Tennessee River to Mobile

Back about 1792 in north Mississippi, French explorer Marquis De Montcalm and several other guys climbed into their boat and headed back to the fort. They had just had a bad time with some Indians. But the water in the Tombigbee River was so shallow that Marquis had to dump some of his valuable cannons overboard to keep their boat from getting stuck.

Thoroughly ticked off and madly scratching a jillion mosquito bites, he fired off a letter. He told the King that if France was really serious about taking over the New World, he had better be thinking about how to connect the Tombigbee with the Tennessee River.

 

 

Eventually, a survey was made to check out Marquis' idea. The only result was a lot of talk. Many years later, the Feds really got serious, particularly after the project was authorized by Congress in the River & Harbor Act of 1946. That set off a big harangue about whether the project would be worth the cost.

 

 

But in May, 1971, The Army Corps of Engineers got the green light on the still controversial project, began digging and building it's way toward some awesome statistics. More dirt was moved to build the Tenn-Tom than was moved to build the Panama Canal. Finally, in June of 1985, the ribbon was cut and the 450 mile Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway was open for business.

 

 

We left on November 16th, for a 10 day trip down the Tenn-Tom. Water from a whopping 20,000 square miles, drains into the Tennessee-Tombigbee. Spring rains can push the river far higher than it's normal summer level. 

 

 

The Waterway, tidal all the way up to Coffeeville Lock & Dam, is intriguingly remote. In places, if you scrambled up the bank, you'd have to walk for miles to find a paved road. After long days, we anchored in remote creeks, with barely room for us to squeeze into.

 

 

There are stories about local folks taking pot shots at passing yachts. We didn't really believe it, but made sure we didn't wake the local fishermen. If they got mad, they could easily reach their truck and meet us at the next lock, if they wanted to.

 

 

Some of the small marinas were very remote, like Pirate's Cove in Pickensville, Alabama. Some of the boats here are locked in with floating vegetation and look abandoned. We left the next morning.

 

 

The highlight of this area was Bobby's Fish Camp. It's not really a camp, but there are some trailers and a cluster of houses on stilts.

 

 

And did I mention there is a floating dock, enough room for three.

 

 

This was a nice quiet place. Hunters dressed in camouflage, came in to get fuel for their small boats throughout the afternoon. They were friendly. Y'all come back now!

 

 

As it was nearly dusk, gunshots off in the distance, we decided to walk up the hill for dinner with our friends on the boat "Krazy Kru." Bobby, now deceased, has left his daughter  to fry mounds of catfish to a full house of locals. We were the only foreigners.

 

 

 We woke up to fog and 34 degrees. There was frost on the dock and the boat.

 

 

A cold mist was rising above the river and we decided to hang out a few more hours.

 

 

Good thing we waited. The top of towboats with barges could be seen going down river through the fog.

 

 

Two days later we entered our last lock on the Great Loop, the Coffeeville Lock & Dam. To our amazement, we were locked in with a towboat and barges. This had never happened to us before.

 

 

We felt it was fitting, to finally share this last lock with a towboat.

 

 

We pulled into the port city of Mobile, Alabama on November 26th under a threatening sky.

 

 

It's nice to be back in the big city again.

 

 

We entered Dog River Marina off of Mobile Bay on the Gulf of Mexico.

 

 

Now we can start talking about coming home to Florida!

Side Trips

Leaving Chattanooga, we head west 200 miles, covering the same waters of which we came from, while encountering new friends and experiences.

We pull into Goose Pond Marina, a serene, quiet place at this time of the year, as most of their boats are stored under sheds for the coming winter.

Fortunately for us, the marina restaurant "Docks" was open and busy. Bob happily enjoys his dinner.

I of course, couldn't pass up "Shrimp and Grits" Alabama style!

 

 

Moving west on the Tennessee River, the railroad bridge that you can see in the background, breaks down and we cannot get under it.

We pulled off the river into Riverwalk Marina in the city of Decatur. The next day, more boats pulled in, waiting for the repairs to be finished on the bridge.

