Birmingham Civil Rights Institute

October 16, 2004

After a really nice visit with Jen and Todd, we dropped them off at the Birmingham Airport this afternoon. On the way home, we noticed the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, which we had seen described on one of our road maps. Just yesterday, we had been talking with one of the merchants in Columbus, and his bigoted attitude toward Black people was appalling. We have also seen other examples of segregation and prejudice since we arrived in Mississippi, and we thought a visit to this museum would be enlightening.

What a fascinating museum it was! In the beginning, we walked through exhibits depicting segregation in the past, including “colored” and “white” drinking fountains, “whites only” restaurant signs, signs from buses designating that “coloreds” could sit in the back only, and movie theaters where blacks were only allowed in the balconies. We read startling statistics about the discrepancy in class size and teacher salaries between schools for black and white children, as well as and many other examples of unequal opportunities for people of color.

One exhibit made quite an impression on me. It had life sized figures etched on clear Plexiglas of people of all ages, both black and white. As you walked through this crowd of people, you heard their voices, and their words expressed their fears and prejudices. It was powerful.

We saw the actual door of the prison cell in which Martin Luther King was incarcerated, when he wrote “Letters from a Birmingham Jail.” They had constructed a cell, complete with cot, sink, and toilet, and you could listen to a recording of his letter as you stared through the same bars that had imprisoned him. We also saw a burned out bus and a video program about the bus ride to freedom, where black and white people rode together from Washington DC to the Deep South, encountering violence and protests along the way. We could look out the window and see the Baptist Church where four little girls were killed in the bombing of 1963.

The museum was sobering and thought provoking, as we were reminded how far we have come in achieving the American dream for all people and yet how far we still have to go.

From Cotton Fields to Liz Claiborne

October 18, 2004

While there’s been a lot to see and learn on this trip, there’s also been a lot of time where I feel like we’re really out here in the middle of nowhere, with no car and no access to civilization. The section of the trip that we have ahead of us will be particularly challenging. There are very few marinas, and there are even fewer now because of all the hurricane damage. As a result, we will be anchoring out often and not seeing much but water for the next few weeks. Hearing about the magnificent foliage at home, missing the kids after having been away since July 25^th, and with this part of the journey ahead of us, I’ve been feeling a little homesick. I no longer think I can find taking pictures of cotton fields too exciting.

My sweet husband, knowing how I’m feeling, gave me just what I needed Saturday. As we were driving home from Birmingham, I suddenly realized he had turned into an outlet shopping mall and had driven me straight to the Liz Claiborne outlet! I feasted my eyes on pretty things and bought some new clothes. Yesterday we bought a pumpkin for the boat, and I think I’m going to be just fine!

Close to Nature on the Tenn-Tom

October 22, 2004

We’ve been meandering our way down the Tenn-Tom Waterway for several days now. The river twists and turns, and sometimes you have to go 5 or 10 miles to get to a spot that’s about a mile away, as the crow flies. But that’s OK, since the point is the journey, not the destination.

There are very few signs of civilization in these parts; a fishing shack maybe or a half dozen fishing shacks if you hit the big time. No marinas, but a few pretty inlets in which to anchor. We pulled into one of theses today, the inlet to Bates Lake. After getting our anchoring squared away and settling in, we took out the dinghy for a closer look. Our first stop was the shore, where we “relocated” two bright green tree frogs who had taken up residence on Grace. They had been traveling with us for over 50 miles; I guess that’s why they were reluctant to go ashore in unfamiliar territory. The first time we threw them to shore, they swam back and attached themselves to the side of the dinghy. On the second throw, I guess they decided to make the best of their new surroundings.

Bates Lake turned out to be sort of a meandering swamp; a maze of water surrounded by cypress trees and dangling Spanish moss. Gnarly looking cypress knees popped their heads out of the shallow water, along with fallen driftwood. Tall oaks were the home to a multitude of birds, who flitted across in front of us in panic. We cut our engine and drifted, listening to the quiet. The peace was broken by angry chatter of the kingfisher, who was most annoyed by our presence, and a clumsy cormorant running across the pond trying to take flight. A lovely egret sat ever so still on a log, thinking we wouldn’t see her if she didn’t move. Silly bird! Her bright white feathers and graceful crooked neck were impossible to miss against the backdrop of blues, greens, and browns.

