Nine Lives and her crew are cruising again! From September until March, we will be visiting Tennessee, Alabama, Florida, and eventually Georgia and return to South Carolina. During this final portion of the Great Loop, we will “cross our wake”, that is, cross over our original starting point in St Petersburg, Florida, and in spring we will finish in our home of Hilton Head. We hope you enjoy the recounting of our voyages.
The first challenge, as always, is to get the crew back to Nine Lives. From Hilton Head it is about 9.5 hours’ drive to Aqua Yacht on Pickwick Lake. Unfortunately, the air conditioning on Dick’s vehicle broke down just a few days before our departure, and there was not enough time to get the replacement compressor shipped and installed before we left. It was hot! The maximum temperatures were 97F near Birmingham, AL, but it was not below 90F for most of the trip. We arrived at 4:30pm local time. We took the bikes and the new salon cushions to the boat, and set things up to shock the fresh water tanks so they could sit overnight with the bleach solution. We also turned on the fridge and the freezers, so they would be ready for the next day.
Once again, we stayed in a cabin at Pickwick State Park for a couple of nights while we got the boat ready. The cabins have a full-size fridge and freezer for all our food. In spite of the long, hot journey, all the frozen food was still fully frozen. We checked in and immediately had dinner at the lodge restaurant before going to the cabin. We were so tired and hot that we knew we would not want to go out again once we got into the cabin!
The food was much better than Dick’s memory. He was able to ask for his favorite catfish to be grilled, a great improvement over the usual deep fry. I had fried shrimp, which were superb. We shared cheese curds to start. There won’t be many opportunities for that delectable treat after the next few weeks. We have never seen them offered in Hilton Head or in UK.
The next morning at breakfast, while I waited for the pancakes I had ordered, I idly looked at the ingredients list on the packet of syrup in the basket on the table. One of the first ingredients was ethylene glycol. If you never knew, or had forgotten, that’s anti-freeze. A cruise around our friend google suggests that we never, ever want to ingest this stuff. Not even on pancakes.
After breakfast we were at the boat by 8:30, and began the process of trekking all the stuff 1/3 mile along the dock to the boat. Well, Dick did the trekking, I sorted and put away as it arrived on board. Division of labour…
Dick finished the water process, changed the drinking water filter, put the chlorine tabs into the AC system, and stowed spare parts, and 2 dozen bottles of wine and other drinks. He also put up the burgees on the bow.
The boat was supposed to have been cleaned for our arrival, inside and out. It is always a bad sign when cleaning equipment has been left on the dock, in this case a bucket of soapy water and a long-handled brush. While the hull was sparkling, the deck had minimal attention, and the cockpit had not been touched since we left. The smears from Dick’s enthusiastic destruction of marauding bugs last fall were still on the windshield. Inside was better (a different cleaner), but not as immaculate as the lady who did the job last year.
I prepared the clove bags that keep insects out of the galley drawers and cupboards, while Dick stowed 4 dozen beers and the fizzy water.
The big shopping excursion to the supermarket in Corinth took longer than Dick had expected, making us late for our much anticipated favourite restaurant, Vicari’s. Dinner was every bit as good as always, a nice change. So many of our favourite restaurants over the years seem to lose their mojo and the food ends up being pedestrian and bland.
We checked out of the cabin after breakfast, then Dick had to schlep all the food up the path to the vehicle, and then of course the whole lot had to be dragged to the boat, along with all the food and dry goods from the grocery shop.
One thing about having done this for so many years, we know where everything goes! Mostly.
I sorted out the groceries, including chopping celery and bagging it into portions for the freezer. I also recharged the “dry tops” from the storage jars in the microwave. These are a Chinese product that was only available briefly, but they work fantastically well at keeping things like pasta, biscuits, nuts, and even brown sugar in perfect condition.
After a brief rest and recovery from all the to-ing and fro-ing with stuff, Dick started on his chores. He changed the fuel filters from the main engines and the generator. Vacuumed the cockpit and laid down the carpet. Put the new registration sticker on the dinghy. Installed the sunscreens on the windows. Checked the hydraulic steering reservoir for fluid level. Prepare to launch the dinghy to check that everything was working correctly… and came to a grinding halt.
