Heart of Cajun Country

behind the seawall in Morgan City

After spending way too much time in Morgan City, it was time to move on. It was to be the day that several high pressure zones lined up with a low pressure zone and delivered a record breaking snow to Dallas and sleet to our dodger way down in the Atachafalaya swamp. In this area, the norm for this time of the year is 60 degrees, but not today. It rained heavily all night and at 0500 I was pumping out the dinghy (dink) that was half full of water. I had a cool gizmo that helped with that, a little pump I dropped into the dink and went below. Thank goodness for that little pump because it allowed me to get out of the rain/sleet and plan the day. It was to be a relatively short trip to Houma and to that little Italian restaurant many cruisers speak of.

Bear was up and at it and I know if either of us had mentioned staying in the rack, we would stay put, with shore power, warm cabin and some time left until daylight. It was time to move on. For the first time since acquiring them, we put the foulies (foul weather gear) on. That included the bibbed overalls, jacket, crew caps and about every pair of socks and warm stuff we have. By the time I got the shore power chords to coil, they don’t like to do that at 33 degrees, Bligh was soaking from too many clothes. It would have helped to take those little critters below to warm them before trying to stow them. Lesson learned.

We shoved off at 0645 in the rain. Bear was on deck retrieving dock lines and was definitely cold. I was steering into the Atchafalaya River watching her when we almost smacked the east abutment of the railroad bridge. I was not paying attention to a little thing called current in the river and for that matter couldn’t see all that well through the greenhouse at the time. Full power, sound the collision alarm and brace for impact which would have been broadside. At that moment, Why Knot leaped passed the bridge piling and into the Bayou Boeuf we charged, lesson two for the day. It was still dark and we were under Berwick VTS control heading for the Bayou Boeuf Locks. Boeuf is pronounced “Buff”. Still raining frogs, onward into the fog we sailed. Damn, it was cold. There was very little tow traffic in the normally very busy area. That is the reason for the Berwick VTS which I think means vessel traffic system. Once into the Boeuf Lock we were released from Berwick and eastward we sailed. Fact is that we have done little sailing since to do so in the GIWW presents it’s own set of additional challenges. The good part of motoring is that the boat is level. The absolute bad part is that we ARE NOT SAILING.

Rubber Ducky in Morgan City

The challenge was to see traffic through the greenhouse and dodger. Cold outside and CO2 inside made the whole thing like IFR flying. We opened the greenhouse a bit to see if that helped. It did not. So about every three minutes or so, we toweled the whole thing. This stretch of the GIWW is the prettiest part but we did not see much due to the rain and the greenhouse fog. The current was with us and we got to Houma and the Bayou Dularge Bascule Bridge at around 1100. The challenge for the day started just beyond that bridge. There is yet another bridge just about a mile or so from our destination. It is an abandon railroad bridge in the narrow bend of the channel. One cannot see around the turn and I did not check the AIS for traffic before getting to it, lesson three. Just before getting the bridge I radioed “East bound sail boat approaching the railroad bridge”. We were 150 yards from the blind bridge curve when a westbound tow casually said “Sailboat, you might want to cool ‘em off cause I need to the whole bend” He had 1000 feet to two he was going to stick through that opening and we would be the crushable cork in the bottle. There was a current and it was setting us against an ugly, rocky shore. Then he said “sailboat, there are two more behind me so you might want to just hold there”. I thanked him and then said to myself “hold where? This is no place to HOLD.  Was this just a ploy by the tow captain to fix our position prior to crushing?  By then the tow had us in 5 feet of water and it looked like he wanted/needed that too. Pucker meter was topped out. Oh yeah, I might have mentioned the suction that tows generate when they go by close. The sheer horsepower of at least two large engines and very large props can suck on into the side of the whole thing. It was not until I got my boat captain’s license that little items like that became known to me. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Ok, so there we were, between rocks and hard places and trying to remember where I put the insurance papers, when he slipped by. My plan was to reverse course and find some wider spot in the road to wait for the other two tows. Just as he passed, I keyed the mike and said “that was fun”. The tow captain laughed and said he knew what was going on. Didn’t need the foulies after that. I was sopping wet but trying not to show Bear. We did not even look at each other for a few seconds. She knew it too.

We found a quiet spot, out of the way, behind another tow eastbound and holding for the two westbounds to clear the bridge/turn/sailboat killer. We just hovered behind them in the light current and watched the parade as it was labeled by another 1000 foot tow trying to go the other way. So, there is the Dularge Bridge just a mile or so from the rr bridge an there are three long tows plus Why Knot stuck between. West of that, also heading east were five other tows. What a mess. Once the three westbounders cleared the two bridges, the tow in front of me offered to get underway and let us by. I thanked him and said we were hunky dory behind him and would just stay astern and let him run interference the mile or so to our destination.

And so it came to pass that Why Knot, firmly moored to the Houma Town Dock, survived another day. Our mooring is just 25 yards from the GIWW and we rock and roll here but hey, we don’t mind. Dinner was at Café Milano’s and was great. We hit the rack at 1930 hours.  Ship's log:  the really cool dock pole with the brass tip does not float.  Scratch one piece of boat gear. 

Bear at the wheel- cold, cold