The Bitter End

It’s that time of year again, time for the annual snowbird migration. Not just coots and loons of the winged variety, but the boating variety as well. Each fall we start seeing these boaters flee the northern climes, headed on a southerly course. An early indication is increased chatter on channel 16, sometimes entire conversations. (Please remember this is a hailing and distress channel!) But I say that with a smile on my face as many of us envy their lifestyle and hope we, too, can one day join the flock.

Some make this journey in long jumps on the “outside,” while others make their passage using the “ditch,” properly known as the Intracoastal Waterway, or ICW for short. However, the ICW is not just for Snowbirds; many locals along its three thousand-odd miles of connecting waterways use these waters for fishing, skiing, and other forms of pleasure boating. 

The main reason for the ICW’s existence was as a much needed easy route for commerce within and between coastal states. It was originally planned as one large circuit of the eastern and southern coasts, but the connecting portion called the Cross Florida Barge Canal was never completed due to environmental concerns. So today it is broken into the Atlantic section and the Gulf Coast section, or the GICW.

But let’s slow our roll just a second. This idea isn’t, or wasn’t, a new idea. The seed was planted way back in the late 1700s, not long after we became a nation, and then again in 1808 by Treasury Secretary Robert Gallatin. Though the needed 20 million in funding didn’t occur then, the advent of the War of 1812 opened our eyes to the need of such a thoroughfare and the 1824 General Surveys Act placed this into the purveyance of the Army Corps of Engineers. Connecting four major projects on the east coast it was slow coming to fruition, considering after the Civil War monies were being diverted to railway commerce. Even though the railways received the funding they couldn’t handle the demand, which became apparent in the 1906 harvests.

Federally mandated, the control depth of the ICW is 10-12 feet, and for many years that wasn’t an issue. Tugs and barges using the waterway were moving tens of millions in commerce annually. However, the decline of this commerce has seen the ICW falling into disrepair with many areas now only passable during high tides. 

One such place is between Ossabaw Sound and St. Catherine’s Sound, aptly named Hells Gate (Hell Gate on NOAA charts). Folks, when you see something named like this on a chart, take it as a warning: it’s not likely going to be rainbows and unicorns. 

I’ve been sailing these waters since the early 2000s both recreationally and professionally. I remember heading south with our race boat with a six-foot draft and trying to time it with the tide even back then. Today’s charts have this dangerous section listed as a shoaling area. 

While preparing this piece I found several articles from cruisers with horror stories, from having bottom damage, to running gear nearly destroyed, to commercial traffic suffering the same fates and costing thousands of dollars in repairs. 

I’m afraid if something isn’t done this essential avenue of transit will be lost. Not only as a means of travel north to south and vice versa, but also as an important part of maritime history. This needs to be brought to the attention of our elected officials and the Army Corps of Engineers before we lose it forever.

Till our wakes cross again, peace and love and shrimp and grits. I’ll see you on the water!

Most mariners have heard that it’s unlucky to rename boats or ships, however, it happens quite frequently for one reason or another. One example is the La Concorde. If that doesn’t ring a bell, maybe you’ve heard her called by her later name Queen Anne’s Revenge. Or how about the USS Ion formerly known as La Amistad. Want to know more? You all have the internet and can easily find more details about these two vessels and others that’ve had their names changed. Today I want to tell you about one a little closer to home. 

In 2017, Captain Derek Brown, and his wife Amy Brown, owners of Captain Derek’s Dolphin Adventures on Tybee Island, acquired a 52-foot Glenn Young tour boat which came to be known as The Monster. Prior to that she’d carried the name Chelsea Screamer. The name probably doesn’t ring any major bells, unless, by chance, you visited Manhattan in the late 90s or early 2000s. In particular 2001, even more precisely September 11th.

The prior owner of Chelsea Screamer, Sean Kennedy, was still on land at 9:59 a.m. when the South Tower collapsed. Not knowing what had occurred, he made his way down to Chelsea Piers where the Screamer operated. At 10:28 Chelsea Screamer was sitting a mere 1,500 yards from where the towers collapsed and Kennedy knew something had to be done. He immediately began answering the call to aid those in distress, in the ages-old tradition of mariners. 

Nosing his 56-passenger boat into the slips on the north side of the New York Waterways World Financial Center terminal he and his mate started to usher people aboard before transporting them to safety.

Later, this would be referred to as Americas Dunkirk, and well chronicled in the book, Saved at The Seawall; Stories from The September 11 Boat Lift. For many days afterward, Kennedy offered up the use of this proud vessel to ferry search crews and support personnel, as well as food and other items to aid in this great humanitarian project.

