I finally got there, the river current was so strong, I had to pass the dock and motor back up to it.  In fact, it took three complete circles to finally get the speed and angle right so that I could hop off the boat quickly and tie it off to the dock before the river swept the boat downstream.  I had Alison standing by to motor the boat back in case I failed to get it tied up quickly enough and tried to float away. That wasn't necessary and it went well.

But the current was so strong it crushed the boat tightly against the wooden dock and pulled strongly at the dock line.  I just couldn't see staying the night there in that current.  Alison checked the guide books and found another anchorage an hour or two south, so we threw off the dock lines and sailed there.  It was a lovely bayou just about 16 miles from Mobile.

                     This is what a bayou looks like.  It was our last anchorage before Mobile.

Our sleep was interrupted by a loud knocking on our hull from outside.  I opened up the hatch and went out with a flashlight to see what the knocking noise was from.  I could see that our anchors had held and hadn't moved from where I had anchored us.  So I looked at the water and saw sticks, leaves and the occasional log floating downstream by the boat.  Just then,  think I saw the source of the knocking: it was a branch about five feet long, sneaking around the front of the boat, heading downstream.  Once I had found the source of the knocking sounds hitting the boat, we were able to sleep soundly.

Next morning was to be the first interim goal of our trip: Mobile and the end of the Tennessee-Tom Bigby waterway!  After breakfast, I weighed anchor and we headed South.  In only a couple hours, I saw ahead of me a bridge and many barges ahead.  At first, I couldn't see the entrance to the bridge for all the river traffic. There were barges and tow boats everywhere!  The closer I got, the busier it got.  It was like being on a lonely backpacking hike, surrounded by a tunnel of trees, then turning a corner and finding yourself on the center line of a major highway of a large city!  But Happytat kept getting closer to all that action until we were right in the middle of one of the busiest seaports in the US.  We were surrounded by huge ships and barges and tow boats were buzzing around like taxis from every direction.  I was contacted on radio by several mountains in front of me.  "Southbound Sailboat going South by the cruise ship," one mountain called to me. "This is southbound sailboat." I replied.  "Please pass on the two whistle and give us a little more clearance," the mountain said.  "Two whistle" is river-talk to tell me to pass on his starboard (right) side.  "Passing on the two and more clearance." I replied, just like I had good sense, and moved Happytat to the left to give this big steel mountain room to pass.  Once I understood that I was not going to be run over, I was able to be amazed at this experience.  It's one thing to stand on the docks on land and see a sea port like this, quite another to be a participant in such a parade.

                                                  I thought this ship was impressive...

                                             ....then I saw this one...

                                       ...then a voice on my radio said: "Southbound sailboat..."

                                          NOW I'm impressed!

                                            Another one...

    These huge blue cranes at the entrance to the seaport reminded me of something out of Star Wars.

After only a few minutes we were at the entrance to Mobile Bay and out of the busy seaport.  The Bay seemed ocean-like compared to the relatively confined space of the river.  We motored another two hours into the bay before finally arriving at Turner marine, where we are now docked.  Getting into this dock was a test of my boat parking skills.  There are many more boats here than at my little home marina, Sale Creek, and less room in the aisle-ways.  The slip I had to back into is half the size of my slip at Sale Creek too.  It took me three tries to finally get close enough to the slip for the dock hands to throw me ropes and pull the boat into the narrow slip.

It's a pleasant marina with pleasant people and it's such a relief to know that I don't have to pull up anchor every cold morning and travel another twelve hours in the cold.  But this isn't where we plan to stay.  Soon, we will be well again, fueled up and ready to head east, toward the exotic lands of Pensacola, Destin, Panama City and beyond.

The Sinking of the Titanic

Alison named our dinghy "Titanic" for obvious reasons.

Let me first explain what an ideal anchorage is.  As we cruise along the river, we must park our boat somewhere for the night.  We have two guide books and an Ipad app that gives us places to drop our anchor for the night.  They tell us where it is, what to expect and any problems they encountered.  So when we get an idea of where we will be around evening, we try to find an anchorage that is suitable for our boat.  Ideal for us would be a quiet, out of the way cove with a minimum of 6 feet of water depth, a soft mud or sand bottom for the anchor to bite into, and trees or a hill to protect us from current and wind.  Often, we have been able to find just such places and they are truly delightful.  Even if we could find marinas along the entire trip, we would prefer anchorages for the beauty and peacefulness, and because they are free and marinas are not.

