Today is the day to leave Demopolis to proceed south. We intended to depart at “oh dark-thirty,” but as they say, best laid plans. There was a tug and barges in the lock just downriver, and fog below the lock, so we sipped our coffee and checked out the harbor.
Lots of flotsam circulates in the fairways. This morning it is an official Coast Guard buoy, “red-on-right-returning” seriously off-station, making its rounds through the harbor.
Finally, a neighboring mariner snagged it with a boat hook and made it fast (tied it up), so it wouldn’t be a hazard. Just about now, the lockmaster made an announcement on the VHF radio that he was ready for our group of pleasure boats to lock down. So we each cast off and headed to the lock.
The lockmaster instructed each of the five pleasure boats on his lock’s etiquette, and we took our appointed spots in the lock.
Because the torrential rains from tropical storm Ida, the dams have all their gates lowered to let the water move downstream. Here is the Demopolis Dam, adjacent to the Demopolis Lock, with a smooth cascade of water flowing over the top. What’s smooth on top, creates turbulence and a hot (fast) current downstream.
The river here is 2 feet higher than just a few days ago, but below the next dam and lock the river is at flood stage with water thirty feet higher than before this week’s rains.
And there is lots of silt and mud from the banks. The river water looks like café au lait.
A side effect of the high water is lots of flotsam, a regular obstacle course.
And then there are the tugs and barges, like the Gilbert Taylor, meeting us up bound against the current.
At Beach Bluff, a 90-degree blind corner of the river, we stood back for the Charles Martin to meet us, up bound. He had called on the radio, we responded we were in the vicinity, and he recommended that we wait. He said “I’ve got two empties, a-slippin’ and a-slidin’ like a greased pig,” so we figured we were better off out of his way!
This homeowner has a submerged dock during this high water.
More stuff in the way. We kept a sharp eye out and actively steered around flotsam the entire 96-mile day, aided by a 2½ knot current.
We had hoped to proceed through the next lock, but a call to the lockmaster found more commercial traffic in the way. So we ducked into Okatuppa Creek for the night’s anchorage.
We plan to be at anchor or a dock by 4:30 p.m. nowadays, because we lose our daylight shortly after that. No sane mariner would be navigating the river after dark (except the tugs, who are fearless and indestructible!).
The stern facing shots show the narrowness of our perfect anchorage, with ¼ knot of current in this tributary to keep us in place on our anchor.
Sure enough, two tug-and-barge rigs proceeded upriver shortly after we were tucked in here, completely blocking the view from our creek.
And later, two of the boats we had locked with caught up to us. The Just Us and the Sea Sea anchored behind us for a peaceful night on the hook.
Today is the day to leave Demopolis to proceed south. We intended to depart at “oh dark-thirty,” but as they say, best laid plans. There was a tug and barges in the lock just downriver, and fog below the lock, so we sipped our coffee and checked out the harbor.
Lots of flotsam circulates in the fairways. This morning it is an official Coast Guard buoy, “red-on-right-returning” seriously off-station, making its rounds through the harbor.
Finally, a neighboring mariner snagged it with a boat hook and made it fast (tied it up), so it wouldn’t be a hazard. Just about now, the lockmaster made an announcement on the VHF radio that he was ready for our group of pleasure boats to lock down. So we each cast off and headed to the lock.
The lockmaster instructed each of the five pleasure boats on his lock’s etiquette, and we took our appointed spots in the lock.
Because the torrential rains from tropical storm Ida, the dams have all their gates lowered to let the water move downstream. Here is the Demopolis Dam, adjacent to the Demopolis Lock, with a smooth cascade of water flowing over the top. What’s smooth on top, creates turbulence and a hot (fast) current downstream.
The river here is 2 feet higher than just a few days ago, but below the next dam and lock the river is at flood stage with water thirty feet higher than before this week’s rains. 
And there is lots of silt and mud from the banks. The river water looks like café au lait.
A side effect of the high water is lots of flotsam, a regular obstacle course.
And then there are the tugs and barges, like the Gilbert Taylor, meeting us up bound against the current.
At Beach Bluff, a 90-degree blind corner of the river, we stood back for the Charles Martin to meet us, up bound. He had called on the radio, we responded we were in the vicinity, and he recommended that we wait. He said “I’ve got two empties, a-slippin’ and a-slidin’ like a greased pig,” so we figured we were better off out of his way!
This homeowner has a submerged dock during this high water.
More stuff in the way. We kept a sharp eye out and actively steered around flotsam the entire 96-mile day, aided by a 2½ knot current.
We had hoped to proceed through the next lock, but a call to the lockmaster found more commercial traffic in the way. So we ducked into Okatuppa Creek for the night’s anchorage.
We plan to be at anchor or a dock by 4:30 p.m. nowadays, because we lose our daylight shortly after that. No sane mariner would be navigating the river after dark (except the tugs, who are fearless and indestructible!).
The stern facing shots show the narrowness of our perfect anchorage, with ¼ knot of current in this tributary to keep us in place on our anchor.
Sure enough, two tug-and-barge rigs proceeded upriver shortly after we were tucked in here, completely blocking the view from our creek.
And later, two of the boats we had locked with caught up to us. The Just Us and the Sea Sea anchored behind us for a peaceful night on the hook. 
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