Fast forward nine years and Chelsea Screamer finds herself right dead center of another national emergency. This time of an environmental nature: the BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill, due to a faulty blowout preventer. At approximately 1:56 p.m. CDT, on April 20, 2010, a fire on the rig started a series of cascading failures that resulted in the platform sinking on April 22. The blowout preventer should have closed the wellhead but failed to do so, which resulted in the largest oil spill and natural disaster in American history. 

Sean Kennedy, born and raised in Biloxi, Miss., had transformed his one-time tour boat into a crew boat and once again carried support crews aiding in the cleanup of the spill. 

Afterwards, Chelsea Screamer was hauled out and sat idle on the hard, until Derek and Amy purchased and moved her to Tybee Island.

Today, Chelsea Screamer, now The Monster is back to her former mission of carrying tourists on dolphin and sightseeing tours on Tybee Bay and the Savannah River. If you look close enough there are still a few old signs of her original name, some lettering outlines on her bow, and along the side of her hull, as well as some older gear that is still serviceable. An upcoming engine swap will replace the aging Detroit 8V92 diesels with the more environmentally friendly 6CTA Cummins, which will power her as she continues to be the premier tour boat on Tybee Island. Be sure to book her for the 2022 season.

Till our wakes cross again, peace and love and shrimp and grits. I’ll see you on the water!

You may recognize the title above as a quote from perhaps one of the most famous captains in history, Captain Ron Rico. Some of you might be smiling, but some of you might be scratching your head and trying to recall the name. Was he a contemporary of Magellan? Perhaps he served under Lord Nelson, or maybe fought alongside Blackbeard? 

Negative! Captain Ron is the main character of a movie by the same name; a fictional character played by Kurt Russel, in this seafaring cult classic.

If you own a boat and haven’t yet watched Captain Ron, I’m shocked and appalled. This is what many of us consider the best training film ever made for novice boaters and sailors. It was released in 1992 to a dismal reception and only grossed just over $22 million, which might seem like a lot but it cost $24 million to make. Some say it was a flop, however it has garnered a cult following that seems to be timeless, with many a diehard boater quoting words of wisdom from the infamous Captain Ron. 

Let’s delve into a few of these hidden pearls (in no particular order).

Captain Ron: “The best way to find out is to get her out on the ocean Kitty, if anything’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen out there.”  

This is one of the most honest-to-God truths in boating. This may also be the most often-quoted line from the movie, though there are several. Now let’s dissect this a bit and see what knowledge we can extract from it. All too often, boats are bought with grand ideas of sailing the ocean blue and going on grand adventures, but in the end, many stay tied to the dock. No grand adventure was ever had by sitting on the living room couch, so in this regard, if an adventure is going to be had, it will be had out there. On the other end of the spectrum, boats sometimes leave the dock that never should. Either for mechanical reasons or the owner’s lack of experience, they forge ahead and often need assistance or rescue. But in either regard, the quote is accurate.

Martin Harvey: “Slow down! There’re boats all over the place.”

Captain Ron: “Don’t worry. They’ll get out of the way. I learned that driving the Saratoga.”

Once again, often quoted and sometimes unfortunately sometimes taken to heart. There’s another way of putting it that’s referred to as the rule of gross tonnage, meaning I’m bigger than you and you will get out of my way. Though I think sometimes that’s also translated to, “I’m more important than you.” As a professional mariner I am constantly vigilant and on the lookout for vessels around me, from kayaks to container ships. If you have this particular Captain Ron mindset, please reevaluate who the hell you are. Your pursuit of boating happiness doesn’t supersede mine or anyone else’s.

Captain Ron: “Stay on the path boss, there’s guerillas in these woods.”

One of the most hilarious exchanges between Captain Ron and Martin Harvey. This is a great example of the difference between what’s being said and what’s being heard. Communications and timing are two of the greatest things I carried from the Army into my civilian life. Although Ron is trying to warn his boss there are guerillas, as in freedom fighters, in the area, Martin hears the word gorillas and goes off on the fact that gorillas are not native to the Caribbean. In boating, especially when it comes to safety, be sure what you think you’re hearing, is actually what you’re hearing.

Captain Ron: “A diesel loves her oil same as a sailor loves rum.”

Martin Harvey: “Why is that Captain Ron?”

Captain Ron: “Nobody Knows.”

Take away? Maintenance is paramount! 

So, there you have but just a few quotes and hopefully I’ve brought a smile to your face, or piqued your interest in this wholesome family-friendly movie. Be spontaneous (when you have time) and give it a watch for more great boating wisdom! 

Till our wakes cross again, peace and love and shrimp and grits. I’ll see you on the water!

