Lake Pontchartrain, Gulf of Mexico and Mobile Bay

Working my way through a natural disaster one morning and taking my first dry land shower that evening in my own Knoxville home was much too much of an abrupt change. I can only imagine the psychological shock soldiers go through when they are wisked away from the heat of the battle and promptly inserted into an orderly world of everyday hum drum. It took me a while to adjust to the calmness and safety of home. Pam made a wonderful dinner and I, pretty much exhusted, retired early to a night of needed sleep. Although, I did wonder if the marina manager evicted Mickey and Detour after I left. I knew that my stay at home would be short as the conditions in New Orleans were much more difficult than I had imagined and significantly worse than were related to me when I called to reserve the berth for Detour. If I had to do it again I would not have chosen to lay over in New Orleans. As luck would have it, my work schedule begin to look as if I would be delayed significantly in my continued circumnavigation. My options were limited; leave my boat in the unfriendly confines of management and highly poluted brackish water (with all sorts of nasty disolved and not so disolved remains of whatever hurricanes leave behind) or locate a suitable delivery captain to move the boat to a more appropriate environment of the Dog River on Mobile Bay. I had refuled and nighted over at the Grand Mariner Mariner on several other occasions and had been well treated, that coupled with the fact that I couldn't stand the thought of Detour being in the hands of those not terribly concerned with a transient boat or captain whom threatned to sink his boat in the only channel leading to their much battered marina. I called the marina office at Grand Mariner and inquired about about the whearabouts of a qualified delivery captain. I talked with the owner (I understand that the good lady died last year and was something of a legend with the cruising community because of her knowledge of the bay and surrounding rivers and Alabama/Mississippi coasts) and she gave me a name Ron Reiter and a number at which he could be reached. She also gave him a good recommendation as a person and captain. In hindsight, I agree with her evaluation as Ron picked up Detour in New Orleans and ferried her to Mobile Bay and the Grand Mariner. I must diverge just a bit to relate a story that took place before the turn of the last century that includes the lady mentioned above. I had planned a trip to Orange Beach, Alabama and at that time in my life didn't really understand how to use my GPS. I stopped at Grand Mariner for gas and the night (the restaurant there is still the best on the west bank). Early the next morning I stopped at the marina office to get first-hand information about the best route across the bay. I knew I could travel the ship channel to the intercosatal and then turn left. But I also had heard that you could cut the corner and save a good bit of time. When I inquired, the lady said, "its easy" and gave me the instructions to go south in the ship channel to the Mid Mobile Lighthouse where you then take a 217 degree heading to the intercoastal not far from Bon Secur (again I am writing from minus ten years of memory and warn that no value should be placed on the the accuracy of my recall). My next quesion was, "will I know when I get to the Mid Mobile Lighthouse" and her reply, without hesitation, was "if you don't you don't need to be out there"! I would have to agree with her but when I got to the lighthouse, it didn't look a lot like the lighthouses I was accustomed to so it wasn't a "gimme" but I made the right choice because I ended up right where she said I would. (Note: Hurricane Katrina totally destroyed this historic lighthouse August 2006) Ron Reiter and his brother-in-law moved Detour across the Gulf. After they laid over in Biloxi to allow the water to calm in the bay, they resumed their trip to Dog River and the Grand Mariner. It was difficult to miss the gulf crossing and I am planning to make that trek soon to complete my circumnavigation of Mississippi.

More "Katrina Syndrome"

As the fog lifted, Mickey pulled the anchor and stowed the rode and I carefully started the Port engine; you will remember that the starboard tank is bone dry and has been for the last three or four miles. It was my first time in the lake and I had no idea where the marina was located. However, I knew we still had a couple of miles to travel. I may have not mentioned this but my GPS maps didn't cover this particular part of the trip so we were were navigating on our instincts. I could see in the distance what looked to be a marina entrance. After the difficult trip down the river and experience in the Inner Harbor Canal, my courage was renewed and I begin to feel as if we would be able to put this part of the adventure behind us in short order. I steered Detour toward the small canal leading to the marina. We pulled slowly in and I begin to hail the marina office. Nothing, not only nothing but no body and piles and piles of boats. All kind of boats and all piled up. Before I realized what was happening, we had moved slowly into the marina and right in the middle of the debris field of destroyed crafts. I became quite concerned that we might damage running gear or worse compromise our hull on jagged unseen objects of most any description. When I think about the experience, I was almost completely overwhelmed by the enormity of the devastation I was in the middle of and my mind wouldn't let me sort out the fact that I had entered the wrong marina. I still don't know what marina I was in and we were so addled by the experience that we completely forgot to chronicle the sights in our digital cameras... well Micky still uses film but it would have done a very satisfactory job if we had just had the presence of mind to use it. We got turned around without incident and returned to the relative safety of the Lake. I had the telephone number to the New Orleans City Marina where we were to leave Detour for a few weeks while we returned to our homes to recuperate. I called the marina and learned we only a few hundred yards from the correct entrance and we made our way to our slip. We did make pictures on the way in that will illustrate some of the disaster aftermath. We had a slip number that had been assigned to us when I reserved the berth. I moved through the marina until I found the slip and true to our recent experience, there was boat there already. Oh well shouldn't be a big problem, I thought, someone forgot to remember we were coming. There was one slip open in the marina and as I pulled into it I begin to wonder if it was empty because something big and dangerous had been deposited there in the storm. However, it seemed to be clear and we tied up and made our way to the temporary marina office; a FEMA trailer pulled in to replace the office that had been blown away. I had used my credit card to reserve the slip and talked with a lady named Judy. Mickey and I entered the trailer and asked for Judy. The marina manager, she had a name tag that said manager, informed us that Judy wasn't there and that we didn't have a slip. I reminded her that I had used a credit card to reserve a slip a few weeks before and she said, and I quote, "you must not have heard, we had a hurricane". I became somewhat upset and I can't remember exactly the words I used but it was something like... "you're going to give me a place to put this boat until I can get back to get it or your going to have another sunk boat in your harbor because I'm going to knock a hole in the bottom and give it to you". She said, it can stay for a while but not long. I said fine and Mickey and I left. I have never been in combat but I think I know what can happen to a person when he is placed under constant pressure to the point his mind refuses to comprehend the obvious and decisions become almost incoherent and certainly not rational. Thank goodness those guys in battle handle things better than I at that moment. I gathered up Mickey and we begin walking. I don't know where we were going but we were walking. As we walked, I saw a marine broker and we climbed the steps to the office and went in. Mickey had no idea what I was about to do and I think my next statement to the broker had him questioning my sanity. I told the broker I wanted to sell my boat, right now, today, before I catch my plane back to Knoxville. The broker also had the look of someone talking to an irrational individual. I know because he was talking to me. The broker was kind and talked me out of selling Detour. I don't know even want to think about what he and his partner said about me when we left. I finally decided to get on the plane and fly home and not worry about the boat or the marina. I packed up and left Mickey on his on for the night and his train ride back to Mississippi. I didn't hear from the marina and will explain how I got the boat to Mobile in the next installment of the blog. I'll close by telling you that recalling these experiences and the difficulties of this part of the trip have left me out-of-breath and exhausted. I wouldn't give anything for the experience but it was truly a soul-searching event and most difficult in most ever sense of the word.