Early Days on the Gulf of Mexico
November 12, 2023
I returned to Dog River to get ready for the Mississippi Sound. This is a waterbody between the mainland and a string of Gulf Islands about 10 km offshore between Mobile Bay and the Mississippi River delta. I prepped WW, made an Uber trip to Walmart for provisions, and said goodbye to my Turner Marina liveaboard friends. They were another eclectic bunch. Eric lives on a sailboat and arrived serendipitously long ago from England when his boat failed and the Coast Guard towed him to this marina. He works for the marina doing contract boat work, like servicing WW. One fellow lived on a smaller sailboat with his 2 dogs, 2 bunnies, and maybe an ex-wife. There was a collection of couples making boats ready to sail, all hoping it is one day soon. Some were retired and some still working either from their boat or locally and far away. They had a regular Thursday night potluck with an equally eclectic mix of excellent food that included fresh shrimp from the shrimper docked next to us. I could only offer a pack of grocery store sausages, so I think I got the best deal that night.
There was a yacht broker, Jim, who lives at the marina. He rented one of the Turner family houses on the bayou (Dog River). He had also arrived here randomly and after many exciting boat expeditions, e.g., across the Atlantic, the Great Loop, and around the Caribbean, he had returned to help with boat sales for the marina. In a lucky break for me, he had a folding bike passed down by several boaters and now onboard WW. Brokering seems a tough business but there is ample inventory because the USA is in love with boats, especially big boats (yachts) here in the southeast. A man helping me dock once declared, “y’or ingun sounds like my bow thruster”; WW has 435 horses powering it. Jim and I had drinks and cigars on his deck chatting boating adventures and life in the deep South. We had dinner one night across the street at members only, Mobile Yacht Club. This club is the 2nd oldest in the USA. Clubs have an elected commodore, like a president, and I noticed this deep South club had a past commodore who was Black, not of European American heritage. He is a friend of Jim who described the challenges Bernard faced to achieve that post here in the south. There aren’t many non-White boaters out here so far, except as you may recall, back in Chicago at the 31st Marina where I was the unambiguous minority. I still think about the first day on that dock just being me, assisting other boaters in a busy place and chatting with everyone. Eventually a young couple took me aside and said with complete earnestness, “Brotha, I think y’all are at the wrong marina”. I laughed and said it was okay, I’m Canadian.
My travels are highlighting a strange-for-me, palpable divide between Black and White people in the USA. The country’s real history is quite fascinating and, as I have mentioned, not the stories we learned in school or saw on our screens until recently. The terms Black and White are used everywhere, and I assume it is because of that important and transcending period in the country’s history; the importation of African slaves - the Black people, by European Americans - the White (mostly) people, and the many battles to overcome slavery that created these perpetuated and siloed communities I’m encountering. Off the water I meet just as many people who describe their heritage as Mexican, Central American, Caribbean, Indian, American Indigenous, African, and the broad mix of Asian cultures. Black and White seems to be language that perpetuates a past dichotomy that doesn’t describe the USA or Canada today. I suspect it also perpetuates the conflict among people who look different to each other, perhaps on purpose but most likely unconsciously. This noticeable disjoint among heritages is something I often ask about. It can be confusing and difficult to hear people speak about the challenges faced on every side of this conversation. Diversity in biological systems is important because it perpetuates stability and resilience, and of course, we evolved and exist within that biological framework. So, yet another philosophical conundrum for me, how we will overcome this challenge and embrace diversity across all the world’s societies?
Back to the expedition. I had a pleasant, sunny ride out of Mobile Bay to Dauphin Island, AL the next day. Following the channel out, I picked up the Gulf Inter-Coastal Waterway (GICW) and turned west. The GICW extends from Texas to Florida as another towboat and barge transportation route – yay! It is a series of 12’ deep and 150’ wide dredged channels and built canals. I eventually turned south towards Dauphin Island Marina. Sitting at the helm enjoying the slow ride and sun, I was nearly knocked off my seat by a loud blowing noise. WW had garnered the interest of 6 Atlantic Bottlenose dolphins (Tursiops truncatus) who decided to escort us into the marina announcing their arrival at my window. I think they enjoyed scaring me senseless. They showed up early the next morning chasing schools of Mullet and blowing loudly next to my bedside window.
I was met at the dock by Mendel Graeber from the Alabama Aquarium at the Dauphin Island Sea Lab (DISL). She toured me around the island which is a very beautiful place. I learned about life on the island where she had lived with her family until recently. Her younger kids still went to the small school, and this is a safe place where they could walk or ride back to Mendel’s office after school. Kids running free seems rare today, and if you are interested in this phenomenon, the evidence indicates kids do best with more freedom away from parents and out of doors. It helps when there is a community watching over each other. I hope it lasts for this lovely community.