I don’t know about y’all, but the Gator is ready for some fall, or maybe even some winter temps. Now don’t get me wrong, I love summer, but my belly loves cooler weather. Why is that, you might ask? Cooler temps bring back our oyster harvesting. From the lowcountry of South Carolina to the far southern tip of the Golden Isles, oysters have been a part of our history. 

Football, beer and oyster roasts all seem to go hand-in-hand. I believe our earliest residents, the Native Americans such as the Creek Nations, and even much further back, had their own versions of these activities. All along the barrier islands, huge oyster middens, those circular piles of oyster shells, are in evidence. I can’t help but think that the piles of shells were where the sports complex was. The people would sit and watch, with great interest, games like “Chunky,” and later, some version of stick ball, while drinking fermented berries or grains, and throwing down on some of the best oysters known to man. Okay, maybe I can’t support this with historical documentation, but indulge a Gator his fantasies.

So, what happened to these huge middens from that bygone era? Simple, look at our architecture and road ways. Tabby construction can be found throughout the southeast. It was made by combining lime (from burned oyster shells), water, sand, ash, and broken oyster shells. Once mixed, this slurry was poured into forms to create walls. There are many examples of early tabby construction in the area, and there’s a description of the process at Wormsloe Plantation Museum, near Isle of Hope.

Though the Spanish are commonly given credit for bringing tabby to the Americas, it is speculated that its roots may lie in the Middle East or North Africa, that it was then carried to Spain during the invasion of the Moors, and then to Florida in the 16th century. For Coastal Georgia, however, James Oglethorpe is given credit with its widespread use. After seeing tabby used frequently in Spanish-held Florida and fortifications in Port Royal Sound, he saw its value and even constructed a home of tabby for himself near Fort Frederica.

With the signing of the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, the Spanish threat was removed from the southeast. Around this time tabby fell out of common use, though many of the structures were still standing proudly. The Spalding family purchased the Oglethorpe tabby home in 1771 and shortly thereafter, Thomas Spalding was born there. This same Thomas Spalding was so impressed by the tabby home he was raised in that he took this construction to Sapelo Island where he built his Sea Island plantation with what became known as “Spalding Tabby.” This sparked a revitalization of tabby use that lasted into the 1840s.

In the 1880s when Jekyll Island saw the influx of the famous “Millionaires Club,” tabby again saw a huge revival on the island, but by the 1920s, tabby had once again fallen out of favor. This was in part due to the disappearing middens that had been ravaged earlier, and the use of Portland cement. 

Like many things, the use of tabby seemed to come full circle, and by the 1980s what came to be known as “Revival Tabby” was being used. Though not made in the time-honored way, this new tabby is made by adding oyster shells to Portland cement by hand tossing the shells into the still-wet mortar layers, giving it a pseudo-tabby look. 

Well guys and gals, that’s about it for me this week. Time to go fight the sun and dream about cool weather and oysters.  

Till our wakes cross again, peace and love and shrimp and grits. I’ll see you on the water!

What do you get when you add water, boats and an occasional splash of rum? Instant pirate! Piracy on the high seas goes back to not long after man pushed his first log into the water and started paddling. 

When we think of pirates and swashbucklers, it’s usually that golden age from about 1650-1730, that comes to mind. Names like Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Anne Boney, and Errol Flynn. Hold on a second, Errol Flynn wasn’t a pirate, though he played a very convincing one on the big screen. 

Although I could spend pages on this subject, I’ll whittle it down to a single one, lest I upset dear editor. Walking the plank is an image that leaps to mind when thinking of pirates. Johnny Depp’s Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean, as well as The Goonies and even Peter Pan, all feature this iconic torture. Hate to pop your bubble folks, but this form of execution was extremely rare. It did play well to movie audiences as it built suspense to watch one forced to walk ever-closer to the edge of their demise. (Queue the circling sharks.)

In reality, offenders were likely dispatched with either a round through the head or the quick slash of a cutlass. But by and large, most of the carnage aboard ship was kept to a minimum. Why? It’s hard to find good help. If you felt you were going to be killed, you’d fight to the bloody death to avoid capture.  

“Aargh,” says you! “Nay,” says I! I’ll have to plunder yer booty of pirateese. Is that even a word? [If you’re referring to aargh, yes, according to Merriam-Webster, it is now a word. If you’re referring to pirateese, no. It isn’t. ~ Editor] Although Arrgh is commonly associated with pirate-speak [That’s better. ~ Editor] this word showed up and was immortalized by the actor Robert Newton in his classic role of Long John Silver, in Treasure Island.

One might think of pirates as bloodthirsty chaps who ruled their ships with an iron hand (or hook). Once again, not so much. Most captains served under the blessing of the crew and could be voted out. Yes, pirates were mainly democratic. Captains and crew also had competitive benefits packages. They earned paid retirements and even workers comp. Scratching your head over that one? The loss of a finger could yield you 100 pieces of silver, or a slave, as recompense. The loss of a right arm might bring you 600 pieces of silver, or six slaves. And no taxes withheld!

