Locked Through and in Deep Water

Day 75  |  Port Severn to Franklin Island  |  7.2 Hours  |  53 Miles

Yesterday on the way to Port Severn we passed under the last of the low 22-foot clearance bridges which had required us to lower our mast. First thing this morning we raised the mast back to normal position and were thankful to get back the use of our flybridge. With this bit of restoration, Crossroads also got her swagger back, and just looked better.

We were called into the first loading of Lock No. 45 at 9:00 along with two other boats. We squeezed in with little room to spare, were lowered 12 feet, and were then on our way.

Lock 45 was the final one on the Trent-Severn Waterway which spanned a distance of 240 miles from Trenton. This was also our last lock for a while (more to come after Chicago) and part of me will miss the rush of pulling into the lock, calling out position distances to Barry over the headset, snagging and securing my line to the drop cable, watching the gates close and feeling the water level rise or fall. My view from the stern was always a bit limited, but today I saw something that I had not seen before: graffiti -- written in the wall scum. I took great comfort in knowing that "Drake was Here" just prior to our passage. (below right)

One final note on the locks. Since we've been underway on the Loop, we've passed through four canal systems -- Champlain, Chambly, the St. Lawrence Seaway, and the Trent-Severn -- for a total of 66 locks. All have been interesting in there own right. Some I'll never forget. Some I want to forget.

From the exit of Lock No. 45 we had one more white-knuckle passage to clear. This narrow little channel (maybe 20 feet wide, we're 16 feet wide) finally led to Georgian Bay with its abyss-like depth and wide open water. Knowing that we would be at anchor tonight, I brought all the fenders onboard so that we didn't look so much like a tug boat. (Its generally frowned up to be underway with fenders down. You get a free pass on these style points when you're running the canals.) For close to five hours we sped along at our newly found mid-range cruise speed with the assistance of the autopilot. The trip was much like our journeys down the Chesapeake to Cape Charles with low rolling waves, an occasional hint of civilization along the shore ... and FLIES! Worse yet, biting flies. Barry and I each kept a swatter at close draw with a goal of getting them before they got us.

The open water was a nice break, but sights were few and far between -- an occasional granite island rising out of the deep, a few other boats, and the Red Rock Lighthouse (that's a helipad on top).

The small vessel channel in this area is closed as the Parry Sound 33 wildfire has been burning in Ontario for several weeks. With a southwest wind blowing today, we did not see or smell any smoke. As the afternoon progressed we made our way closer to shore to find an anchorage for the evening in advance of an approaching thunderstorm. We dropped the hook and 150 feet of chain as the thunder roared in the distance. We watched as the wall of rain moved closer to us. The wind then kicked up to over 30 kts, whipping up the waves to rolling whitecaps. The anchor held strong and we each took a nap as the storm cell passed over us. We awoke to significantly cooler temperatures and are hoping for good sleeping while on the hook tonight.

Tomorrow's route will take us further north in Georgian Bay towards Killarney. This should be our final night in a Canadian town and we have a mission ... to spend the remainder of our Canadian currency.