The Move to Little Rock

Circa 2001, I don't remember details but I know it was hot so it must have been summer in Alabama. Demopolis is a small river town that has a certain charm about it and friendly people. Well, it's like most any small town in the South, don't know much about the small towns in the North, charming but only accepting if you or someone important that you are kin to lived there. Blood is important in the South. I was always well treated during the three years I berthed Detour there and the Demopolis Yacht Basin is the only "real" marina I've ever used. I say real, they just know how to run a Marina and they pretty much treat all the owners the same. Just pay your bill, be a good neighbor and you will be ok. This is not a typical cruising log and I'm not writing it to give others recommendations on marinas, restaurants, haul-out facilities and the like but I'll make this one exception; the Demopolis Yacht Basin is run by good people who know what they are doing. I recommend them with no reservations. The Tombigbee River makes a big bend just upstream from the Yacht Basin at the mouth of the Black Warrior River. There is not much current and usually a number of tow boats. Demopolis is the only commercial tow boat facility on the Tombigbee/Tennessee Tombigbee Waterway. Dick, I call him Demopolis Dick, worked on the river, Corps of Engineers, and would tell stories of how steam powered "snag boats", stern wheelers, would slowly move up the rivers and remove "snags" so commerce could continue on the waterways. If you care about such things, you can see an old "snag boat" berthed at Alliceville, forty miles or so up river. Dick was one of my river friends. He was probably late sixties or early seventies and was single but hung out with what appeared to be a well-to-do widow. She would join Dick on his pontoon houseboat for short periods but never really seemed to enjoy the boat life although she endured because of her fondness of Dick. He didn't seem to mind if she was there or not, but in a nice sort of way... Dick was way cool. The Move to Little Rock was rather deliberate. That hot summer day in Alabama was simply a starting point; the ending point was over a year away. I guess it would be trite to say, "its the journey and and not the destination" that's most important but whoever coined the saying was absolutely correct. It took about three nights and four days to reach the State Park Marina at Picwick Lake on the Tennessee River. Mickey hadn't joined me at that point; it was in one of my former lives and I will defer details until later writings. The Tombigbee Waterway start es at the confluence of the Black Warrior and Tombigbee Rivers at about mile market 217 or so (please give my memory the benefit of the doubt and do not under any circumstances use my river markings as navigational aids) and pleasure craft find it a pleasant northern route alternative to the Mississippi, which Mickey and I can attest; details later. I've cruised the TBW from Demopolis to Pickwick on three occasions, one downbound and two upbound. It is has wonderful sights, a boring "ditch", lots of places cruisers must be mindful of wake and "good ole boys" who don't really think those "big ole yachts" ought to be down in the Heart of Dixie. They don't mind telling you either. I had to get between Mickey and one of these local enforcers once because he thought we were abusing his space. It's a good story but if I want to keep things in cruise order, I had better wait until a future installment before I share details. I will share this, on my original trip down from Picwick, after purchasing Detour (Recess at the time) and not knowing all the rules expected of cruisers by the home folks, let a roller off the stern hit a small boat tied to a dirt launching ramp mostly obscured by button willows. It was too late to slow so I continued down stream. I was remotely aware of the trailer house perched on the bluff above the ramp but it didn't compute until I heard the shotgun go off. I had heard stories of cruisers being shot at for leaving heavy wakes in inhabited areas but dismissed them as lore... don't believe for one minute that you can neglect responsible wake management without the possibility of retaliation. I don't guess I blame them; I'm just glad shotguns have limited range. I worried that the local Constable would be waiting for me at the next lock but I guess the shooter decided we were even. We spent the first night at Marina Cove, the second smallest marina with water, electricity and a gas dock between Dog River on Mobile Bay and the Tennessee River.