Many tomes could be filled with the fact and fiction that creates the pirate mystique, but we also owe many of our everyday colloquialisms and idioms to our seafaring history. For example, making money "hand over fist" comes from an early sailing term “hand over hand,” used in the Royal Navy and later changed by American sailors to hand over fist. This term comes from advancing up a rigging line to furl and unfurl sails. Today it means to advance one’s status or financial gain. 

Another expression, though one that has gone out of style is, “I like the cut of his jib.” Meaning you like the outward appearance of a person. Its roots go back to the 17th and 18th centuries when it was pretty easy to determine a boat’s country of origin by the shape of its jib – the foresail on a boat. 

Turning a blind eye, or to intentionally ignore something, also comes from our maritime roots. In 1801 at the Battle of Copenhagen, Admiral Nelson intentionally held his telescope up to his blind eye so he couldn’t see the flag raised by the commander of the fleet instructing him to cease bombardment. 

Well mates, it’s time to wrap up this side show we call The Bitter End. Guess I’ll sit back and enjoy another cup of joe, which, by the way, is a nautical term going back to 1913, when Josephus Daniels took over as Secretary of the Navy. One of the first things he did was remove the officer’s wine mess, as well as all other alcohol from naval vessels; the strongest thing you could have was coffee. Often a toast was made with coffee to “Old Joe.” Sailors carried this back to the civilian world, and we’re enjoying our joe to this day.

I’ve slipped in a couple other maritime terms here. Can you find them? Have any unusual ones you’d like to share? Shoot me an email over the bow!

Till our wakes cross again, peace and love and shrimp and grits. I’ll see you on the water!

Good day once again, and as usual, strap in for a helter-skelter voyage known as The Bitter End. To be honest, as I sit down to write, I’m not sure where this will end up, and as usual my article is due today. I’ve been working long hours and renovating a house I’m preparing to move into in just a matter of days, so please humor me.

Today I want to tell a story of a lighthouse, a fort, and a battle, and a bit of history concerning each. 

The lighthouse is Cockspur Light and the fort is Pulaski. I’m planning a more in-depth article on these two landmarks and the battles they endured later. In the last couple of days some recent finds have snagged my interest: one, a map I hadn’t seen before, and the other a rare find left over from the actual battle.

Fort Pulaski was the crown jewel of America’s fort systems when completed in 1847. Although a state-of-the-art fort, she was not being utilized when hostilities broke out in 1860 and on into the beginning of 1861. Only being manned by two Union caretakers during this time made her an easy victory for a contingent of 110 Confederate soldiers who sailed down the Savannah River to take charge of her in February of 1861. Pulaski was then considered to be of vital importance to Confederate forces due to her strategic location at the mouth of the Savannah River.

Fast forward to April 1862. After several plans were reviewed and dismissed for various reasons the final curtain call, in the form of the Battle of Fort Pulaski, was about to be set in motion. Under the command of Union General Quincy Gillmore, 10 firing batteries (a group of one or more artillery, such as canons or mortars) were moved into position, as referenced on the map above. Now bear in mind that to wrestle these heavy siege weapons into their firing placements often took as many as 250 men harnessed together and struggling through the soft mud of the marsh.

Three batteries, Totten, McClellan and Siegel, were positioned just over 1600 yards from the fort, on the point, near where I run charters for Captain Derek today. Prior to the battle, Union General Totten was quoted as saying “You might as well bombard the Rocky Mountains as Fort Pulaski,” though often this quote attributed to Robert E. Lee. 

Standing between the fort and the sweep of artillery batteries was little Cockspur Lighthouse. 

Though I have not been able to find a number indicating how many rounds were exchanged, one could surmise several hundred, at least. After a thirty-hour barrage, our little lighthouse came through unscathed, though one cannot say the same of Fort Pulaski. 

Those three closest batteries were largely responsible for breaching the southernmost corner of the fort, which led to the inevitable surrender by the fort’s commanding officer, Confederate Colonel Charles H. Olmstead. 

Recently colleagues of mine found what appears to be a portion of a grape shot or canister shell in the area where the siege took place. This prompted me to go online to research the battle further, and I found the map, which I hadn’t seen before. In addition, Cockspur Lighthouse is now starting a major renovation (more to come on that later) and it all just seemed to tie in together.

I can and will write much more on this subject, but I also hope to inspire and challenge you all to read more on these fantastic bits of Lowcountry history.

Till our wakes cross again, peace and love and shrimp and grits. I’ll see you on the water!

"Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!” 

Maybe one of the most frequently quoted lines ever. Of course, you all know this line from Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell’s seminal book about southern life before, during and after the Civil War. Many of us have either seen the movie or read the book, if not both. And yes, even though I’m a guy, I’ve done both, and I can do most of Rhett’s lines from the movie. As so often with my stories, buckle up buttercups, you’re in for another wild meandering!

Mitchell stated numerous times before she went to her grave that this literary classic was a work of fiction, including all the characters. But that may not be the case.

Recently, I picked up a book called Treasures of the Confederate Coast: The Real Rhett Butler and Other Revelations, by Dr.  E. Lee Spence. I used it while working on another article, but also wanted it for future reference. This column is centered around three names, two historical and one fictional. Two I’ve already mentioned, Dr. Spence and Mr. Butler, but there’s a third, who might possibly be the basis of one Mr. Rhett Butler, and his name is George Alfred Trenholm. 

Let’s take a look at Mr. Butler’s attitudes concerning money and finances. Here are a couple quotes that give good examples.

“I told you once before that there were two times for making big money, one in the up-building of a country and the other in its destruction. Slow money on the up-building, fast money in the crack-up. Remember my words. Perhaps they may be of use to you some day.”  

Another, “I warn you that I am not kind. I am tempting you with bonnets and bangles and leading you into a pit. Always remember I never do anything without reason and I never give anything without expecting something in return. I always get paid.” 

Quite possibly one of the most telling of clues as to who the real Rhett Butler is, “My funds are in Liverpool, not in Atlanta. If I tried drawing a draft the Yankees’d be on me like a duck on a June bug.” 

We also see his benevolence when he buys back Melanie’s wedding band, as well as Scarlett’s, and his high bid at the fundraising ball for a dance with Scarlett. Also in him making mention that he would do whatever is needed to move their standing up in society for their daughter, Bonnie.

Now for a little look at Mr. George Alfred Trenholm who, as Dr. Spence poses, may be the character on whom Mr. Butler is based. Trenholm was a banker, financier, and blockade runner. And from where? Charleston, just like our Mr. Butler. When Trenholm was a young man he worked as a cotton broker at a major firm, John Fraser and Company, which he later led then owned. 

There are some additional parallels. At the onset of the war Trenholm quickly realized that the South was sorely lacking in industrial capability. He backed a huge fleet of blockade runners, as many as sixty steamers at one point. These blockade runners brought back home not only much need war goods, but silks and satins and other finery for the South’s elite and wealthy (which was where the real money was). 

It’s rumored that Trenholm kept the company of “fast women” which might ring a bell, as in Belle Watling, the madam who owned a brothel frequented by Butler. 

Maybe one of the most telling comparisons (and there are more than this limited space allows) was where the money went. Trenholm kept his money in Liverpool, just as the fictional Butler did. In the last year of the war, Trenholm was made Secretary of the Confederate Treasury, and is thought to be where the wealth of the Southern states ended up.

I want to state that I have relied heavily on the research by Dr. Lee Spence, and in no way want to take credit for his outstanding writing and knowledge of this subject. Dr. Spence is described as the Indiana Jones of the maritime world. What initially led him down this curious rabbit hole was in his discovery on the C.S.S Georgiana. Among the many artifacts recovered was a simple collection of pins that peaked his curiosity and that he later referred to as “Scarlett’s Pins.” 

There is so much more to this and other stories; hopefully I’ve accomplished my task and piqued your interest! I hope you’ll take time to do some research of your own into these fascinating people and the stories behind them. 

As always,  peace and love, shrimp and grits, wash your hands, and I'll see you on the water!

Humans are curious creatures. We also love our lives to fit into compartments and follow orderly trains of thoughts and actions. But seldom does life fit into boxes, instead it sometimes runs willy-nilly along meandering paths. When chasing shipwrecks that is more often the case than not. In addition, time has little respect for our hopes and wishes, and when searching for and identifying lost ships or treasures, years, decades and sometimes centuries pass before the truth is brought forth.

Treasure hunter Mel Fisher spent over fifteen years in his search for the Atocha, a 17th century Spanish galleon found in the Florida Keys, holding treasure valued at over $400 million. During the years of searching, Fisher was often quoted as saying “Todays the day!” Many shipwreck hunters approach life with this attitude.

Tommy Gregory Thompson, an Ohio marine engineer, spent years researching the route of the SS Central America which sank off the South Carolina coast in 1857. What made the Central America a unique find (other than the gold valued at $150 million when it was found) was the economic panic that her sinking caused. Very much like the little incident with Ever Given, the Evergreen container ship that recently got stuck in the Suez Canal.

