Tidewater, Another Huge Challenge, Great People!

On Wednesday, we left Kingfisher Marina in the cold (36 degrees) and dark of 5:45 am to travel 99 miles down the Black Warrior-Tombigbee Waterway to Bobby's Fish Camp. Our windshield was soaked inside and out. The wipers took care of out but the boat does not have a defroster and the windshield is hard to reach on the inside. But, between me stretching up over the helm and the Admiral up over the stairs, we kept it dry enough to see out a little. We reached the Demopolis lock a short ways downstream and, with several other boats, dropped surprisingly quickly down another 40 feet.

We were treated to surprisingly beautiful waterfall as we exited the lock.

The run that day was mostly natural river, a gorgeous day, and we saw lots of great egrets and a few great blue herons, bald eagles, and kingfishers.

We arrived at Bobby's in 15-20 knots of gusty wind and a strong current. There was one place left at the forward most end of the dock which we successfully managed to claim. Right on the side of the river, the dock had great views across and it was fun watching the various towboats and barges wending their way up and down stream. We had docktails with Rock and Gipp, aka Roxie and Gerry, who were only three days away from completing there Great Loop.

Thursday morning, I was up at 3:00 am in 34 degree weather to get ready for what we thought would be a 100 mile run to an anchorage just above upriver of Mobile Harbor. After going through all of the motions described in an earlier blog, I cranked the engine. The starter turned it over once and stopped. Again, same thing and the lights dimmed. Again, same thing and pretty much all (not quite) of the electrics on the boat died. My blood pressure's going up as I write this. So, at zero dark thirty, we are at the end of a long dirt road 125 miles from help with no engine, no power, no water, no head, no navigation equipment, no vhf radio, no Uber, no Lyft. Ouch, ouch, ouch. When 7:00 am rolled around (central time), I got on the phone with M.E. Yacht Restoration, the great folks who took care of the boat this summer. It took a while but we found a breaker in the bowels of the lazarette that had tripped, a kind of breaker that I wasn't previously familiar with that you couldn't see had tripped, only feel it from its top. Ok, at least, thanks to shore power, we had electricity back. In theory, that should have started to charge the engine batteries but, in theory, they should have been charging all night. Sigh. We gave up the day and resorted to waiting.

Then, a miracle. Sloth, a boat that we had become acquainted with went by. I got on the VHF to wish them well and explain why we weren't heading downstream with them. Sloth is a sailboat crewed by Jake and Lina Slotten and their three kids, 12, 10 and 8. From Wisconsin, they are headed off on an adventure to parts of the world yet to be determined--maybe the Pacific via the Panama Canal--maybe Europe via winter in the Caribbean and then across the North Atlantic. Great people. Jake offered that he had two, brand new spare batteries exactly like the four of my engine bank batteries and offered to let us have them. It seemed like it couldn't hurt. He disconnected them out in the river and then came over and rafted up with us. He had the batteries and a multimeter--a tool which I should have brought but didn't. We checked the batteries and, on an individual basis, they each had between 11 and 12 volts--not great. Jake had to leave to catch the lock just downstream with a few other boats. We promised to connect one way or another so that I could either return the batteries or reimburse him for them.

Then, another miracle. Brandt, a strapping, strong, young, good old boy who lives at the fish camp came along with a massive, quick-charge, battery charger. Eventually, the batteries had enough juice to crank the engines just fine but the engine would not start. Started chatting with Back Cove and learned a lot--among other things that even if it will crank, the engine won't start unless the battery bank has a minimum of 18 volts. We had struggled to get to 14. Sigh. Time to replace two of the batteries and see what happens. This battery bank is on the far side of the lazarette with only crawl space to get to it. Brandt asked if I wanted him to do it. I hemmed and hawed, honestly not sure if he'd get things reconnected right but he turned to the Admiral, smiled charmingly, and said "I bet I can do it a lot quicker." I hate being the "old guy" but, what the heck? Sure. In the end it took the two of us to lift out the old batteries but we got it done and, the new ones in place and connected: Hold your breath. Yes, the engine started. I ran it an hour with a careful eye on the alternator and battery level. Then, in the early afternoon, turned off the engine and hoped. We didn't want to travel that afternoon because, the only places we could get to before dark were anchorages even more remote than Bobby's. I put a heater in the lazarette to keep the batteries warm and was up off an on all night watching the battery voltage and it did drop but only to 27.0. Whew.

Another zero dark thirty morning--this one in pea soup fog. Called the Coffeeville Lock and they said we needed to be there by 6:00 or would have to wait several hours for commercial traffic. Off we went at 5:30 in the pitch black and blinding fog. Coffeeville is the lowest and last lock of the inland rivers and, once lowered we were . . in tidewater. . . and won't see a lock again until next summer.

We spent the first couple of hours on the river in fog that ranged from thick to very thick--putting along at a dead idle (5.5 knots)--sometimes going in and out of gear to go even slower--watching the radar, staring ahead into nothingness and blowing one long blast on the horn every 90 seconds or so.

Finally, the sun burned off the fog and by 8:00 or so we were speeding down the river. We had decided to go to Turner Marina, 135 miles downstream at the Dog River on the West Side of Mobile Bay. Jackie had found and put on hold two additional batteries at the adjacent West Marine so that we would have a completely new engine battery bank. And, we didn't dare to stop in an anchorage before they were replaced. It was a beautiful run; the first hundred miles were almost uninterrupted natural area and we saw our first brown pelicans and terns of the trip. The last 35 miles couldn't be more of a contrast with incredibly heavy towboat and barge, tanker, containership and other traffic in the Port of Mobile.

We made it by 3:30 and by 3:45, the Admiral had me at West Marine, credit card out, buying the two batteries. A retired teacher and coach, Terry, was behind us in line and, after a pleasant chat, offered to drive the batteries and me back to the marina--yet another great guy.

It's now 9:00 on Saturday morning and, I'm going outside to rinse the deck and then dive into the lazarette to install those two additional new batteries. That will be the easy part. I'm stressing about lifting the old ones out. Where there's a will, there must be a way. Stay tuned!