Along the shores of this delightful place were about a dozen fishing shacks (maybe six habitable), probably little pieces of heaven to their owners, but none with any sign of a woman’s touch. A shack built upon a raft, chained to the shore, with old tires nailed all around it for bumpers, a few old naugahyde chairs out front, and some sort of a contraption to cook the fish somewhere on the premises, and that’s it! Home sweet home on the river! Oil drums, paint cans, automotive parts, and goodness knows what all that rusty metal stuff was, but it’s what Alabama fishermen’s dreams are made of. These guys probably have their priorities more straight than most people do!

The New Blender

October 26, 2004

It might not seem like a big deal to you, but when all you’ve seen for days on end is a brown river, a trip to Wal Mart can be very exciting. Today we got together with Tony and Sue (boat Oh Well) and took the courtesy van from Fairhope Marina on Mobile Bay into town. We stopped at Boat US to buy some charts, and Sue bought a yellow Margarita glass that lights up. That was all I needed to decide to buy a blender at WalMart! When we got back to the boat, I invited Tony and Sue and Mike and Jenny (boat Vision) over for a “blender party.” We had some Margaritas and a good time, and we’ll be heading out together tomorrow up the Intercoastal toward Carrabelle. This is the area where most of the marinas are closed due to the devastation from Hurricane Ivan, and it will be nice to have traveling companions, especially great folks like these!

A Day to Remember on the ICW

October 27, 2004

. There’s just something about being on salt water that says “fun” to me. After weeks of brown rivers, the salty blue is a welcome sight! It smells good, and the air feels soft against my skin. It was about 80 degrees yesterday, the sea was practically flat, and there was a delightful breeze. I was already having a wonderful time crossing Mobile Bay, when Bob shouted, “dolphins!” First at a distance, and then right alongside the starboard bow, several dolphins were playing in our wake. I watched from no more than two feet away as their shiny grey rubbery backs rose above the water. Up and down they dove, in and out of the frothy wake on Grace’s side. Three of them, rising in unison, looked at me with their intelligent, almost smiling faces. “Wann’a play?” they seemed to be asking. “It would be an honor!” I replied. Too soon, they were gone, but we spotted them again from a distance several more times.

Traveling east on the ICW through Alabama, we were saddened to see all the hurricane damage. Roofs were blown off, docks were mangled, twisted boats lay in people’s yards, trees were toppled and lying on the shore, and work crews with dredges labored to put the sand back on the beaches. Despite the devastation, it was a beautiful place. The pure white sandy beaches, the blue water, and the sunny day seemed to offer hope that things would be normal again.

We stopped to anchor for the night at Redfish Point in Big Lagoon. Bob tended the anchor on the bow and left me on the bridge to monitor the depth sounder and drive the boat. Our boat draws about 3 ½ feet, so we were looking to stop when we hit about 6. As we pulled closer to beach, the depth went from 12 feet, to 9, to 6, and then very suddenly to 14 again, at which point the engine cut out. Bob soon figured out the problem; we had run aground. He jumped overboard to investigate and found himself in water only mid-chest deep. Resourceful and wise, he ordered that our fresh water be dumped (I panicked in silence and obeyed.) Then, he brought the anchor out to deeper water and used the anchor windlass to pull us out to the anchor. With the help of Mike and his dinghy, we moved the anchor several times and finally pulled ourselves off. Fortunately, by then we still had half a tank of water, and there was no damage to the bottom of the boat. As I complained about the “broken” depth sounder, Bob gently suggested that perhaps the 14 feet of water I had reported was in fact 1.4 feet, and I guess that’s probably what happened.

Anyhow, the good news was that this incident finally got Bob to take his first swim of the whole trip, and the water was gorgeous. We took the dinghy ashore, and it was wonderful. The soft, white, sandy beach was all there was between the ICW and the Gulf of Mexico, and we walked the 1000 or so yards across to the other side. It was pristine, with wonderful patterns in the sand from the wind, footprints from sea birds, and graceful sea grass dancing in the breeze. We walked and swam and were just delighted with the place.

Back at the boat, we cooked some fresh fish and asparagus on the grill and watched a lovely sunset and an almost full moon rise. The temperature dropped enough for comfortable sleeping, with sweet dreams of a day to remember.