For me, shipwrecks don’t have to be laden with gold, their holds filled with gems and treasures plundered from around the world, to be significant. Sometimes it’s about the story. 

Most of us have seen the movie Titanic, with Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, directed by James Cameron, but have you ever heard of Robert Ballard? Ballard was the lead guy involved in finding the wreck of the real Titanic. But did you know the search for the Titanic was a ruse? Yes, they did find her, but that wasn’t the mission. In 1985 when word broke that the Titanic had been found, everyone thought that years and years of scientific and nautical research had gone into it. Not so much. The search was a cover story for a naval operation trying to determine the state of and hopefully recover two Navy nuclear subs, the Thresher and the Scorpion, that were lost in the same area as the Titanic. The Navy was concerned about nuclear weapons left onboard as well as the impact of the reactors on the environment. A cover story was generated to throw the Russians off the scent.

Reminds me of a Clive Cussler novel.

Speaking of Clive Cussler, this author and marine researcher is credited with finding and recovering the CSS H.L. Hunley, America’s first submarine to successfully sink a warship. Cussler’s non-profit research organization,  the National Underwater and Marine Agency (NUMA) is given credit for the find. I’ve visited the Hunley a few times through the years since she was first publicly displayed at the Warren Lasch Conservation Center in Charleston. But I later learned of another story, just below the surface. Cussler says his team discovered the Hunley in 1995, however, a gentleman named E. Lee Spence says he discovered it in 1970 as a 12-year-old boy with homemade dive gear.

Let’s circumnavigate back to the ship artifacts found in the Savannah River. Is it the HMS Rose? It’s still a little early to tell. I would love for that to be the case as it would fit in a nice, neat, little compartment. However, this mystery is a long way from being answered, and we may never know with certainty. I think the pivotal information lies in what the artifacts reveal, and I hope to revisit this story down the road.

As always,  peace and love, shrimp and grits, wash your hands, and I'll see you on the water!

I intended this column to be about the updated mask rules for the maritime community as a result of a presidential executive order, but my editor hijacked that idea and ran the order in full. If you work on a commercial vessel of any kind, please do give that a read [page 19].

Instead, let us sally on and walk in the footsteps of history. Last year I wrote a piece on Ft. King George and plans were laid to do a series on the forts of the lowcountry. This month we pick back up with Old Fort Jackson, formerly known as Mud Fort. 

During its history as Mud Fort, it was a simple earthen fortification, dating back to the Revolutionary War as far as documentation shows. It is suspected that even earlier, gun batteries were located in this general area to protect against a Spanish incursion, being ideally situated at the junction of the main Savannah River Channel and the Back River. 

In March 1776 the first shots of the American Revolution that were fired in Georgia happened just outside of Mud Fort. Prior to that, in January, four British warships anchored at the Port of Savannah and demanded that colonists sell them rice. They were flatly refused, so they sailed up the Back River to a spot where 12 ships loaded with rice were anchored and helped themselves. This became known as the Battle of the Rice Boats. 

This earthen fort was supposed to host 25 “ship killer” canons, though it never reached those numbers, and with the death of the fort commander in 1778, Mud Fort was abandoned. The loss of this strategic point of control allowed the British to waltz in and take Savannah. If the fort had been manned a totally different outcome may have resulted.

By 1794, a less than effective effort was put into strengthening coastal fortifications and gunboats. The Chesapeake-Leopard Affair became an eye opener in 1809 when the British warship HMS Leopard opened fire on the American warship USS Chesapeake in Norfolk, Va., and took four sailors, who were tried for desertion, thus demonstrating our coastal weakness. It was during this time that Fort Jackson was being built, over the remains of Mud Fort.

Fast forward to the 1800s. The early part of the century was both boom and bust as far as adequate preparations go, and the British made good use of it, as demonstrated in the burning of Washington D.C. A push was made from about 1815 thru the 1850s to strengthen coastal fortifications. Although many improvements had been made to Fort Jackson, it was abandoned yet again in 1828. Around the time of the completion of Fort Pulaski on Cockspur Island, military minds were realizing that steam power was becoming a new threat, being both more reliable than wind, and faster. It was thought that modern navies such as the French could run the gauntlet of Pulaski’s 146 guns and continue upriver to invade Savannah once again.

In light of that, from the 1850s leading up and into the Civil War, the U.S. was steadily improving Jackson’s fortifications. This came as a great asset to the Confederates who took control of the fort when Georgia seceded from the Union. When Fort Pulaski fell in April of 1862 it was up to the forces at Ft. Jackson to hold the line, which they did quite admirably. Until the fall of Savannah in a month-long battle from mid-November to December 21, 1864, Jackson served as naval headquarters for the Georgia fleet.

