Made it...

This was the morning for our second attempt at the Big Chute rail lift. We were both out of the berth by 0600, each of us uneasy about trying it again while trying to hid it from the other. But when you have been together for better than 50 years, basically two halves of the same person, it was pretty obvious we wanted this thing over no matter how it was going to turn out. But even up early we couldn't move to the blue until after the marina mechanic came to look at the boat I bounced off of yesterday. It turns out I did bend things a bit. Nothing too major but I'll bet it will cost me a boat buck or two. Lesson learned. Bail out early, think it over, then try again or make a different plan. The sad thing is, I thought I knew that already. Oh well.

We motored up to the blue line with the same enthusiasm of a person reporting in for a jail term. Going into a lift that had nearly trashed the boat would have been pure silly except, there was no other choice. I really don't like it when things get narrowed down to where there is no other choice. 

They did two lifts before it was our turn and, when it was, they called us into the lift all by our little lonesome. We slid in and adjusted fore and aft a couple of feet while they set the slings. The lift guru asked if our tanks were empty. I assured him they were near bone dry. He smiled and allowed that all would be well. I allowed that I would be closing my eyes for the passage. He laughed. I wasn't smiling. I kept it to myself that I had heard something similar the day before, just minutes before the boat was nearly on its side and I was trying not to slide off the bow. As we got ready to move, I sat in the fly bridge and glanced at my heart rate monitor. (It kind of comes with the pacemaker.) Dead still, sitting, 100+ BPM. Not too bad considering.

Back in my airplane days a good friend and I flew a somewhat worn little corporate jet for several years. Just about every time the thrust levers were moved to take off power, whichever one of us was sitting in the left seat would say, “Too late to back out now.” We were committed. The lift lurched and started to move. Too late to back out now.

It all went well. The view at the top of the hill was both interesting and daunting at the same time. A brake or cable failure on the way down was a thought on which not to dwell. When we came to rest at the bottom, boat floating agin, Deb mentioned to the lift guru that, after yesterday, we were both more than a little nervous about trying it again. The lift guru smiled, “So were we.” Damn. Glad I didn't know that before we started.

We didn't go too far after clearing the lift, stopping at a much nicer (yet noticeably cheaper) marina than was the one at Big Chute. Here we topped off the fuel, emptied the holding tank, and filled up with water. All with the aid of the friendliest and most helpful dock hands we have run across since Delaware City. After fuel and the pump out, we moved to our overnight space on the face dock, bow to bow with a boat that watched the debacle of yesterday. I was backing in, didn't like what I was seeing, pulled out, and made another run at it that looked (if I do say so myself) near textbook. Once we were tied up, the guy on that boat came by to say they were happy to see that we made it through.

Tomorrow we will pretend the last couple of days never happened and head off to the edge of Georgian Bay.

The prop and zincs look pretty good for almost three months.

The line is how the retract the straps into the channel in the wood so you can drive out over them.

Looking back after we cleared the railway.

We were rewarded with some stunning scenery after we left.

This one's for sale and the exchange rate right now means a 35% discount... I keep telling daughter #2

that I could definitely live in a carriage house over a boat garage...

Not the best of days...

"Of all the years I have been doing this, I've never seen that happen before." Hearing that is not a good way to start a day.

First thing this morning, we fired up First Light and moved to the Blue Line. We were number two for the lift. Before the 0900 start time for the lift a few other boats pulled up behind. The plan was to simply get through and then wait out the weather on the low side, riding to a town dock. The first boat went over the hill without difficulty. Then it was our turn.

We pulled into the straps and shut down. As per procedure, we closed all the thru-hulls: generator, A/C, deck wash, and engines. But the lift operator didn't like the way the boat was riding, so we opened up the engine thru-hulls, backed out, re-entered, shut down, closed the thru-hulls. Again the lift operator didn't like the way the boat was riding. He asked about our weight distribution. First Light's water tanks are in the very stern and, given that we were planning a few days away from support, full. I suggested that we empty them. The lift operator said that wouldn't be necessary but asked if we would back out and let them move another boat while he made a phone call. Thu-hulls opened, fired up, backed out.

