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AURORA's Great Circle Voyage
One of the advantages of retirement is having blocks of time available in which to take extended trips. My wife, Marge, was still working, but as a teacher she had the summers off, and this was now giving us the freedom to travel to more distant ports aboard the Eagle 32 trawler AURORA, we had bought three years earlier. In 2001 we had cruised from Philadelphia to Maine, and the following summer we embarked on our most ambitious voyage yet, a three-year journey around the eastern third of North America, to be taken in three summer segments. The plan was to spend the first summer (2002) traveling north via Lake Champlain to Montreal and Ottawa, then via the Rideau Canal and the Trent-Severn Waterway to Georgian Bay, and through the Straits of Mackinac to Chicago, where the boat would be laid up for the winter. The next summer was to be spent exploring the western rivers–we wanted to cruise the upper Mississippi, visit relatives and friends on the Tennessee, and to ascend the Ohio to Pittsburgh, where AURORA would spend the second winter. Then in 2004 we would bring the boat home by traveling back down the Ohio River, through the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway to Mobile, along the Gulf coast to Florida, through Lake Okeechobee, and finally the home stretch up the Atlantic coast to Philadelphia.
We had eight weeks to play with in the summer of 2002, but with a complication of also wanting to attend my niece’s wedding in California. So here is what we did. At the end of June we left Philadelphia on the boat and in the first week took it to Albany near the top of the tidal Hudson. Then we left the boat for two weeks and traveled by train to San Luis Obispo via Toronto, Vancouver, and Seattle (taking a train across Canada is a travel experience not to be missed), and returned via Denver, and Chicago. [For the record note that both the Albany Yacht Club and the Albany Amtrak station, which are within walking distance of each other, are across the river in Rensselaer, but that Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (RPI) is in Troy.] Returning to Albany we had five weeks left to get the boat to Chicago, where we planned to leave it for the winter. We made it, but it was a long way to travel at 7½ knots and we had to keep moving. Now for some of the details. Leaving Philadelphia, it was a long day down the Delaware River and Bay to Cape May. The second day took us up the Jersey coast to Little Egg Inlet and then inside to Harvey Cedars, where we met with some of Marge’s friends from school. The next morning it was out Barnegat Inlet and up the coast to New York Harbor and Jersey City. The skies were clear and sunny, and the seas flat for both of our ocean legs. Because our next port of call was Tarrytown, only 28 miles up the Hudson, leaving Jersey City we detoured around the east side of Manhattan via the East and Harlem rivers. Lots of bridges on the Harlem, but fortunately their 24-foot controlling clearance posed no problem, except for the low Amtrak swing bridge at Spuyten Duyvil. He made us wait 40 minutes for an opening, even though no trains crossed in that span of time. Traveling up the Hudson the only significant event was foolishly running out of fuel at Coxsackie and having to row the dinghy ashore for more. Negotiating our first lock at Troy, we left tidewater and started our climb to the summit of the Champlain Canal. The Champlain Canal follows the Hudson River to Fort Edward and uses a pure cut to reach the south end of Lake Champlain at Whitehall. At first the lake is narrow, appearing more like a river, but then it starts to widen, Fort Ticonderoga is passed, and then the lake broadens significantly with the Adirondacks to the west and Vermont’s less rugged Green Mountains on the east side. After a fine dinner in Burlington, watching the sun set behind the Adirondack high peaks across the lake constituted a perfect ending to a perfect day. The next day we hoisted the Canadian flag to the top of our mast after clearing Customs at Rouses Point. The buoys, the charts, the money, and the landscape now all looked different, and everyone spoke French. The Quebec landscape looks like France with compact communities centered on a church with a silver-painted onion domes, neat farms, and roads lined with poplars. [Ontario in contrast looks much more like America.] More locks now taking us down, essentially reaching sea level at St. Ours. At Sorel we entered the wide St. Lawrence, turned the corner, and headed upstream to Montreal. Although no barriers exist between Montreal and the open sea, tides do not extend above Trois-Rivieres and the current ebbs continuously, mostly between one and three knots. However, the current strengthens as Montreal is approached