The service department had put the dinghy up very high on the davits after they did the 50 hour service on the engine, and one of the two motors would not work to lower, only to raise that end of the dinghy. After battling spider webs (my spray the day before had barely discouraged them), Dick had to get out the broom and have a really good sweep before even starting to try to diagnose the problem. Naturally, more sophisticated troubleshooting was attempted before the simpler solution of wiggling the contacts for the plug. Dinghy was duly launched (with the suitable precaution of keeping the rear hanger attached. Dick evicted a staggering number and variety of 8-legged squatters, along with their webs, then followed the proper startup procedures, turned the key, and nothing happened. The battery was absolutely flat. The service men had not bothered to remove the drain plug when they returned the dinghy to the supports, and since there is an automatic bilge pump, every time it rained, the battery was drained a little more. Dick set off to find a hardware store that would be open on Sunday and have a battery charger for sale. He had to go all the way to Iuka, but he found one!
Battery set to charge, we walked out to the onsite restaurant for dinner. Dick had checked that they were open on Sunday. Sadly, not this Sunday. A notice on the door said that they were closed indefinitely due to “unresolved plumbing issues”. So we continued our Sunday stroll back to Nine Lives, and dug out the makings of sandwiches for dinner.
Next morning we were up early, and after taking time for coffee, Dick was pleased to find that the battery had charged and he could make sure the dinghy motor started and ran without issue.
We were finally away from our slip before 10am. We had an uneventful day of cruising; a civilized 5.5 hours dock to dock.
The marina at Florence AL is supposedly open 7 days, but no radio response, and no phone was answered. To be fair, Dick discovered later than he had the wrong number for the phone, so it was not surprising it wasn’t answered! The 2 boats already in had spread themselves along the dock with gaps too small for us to easily fit into. We docked at the back, but pulled up enough to leave room for the 50-footer that we knew was coming in behind us. We spoke to them over the radio and were there to help with their lines.
They were a very nice couple, fellow Loopers, and we ended up going to dinner with them and then having drinks on Nine Lives after.
There was a hurricane brewing in the Gulf. The forecasts were uncertain of its path, and there was a lot of concern for us and fellow boaters as to how much it might affect our plans. We decided to look again in the morning and make some decisions.
Tuesday was a day that exemplifies the need not to have specific plans when boating. We had volunteered, and our offer was accepted, to fill in for a veteran Looper for a presentation on locking at the upcoming Rendezvous of Loopers. The various deadlines for submitting outline, bio, and introduction were already past, but we spent the morning starting work on the project. We also untied and moved over to the fuel dock for fuel and a pump out. Fortunately, one boat had left earlier, or getting back into our spot would have been quite tricky.
While Dick prepared bullet points for the presentation, I went through 7 years of photos to find those that are of locks and locking. At this point, we discovered that our reliable workhorse, ten-year-old printer on board, while still operational, no longer speaks to our laptops, and could not be upgraded.
We kept a lookout for the marina courtesy car, and just managed to be first when it was returned. Office Depot had a printer that would fit into the 12” space in the cupboard, and we also made a run to the supermarket for a few things that were missed earlier. The rest of the afternoon was spent setting up the new printer.
We both felt that getting dressed up, then arranging for the courtesy car or uber to get to our planned restaurant, was just too much trouble, so we cancelled our reservation and walked along the dock to the onsite restaurant. Basket food, but tasty.
Later, Dick chatted on the phone with the lockmaster at Wilson lock, 5 miles up the river, and arranged to call again at 5:15am to find out the status of the lock. It is always better to speak to the person who is starting his 12-hour shift, rather than the one who is finishing, who may be wet as well as tired!
There was a split tow in progress in the morning, so we had time for showers and breakfast before our expected 7:30 departure.
