Day 65
A cold front was forecasted to come through our current location on Sunday morning, 11/15/20, which we’d hoped would blow through early so we could get in a long day of travel. Unfortunately, that wasn’t Mother Nature’s plan. We sat at Pickensville and watched a line of storms approaching slowly via radar. After more than an hour of waiting, the skies to the northwest darkened and looked threatening. But while the air definitely turned cooler and the wind picked up, the “storms” turned out to be almost non-existent. We inadvertently made our trip line too short, which meant the weight of the anchor pulled the plastic milk bottle underneath the surface of the water, which pretty much defeated its entire purpose, but we learn as we go. D’OH! Even though I’d again dressed in layers, the strong, biting wind made my anchor wash-down duty even less enticing. And even though we had replaced the unruly hose nozzle since the last time it drenched me, the bow of the boat was pointing straight into the brisk northwest wind, which meant the cold river water I was spraying immediately blew back all over me. AGAIN I got doused. Ugh! On top of that, even though the anchor did not get hung on the bottom, it did come up encased in a gigantic ball of hard clay that was impossible to wash off with the hose, which meant I’d gotten soaked for no reason! We lowered the filthy anchor back down to just below the surface of the water while we motored out of the anchorage, in hopes the inertia from the moving boat would wash the anchor clean, but that clay was like cement and just would not budge. The windlass yanked the anchor back up into place, which meant any loose clods of clay came slinging back into my face. (Have I mentioned I am NOT fond of the anchor raising/wash-down process?) Because we were already so close to the Tom Bevill Lock, I didn’t have time to go below and change, so I got to traverse that lock wet. Sheer Heaven!
The weather all morning was cloudy, cold and gloomy. On top of that, the scenery in this part of the Tombigbee was less than spectacular, with little more to see than water and trees, or trees and water. But by the afternoon, the sun came out and the air was clear and crisp. We started noticing the fronds of Palmetto palms growing along both sides of the river. Palmettos are another sure sign we were nearing the southern coastline.
We reached the Tombigbee Oxbow anchorage right after we successfully traversed the Heflin Lock, at 2 pm. After we wound around into the wider part of the anchorage, we saw another boat, Cavu, had already anchored there. I felt bad about intruding on their privacy, but Steve insisted the anchorage was easily large enough to accommodate two boats. I still lobbied hard for separation between our two boats before Steve dropped the anchor.
Position: N 32° 49.871, W 88° 08.672
Distance traveled: 37.2 NM
Total distance traveled: 1160.8 NM
Total marina nights: 52
Total nights at anchor: 13
Locks today: 2
Locks Total: 25