After the war she was abandoned yet again, but after changing hands several times, Old Fort Jackson, as it’s now known, is currently owned by the state, and operated by the Coastal Heritage Society. Who, I must say, does an excellent job of being a good steward to this important piece of Georgia and national history. 

As always,  peace and love, shrimp and grits, wash your hands, and I'll see you on the water!

Sorry about that title. It’s early in the morning and gators don’t think well this early. I just returned from a whirlwind trip through the Sunshine State on a wintertime adventure. As we’ve moved into the new year and find ourselves still in the clutches of this global chaos, I had to get some space to breathe. Safely of course. So, I took a trip down to Citrus County Fla., and no, it wasn’t to gather oranges or any citruses for that matter. Rather, it was in search of mermaids and sirens.

These magnificent creatures do indeed exist, however, today we classify them as manatees (sorry ladies, not womanatees). Citrus County, or more precisely Homosassa/Crystal River, in and around the Three Sisters Springs area hosts the largest winter gathering of manatees in America. With nearly six thousand of these splendid creatures, also known as sea cows, in Florida and it’s estimated that between 25 to 33 percent can be found in this county on the Gulf Coast. 

Although the Three Sisters Springs tour facility was not operating when I visited, the day was warm and most of the aquatic mammals had ventured out of the warmth of the springs to play in the nearby bays of the Gulf.

I was staying in Homosassa, so did a quick re-route and was off to the Ellie Schiller Wildlife State Park to see what I could see. I was not disappointed. OK, I was mildly disappointed in that the underwater glass observatory that would allow you to be at eye level with our watery friends was closed due to health and safety concerns, but most of rest of the venue was open and did not disappoint.

I won’t going into a great dissertation about manatees, but I will give you a nice overview and some cursory information. First, the West Indian manatee is what you will generally find here in the U.S. There are also the Amazonian, and West African species. Steller’s sea cows, home to waters of the Bering Strait, were hunted to extinction in the late 1700’s. 

Some would even say there’s a species known as a dwarf manatee, though it’s debated that these are just smaller versions of the three primary species.

There are myths aplenty surrounding sea cows. One urban legend suggests that they were brought here as a food source by early Spanish explorers. This has proven to be untrue as there are fossil records of manatees in Florida waters some 3 million years ago. Most likely these adept swimmers have been island hopping for generations. 

Then you have the ever-present myth that these creatures were mistaken for mermaids. This one actually has some merit and can be traced back to Christopher Columbus whose journal makes mention of such a creature, but it most likely was a manatee. Mermaid myths go back to the Assyrians, circa 1000 B.C. The Greeks also described sirens and mermaids, two entirely different beings, as early as around 200 to 300 B.C. 

I have spent a great deal of my life around the ocean. During that time I’ve previously been known to occasionally have a few too many drinks, but I have never been drunk enough to mistake a sea cow for Ariel.

Although, as I mentioned earlier the Spanish did not bring them here as food, manatees have been known to show up on the menu. First Nations peoples, such as the Seminoles and various tribes within their Nation have indeed used this animal as both part of their diet and in spiritual context. Later, during the Great Depression, they were used as food in much the same way as terrestrial cattle; due to their primary diet their meat is quite lean, red in color and similar in texture to beef. As a side note the tail was considered the primo selection. I would remind you carnivores out there that manatees are protected by the Marine Mammals Act, and as such, you could be fined up to $100,000 and serve time in jail. Better to stick with beef. 

If you are looking for a quick and fun getaway, a mere four hours away awaits the magical kingdom of the manatee. 

As always,  peace and love, shrimp and grits … I'll see you on the water!

When should you be alarmed? Sounds like a trick or loaded question right? But let us apply Occam’s Razor here, which basically states that the simplest answer most often is correct. Therefore, when you should be alarmed is when the alarm goes off! And so, here we go again folks, down another twisted path that leads to one of Gator’s rabbit holes.

Alarms come in all styles; some are physical, some mental and some are even psychological. Have you met someone and instantly an alarm went off in your head saying, “Stay away! Dangerous! Bunny burner! Womanizer!” We’ve all had those. Although I could go down a laundry list of types of people who trigger alarms, I guess I’m here impart some boating wisdom, instead.

Boats have a myriad of alarms, from internal engine alarms to external alarms, as well as other systems. These can be audible or visual.  The newer and more sophisticated the vessel, the more alarms you’re likely to have. (I’m not trying to sound condescending; I know many of you know these things. This one is for the new boaters among us.)