and in order to reach Port d’Escales in the heart of Old Montreal, it is necessary to buck a five-knot current for about a mile. Visiting Montreal is like a trip to Europe; cathedrals, old buildings, narrow streets, great restaurants, foreign languages, and a rubber-tired subway. At Montreal further navigation on the river is stopped by the Lachine rapids (they were once thought to block the route to China), and it is necessary to enter the St. Lawrence Seaway to proceed further. Here are huge locks designed for deep draft shipping and two, at C$20 each, must be negotiated to reach Lac St. Louis and the Ottawa River. Fortunately, we did not have to wait for any ships and were able to lock through promptly. Once in the Ottawa River there is only one more lock to negotiate in order to reach Canada’s capital, Ottawa, but it is a tall one requiring a lift of 65 feet. This is Carilon dam, a major hydroelectric facility operated by Quebec Hydro. [Since so much of the country’s electric power is generated by water, Canadians refer to commercial electricity as hydro.] The Rideau Canal links Ottawa with Kingston on Lake Ontario. Billed as the oldest continuously operating canal on the continent, the Rideau was opened in 1832 and was built as a defensive measure to protect Canadian commerce from possible American predation in the event of war. [The Erie Canal was built earlier, but it was replaced in 1907 with the larger and realigned State Barge Canal.] Leaving the Ottawa River, one is immediately faced with the eight step locks ascending to the top of the bluff on which the city sits. This is a literal staircase where the upper gate of one lock represents the lower gate of the next. It takes more than two hours to negotiate the set, and one cannot stop once one starts, but having reached the top, one is in downtown Ottawa at the foot of Parliament. Altogether there are 45 locks on this canal. The canal wends through the city in a park like setting and on the outskirt joins the Rideau River. Reaching the headwaters of the river, the route passes through a series of wooded lakes, many ringed with summer cottages. The descent to Kingston is made via the Cataraqui River. On the last bridge before entering Kingston harbor, we raked our antenna along the underside of the span. Although the chart indicated an adequate 18 feet, we failed to consider that Lake Ontario was then 1.5 feet above chart datum. Fortunately, no damage was done, but we did learn a lesson. There may be no tides here, but water levels do fluctuate and one must pay attention to reported water levels. Now it was an easy passage along the Z-shaped Bay of Quinte to Trenton, the start of the Trent-Severn Waterway, but first we paid a call to Belleville. This was of interest, because for the 23 years before buying the trawler, we had sailed a C&C Corvette, a 31-foot keel-centerboard sloop, and the Corvettes had been built in Belleville. The original construction shed is now the Harbour Club, an upscale fitness center. But the man who owned the adjacent marina was the son of the original builder and we talked at length about the boats. The Trent-Severn Waterway provides a direct connection to Georgian Bay on the north side of Lake Huron, and although circuitous, it avoids the need to traverse the much longer route via Niagara and Detroit and across the lengths of Lakes Ontario, Erie, and Huron. Roughly 240 miles long, this route contains 44 locks, including three of the most intriguing lifting devices to be found anywhere. At Campbellford, one day into the route, we met up with LODESTAR, a 36-foot Island Gypsy we had met weeks earlier at Whitehall, NY. The owners, Larry and Ruth Mieras, were a congenial retired couple from Michigan, he a retired engineer with Ford Motor, and since they were traveling along the same route, we joined them for several days of cruising through the remainder of the waterway and along the north shore of Georgian Bay. They were good company and we learned a lot about Great Lakes boating and local weather. The highest point on the waterway was reached at Balsam Lake, 841 feet above sea level. This is certainly the highest AURORA has ever been. In addition to the traditionally designed locks, the waterway includes two lift locks, at Peterborough and Kirkfield, and a marine railway at Big Chute. In a lift lock the entire lock, including water and boats, are carried up and down. There are two side-by-side locks connected with hydraulic pistons that operate simultaneously in opposite directions. The descending lock carries slightly more water whose extra weight is sufficient to push the other lock up. While more complex, these locks offer two advantages: the first being that it is easier to achieve a greater left height; and the second that it conserves water, as only a relatively small amount is dumped