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Skinwalker Log, July 27, 2004, 1012 hrs
Mile 504 Tennessee River passing Sexton Branch
35 27.29 N
084 58.99 W
We have come back east so we are almost directly north of Englewood. We have been traveling next to I-75 or within a few miles of it since leaving Chattanooga. Now we are officially locked in the Tennessee River until at least August 17. The Chickamauga Lock is closed for repairs until that time. Let the playing and the good times begin.
Chattanooga. My oh my. Pardon me boys, is this the Chattanooga Choo-choo?...Chattanooga Choo-Choo wont you choo-choo me home Sorry, I just couldnt resist. Any of you that knows what that is may be longer in the tooth then they care to admit.
Chattanooga.
I have always liked Chattanooga. It is a southern town with a citys heartbeat. One can fill just about any need or satisfy any proclivity. There is an abundance of free activities during summer weekends from concerts in the park to regattas, to food festivals or touring bat caves. There are rock, country, classical, bluegrass, blues, jazz, Cajun musical events that are reportedly quite good. There is an arts district that includes performing arts. There are tons of outside activities to engage in that the city is promoting, which of course includes boating on the river. Housing is inexpensive compared to Phoenix area or Southwest Florida. The housing is unique since everyplace is built on some part of a hill. Waterfront property is expensive, but doable.
We had the absolute honor of spending some quality time with Tom & Gloria Cannon who are the consummate southern hosts. Tom & Gloria who have carved out a nice niche in the geographical, economic and social landscape of this wonderful river community ensured that we were exposed to a nice cross section of the local environs. We cant thank them enough. Gloria knows how to prepare vittles. Boy, say Howdy. Does she ever. Gloria enjoys serving scrumptious and plentiful meals. She is an epicureans delight. I ate my self into oblivion. Tom ensured we drove and saw most of the river front housing from land and shore and provided running commentary about the area. Tom & Gloria also took the time to share with us their favorite swimming hole which was a very nice touch to end our delightful Chattanooga experience.
Boating people are just so cool. There are many in Chattanooga. In fact we felt somewhat out of place at the marina we stayed at.for the week. The only problem is that all the boats in this area are Bayliners or Carvers. I have never seen so many shiny and well appointed boats in all my life. Spotless. Immaculate. These are huge inland yachts. We are not talking dinghies here. Most of these boats are between 40 & 55.
Although Bayliners and Carvers are the stereotypic uneducated inconsiderate boaters, we have not been waked or threatened by one of the behemoth wakes they can put up when they get all them horses galloping down the river. Au contraire, we have found the boaters on this river system to be very thoughtful and caring. Therefore we forgive the locals for making Erwin Marine Sales of Chickamauga Marina the largest Bayliner dealer in the world.
Tom & Gloria, thank you so much for your laidback southern hospitality. We enjoyed your company and the wealth of information that you shared with us.
Lynn & Wayne
Skinwalker log, July 27, 2004, 0700 hrs
35 24.39 N
084 57.82 W
In a cove next to Powell Slough up the Hiwassee River in the Hiwassee Wild Life Refuge off the Tennessee River at mile 500.
We once again enjoy the glorious solitude offered by the back country of Tennessee. The morning sky is a dull drab sodden blanket muting the greenery which embraces us. The trees protected us from the late evening winds that ferociously ripped at the tops moaning in despair at not being able to reach down quickly enough to torment the Skinwalker.
The winds despair was our relief as we casually dined on a hearty beef stew that had developed slowly in the crock pot all day.
We were under whelmed, hiding behind our screens, with the bug of the day, huge, black with cream stripes, bee like thing, that were too big to buzz, but droned with confidence. Mother Nature does not want man to be too complacent in the midst of her creatures.
A lone fisherman in a tin center console fishing boat with a 50 hp Johnson snuck into our cove and is frenetically working the edges with plastic jerk bait. Soon he will slowly make his way to the center of the cove near our boat, either pretending to be fishing or simply unabashedly making a tight circle of us and staring with either distaste or wonderment. He will respond with a quiet wave to my wordless salutations. Then, inspired, he will go back to working a shore line, slower and with more care in his casts wanting his bait to...
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