Wilson's Final Journey Up The Tennessee

[bob mitchell]

I say "final" because hull #113 is coming out on the hard, and either I will decide that she is not worth saving, or she will come out with a solid apron, and a lot of new frame and floor timber bolts - essentially anything that needs to be done to have a solid bottom, as well as a rebuild on any deck material that is not 100%. On the "cup is half full" side there is a lot of good boat left, and on the "cup is half empty" side I am fundamentally rebuilding the boat. A labor of love, but at 60 I just can't find any project that I would rather do. If and when she goes back in the water she will not be named Wilson. But realistically, who knows what tommorrow will bring.

So this travelogue is a piece of changing in my life, and if it is long winded I don't care - you can always just look at the pictures! But, even in this beginning too many people have shared their lives with me, and made the Newporter experience what it is, for me not to say that their sharing love and "buying into the dream" is really what it is all about. So naturally I start with the tribe that adopted me when I first aquired Wilson. This is my wonderful friend Bill, chief of the tribe. He had helped the previous owner of Wilson, and knew a lot about the boat. He jumped right in and helped me time the engine the first time.

Bill spends his life, day after day, helping those around him. He knows a lot about a lot, and has good analytical thinking skills, i.e. problem solving, which he uses to everyone's benefit.

Usually the tribe would gather for a cookout at Pete's at least once a week. Talk about good food, and plenty of it! Thank you for accepting and including me in your life.

And below that is Brenda, Bill's wife, at the coffee boathouse. While you would rarely see Bill before 12AM, Brenda was always up serving coffee for the tribe at 7:30 AM., and watching the weather. The last picture is Pete, sitting in the shade with a cold one, which sometimes I just had to do there myself. Pete, an old logger, always built the fire for the cookouts.

And there was Dawn, and Steve, and Bob, all of which shared with me in their own way.

The preparations for the upriver trip from Scottsboro to Chattanooga (80 miles) seemed endless. Since my engine started easily, but made an ominous clacking sound after it reached operating temperature, I enlisted the help of my neighbor Jeff, who had a 140 hp outboard fishing boat. My other neighbor, Bobby, a maintenance man and fisherman, rounded out the crew. Although we tried towing, lashing the boats together, according to Chapman's Piloting and Seamanship, worked infinitely better on the river. In critical spots I would crank my engine and run both steering and throttle from the Newporter. Only rarely did anyone ride in the outboard. All in all it was amazing how well it went.

Of course we steered with the Newporter helmstation, and I have to say I could not have been happier with the new helmstation. Hopefully everyone realizes That I have done no trim work yet. That's Jeff on the left, Bobby on the right.

Lashed together, with outboard at 2500 RPMs (low), we made about 4 or 5 miles an hour up river. The main event of the first day was a thunder storm that overtook us from behind, and then traveled in front of us for quite a while.

We spent the night below Nickajack dam and went through the lock the next morning, but not before becoming so fogged in,

while in a very narrow section of the river with heavy barge traffic, that we had to pull out of the channel and anchor.

After we got through the lock we were surrounded by the Cumberland Plateau, and entered the Tennessee River Gorge -

gorgeous country as photos show.

And finally to the backside of Williams Island, Tn., where I anchored for a few days before I moved over to the barge facility where I will be lifted by a 50 ton crane. In the picture below there are tarps on both the front and back of the new "hard top dodger." Also the windows have not been put back in, yet, after the pilot house repairs.

EXPLORING WILLIAMS ISLAND

While I was at anchorage on the backside of Williams Island I explored a little. Williams Island is a 450 acre island managed by the Tennesse River Gorge Trust,

who leases it out to farmers, both conventional and a group of young "buy local" organics. The island has a 9' depth of some of the richest topsoil in the United States, so minimum fertilizer and soil additives are needed. The cattle and hay are moved back and forth across the river with small barge ferries.

The area was long occupied by indians before the white man came, so artifacts are obvious. The two pictures of flint chips were taken walking down a tractor track between gardens. What is most interesting is that in both cases I think the arrowhead maker left his napping tool with the chips. The first picture I assembled together from about a 6 square foot area. Notice the rough edge on the ergonomically shaped river rock that he was shaping the flint with. The second photo I only picked up the big piece of flint and put it in the center - otherwise it is undisturbed, with tool laying there. I took nothing, except these photos.

And for you Civil War buffs, here is a shot of the famous Lookout Mountain, where the Yankees bombarded the Confederate"s position on Mocassin Bend, the low foreground in the photo.

On my final morning at dawn the river said good by with a rainbow. I freely admit that I don't know what will become of this project, but it sure feels right while I am doing it!

[bob mitchell]

JUST HAVIN FUN !!!!! WHERE IS JUSTINE WHEN I NEED HER?

[Clyde A. Phillips]

Bob,

I give you an "A" for your report, and an "F" in priorities. The "F" is for building that dodger and helm station before putting the bottom to rights, which seems to be the barometer for the decision on keeping the boat. But two things say "That's OK." You needed that station to get upriver and I'd say you are sure you can get the apron, keel, and frames up to snuff. All in all, you'll get it done!

Peace,

Your ol' buddy Clyde