with each locking. At Big Chute a large railway car carries five boats at a time from one level to the other. After boats power into the submerged car, the car is hauled out of the water with the boats resting on their keels and supported by padded arms rising from the bottom of the car. The front and rear wheels run on separate tracks which are designed with a profile that keeps the car level as it is hauled first up and then down the hill. A small craft channel runs the length of Georgian Bay along its north side through mostly protected water. The route is crooked through rock-studded waterways, but the channel, although in places quite narrow, is well marked. Running aground here is serious business, typically entailing a salvage operation, so one had best pay attention. Towns are far apart, but the bigger ones, such as Parry Sound, Killarney, and Little Current offer a full range of services. The water is clear, watch those rocks, and the scenery sometimes spectacular, particularly through Collins Inlet. While summer homes are common at the southern end of the bay, the population thins out as one heads west and north. Heading into the North Channel from Little Current, there is less protected water and more exposure on long legs. Still the weather held good and we reached Thessalon, our last port of call in Canada. This was also our furthest north point at 46E 15'. The town reminded me of Alaska, frame houses set apart, surrounded by spruce forest; mining and lumbering being the principal activities. Unlike many of the other stops, this was not a place frequented by tourists. Now it was back to U.S. waters. We cleared customs by radio at Drummond Island and proceeded to De Tour Passage, which is part of the shipping channel from Lake Huron to Lake Superior. We had planned to cross Lake Huron to Cheboygan, MI, but a rough head sea convinced us it was not worth the effort and we returned to De Tour Village. The next day we powered through moderately rough seas to Mackinaw City. The wind blows almost constantly through the Straits of Mackinac and the seas here were the roughest we encountered on the entire trip. There are large windmills on the surrounding high ground generating commercial electric power. Unlike most of the trip, traveling on Lake Michigan is largely across open water. We first backtracked a short distance to Mackinac Island, an island with no cars, only horse-drawn carriages. Even this short trip was bouncy and we got our windows well washed, but hey, no salt here and everything dries clean. Then it was through the Straits and on to Beaver Island, our first port on Lake Michigan. We then crossed to the west side of the lake, passed through Green Bay behind the Door Peninsula, and returned via the Sturgeon Canal to Lake Michigan. It is quite pretty here with much of the shoreline consisting of limestone cliffs, and we did enjoy flat water. But leaving the Sturgeon Canal, it was again rough and we put into Kewaunee, WI, a sport fishing port with a great antique mall. The next day the lake was calmer, but fog rolled in, persisting on and off for two days. Thank goodness for radar, as we needed it to find the jettied entrance to Port Washington, WI. A stop at Waukegan and a final day’s run on a beautiful calm sunny day brought us to our destination, Chicago. We left the boat on a mooring in Monroe Harbor on the city’s lakefront and headed home after being away for eight weeks. Three weeks later I returned and moved the boat to Crowley’s Yard on the South Branch of the Chicago River, where it was hauled and packed away for the winter. This yard, which caters primarily to sailboats, provided us with excellent service and in addition to storage, overhauled our windlass, which had been proving increasingly balky in its operation. [Crowley’s has since relocated further south to the Calumet River.]
The plan for 2003 was to explore as much of the inland river system as we could, while ending up in Pittsburgh by the third week of August. An added complication this summer was that we decided to bring our two cats, Leo and Teak, with us on the boat. They had stayed at home the previous year, and although receiving regular visits and care from a neighbor, they were clearly unhappy about being left alone for eight weeks. They actually adapted quite well to life afloat. They quickly learned to use the litter box, which had been placed in the shower, they never fell overboard, at least not this summer, nor did they go ashore and get lost. And they were good company on those long days in the pilot house. The 327-mile Illinois Waterway (all distances in this part of the narrative are in statute miles) now provides the only navigable waterway between the Great Lakes and the Mississippi River system. Once canals in Ohio and Wisconsin provided alternate routes, but they were