Tuesday, we thought we had the perfect anchorage picked out.  It seemed to meet all our requirements: out of the current, enough depth, peaceful...  But when we pulled slowly into the opening to the cove, the depth was suddenly three feet!  The Keel dug into the mud and stopped the boat, throwing me against the wheel.  I quickly switched the gears to reverse but it wouldn't back back up, so I put it back into forward gear and hit the throttle while turning the wheel hard to starboard.  The boat rocked to port (left) and turned to starboard (right) and gradually pulled back out of the mud into deep water.  I tried once more to carefully, slowly crawl into the cove and was met again with shallow water, so we had to abandon this site.

It was still fairly early in the day, about 3:00, so we traveled on to the next listed anchorage.  It was immediately after Heflin dam in a overflow bypass river.  This is a river that makes a loop around the dam and is used to carry the overflow water that doesn't go through the dam.  While in the dam, I talked to the dam operator and asked how the water flow was going to be on that loop.  He said they were sending quite a bit of water through the river and because of recent rains, they might increase the flow overnight.  Ordinarily that would have made that anchorage unsuitable and we would have bypassed it, but there were no other listed anchorages for many miles after that and we couldn't make them before dark.  So we decided to go into the river and look for a safe place to drop our anchor for the night.

The current was very strong as we motored the boat into the river just past the dam.  If I drove in the center of the river, I could only make about 3.5 mph over land, but if I guided the boat over to the edge, I could make 4.5 mph.  We drove into the river for a mile or two and found that there were no coves off the main channel.  The only way to anchor here would be to anchor off to the side of the river.  Our kayaking experience came into play at this time and we looked for an eddy in the current that we could park the boat in.  The current in an eddy is much less than in the main channel.  After evaluating several possibilities, we settled on an eddy on river left (as seen going downstream).  The current was slower there and there was a tree that we could tie to.  So we dropped the anchor about 50 feet from the tree and let out some rode (anchor rope).  But we couldn't depend entirely on the anchor to hold us against that current, so I got into our dinghy (subsequently named Titanic) and Alison threw me a rope that I tied to a tree on the bank as back up to our anchor.  Rowing Titanic against the current, even in the eddy we parked in, was a brisk row. Again, my whitewater experience was very helpful in making this row relatively easy.  Someone without this experience would have had trouble keeping the dinghy under control against that current.

Once all was secure, we watched Happytat as she responded to the currents and the two ropes she was tied to.  The current swept her back and forth in an arc about 20 feet wide and about 30 feet from shore.  When we were satisfied that we could relax, we went below and had a light dinner before going to bed.  For those of you who are "dirt dwellers," picture going to sleep in a home sitting on water that is running quickly under you, tied to a tree and an anchor on the bottom of the river.  How much sleep do you think you'd get?

Well, we slept well that night. Well, except that I kept coughing with a sore throat much of the night.  It started raining sometime during the night.  I woke up at about 6:30 am and decided that I would pull up anchor and get going.  I felt like crap, but we needed to get on our way.  Our next stop was Demopolis Alabama.  We were out of supplies and needed some Walmart therapy.  I woke Alison up to ask for her help, just in case I had trouble pulling up anchor and releasing the rope tied to the tree.  If the anchor didn't hold when I released the tree rope, then the boat would go sailing downstream with Alison sleeping peacefully below and me in the Titanic, rowing furiously to catch up to the mother ship.

While she was getting ready, I lowered the dinghy and rowed over to release the rope from the tree.   Then the rain started back up again and I didn't have any rain gear on.  But I untied the rope from the tree and I let the current pull me back to the mother ship with the rope tied to the dinghy.  When I got close to the swim platform on Happytat and tried to leave the dinghy, the rope restricted my maneuverability, so I untied it and turned it loose to float downstream.  The other end was tied securely to the bow of the boat and I could pull it back on board later.  First mistake.

I hooked up the davit ropes to the dinghy so that I could pull the dinghy back off the water later, and got back on to Happytat.  Alison was ready, so I started the engine and made ready to haul up the main anchor.  Before I started motoring forward toward the anchor, Alison asked if I shouldn't pull up the dinghy first.  I was totally focused on getting the anchor up and told her that it would be fine. I had towed the dinghy behind the boat many times with no problems, so there was no rush.  It was drizzling rain and I was cold, wet, and ready to be underway.  Second mistake.