So early, you say? This particular lock had an approach wall collapse into the river a couple of years ago. This means that the tows have to wait their turn from a long way up or down river, thus slowing down all operations. Pleasure craft will be locked through only early in the morning, midday, or late, plus or minus, depending on existing tow traffic. Not wishing to take a chance on the midday slot, we hoped for the early transit. We were through Wilson lock at a very reasonable 9am. Considering that this is the lock with issues, and a reputation for multi-hour holdups, we did well. What was unexpected was the experience at the next lock.
The tow ahead of us (the same one that was going through Wilson at 5am), refused to allow the pleasure boats to go through ahead of him (there were two of us), even though he would, in fact, have lost no time by letting us through, as he had more than an hour required to approach the lock from where he was waiting. So our two boats waited a full 8 hours instead of 4 (there was a downbound split tow that had to come through first). Our fellow Looper boat anchored, but we held back with a combination of floating with the engine off and occasionally repositioning. I did the early prep for our planned dinner on board later.
Our fellow Loopers on this part of the journey turned out to be a Dutch fellow, who emigrated to Canada in the 1990’s. We will look forward to meeting again and spending some time in person!
We were in Joe Wheeler State Park by 5:15pm. There were still concerns about the developing hurricane, although it was expected to be purely a rain event, with no significant wind at this location. Some “conversation” between Nine Live’s two captains resulted in a compromise that would have us stop just 3 more nights before Chattanooga, but all in marinas rather than at anchorages or free town walls. No locks the next day. Even though there had been only two that day, a break was needed!
The first proper meal to be cooked onboard was a definite success. The new recipe for scalloped potatoes complemented the pork and mushroom fricassee.
Thursday the 26th was the day for the hurricane (Helene) to make landfall, so we would know a lot more that evening, and even more the next day, as it was a fast-moving storm. We planned to stay two nights at Ditto Landing to wait out the worst of the expected rain. As I write this from my notes a week later, I know just how huge and devastating this storm was. It was one of the largest ever to hit the United States, and loss of life and devastation to property extended from Florida to Georgia, Tennessee, and the Carolinas. Our home in Hilton Head was fine, but our friends just a few miles away in Bluffton had trees down on their property and power outages. Friends in Florida fared worse, and are still evaluating the damage, as are friends in Asheville, in the mountains of North Carolina. We were lucky, more about our experiences later.
We left at 8:45 with an ETA of 3:30. I spent an hour prepping a beef and mushroom stew for the slow cooker. We passed TVA Browns Ferry Nuclear Plant. This is the 3rd most powerful nuclear power plant in the USA. It produces about 20% of TVA’s entire generating capacity. There was no steam visible, so Dick wondered whether it is currently operating, although I can find no suggestion that it has been shut down. The stack is 660 feet high. We were amazed at the number of additional low cooling towers on the site. We delayed about ½ hour waiting for the Decatur Drawbridge, a railway bridge that is too low for Nine Lives to pass under. The bridge tender was very pleasant, and kept us informed of the train movements.
It was a pretty boring stretch of river after Decatur. We are too far from the banks to see any birds. We passed Redstone Arsenal, a very interesting site, but the interesting bits are completely screened by trees.
We arrived at the marina, but our assigned slip proved difficult to get into with a slight breeze, and at only 20 feet wide there would not have been room for a fender between Nine Lives and the black rubber on the dock. We were able to tie up next to our originally assigned slip below a launch ramp, which the dockmaster blocked off so trailers could not use it while we were there. There were two more launch ramps available for day boaters to use.
Dinner was ready in the multi-cooker, and only the rice and vegetables needed to be prepared before we could sit down to enjoy our beef stew.
We were west and south of Hurricane Helene as it roared through Florida and Georgia and into Tennessee. We didn’t even find out until later that it also had devastating effects in the Carolinas. In northern Alabama we had heavy rains all night, but in fact, the noise of the fish eating the algae off the hull was louder than the rain. It is an extraordinarily loud sound, as if someone is tapping hard on the hull! Dick could not believe it was fish, and got up in the middle of the night just to check all around the boat.
The next day was quiet, as southern USA started cleanup and assessment of the damage. Sadly, Tennessee and the Carolinas were just at the beginning of their problems, as water poured through areas that never expect hurricane impacts. Our own plans would have ongoing impacts that only reveal themselves a few days at a time.