abandoned a century ago. The Illinois Waterway uses the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal (obviously a name not coined by realtors) to connect the South Branch of the Chicago River with the Des Plaines River. This joins with the Kankakee River below Joliet to form the Illinois River, which then flows southwest to join the Mississippi at Grafton, IL. Heavily used by barges carrying gravel, coal, and chemicals, the waterway provides a 12-foot channel and uses eight locks to drop from Lake Michigan (578 feet above sea level) to the Mississippi River (419 feet). A little more than an hour after leaving our winter berth, we experienced our first emergency when the tachometer started behaving erratically and the engine temperature began rising. We shut the engine down and anchored near the side of the canal . But the canal was narrow, the wind was swinging the stern out to midchannel, a half mile away a towboat was pushing a barge toward us, and we had no power. I first radioed the towboat to inform him of the situation, and then launched our dinghy so I could row the stern over to the near bank and tie it off to a bush. Once the barge had safely passed, we could focus on troubleshooting the engine. A hose connecting the coolant reservoir to the block had split and dumped slippery antifreeze on the alternator belt. Since the alternator controlled the tachometer, this explained both the overheating and the bouncing needle. Fortunately we had a spare hose and more antifreeze, so the problem was not hard to correct, provided we did not get run over by a barge first. Nothing like a little excitement to start a trip. Five days after leaving Chicago, we reached the Mississippi, which was wider and deeper than the Illinois. The water was also muddier, and the tows now contained up to 15 barges, five rows of three across, carrying mostly export grain bound for New Orleans. They appear quite formidable with a total length of almost 1200 feet and a width of about 100 feet, though they draw only nine feet fully loaded. Considering that each barge carries about 1500 tons, the equivalent of 15 railroad hoppers, there is a lot of wheat moving down this river. We had thought about ascending the Missouri River to see how far west we could get, and frankly, Nebraska seemed like an exotic destination to a pair of East Coast sailors. Also, it seemed to be in tune with all the Lewis and Clark hoopla. However, a little research showed that it was 732 miles to the head of navigation at Sioux City, IA and that it was a free running river, no dams or locks, with an average current of three knots, reaching six on some stretches. Since AURORA’s cruising speed is only 7.5 knots, we decided we needed a faster boat to handle this river. So we decided to head up the Mississippi, and to put ourselves in the proper mood, we bought a copy of Mark Twain’s “Life on the Mississippi”. While the river is free running below St. Louis, vessels ascending to the Twin Cities must negotiate 27 locks. Two additional locks carry boats to a pool above St. Anthony’s Falls at Minneapolis. Because of the level of traffic and the fact that most of the locks are 600 feet long (only three are 1200 feet), the barge tows must be broken in two in order to lock through, a process taking about two hours, and locks constitute a major source of delay. It is not unusual to see queues of two to four tows waiting for lockage above and below dams. Generally the lockmasters do not make small boats wait their turn and will put them through at the first opportunity, but one still has to wait for whatever lockage is in process. Most of these locks were designed with parallel auxiliary locks, but generally they were never completed, are inoperable, or staff is insufficient to operate both sets. [There may be a lot of money going into the Department of Defense, but it is not going to the Army Corps of Engineers.] Delays would be reduced considerably if these auxiliary locks could be used when warranted by traffic. Weighted lines are placed at intervals along the walls on the Mississippi locks, as well as those on the Illinois, to give small boat crews something to hang onto when riding up or down. Because of the turbulence generated when filling a lock, going up is trickier than going down. Samuel Clemens (a k a Mark Twain) grew up in Hannibal, MO, a river town surrounded by scenic wooded bluffs. A small boat harbor convenient to stores makes this a good port of call, although the area around Clemens’s restored boyhood home is somewhat touristy. [We had breakfast at the Becky Thatcher diner.] Walking around the older part of town, one almost expects to run into Clemens, or at least Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn. However, if you plan to dock here for the night, be aware that both BNSF and Norfolk Southern