Given that I don’t have pages and pages of space available for this, I better cut to the chase. As vessels get older, a couple of things can occur. One such thing is that alarms can either become nonfunctional or become erratic and inaccurate. Oftentimes when people buy used boats (which accounts for a great many of us) they may not even be aware of what alarms should work or even exist on their “new” vessel. Having someone knowledgeable in these things to consult can save a great deal of money or even a life. Spend a few dollars to either have a survey done, or take it to a competent marine shop. If you know someone you can trust your and your family’s lives with, then have them assist you.

Center consoles with outboards are the most common personal boats here in the lowcountry. First, make sure your oil alarms are in proper working order. Then move on to temperature alarms and gauges; if they’re nonfunctional, get them fixed, or replaced. If that’s not an option then stay vigilant, as either of those can leave you stranded, costing you hundreds if not thousands of dollars. 

Bilge pumps with high water alarms  are another extremely important set of devices. Making sure these work before each trip is one of the most important things you can check. Some bilge pumps come with built in floats that trigger the pump to engage, but most often the high water alarm is a separate piece of equipment. They are usually installed at a higher level but not so great that you have a considerable amount of water in your boat before it is triggered. The subject of bilge pumps could be an entire article but some online research should assist you with the proper workings. Let me also offer this handy reminder: make sure your visual aids work and reference them regularly while running your boat. 

A routine of systematically scanning your gauges is a good habit. I’d like to add one more word about gauges: use mechanical gauges as they tend to be much more accurate.

For bigger vessels much of the same applies. Again check your bilges and highwater alarms religiously. As the size of the boat increases, so do bilge spaces and water line diameters, especially those that bring raw water into the engine for cooling. Some of these water lines can be in excess of two inches, and a two-inch line that blows can overwhelm most bilge pumps in very short order. So a highwater alarm can give advance notice something major is about to occur and give you those moments you need to avert a disaster. 

Well that’s about all I have for this month. May your new year be filled with love, health and blessings!

As always,  peace and love, shrimp and grits … I'll see you on the water!

Well here we go again folks, round two of Gator’s whack-a-mole writing for Southern Tides! First, I want to thank Captain Dan for taking the reins for a bit, also thanks to Amy for indulging a senile old git. [It would be hypocritical of me not to! ~AT] 

Here we are in 2020 and ever since I was a child I’ve been looking forward to this year. Why would this year in particular inspire a child? To answer that, I pose this question to you: What’s one of your favorite memories as a child? For most of us growing up in the 60s and 70s it was pretty simple: Saturday morning cartoons. 

Of course, I’m not here to wax nostalgic on Bugs Bunny, though I did get my first taste of classical music from him. No, I want to get back to the whole 2020 thing. How many of you remember the cartoon from way back appropriately named Sealab 2020? A short-lived series set in the year 2020, ran from September to December of 1972. At the time this series premiered, I found it to be very novel. Having already fallen in love with Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and devouring anything I could find about Jacques Cousteau, the seed that would eventually lead me to the sea was planted.

For those who may not remember the series, the premise of Sealab was an experiment that placed 250 men, women and children on top of the Challenger Sea Mount. There they lived, researched, worked at aqua culture, and mined the mineral-rich ocean. The first episode dealt with an undersea quake that ruptured barrels of radioactive waste that had been dumped in the 1970’s. One concept that struck a chord with me on the show was that by 2020 humans had learned from their mistakes of the past and no longer dumped waste and trash in the ocean.

Fast forward 48 years, and sadly we have yet to learn from something so simple as a cartoon, that clearly taught us about polluting our ocean environment. In September of 2019, Japan started testing the waters, so to speak, concerning how they were going to deal with some 1,200,000-plus tons of radioactive water being held in some 1,000 storage tanks from the 2011 Fukushima Disaster. One of the ideas they were kicking around was to send it into the Pacific Ocean. 

The Fukushima disaster is one of the worst nuclear disasters on record. The reason Japan needs to start the process of where to put it is simple, they only have room for 1.37 million tons on site.

These numbers grow by about 170 tons every day due to about 4,700 fuel rods that are spread out over the three melted reactors and the two surviving reactors. To put it in perspective this disaster is on the magnitude of six times greater than Three Mile Island, which suffered a partial meltdown in 1979. An estimated 880 tons of melted nuclear material still requires cooling as well as cleanup. Although not to be considered as severe as Chernobyl, it is safe to say “Um, don’t dump that water in the ocean, thank you very much!”

As of January 2020, Japan has (for now) backed away from the idea of use the ocean as a waste dump, thank God. However, as horrid as this would have been, there are still tons upon countless tons of waste, chemicals, plastics and a host of other assorted man-made debris that end up in our waterways great and small. So please folks, go watch a cartoon, encourage your children to do so as well, for if Hanna-Barbera can get it right with this message, so should we.

As always thank you for your indulgence! 

Peace and love, shrimp and grits, and I'll see you on the water!