We tried to take a floating dock near where the lift loads up. It was built for wave runners, not a 42 foot trawler. It had no cleats and sat very low in the water. After a few tries to land I insisted that we bail out of the attempt before someone (Deb) got hurt or we banged into the dock hard enough to do damage. We just hung out for a bit before a different (and obviously senior) operator called us over. Into the slings we went. Engines off, thru-hulls closed. He didn't like it. “Thru-hulls opened, fired up, backed out, pulled in, engines off, thru-hulls closed. “That's better” he said. "I like it." Finally!

Commands were given, the boat moved...then it moved some more...then the bow pitched for the sky while the boat rolled to starboard. More commands were given, this time loudly and with a purpose. The boat stopped moving, bow up, starboard side down. I was barely standing on the high side of the bow holding onto the rail. Deb was on the low side rail and thought she heard something crunch.  But no one was hurt. Something that could have easily gone badly the other way.  Another 10 degree or so of pitch and roll and there is no telling where on, or under what, Deb and I would have landed. Almost for certain First Light would have been totaled. 

They got the boat leveled off.  With the thru-hulls opened, we fired up and backed out of the slip. We searched but couldn't find anything that crunched. There was no shaft or prop vibration with power. The rudders worked and there doesn't appear to be any leaks around prop or rudder shafts. But I have yet to be convinced that no damage was done. 

We hung around for a while more. The (more senior) lift operator called us in and asked if we could empty the water tanks. He was sure that would take care of the problem. Of course we could, glad you thought of it. 

We motored back over to the dock we spent the night on and started to off load the water. Being the smart person that I am I fired up the generator so as not to kill the batteries pumping off a few hundred gallons of wet stuff. Yep, you got it, THAT thru-hull was still closed. In all the excitement I simply forgot about it. A few minutes later the gen auto-shut down due to over temp. I let it cool, reset the fault breaker, and fired it up. No water came out the exhaust. No water? No power. Time for a whole new plan. 

I had us move to the Big Chute Marina for the night so we could regroup with electricity and had water available. Clearly we were not going any further this day. Unfortunately, the forecast storms had the wind picking up just as we tried to get into the too-small slip we had been assigned. One that already had a small boat in it. I shouldn't have even tried. Within seconds it was clear that it wouldn't work, but I completely botched the attempted go around. I did manage to miss the little boat. I didn't manage to miss the dock with Fist Light's port stern.  I also didn't manage to miss the bow pulpit of the boat the next slip over. Why didn't I back up a little more? Because the wind was swinging my stern faster than I had anticipated and into a work barge tied downwind and behind us. I was sure the swim platform wouldn't take the hit.

We moved to a different slip, and this time with a little on-shore help, I managed to get us  parked without bouncing off of anything else. We have shore power, access to water and, I hope, the dock is stout enough to take the incoming weather. In the meantime I am waiting for the gen to cool off enough for me to try and figure out why no water. Hopefully it is just the impeller. But the way this day has gone? I am expecting the worst...and I can't even guess what that might be.

So, here we are. No matter what happens next, the Big Chute is going to cost us time and money. We nearly lost the boat. We are very lucky no one got hurt. I did managed to throw in some damage anyway, and I can't make any call as to when we will be moving again. It may be tomorrow. It may be a week from tomorrow. Will we be able to get into the lift in a way that is safe? No way to know.  If not, it is a long, long way to St. Louis from here going back the way we came. More the puzzle? This is not First Light's first time around the loop. She has been through this very lift before. There was no reason to think this would be any kind of a problem. I thought it anyway and, unfortunately, I was right. 

So, as always, plans have changed.  At some point in the next few hours we will see what we see and do what we can do. Off in some future yet to be experienced, this will all be just be another part of the story, another memory. I will get over doing the dumb things I did. They weren't  the first, and certainly will not be that last dumb things I will do. As the old saying goes, if I was perfect they would have to pay me more. Or, at least, agree when I suggest we take the water off the boat.

