As 2019 wound down, we found ourselves unable anymore to explain even to ourselves the purpose of this expedition. We spent the last few weeks of December traveling downriver through undeveloped and generally unbeautiful winter terrain. Some of us had far too much work to get done, and were constantly battling for cellular service. Others decided to take a vehement stand against math class. The days got shorter and colder, the Trump flags more varied and numerous. There didn’t seem to be a compelling reason to get off the boat anywhere, but how long could we bear to be on the boat with ourselves?
And yet, and yet. We spent a day and night in Montgomery, Alabama, which was exhausting, illuminating and ultimately moving.
In the renovated former department store Kress on Dexter we met Steven, a Montgomery transplant who shared his awe at learning he had had his hair cut by Dr. King’s barber and explained to us some of the city’s complex, layered history.
We were joined on a tour of the Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church, where Rev. King preached, by a group of beautiful, sincere, committed young people of color participating in a retreat. Our fabulous and energetic guide Wanda made sure we all made friends and sure enough we reunited later that same evening at a hotel bar.
Due to severe weather warnings we spent a few days holed up in Demopolis, Alabama, and a tornado touched down just a few miles from the dock. We were perfectly safe, but the dramatic lightning show was alarming, and awesome.
And there were the rivers themselves. The Tombigbee, the Black Warrior, the Mobile — they were never truly unlovely. The water glowed pewter some days, green others; the leafless trees continued to reflect gloriously whenever the river was calm.
Finally we reached the end of the rivers and emerged into Mobile Bay. And there were rainbows and dolphins. Just kidding! It was actually another gray day and the bay was full of oil tankers and container ships.
But the next day we crossed the bay and did see dolphins, and they’ve joined us every day on the water since. We entered Florida. The sun came out. There were palm trees. We baked cookies. Grandma Fran, Jeff, Moe and Claire came to share holiday cheer.
Along the Gulf ICW, the awesome power of nature came evident again, as we meandered through miles of trees that had been snapped like matchsticks by Hurricane Michael last year.
And that helped me remember one reason we’re on this trip: To get out of our heads and our phones and be forced to pay attention to the real world. Other reasons? To slow down. To get by with less stuff. To face new challenges. To figure out what to make of our own country, and to see what our own country makes of us. And to spend more (a lot more!) time with each other.
The last night of 2019, the three of us headed out into the Gulf of Mexico, beginning a 20-hour overnight crossing from one side of Florida’s Big Bend to the other. The sun set over nothing but water in all directions, and instead of fireworks, the midnight sky lit up with so, so many stars.
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