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.