September 28th, we were out by 8:30am. It was dull and cool in the aftermath of Helene, and the lines were soaking wet, but at least it wasn’t raining.
Nine Lives is happier now that she is flying 2 burgees again. It was not appropriate to fly the Wexford green after we moved away, so last year we always felt a bit lopsided! We now have an Endeavour burgee for the second flagpole.
It was a very long and boring day, and the weather was too dull to appreciate the emerging fall colours. We passed Guntersville and through Guntersville Lake, seeing many large and expensive homes along the shoreline and up in the hills. I cannot find any information as to why this area appears to be so much more prosperous than the rest of the Tennessee Valley.
Painted Bluff is a famous landmark overlooking the river. It features over 130 prehistoric Native American pictographs and petroglyphs. The striations in the rock are certainly beautiful, especially with the developing autumn colours, but we were mystified that unsightly power lines were permitted to cross right over one of America’s beauty spots.
The Bellefonte Nuclear Plant began construction in 1975. In the next 40 years over 4 billion was spent, and yet so far the plant is not operational and may never be. It stopped construction in 1988, and moveable parts were sold off, then the site was auctioned in 2016. Regulatory permissions were not obtained, by the new owners, and the whole thing is now tied up in the courts with lots of finger-pointing and accusations of malfeasance, including bribery and corruption.
We had planned to tie up for the night on an old, decommissioned lock wall. After a very long day of cruising, we arrived at 6pm to find that it was just not suitable for Nine Lives. The distance between bollards along the flat part of the wall was too great to tie up, and the two places we could have reached had metal protrusions and a cut out section of the wall. We had to back out and carry on to an anchorage further up the river. The location is in a wide chute behind an island. We could see a Yamaha Plant on the shore, and it has what appeared to be a very respectable marina, complete with lit power pedestals, and not a single boat. If the anchor had not set, we would have gone with the principle of “easier to ask forgiveness than permission” and availed ourselves of the facility. In fact, I can’t even imagine how one would ask for permission! We were anchored by 6:45, a very long day, finishing just as it was getting dark. Most days are good on a boat. This was not one of them. Dick’s steak dinner prepared on the grill was a welcome treat after a hard day.
After a very peaceful night with just a few feet of movement from where I set the anchor alarms, we were ready to pull the anchor and get back onto the river for another long day. I woke up very early (5am), because my phone was absolutely convinced that Bridgeport AL was in Tennessee and thus in the Eastern Time Zone. We decided to head out early.
As the procedure began for pulling the anchor, Dick discovered that the bridle lines had caught an incredible amount of floating weed. It was the highly invasive hydrilla, that infests waterways from Florida to California after escaping from aquariums in Florida in 1950’s and 60’s. It costs millions every year to try to control it. Dick had to shake it off with a boathook, then lift the lines a little bit and shake off the next clump. The picture shows only one of the smallest clumps, there was enough of the stuff for several bales! There was more weed on the anchor chain itself, but once that was cleared, the anchor came up smoothly and clean and we were away by 7:30am.
We passed the somewhat unprepossessing structure that is the historic Hales Bar hydroelectric plant. Construction of the dam began in 1904, and took 8 years to build, with many accidents and several deaths. On completion in 1913, it was the world’s second largest hydroelectric plant. Only Niagara was larger. The book tells me that there was a huge celebration, with bands playing, dances, banquets, speeches and fireworks. From the beginning the dam leaked. The area was cursed by a Cherokee warrior in 1775, and it has apparently been unlucky ever since. The dam is considered to be one of the most haunted in the USA. The dam was half a mile across and 60 feet high, and contained what was at the time the highest single lock lift in the world. TVA acquired the dam in 1939, and continued the ongoing efforts to seal the leaks, but they were in vain. By 1960, the dam was leaking at a rate of 2000 feet per second, and it became clear that the leaks were joining together inside the dam, with an increasing risk of complete (and sudden) failure. A new dam and lock was build down the river, and as soon as the Nickajack Lock and Dam opened in 1967, the Hales Bar Dam was decommissioned. Today the historic building is used as a private event space, and is also the home of Dam Whisky and Moonshine Distillery. Although we plan to stop at the marina there on our return down the river, the distillery is only open on weekends, so we may not be able to tour and partake.
