We pulled off the dock and within a few hundred yards were in a lock. Not sure why they call it a “lock”. Maybe the term comes from locking the boat in a giant bathtub. Then filling it up or pulling the plug depending on if you are going up to reach the river level on one side of the dam or going down to river level on the other side of the dam. First Light was going up. And up. And up again and again. We cleared the last of the first five locks of the day less than two hours after leaving the dock. Sometimes we could see the next lock in line almost as soon as we cleared the one we just left. It was an intense way to start a day.
Yesterday we dug out every spare fender we had and rigged the port side of the boat to grind its way up the concrete walls without grinding off fiberglass. Five fenders and one fender board did the trick. The next trick was getting through the open gates and against the wall without looking like a total novice. Though the truth was, when the day started we were total novices at getting a 42' power boat through a lock.
We had a couple of things going our way. The first was that we had all the locks to ourselves. The only lock traffic we saw was two boats waiting to go down as we exited having just come up. In addition, the weather was perfect for the first few locks. Perfect as in no wind. Later the wind picked up.
These locks have ropes hanging down the walls. I would pull the boat up to one line for Deb to grab from the bow. The I would try to swing the stern toward the wall, remember to put both engines in neutral, scamper down the ladder from the flybridge, and grab a line near the stern. Then we would both alternate between pulling the boat back toward the wall and then pushing it away as the inrushing water swirled around, seemingly trying to move the boat in every direction at the same time.
We had read up on the proper procedures to use. One of the warnings repeated over and over again was to never put the ropes on a cleat. But the last few locks that we faced threw in a good amount of wind swirling around along with the water. It was physically impossible to hold the boat in place by just pulling on the rope. So, don't cleat the rope. But run the rope around cleat to add some mechanical advantage. Problem solved.
In addition to the locks we also ran across a "guard gate". A "guard gate" allows the powers that be to isolate a portion of the canal in case of a catastrophic failure of...something. All I know is that one of Lock Tenders had to drive off after we cleared his lock to open the gate for us. Imagine crawling under a guillotine hoping no one trips it at the wrong time.
We saw one other challenge at the locks. Debris. Apparently locks attract logs, branches, and little rafts of assorted propeller damaging junk. The rivers, so far, have been remarkably clear of things to dodge. But the entry and exit from a couple of today's locks involved getting around damage-doing stuff while not banging into the concrete walls lining the entry to the locks. If I do say so myself (And I do) it took some fancy shift / throttle work to get in and out a couple of times. I might be getting the hang of driving this thing.
Shortly after the last lock, we settled in along a “high wall” dock. Never heard of a high wall dock before, but that is exactly what it is. The top of the “dock” is even with our fly bridge. Climb 5 rungs of a steel latter to get off the boat. The wall is well equipped with long, beefy, rubber bumpers and we have three fenders deployed as well. It is okay, but not the kind of dock I would care to be on for very long.
On a completely different subject, right now we are about 130 miles away from the coast south of us, and about 150 miles from the coast east of us. Given that the current hurricane season has just unleashed its first Cat 5 hurricane and did so before July was in full swing? Those two numbers make me smile. There are challenges with being a river boat pilot. There can be lots of traffic, narrow channels, twisty paths that are not always very wide, big boats to work around in close quarters, and locks. The Great Lakes (yet to be transversed) can be as deadly as any ocean. But, all things considered, river travel is far more mellow than is open water sailing. I really do cherish the years we spent on Kintala, and wouldn't trade them away. But if we had retired (the first time) and taken off down the river from St. Louis on America's Great Loop? We know a guy who has done the loop more than 30 times. Around and around and around he goes. I can certainly see the attraction. So far we have seen fabulous vistas, visited interesting towns, and putted long with very little stress and no more at risk than taking a road trip. I'd happily tackle 100 locks rather than a single 0400 foray up to the foredeck to wrestle down a jammed head sail in 20 knot winds on 5 foot seas out in the middle of nowhere. Retirement should be a happy walk at the end of a good life. Not the thing that that kills you. And, so far, this has been a pretty happy walk.
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