have busy freight lines running past the harbor and the trains run all night. The long abandoned Hennepin Canal comes in alongside the Rock River at the Quad Cities (Rock Island and Moline, IL, and Davenport and Bettendorf, IA). This canal, also known at the Illinois & Mississippi, ran east to Hennepin, IL on the Illinois River above Peoria, and would have saved us almost 400 miles had it still been in use. We reached Lock 14 (they are numbered going down river from Minneapolis) on 3rd July and here there is an operable auxiliary lock used on weekends and holidays, but it feeds into the Leclair Canal which runs behind an island and a submerged dike for three miles before rejoining the main channel. After anchoring in the canal for the night, the next morning we headed up the canal. Seeing two rock piles about 40 feet apart with a sign indicating it was a pass to the main channel, we headed slowly around the piles. The water suddenly shoaled and crunch, we were up on a submerged rock wall unable to back off. It turns out we were supposed to go between the rock piles. A passing skiff tried to tow us off, but only succeeded in wrapping a line around our propellor. We lightened the load by dumping our fresh water (120 gallon tank) and called the Coast Guard, which got a response from an Auxiliary patrol boat. He was too light to be effective, but he took us to a nearby marina, where he corralled a friend with a more powerful house boat (and we think he also called another friend at the dam who may have raised the river a few inches). We were pulled off the dike and towed to the marina for haul out. There was some damage to the keel, but it was minor and did not affect the structural integrity of the hull, so after untangling the line from the prop, we went back into the water. Both the Auxiliary and the tower refused to take any money, so the only cost at that point was for the haul out, but what a way to spend the Fourth! We later discovered the autopilot was not working and we had to hand steer, but autopilots are rarely found on Mississippi River pleasure craft; so that simply reduced us to the level of everyone else. We arrived at Dubuque, 364 miles above the mouth of the Illinois River on 6th July, and figured this was as far as we could go on the Mississippi, given that we had friends to visit on the Tennessee and had to be in Pittsburgh by the third week of August. Dubuque is a charming city, well worth a visit, and is the home of the recently opened Mississippi River Museum, located behind the river wall in the Ice Harbor. The harbor was originally built as a winter refuge for river boats, a place where they would be protected from moving ice and floods. The museum, partly supported by the Smithsonian, covers all aspects of the river from its natural history through its culture to modern commerce. Unfortunately, no docking or mooring space has been provided for boaters and the marinas are some distance away. One can tie to the outside of the concrete river wall, but there one is exposed to the wakes of passing boats. One cannot write about the Mississippi without mentioning the mayflies. Emerging from the nymph stage in huge swarms, the adults have only rudimentary mouths and no digestive system, and only survive one or two days, running on stored energy. Their only role is to mate and lay eggs for the next generation. They neither sting nor bite, but by sheer numbers they cover everything. The decks and cabin structures are covered, along with parked automobiles, light fixtures, and other exposed surfaces. Mainly they pose a cleaning and disposal problem. And the next morning you may have to repeat the process. A few days later the problem is over, but while swarming, they hit hard. Cruising the inland rivers is different than cruising the east coast. The pace of life is slower, prices are lower (transient dockage goes from 50-75¢ per foot), and the people are certainly hospitable. At Davenport the Lindsay Park Yacht Club welcomed us for two nights and had a member who knew something about autopilots. He discovered that the rudder post had been pushed up d of an inch, and this had dislodged the rudder position indicator. After repositioning the indicator on a square of plywood, our autopilot was back in action. At Burlington, IA, where we stopped both going up and coming down, the marina manager took us to the grocery store and arranged for a service man to come down first thing in the morning and repair our air conditioner, which was greatly appreciated later in Alabama and Tennessee. At Florence, AL, on the Tennessee, the marina loaned us a van to get groceries and included laundry facilities with the dockage. All along the rivers, we were asked if we needed anything and they would offer to loan us their car. However, without a car provisioning was often difficult. Retail