LATER: A new impeller (that we had in ship's stock) and the Generator is back on line. In fact it is spitting more water out of the exhaust than we remember it ever doing. So, though I'm sure my dumb move with the thru-hull trashed the old one, it may well have been on its last little flapper thing legs already. (Oh, and for those who are curious, I sucked a bunch of little rubber bits out of the system before putting in the new impeller. Except for one tiny bit, all missing rubber flapper parts are accounted for.) There is some light cosmetic damage to First Light. Add it to the list of things I'll take care of in St. Louis. I can't find any damage on the boat I thumped, but we will wait to see what the marina mechanic has to say. If he finds something we will certainly step up and take care of it.

The sky is lighting up and the thunder is near. This is as good a place as any to ride out whatever is coming. With the generator back in service and the weather forecast in our favor, the current plan is to leave in the morning. Though things are not as bad as it seemed a few hours ago, it still hasn't been the best of days.  But, you know what? It hasn't been the worst of days either. And I still hear Kato in the background—"Boy, you gotta look at the good side 'till you're sure you can't do that no more."

Enlightenment...

With better planning and a careful (we thought) review of the route, we pulled off the dock at 0730. That should have had us arriving at the first swing bridge just in time for someone who could swing the thing to start his or her day. Unfortunately, we worked our timing to a fixed bridge one short of the actual swing bridge. (Easy to do when looking at charts on an I-pad. Oops.) So, when the first opening happened, we were passing under the fixed bridge instead. By the time we got to the actual swing bridge it had opened, closed, and was waiting on a train that was inbound.  We ended up holding station for just shy of an hour. Why so long? Don't know. My guess is that since it takes a train many miles to stop the bridge has to be fully closed and secured long before the train actually gets there. When it does, it crosses at a very modest speed. One can easily imagine that thundering across a swing bridge at full song might not be the best of ideas. And, after the last car goes by, they have to let the track cool before they can open the bridge. How do I know that? Because the Bridge Guru told us so via loudspeaker. It also makes sense. The hot track would expand, likely jamming it in place. I'd be surprised if it was even possible to swing the bridge before the track cooled.

First Light waiting on the bridge. Photo courtesy of Trudy Muhlbauer

Holding station in First Light means shifting each engine in and out of forward or reverse as gently as possible to twist, turn, go forward or aft as required. At least the canal wasn't quite as narrow as it has been. Nor was there any real wind or current. So station keeping wasn't all that difficult. Which is good, because we ended up with three other boats piled up behind us. While we waited, a couple of smaller boats picked their way through our little armada and under the still closed bridge.

After we cleared the bridge, there was a lock. Ho-hum. Then another lock. Both were down locks which are a lot easier, and one actually had a floating bollard we used to tie off the bow. All locks should be equipped with floating bollards rather than cables and ropes. Still, after the bridge delay and being weary of the lock dance we have been doing for what seems like weeks, my opinion of the Trent Severn reached a new low. Why, I wondered, did anyone but the locals endure the incessant hassles and potential boat damage associated with boating on the canal? What could possibly be the attraction?   

When we cleared the second lock into a series of small lakes connected by short stretches of rivers, I had my answer. The place is  nothing short of magical. Without any doubt it was the most beautiful space I have ever been where human kind has settled. Instead of it looking like a place that the humans had assaulted, it looks like a place human kind and nature have built together to the benefit of both. The pine forest went on as far as the eye could see, starting right at the edge of the water, and filling our senses with the aroma. All the houses were surrounded by trees. Even though there were vastly different styles and sizes, by some design and build magic each fit into the landscape without intruding on the landscape. The floating docks/porches and boat houses fit in just as well. Even the Piper Cub on floats that we watched motor down a river to turn and take off, looked like it belonged. A big white bird with big feet for walking on water. I generally regard myself as one of the most fortunate human beings that has ever left footprints on this planet. But I have to admit that, in my humble opinion, the people living along the stretch of water we traveled today are a big step ahead of the rest of us. The Trent Severn is both where they live and a way to get where they live. So, even though there are many spots along the way that I really did not enjoy, I would  come this way again just to be in this place again. And we are being told that we haven't seen the best parts yet. Where the Trent Severn leads is why the Trent Severn is worth the trip.