The outflow for the Raccoon Mountain pumped storage facility can be seen from the river. During times of low power demand, water is pumped from the river to a reservoir on the top of the mountain. When demand is high, the water is released through a tunnel and drives generators in the underground power plant. It takes 28 hours to fill the reservoir.
Williams Island is passed just a few miles before Chattanooga. In 1862, James J. Andrews, a Union spy, led 21 men through Confederate lines and managed to steal a railroad engine in Marietta, Georgia. They headed north to Chattanooga, destroying telegraph communications as they went. A Confederate force in another engine followed them, and caught up with them and imprisoned the spy in Chattanooga. Andrews managed to escape, and got as far as Williams Island before he was caught. This time he was taken to Atlanta and hanged.
We arrived in Chattanooga by 4:30, and had help from a neighbour on the dock, who had stayed for 10 days waiting out the hurricane and the high water.
We had dinner at one of the top steakhouses in Chattanooga. We walked up many steps to get to the depot for the free downtown electric bus service. It is very popular with the homeless. The restaurant is in a gorgeous historic hotel. The service was excellent, and the food was tasty, but unevenly heated. Parts of the meal were piping hot, other parts (especially the potatoes) were barely warm. After dinner we walked back to the boat because the bus does not run after 8pm on Sundays. We were glad that it had stopped raining.
In the morning, Dick went for a long walk to explore the downtown. Unfortunately, while there are many interesting restaurants and the beautiful old buildings are being renovated to provide downtown living and shopping, it is still very much a work in progress. In the afternoon, we enjoyed our first docktails on Nine Lives this season with Maggie and Bruce, the local Harbor Hosts.
We took the bus again to our dinner destination. Alleia was an excellent choice for an Italian meal. We shared a cheese and charcuterie platter. Dick had the halibut, which was delicious with an excellent pomodoro sauce. He was less enthused about the accompanying vegetables: summer squash, zucchini, and okra! Dick loves most other vegetables, so this was quite a miss from his point of view. I chose a mushroom and preserved truffle pizza, one of the best I have had in a long time. Nothing on the dessert menu caught my eye, but Dick enjoyed his favourite panna cotta. We returned by bus, as it runs late on weekdays. Unfortunately, the usual ramp to the dock was under 5 feet of water, so we had to come down the steps at the other end. They are in an unlit area much favoured by the large homeless population of this city, so not a comfortable way to have to go back and forth to the dock.
The effects of Helene are still manifesting, and we were advised by the Knoxville Harbor Host not to venture that far up the river. Apparently, TVA regulates the water being released by the dams on the system to limit flooding in Chattanooga, which explains why the walkway is periodically under water but the town is not flooded. We extended our stay by 6 more days, and will reassess next weekend. We hope to be able to travel up the river, but we will not go as far as Knoxville. As I write this, 4 of the locks on the Tennessee River are closed because of the very high volume of water flowing over the dams.
There is also great concern over the status of Wilson Lock, which the majority of Loopers must pass through to get to the site of the Rendezvous. This gathering has been fully booked for months. Since our passage, the main chamber of the lock has had to be closed for several months for repairs. The auxiliary chamber is in fact 2 smaller steps, requiring a tow to lock through just one barge at a time. With a typical tow on this river being made up of 15 barges, the transit takes 15 to 24 hours per tow. Pleasure boats are not a priority, but it is hoped that it will be possible to arrange flotillas to fit between the commercial requirements.
We had concerns about the effectiveness of the pump out we had at Florence Marina. The rather feeble pump had not seemed to have done the job properly, and a quiet afternoon seemed like a good time to untie and head over to the fuel dock. Both the fuel pumps and the pump out machine are self-service, so there are no helpful dockhands to assist with operations or tying up. In spite of the fierce current, Dick maneuvered Nine Lives into the quiet water in front of the dock, and I was justly proud of my skillful capture and double wrapping of the midships line around the dock cleat. The pump out took just a few minutes with the robust pump, and we were back retying on our dock in less than half an hour.