activity has largely left the traditional towns. While finding restaurants and banks was rarely a problem, few towns had grocery, hardware, and drug stores located within walking distances of the docks, and boating supplies were almost non-existent. After leaving Chicago, we did not find a good chandlery until arriving at Pittsburgh. One huge disappointment was St. Louis. Here we have a major metropolitan area with visitor attractions galore, as well as cultural and sporting events, but no place to dock. Unless one can obtain permission to tie alongside a barge, there are no facilities at all for small boats. The nearest marina is at Alton, 22 miles up river. All one can do is to pass under the bridges, admiring the skyline and the impressive arch, and keep going. Below St. Louis the river is wider, the current stronger, and the surrounding land flatter. Going with the current, we had no trouble covering the 180 miles to Cairo, IL and the mouth of the Ohio in two days. With no locks to negotiate, the tows now contained as many as 30 barges, six rows of five across. It is hard to appreciate how large these are until you actually meet one. Turning the corner into the Ohio, it was only 46 miles up to Paducah and the mouth of the Tennessee River, but it was a rainy summer, the river was high, and it took us all day to cover the distance. In fact as the river had completely covered the bottom two dams on the Ohio, we were able to pass over without locking. Paducah is a major towboat center with several towing companies headquartered here, along with floating dry docks and repair facilities. Formed by the French Broad and Holston rivers flowing out of the Smoky Mountains and joining just above Knoxville, the Tennessee runs much clearer than does the Ohio and even muddier Mississippi. It also poses a steeper gradient, dropping 511 feet in its 652-mile run. However, tamed by nine high hydroelectric dams built by the Tennessee Valley Authority, the river is largely a series of lakes with gentle currents. It is also a very scenic river with many bluffs and cliffs along its banks. Perhaps its most scenic stretch is the 35 miles from Nickajack Dam to Chattanooga, where the river cuts through the Cumberland Plateau. Although now tamed by the dam, rapids here once carried colorful names, such as the Pan, the Pot, the Skillet, Mango Chute, the Suck, and Tumbling Shoals. While heavy at the lower end of the river, barge traffic diminishes the further one ascends, and one does not see the large tows experienced on the Mississippi and Ohio rivers. Except at the first lock for Kentucky Dam, we did not experience significant delays in locking, and the locks all use floating bollards, which greatly simplifies the locking process. These bollards move vertically in tracks as the water level changes, so all one needs to do is to tie off to a bollard from a midship cleat, and with the help of fender boards let her ride. What is impressive about these locks is their height, with lifts ranging from 40 to 93 feet; the highest being Wilson Dam at Florence, AL. This dam flooded Muscle Shoals, long the principal impediment to navigation on the river. Going up the Tennessee was a trip home for Marge, as she grew up near Oak Ridge, which lies along the Clinch River, a tributary of the Tennessee. Later the family moved down river to Huntsville, AL, where her father worked as a chemist for Redstone Arsenal. Although both her parents are now deceased, family friends still remain in both places. So a stop at Huntsville was mandatory in both directions, as well as side trip up the Clinch River. The Clinch comes into the Tennessee at Kingston, 104 miles above Chattanooga, and is navigable for 61 miles to Clinton (Oak Ridge is at Mile 44). Not only is this the Tennessee’s longest navigable tributary, it is the only one with its own dam and lock. However, since commercial barge traffic has essentially disappeared and recreational activity is largely confined to small boats that rarely leave their pool, the lock is not manned and requires a 24-hour notice. So from Chattanooga we called the Corps of Engineers and made appointments for locking up and down. A crew came over from Fort Loudon Dam, and while they were able to lock us up, they had problems with closing the upper door. Two days later we descended again with some delay, and two weeks later the Local Notice to Mariners indicated that the lock was shutting down for electrical repairs and would be closed until 30th November (later extended to April 2004). We were glad we were not trapped above the dam, but perhaps it was our locking through that called attention to the problem. In any event the Clinch is a river rarely visited by cruising boats. [Passage for recreational boats has since been reduced to twelve scheduled lockings per year.] The lock at the