#15 Locks and Lessons

We were 48 days into the voyage, having locked 75 times up and down the Hudson, Erie, Oswego and Rideau, and not shared a single lock with more than three boats – until a hot humid (now the de facto description) Sunday afternoon on the Ottawa River west of Montreal. 

 The river is so wide here that portions are labeled “lakes” or “lacs”. That makes the perfect breeding ground for a recreational boating taken to the highest level of absurdity. 

We've never seen, experienced, or dodged the wakes of so many Clorox bottles and cigarette boats. 

Yee haw! Ride 'em cowboy.

It got even more interesting when we reached the Carillon Lock. Quite a contrast to the Ottawa Flight locks teeming with helpful college students who politely took our lines and threaded them through the poles on the lock walls. In comparison, this was a humungous lock, with an attendant using a bullhorn to shout instructions in French.

 Because the lock is so big and the drop is 65 feet there is nothing to grab onto along the walls. Instead, there is a floating dock inside, where assigned boats tie up, and the rest tie on, or “raft up” to them, in multiple rows, three to four across. Sally W ended up in the middle, feeling slightly like a fish out of water. Whereas a classic boat is a common sight in Maine, in these waters it is rare, and draws attention. Allan proudly stood at the bow receiving compliments and pretending to understand the French accolades.

 With sixteen boats in this sardine can, it felt like grid lock in Times Square or Christmas shopping at Macy's, except that most were doing anything but paying attention to the 45-minutes elevator ride down. It got even hotter as we descended into the chamber – no breeze off the lake.

But the finale was worth it as we passed under the lift gate, one of very few in the world on the down side of a lock. Lucky for us, we had experienced another of these rarities on the Erie Canal at Lock 17 in Little Falls, another lock with big change in elevation.

Not much farther down the river, it was deja vu all over again at the Sainte-Anne de Bellevue Lock. This passage marked the end of the Ottawa River and we tied up below the lock for the night and enjoyed a delicious meal ashore.

 We probably didn't sleep as well as we might have due to the anticipation of the next morning's navigational challenge – the biggest of the entire trip: the passage from Sainte-Anne to the Saint Lawrence River.

The charts show this junction of the Ottawa and Saint Lawrence as a large body of water, but indicate VERY shallow parts. And because this summer's weather has been so “de facto” (refer to above mention) there has been little rain and the river levels are down about four feet!

We have been studying this stretch since last winter – truly. The channel is well-marked; basically a zig-zag, first going with the current, then against, and finally with the flow once again. On top of that, the channel markers change twice, from green on the right and red on the left, to red/right – green/left, and back again to green/right – red/left.

It was a quiet calm morning and the passage went without a hitch. 

As the course straightened out, buoy colors made sense once again, we rode the two-knot current, remembering our mantra ... principle: Justa Keepa Go!

Very soon we entered the Canal de la Rive Sud on the Saint Lawrence Seaway, with the agreement to share the canal with 275 meter cargo ships, should any appear.

But confrontation never happened. Now we know why the locks here are sooooo big!

There are two locks between here and access to downtown Montreal. Since these are primarily for commercial traffic, it meant yet another new drill. Instead of wrapping our lines to lock walls, the lock tenders threw us lines to secure our boats.

The reason became obvious as we descended down, down, down. We shared the large cavern with two other pleasure boats, each paying $25. Wonder how much the cargo ships pay.

 The second lock was a carbon copy, but worth a mention because just after entering, we experienced our first downpour since June 12. We wouldn't have minded standing out in the rain, but the lock tender thought it would be considerate to delay the descent until it passed.

We then learned that the cardinal rule of boating – “Make no plans” - needed to be amended. Sometimes it pays so do so. For our stay in Montreal, our first choice was the marina in the old port, a popular place in the middle of the action. Unfortunately, to get there we would have had to turn 180 degrees and go upriver for two miles, fighting a 5-6 knot current. With a cruising speed of 7 knots, ole Sally W wasn't up to it. Besides, it didn't sound like quite the place for SW; full of speed boats, and all the “stuff that goes with it.” Not quite the place for us either. So, we called a marina on the east bank; full! Ooh. Now what? 

Only one more choice, the Marina La Ronde on the tip of Ile Saint-Helene, site of Expo 67 and the Formula One track. And look, an amusement park, with not one, but two roller coasters right next to the tired-looking marina.

We had no choice, and cautiously bumped our way into the basin with water levels four feel below normal. Nevertheless, we settled in and turned the entertainment into an adventure, savoring the photo op,  and calculating the amount of money made from the 36 seats making a round trip every 100 seconds.

It seems riding in the dark enhances the thrill, and we listened to the clatter well into the night. Funny how the tonal pitch of a scream is universal. Once again ... Justa Keepa Go!

During the night we decided to forego a visit into Montreal. It's a great city which we have experienced in the past. The de facto weather conditions would not have enhanced our memory bank. Instead, the cruise down the Saint Lawrence (actually "up" if you're talking direction) provided great interest.

It couldn't be classified as "scenic" in terms of natural beauty, but demonstrates how great rivers are important in world commerce. 

 
 

 It's always good to spot a tug at work.

The shapes of bows reveal a boat's purpose. We surmise that this one is transporting Nickel from northern Canada. The boat name and probable route suggest encounters with ice. Hence the bow design which allows it to ride up on the ice and break it up to create a channel.

On most ships, a bulbous bow is more efficient than a sharp one. 

Even though this boat was not at anchor, why was it discharging water through its washdown? We thought that ships and boats were not allowed to discharge, period.

And finally, a tip of the hat to the Canadian Coast Guard. Who wouldn't like to have the assignment on this hovercraft? 

Similar thrills.