 

 

To our surprise, the management offered their car for lunch, to all of us stuck waiting for the bridge to be repaired. Eight of us from (4 boats) piled into this big, black, stretch limo Cadillac! What a riot.

 

 

New friends and new memories. We left the next day.

 

 

One of the most enjoyable side trips was coming into Florence Marina. We love this place, with it's park-like atmosphere, and Eva, the owner, will help you in any way that she can. She set me up with her hairdresser, Barbara!

Here we are in Muscle Shoals, with friends Ann, her mom, husband, Ernie, their son, Rob, and Ron with his wife, Carol. Ann and Ernie were next to us at Joe Wheeler on their boat. They live in the area and invited us for dinner two weeks ago. They introduced us to Ron and his lovely wife, Carol, who also have a boat. They invited us to their home so that Bob could see Ron's steam whistle collection. Why, you might ask, is Bob interested in steam whistles?

Because in Canada, he bought a steam whistle in an antique store.

 

 

Apparently, Ron Beberniss is very knowledgeable when it comes to steam whistles and has a very, very large collection of them.

 

 

 

 

Bob is overwhelmed with joy, discovering his new passion with Ron.

 

 

Getting back to brunch, the yacht club was beautiful, the food was delicious, and we partied with our new friends and had a great time. Making friends like we have, is best thing about this trip!

 

 

We left Florence on Monday morning, it was 35 degrees with the outside of the boat covered in frost.

 

 

Little Sammy was undeterred in the cold, as took over my my seat and warmed up in the sun.

 

 

We came through Pickwick Lake and pulled into Grand Harbor. 

 

 

The last of the colors have past, as the leaves are starting to fall off the trees. Winter is coming.

 

 

We are the only transient boat as we pull in.

 

 

Two weeks ago the place was full. Everyone has gone south.

 

 

The two-day battle of Shiloh, the costliest in American history up to that time resulted in the defeat of the Confederate army and frustration of Johnston's plans to prevent the joining of the two Union armies in Tennessee.

 

 

Union casualties were 13,047 (1,754 killed, 8,408 wounded, and 2,885 missing); Grant's army bore the brunt of the fighting over the two days, with casualties of 1,513 killed, 6,601 wounded, and 2,830 missing or captured.

 

 

Confederate casualties were 10,699 (1,728 killed, 8,012 wounded, and 959 missing or captured). The dead included the Confederate army's commander, Albert Sidney Johnston; the highest ranking Union general killed was W.H.L.Wallace.

 

 

Both sides were shocked at the carnage. None suspected that three more years of such bloodshed remained in the war and that eight larger and bloodier battles were yet to come.

 

 

Grant came to realize that his prediction of one great battle bringing the war to a close was probably not destined to happen.

 

 

The war would continue, at great cost in casualties and resources, until the Confederacy succumbed or the Union was divided.

 

 

Grant also learned a valuable personal lesson on preparedness that (mostly) served him well for the rest of the war.

 

 

As sad as the story is, the cemetary is quite moving and beautiful.

 

 

As a small deer crosses our path.

 

 

Around the corner, we stop at the Catfish Hotel. On this spot in 1825, Henry Hagy and his wife Polly docked their flat boat, laid claim to several acres of bottom land, and began to build a farm and family. Later their son John built a rough log shack next to the river to store items that were to be shipped by

steamboats. The shack was occupied by Union soldiers during the Battle of Shiloh.

 

 

The shack earned the name "Catfish Hotel" during the early thirties when Norvin Hagy entertained friends at cookouts. He became well known for the delicious catfish, hushpuppies, and hospitality he served up.

 

 

Guests who had arrived by river were often forced to spend the night after becoming engrossed in yarns spun and darkness made it unsafe to travel the river, thus the nickname Catfish Hotel.

 

 

In 1975, fire destroyed the original structure. The present building opened as the Catfish Hotel a year later. The Catfish Hotel is one of the oldest family owned restaurants in the country.

 

 

Catfish Bob.

 

 

While we were there, the Army dropped in for lunch (on the lawn)

Because the catfish is really, really good!