The day ended at the Big Chute rail lift, something I have not been looking forward to. But it turns out it is just a big travel lift built on a customized railroad car which is cable winched back and forth across a road and up and down a hill from the upper river to the lower. Given the terrain and the flow of the river, it looks to be as good a way as any to get boat traffic up and down the water way. Having watched the thing go back and forth all afternoon until the last lift of the day, it is clear these folks know exactly what they are doing.

The original rail car that was replaced with the much bigger one used today. This one

could only move one boat at a time instead of the 3-6 that the current one can.

The equipment room that houses the cable winches.

It's hard to see in the photo, but there are two sets of tracks. This allows

the car to stay relatively level while it descends the very steep hill. The back

end goes down the inside lower track and the front end goes down the higher track.

The lineup of boats waiting to transit. Not all of them made it today before they closed.

Which leaves open the question of when we will take our ride on the thing. Tomorrow's weather forecast includes rain and thunderstorms. Taking the ride in rain doesn't sound all that appealing. Taking the ride in thunderstorms would not be possible. When there is lightning around, they park their giant metal contraption driven by giant metal cables with an electrical ground of a railroad track that goes into the water at both ends. It certainly ranks among the biggest, most elaborate, of lightning rods I have ever seen. So we will have to see what the morning brings. If we have to sit for a day, well, we have been on the move for a long string of days. A day sitting will be a bit of a treat all of its own. 

And we are sitting in the Trent Severn. Enlightenment...

The narrow channels are well marked.

This little island was just big enough for the house. There was a boat garage in back.

Oops...my bad...

After another long/short day we are at a dock in a really nice marina that isn't mind boggling expensive. A bit of change from those south of the northern border of the US. We have a reservation for two nights. But weather may dictate that we take advantage of one more day without a forecast for storms to get back to moving along come morning. 

Though spending more time in the canal was part of the reason for another long day, the real reason was that I was in a bit of a rush to get going this morning. I really want to have the canal behind me as soon as possible. I know hundreds of people have used the canal without a problem. We have used the canal (so far) without a problem. But it is an experience I am not enjoying. Go slow, keep it in the middle of the channel as much as possible, try not to let the depth gauge spook you too much, and it is still a roll of the dice if you hit something or not. 

I am not a gambler. In my mind planning and skill should all but eliminate luck. That is not how it works in the canal. So I am on edge every minute we are in there.

In an attempt to get out of the canal as soon as possible, we had spent the night on the departure end of the lock, not needing to wait until it opened at 0900 to lock through and be on our way. First Light was underway with the fog still hanging over the surface of the water. What we weren't was on the departure side of a swing bridge that wasn't very far away. One that didn't have a bridge tender on site until 0900. Something Deb figured out while reviewing the route after the lock wall was well to our stern down the canal I really didn't want anything to do with. She usually reviews the route in detail either the night before or the morning before we leave. But we were exploring last evening and I was being a bit...insistent...this morning about getting going ASAP. We did get ourselves out of the canal pretty early. But having discovered that a swing bridge less operator was blocking our path, we sort of power drifted across the first lake of the day, averaging about a half a knot. We still managed to float up to the bridge a few minutes before there was anyone around to make it swing. So I got to play with power and rudder settings while moving at a snail's pace across a dead calm lake. And I have to admit, bad planning or not, being out of the canal made me smile.  Unfortunately, more canal lies in our future. But at least I got a break from it for a good part of today.

You gotta look at the good side...

Have I mentioned that I'm fascinated by bridge architecture???

The swing bridge we had to wait on.

We went through five locks in 4 miles but at least going down is much easier than locking up.

We caught up with S/V Spirit again who we hadn't seen for a couple weeks.

Good to be in wide, open, deep water again. Lake Simco.

Traffic entering Orillia was crazy.

Port of Orillia Marina. One of the nicest we've ever been at.

We've really lucked out on concerts this trip. This evening we enjoyed a big band concert in the park

by the marina with a view of the lake and absolutely perfect weather.