As we walked to the bus station we looked down at the waterfront. You can see in the picture that the fixed docks are completely submerged. Those light lines in the lower right are the handrails along the walkways, more than 5 feet under water. At the base of the concrete lights in the top left are small white boxes. These are the power outlets for the dock. Theoretically the power has been cut off, but I did see the lights on the other night! The dock we are on is floating, so at least it moves up and down as the water rises and recedes.
Chattanooga’s history began in 1815, when Cherokee descendant Chief John Ross established a ferry service across the river. He also built a boat landing and a warehouse, and began trading with the local Cherokee Indians. The settlement grew, and was incorporated in 1839. It was in a strategic location, and metal industries ensured its continued growth. It was fought over during the Civil War, and is still today an important manufacturing, wholesale, and retail centre. It is also a popular tourist destination. Ross’s Landing was located where the steps at the end of our dock are, our only access to the town when the ramp at the other end is flooded.
In 1854, the East Tennessee Iron Manufacturing Company built a blast furnace on a site overlooking Ross’s Landing. A few years later the blast furnace was converted from charcoal to use coke, and was the first in the South to use coke in the primary reduction of iron ore. Just a few years later, in 1863, Federal troops occupying Chattanooga demolished all the buildings, leaving only the stack, which was used as a lime kiln.
The Chattanooga Choo Choo building (yes, it’s a real place), was a Beaux Arts Classicism building built by the Southern Railway and completed in 1909. It had the largest brick arch in the world. An 85-foot freestanding dome spanned the waiting room. The last train arrived in 1970, and the beautiful building was boarded up and threatened with demolition. It was rescued and refurbished and is now a hotel and restaurant complex.
The song, yes, the song. If it isn’t running around your head yet I am surprised. See if I can remind you of this particular earworm! The song tells the story of train journey from New York to Chattanooga, where the singer’s sweetheart will be waiting for him, and he will settle down and never leave. The passenger asks a shoeshine boy, “Pardon me, boy, Is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo? Yes, yes, Track 29. Boy, you can give me a shine.” The song was written in 1941, and first performed as a big band/swing number by Glenn Miller and His Orchestra. It was a huge hit in a time of war, speaking to soldiers who wanted to look forward to the day that they could go home and be met by loved ones and parties. It also referenced the heart of America, and the prosperity and industry that depended on the railways.
We went to dinner at Elsie’s Daughter, a somewhat unusual restaurant that is part of Hotel Chalet, that in turn is part of the Choo Choo complex. The hotel features modern “chalets”, but the alternative, if you are willing to pay an additional $100 per night, are beautifully converted passenger cars, formerly part of the rolling stock of Southern Railway.
Dinner started well. There is a very limited menu, and all plates are meant to be shared. We began with a tomato and cucumber salad in a delicious dressing, and a plate of smoked trout spread accompanied by crisp pieces of toast. Dick chose the crispy half chicken, which was also delicious. I know this because my mushroom tartine was so tasteless that I gave up on it after a few bites (copious additions of salt and pepper did not help), and instead had some of the chicken. The service that had been so bright and solicitous fell apart in the middle of the meal, as the single waitress tried to cope with a full restaurant. We decided that the only dessert choice on offer was not of interest, so we paid and left. We would consider returning, but not after 6pm.
Earlier in the day, Dick had carried his bicycle up multiple flights of steps to go grocery shopping, because the walkway at the other end of the dock was under 5 feet of water. He didn’t want to have to repeat that effort, so on his return, he locked the bike to the railings at the top of the steps. As we passed the bike, I commented that I thought there was about a 50% chance that it would be there when we returned from dinner. The bike was there. We passed a fellow standing on the pathway, with a suspiciously familiar water bottle at his feet. I pointed it out to Dick, and he asked the guy, “did you take that water bottle from my bike over there?” To my vast surprise, the guy laughed, apologized, and handed it back! One hopes the bike will continue to be safe, but from now on the water bottle returns to the boat after each excursion.
The Voyages of Nine Lives 