Fort Loudon Dam, 46 miles below Knoxville, is the last on the river and lifted us into a pool 813 feet above sea level. For miles above the dam both banks of the river are lined with large estates and very expensive homes, so many one has to wonder where all this wealth is coming from. Also increasingly evident as one draws near Knoxville is the fervor local residents show for the University of Tennessee’s football team. With the stadium on the river in downtown Knoxville, football games in the fall draw fans who come up river by boat, an armada known as the Volunteer Navy. Although we were there too early in the season for football, we did visit the Women’s Basketball Hall of Fame. As a Rutgers graduate, I was pleased to see among the honorees, a former Rutgers coach, Teresa Grentz, as well as its current coach, Vivian Stringer. It was now the end of July and if we were to reach Pittsburgh by 17th August, as we had planned, we would have to hustle. There was still a long way to go, and while we would have favorable current coming back down the Tennessee, we would be bucking current on the Ohio. To make matters worse, it had been a rainy summer and the Ohio was still running high. While the weather was mostly pleasant, we were now experiencing severe thunderstorms almost every afternoon. Although usually brief, they were intense with lightning, strong wind, and heavy rain limiting visibility to 100 yards. The Ohio River is 981 miles long from the junction of the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers at Pittsburgh to where it joins the Mississippi River at Cairo, IL. Coming back down the Tennessee we reached the Ohio by cutting through the Barkley Canal to the Cumberland River and descending to its mouth at Smithland, KY. However, from there it was still 923 miles to Pittsburgh, and that is a long way to go against current. The navigation improvements on the Ohio that were started in the 19th century culminated in the building of 53 locks, which successfully tamed the rapids and made modern navigation possible. At Louisville the Falls of the Ohio, which had constituted a major obstruction to through navigation, was circumvented by a canal built in 1825, near the beginning of the steamboat era. However, with the traffic growth occurring after World War II, it became clear that larger more modern locks were needed. So plans were made to construct nineteen new locks to replace the older set. All are now in operation except for the bottom lock, Olmstead, which is still under construction. Upon completion it will replace Locks 52 and 53, and their associated dams will be removed. Except for the top three, these are all 1200-foot locks, use floating bollards, as were used on the Tennessee, and are accompanied by smaller auxiliary locks, which provide flexibility. Generally, delays were minimal, except at Markland Dam (Warsaw, KY), where we were held for six hours waiting our turn. The main lock was down for repairs, forcing everyone through the smaller auxiliary lock. Barge traffic is heavy on the Ohio with the principal commodity being coal, but supplemented by sand, gravel, chemicals, and petroleum products. (There is an unbelievable number of power plants located along this river.) The terrain is relatively flat at the western end, but becomes hillier the further upriver one goes. While the river passes through a mostly rural landscape, it also traverses major urbanized industrial complexes at Paducah, Evanston, Louisville, Cincinnati, Huntington, Wheeling, and Pittsburgh. And I am pleased to report that most of the cities and towns, including those from the preceding list, provide docking for small boats close to their downtowns. Two smaller towns worth a mention are Madison, IN and Marietta, OH. Madison experiences racing fever every July when it hosts the Madison Regatta and is the only town in America to own and race an unlimited hydroplane, MISS MADISON. Its historic district also contains many fine well-preserved old homes. Marietta, the first settlement in the Northwest Territory, sits at the mouth of the Muskingum River, whose hand-operated locks, once part of the Ohio & Erie Canal, are still maintained by the State of Ohio. Small craft can ascend that river 86 miles to beyond Zanesville. As we proceeded deeper into August the almost daily thunderstorms finally gave out and were replaced by cooler nights and morning fog. Because we were now pressed to make time, we generally got underway at first light in spite of the limited visibility, relying on radar, the depth sounder, and the chart book to keep us on course, the fog usually lifting by 0900. Finally, we arrived at Pittsburgh, four days behind schedule. Coming up the last stretch of the Ohio, we were offered a magnificent vista of the Point with its tall buildings. Turning left into the Allegheny River, we continued another eight miles and docked at Aspinwall. Since leaving Chicago, we had been on the water for 60 days and had covered 3590 miles. In October the boat was moved to the Lighthouse Marina at New Kensington, nine miles further upstream, for winter storage.