Dauphin Island’s western spit is an amazing white sandy beach that extends about 15 km. Close to town, there are houses with full services. Even though these houses are on pilings (stilts), I asked how this could be sustainable given this was a 400 m wide sand dune in the Gulf? It isn’t. Most of the houses are seasonal and vacation rentals, the taxes are insufficient to service the perpetual supply and repair of services, and the buildings and service structures are regularly wiped out by storms. They persist because of insurance and government disaster relief. This is another example of the enigma of building homes in precarious places we will need to address soon in North America. We don’t need to live in these places, nor can society afford it much longer. I have passed many shores with expanses of luxurious houses and opulent docks, yet I can’t grasp the economics of such significant amounts of money tied up in precarious locations that are becoming more susceptible to damage or loss with the changing climate. I am happy for the people who can enjoy these beautiful places and environments today. However, it isn’t sustainable and I’m glad there are smarter people than me initiating and navigating this conversation about adjusting our expectations to achieve sustainable living spaces.
Mendel is an Educator for the Aquarium. She took me through the DISL’s teaching and research facilities. Each research group I met enthusiastically explained their very interesting studies of the local marine environment. The excitement of young graduate students and scientists is always invigorating and raises my hope we will find solutions for the pending people-environment challenges. Everyone I met in Alabama was rightfully, very proud of the DISL. There was a steady flow of school buses with grade school and college students participating in the educational programmes. One of their research vessels is named for Alabama’s native son, E.O. Wilson who was one of the most influential ecologists of modern times. It was a great day with Mendel learning about the island and DISL, and of course, enjoying southern hospitality.
I met the DISL’s Director as well. He was lamenting local challenges when he said, “why argue with industry when it will be decided in court”. That was an interesting sentiment for me because of my long career working with industry and its regulators. There are great examples of the courts getting it right for both the people and environment, but experience tells me that both courts and politics are often swayed by the biggest pocketbook. An example is our regulatory agencies still allowing well-established, very bad chemicals to be used as pesticides and herbicides. This is more of the plague of ‘business outcomes superseding safe environmental outcomes’ that undermines attempts at sustainability by natural resources industries, which includes industrial agriculture. One poignant example for which we should have zero tolerance are cattle feedlots that are both toxic for humans and disrespectfully of animals we depend on. A recent E. coli poisoning of cantaloupe from grocery stores is yet another perpetuation of this plague which persists because we have lost respect for the environment and the animals we need.
Mendel told me an interesting story about Gaillard Island in Mobile Bay. It was built in the 1980s from the spoils of channel dredging and became a seabird haven. That haven included the discovery of successfully nesting Brown pelicans (Pelecanus occidentalis), an endangered species in 1973 and now considered recovered. The pelicans were discovered when the bulldozer operators shaping the spoils into an island complained about birds attacking them to some wandering biologists. Now there are >5,000 breeding pairs on the island.
After a long day, I enjoyed another try at ‘shrimp and grits’ at the only open restaurant on the island. Alas, that southern dish is just too rich for me. I did learn a couple more southern idioms from Duke though. “Bless your/his/her heart” spoken by southern women isn’t always a statement of kindness, it can also be a passive-aggressive way to say you are an idiot. If you say you ‘might’ do something, then the southern comeback may be, “Might!? Mites are on a chicken's ass. “.
I was planning to stay another day and visiting Bayou La Batre, AL, home of Forrest Gump’s army friend Bubba Buford and later the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, but I had a ‘weather window’ and headed out the next morning. Out here on the water, weather and especially wind, waves, and thunder dictate when you move or not. Multiple times every day I’m reviewing Windy, Sailflow, the local marine forecasts, various weather networks (my current favorite is Tropical Tidbits), and now the tide tables. When you get a ‘weather window’ it means the conditions are good for boating, and you go. I left Dauphin Island heading west, travelling 50 nautical miles to an anchorage at Cat Island.
I arrived at Cat Island, set anchor in the lee of the island, engaged the anchor alarm, and settled in for a 2-night stay because of the good weather forecasts. My anchor alarm is a cellphone app that uses its GPS and cell tower location services to define a circle that is the expected swing of the boat at anchor. You are always on call at anchor in unfamiliar places, especially when the boat rocks steadily with a constant swing through about 45 degrees, which is normal but keeps you vigilant. I swam, barbecued, enjoyed a lovely sunset, fell asleep early, slept until early morning when I checked on the anchor, and then fell asleep again. I spent the next day enjoying some writing while the boat rocked and swung steadily in the sunshine.
The next night I was awakened at midnight by the anchor alarm. The wind was blowing harder from the opposite direction and it was raining. I depend heavily on those weather apps, however, they can fail you and that night they still gave the original forecasts. WW was dragging her anchor as we inched towards the island shallows. It was very dark, but the boat’s chart plotter tracks WW so I could watch that track swing through an arc then slide a few feet closer to shore to create a new arc as the anchor found a hold again. For the next 3 hours I prepped myself for an anchor lift and reset in bad weather while hoping the dragging anchor would catch and hold fast. That happened at about 4AM, I set the anchor alarm, and passed out. I awoke abruptly a few hours later lying in bed wearing my rain jacket, PFD, and deck shoes. So with the sun rising behind WW, we were soon heading west to New Orleans.
Poking along the beautiful Gulf Coast,
Allen
Cat Island, MI and New Orleans, LA