As Alison drove the boat forward toward the anchor, the dinghy, being pulled sideways by the dinghy ropes, dipped down and swallowed a boat-full of water.  It was only a couple inches from being completely full when I came back to see it!  After having to listen to Alison's "I told you so's" and laughter, I had to figure out how to re-float the dinghy before I could haul up the anchor.  We have two bilge pumps that we use to fill the dinghy when we need to go under a low bridge, so I pulled a power wire to the pumps and changed the direction of the pumps from into-the-boat, to out-of-the boat and turned them on.  After a few minutes, the boat was empty enough to raise it up to the davit and out of the water.  Again, all of this in a drizzling cold rain with no rain gear.

Next, I went forward to gather up the long rope we had used to tie to the tree.  Remember the rope that I  released earlier?  That one.  As I gathered it up, it seemed to be tangled on something.  I pulled hard, nothing.  I used a winch to pull, nothing.  Alison moved the rudder back and forth and the stuck rope moved back and forth with it.  At first, I had suspected the rope was fouled on the engine propeller and was trying to picture me diving into the brown water under the boat to untie it, with a strong current trying to pull me downstream. But it extended too far aft to be on the propeller, so Alison suggested that it was stuck on our rudder.  So I got out on the swim platform and tried to unwrap it with the boat hook.  In the process, I discovered it wasn't stuck on the rudder either, but something underwater about 15 feet out from the boat.  I pulled hard and it was completely stuck.  So I took a utility knife and cut it loose.  We lost about 40 feet of rope, but it was a small price to pay to get our boat unstuck.

Once that was done, Alison once again drove the boat toward the anchor as I tried to pull it up by hand.  The rode came up fairly easily until it got close to where the anchor was, then it stopped.  I couldn't pull it any farther.  So I took the helm, backed up a few feet, then motored forward with lots of power to break the anchor loose.  The bow dipped down when it reached the point where the anchor was stuck, then bounced back up, indicating that I had successfully broken it free.  I gave the helm back to Alison to drive back to deeper water and hurried forward to pull up the rest of the anchor before it caught on something underwater.  I pulled hard and the anchor chain started coming up.  But something was wrong.  It took all my strength to pull the anchor up-far more strength than normal.   I pulled as hard as I could and after a few more pulls, the anchor surfaced.  It was fouled with a large tree root! That explained why it was so heavy!

I didn't have the strength to pull it all up by hand, so I tied the trip line rope to another rope and ran it to a winch by the cockpit.  A trip line is a second rope connected to the rear of the anchor and to a float that floats on the surface to indicate approximately where the anchor lies. Using the winch, I was able to pull the anchor up by its backside, causing the root to fall off.  Once that was done, we were on our way.

For the next 6 hours, I piloted the boat through cold drizzle, covered in layers of warm clothes and finally some rain gear.  The river was littered with sticks, logs and clumps of grass and patches of a floating flowering plant, so I had to stay alert to keep from hitting any large debris.  Alison supplied me with hot beverages and soups and stayed outside with me as much time as she could.  But since I had convinced her to leave all her cold weather clothes in storage, she wasn't dressed for this cold, wet weather and went inside much of the time.

We finally arrived at Demopolis and pulled gladly into a slip.  I hooked up the electric cable and a little while later, we had hot water for a much appreciated hot shower.  Then I took a long nap.  After a some much needed rest, we used the marina's courtesy pick up truck and went to Walmart for our Walmart therapy.

Now we seem to be stuck here in Demopolis for several days because the rain of the past few days has caused the river to rise above normal by as much as 5-6 feet, which means we won't be able to clear the four 52 foot bridges that we must clear on our next day of travel.  It's predicted to rain all day tomorrow too. We'll just have to wait here till it goes back down, however long that takes.  Oh well, we can use the rest.  Pulling so hard on the anchor Wednesday morning seems to have strained my back muscles and I need to let them heal some before heading back out.  I also need to recover some from the cold or whatever it is I have.

Sure glad I retired so I could rest.  Sarcasm.

He just wouldn't listen to me, again...