Saturday, June 10th --- the Erie Canal's Locks
Saturday, June 10th.
We pulled up the anchor at 7:10 am – We were trying to see if we could go 50+ miles today.
In advance, I'm sorry if today's post is a little boring.
Along the Erie Canal, two towers usually guard each lock. Inside one of the towers sits the lock-master, a US-government employee who controls the lock. Surprisingly, each lock-master we talked with seemed to really take pride in his lock, and was very helpful and friendly.
Once the light was green, we would drive our boat into the lock through thick, solid metal gates. Most of the time, we were the only boat in the lock. However, the locks can hold several boats, depending on the size of boats and size of lock. Inside the gates, I would grab a line (rope), with the boat hook; the line was connected to the top of the lock. Once I got a hold of the line, I merely held onto it to help control the boat. You can only imagine that this line was wet and slimy, as it runs the whole length of the wall. Luckily Rick suggested that I wear my old pair of sailing gloves
.
So now -- the boat is in the lock, the fenders are keeping the boat away from the cement wall, and both Rick (in the stern) and I (in the bow) have hold of the wall-ropes --- Next the lock-master would close the gates behind us, and water would start being pumped into/out of the chamber, ... and --- mayhem begins! -- Not all at once, but due to water being pumped in to raise the water level in the lock, little currents would start to flow, often sucking our boat right up to the wet, slimy, rough-concrete wall. Or sometimes the current would start pushing our boat forward or backwards, or both! And if I pulled on my rope too hard, I’d pull the bow up close to the wall, and then the stern would swing out …. And then, Rick would pull on his rope, and arghhhh! Poor Zingara would be bumping/rocking back and forth, and blah, blah, blah! And if we were too close to the wall, our fenders would get squished and would get dragged up the wet, slimy, rough-concrete wall, collecting all that muddy slim onto them.
More than 50% of the time, we were in the lock by ourselves, so there was no room for embarrassment, but that also meant that we haven’t learned how to finesse these locks properly. When other boats where in the locks with us, they seemed to have as much trouble as we did!
And the higher/bigger change in elevation, the longer the water had to raise, and the longer we had to fight with Zingara to keep her safe. Once the water had reached the correct level, the gates in front of us would open, Rick would throw off his stern rope, and run back to the helm. Once he put the engines back into “Forward”, I would cast off my bow line, and walk to the back of the boat, to push off if the stern got too close to the (now) cement dock. Then I’d walk back up towards the front of the boat, bringing the wet, slimy fenders in onto the deck, while sighting distances to Rick as we moved into open waters. It was exhausting! Then, I’d pull off my wet, slimy (have I said that often enough?) gloves, put them out to dry, then go wash my hands!
And then, we’d do it all over again …. for the next lock, ... that we came up to within the next several miles!
It really made for long, tiring days.
Here are some pictures;
Lock #17 -- very intimidating! The largest-lift Lock on the canal – 40.7 feet >> a four-story building.
But in between --- we saw some of the most beautiful wilderness!
That evening, we docked right after going through Lock #15. We met a very nice couple from Washington State, Bob & Gail, on the boat “The Good Life” and they invited us over (all the way down the dock 20 feet) for cocktails.
We pulled up the anchor at 7:10 am – We were trying to see if we could go 50+ miles today.
In advance, I'm sorry if today's post is a little boring.
Along the Erie Canal, two towers usually guard each lock. Inside one of the towers sits the lock-master, a US-government employee who controls the lock. Surprisingly, each lock-master we talked with seemed to really take pride in his lock, and was very helpful and friendly.
Once Zingara was about a mile away from a lock, we would get on the VHS radio and call
“Lock # (whatever lock it might be), Lock #, this is a westbound trawler.
When is your next opening?”
We would get info/timing from the lock-master. Once the lock was in view, a light near the top of one of the towers would confirm our directions – it was mainly a traffic light – red means >> don’t enter; either the lock was being used by an eastbound boat or filling up, OR the light was green >> com’on in.
My job was to get the fenders ready –> depending on info from lock-master, I would “prepare” either the right (starboard) or left (port) side of the boat, meaning that I would make sure the fenders were properly over the correct side of the boat. Fenders protect the boat from scrapes/scratches/damage while in the lock. Once the light was green, we would drive our boat into the lock through thick, solid metal gates. Most of the time, we were the only boat in the lock. However, the locks can hold several boats, depending on the size of boats and size of lock. Inside the gates, I would grab a line (rope), with the boat hook; the line was connected to the top of the lock. Once I got a hold of the line, I merely held onto it to help control the boat. You can only imagine that this line was wet and slimy, as it runs the whole length of the wall. Luckily Rick suggested that I wear my old pair of sailing gloves
.
So now -- the boat is in the lock, the fenders are keeping the boat away from the cement wall, and both Rick (in the stern) and I (in the bow) have hold of the wall-ropes --- Next the lock-master would close the gates behind us, and water would start being pumped into/out of the chamber, ... and --- mayhem begins! -- Not all at once, but due to water being pumped in to raise the water level in the lock, little currents would start to flow, often sucking our boat right up to the wet, slimy, rough-concrete wall. Or sometimes the current would start pushing our boat forward or backwards, or both! And if I pulled on my rope too hard, I’d pull the bow up close to the wall, and then the stern would swing out …. And then, Rick would pull on his rope, and arghhhh! Poor Zingara would be bumping/rocking back and forth, and blah, blah, blah! And if we were too close to the wall, our fenders would get squished and would get dragged up the wet, slimy, rough-concrete wall, collecting all that muddy slim onto them.
More than 50% of the time, we were in the lock by ourselves, so there was no room for embarrassment, but that also meant that we haven’t learned how to finesse these locks properly. When other boats where in the locks with us, they seemed to have as much trouble as we did!
And the higher/bigger change in elevation, the longer the water had to raise, and the longer we had to fight with Zingara to keep her safe. Once the water had reached the correct level, the gates in front of us would open, Rick would throw off his stern rope, and run back to the helm. Once he put the engines back into “Forward”, I would cast off my bow line, and walk to the back of the boat, to push off if the stern got too close to the (now) cement dock. Then I’d walk back up towards the front of the boat, bringing the wet, slimy fenders in onto the deck, while sighting distances to Rick as we moved into open waters. It was exhausting! Then, I’d pull off my wet, slimy (have I said that often enough?) gloves, put them out to dry, then go wash my hands!
And then, we’d do it all over again …. for the next lock, ... that we came up to within the next several miles!
It really made for long, tiring days.
Here are some pictures;
 |
| driving up to the lock ... |
 |
| once inside |
 |
| A boat(s) behind us |
But in between --- we saw some of the most beautiful wilderness!
 |
| Reminded me of an infinity pool |
And met some wonderful people!
That evening, we docked right after going through Lock #15. We met a very nice couple from Washington State, Bob & Gail, on the boat “The Good Life” and they invited us over (all the way down the dock 20 feet) for cocktails.
 |
| The Bridge at Lock 15 at sundown |
Comments
Post a Comment