After being away two years, and it was now time to bring AURORA home. Our plan this summer (2004) was to take her back down the Ohio, through the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway to Mobile, along the Gulf coast to Florida, and then up the East Coast to Philadelphia, traveling a total distance of 3618 statute miles. We figured that if we averaged 65 miles per day, we could complete the trip in eight weeks. For company we again brought along our two marmalade cats, Leo and Teak. However, one thing different this year was that we now had a cell phone and to extend its range, we had connected it to an amplifier and an external antenna. This allowed us to make and receive phone calls on the boat and even connect our laptop to the internet, although at a baud rate of only 16 kbps, which is pretty slow. We did ask people not to send us graphics or unnecessary e-mail. For general communications this was much better than relying on our VHF radio, which is limited to a range of 15 miles, and pay phones, which are rapidly disappearing from our cities and towns. The initial segment of this year’s trip consisted of simply retracing our travels of the previous year, although this time, at least on the Ohio, we had the advantage of going downstream. Another advantage was that we knew what to expect and where the good stopping places were–Marietta, Pomeroy, Huntington, Covington, Madison, Louisville, and Evansville. We had no major delays at locks, and even lucked out at Louisville, passing through the McAlpine Lock a few days before a scheduled two-week shutdown for repairs. We arrived in Madison on the Wednesday before its annual regatta, a major event on the unlimited hydroplane (thunder boat) racing calendar. The town already had a carnival atmosphere and the marina was full, so we ended up at a private dock, which the owner graciously allowed us to use during our visit. Also docked there was ICW TRAVELER, a 50-foot trawler which had been custom-built with a narrow 14-foot beam and a low overhead clearance that allowed it to be trailered. This boat was featured in the July/August 2004 issue of PassageMaker. Louisville has apparently stopped work on its almost completed river front marina. It still lacks electricity, water, and security, and has barely adequate draft, but it is convenient to downtown and the docking is free. Louisville has a vibrant downtown that includes the Louisville Slugger factory, which supplies most of the bats used in the major leagues, and the Kentucky Center for the Arts. The Barbershop Quartets were in town for their annual singing contest, and the streets were alive with song--there may have been Sweet Adelines in the mix. They also filled the downtown restaurants, but thanks to a NY Times travel article, we found a delightful and unusual restaurant, the Mayan Gypsy, on the east side located in a block of art galleries. Ever enjoy Mayan cuisine? It features quinoa, beans, tamales, pork baked in banana leaves, all with very interesting spices. At Smithland, KY we turned south into the Cumberland River and ascended 30 miles to Barkley Lake, where a mile long canal took us over to Kentucky Lake on the Tennessee River. Then it was 190 miles up to Pickwick Lake and the beginning of the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway. The weather had been good so far, but near New Johnsonville, TN we were hit by a series of line squalls bringing wind, heavy rain, and hail. On the fifth and last squall, the wind reached such intensity that the boat was heeled over on its side and the fenders on the windward side, while tied to the lifeline, were flying like kites. We lost steerage and the rain was so heavy that our bow was scarcely visible. This phase only lasted about two minutes, though it seemed longer, and then it was over. I think we may have gotten a piece of a waterspout. Fortunately we were in a wide part of the river with few obstructions nearby. Damage was limited to a ripped out seam in the bimini, and that was easily repaired the next day at a nearby canvas shop. Controversial when it was opened in 1985, the 387-mile Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway connects the Tennessee River to Mobile Bay, providing a shortcut between the Mid-South and the Gulf of Mexico. Though attracting only a moderate amount of commercial traffic, it is proving highly popular with recreational craft moving between the Gulf and the Great Lakes, allowing them to avoid the strong currents and heavy commercial traffic found in the more industrial lower Mississippi. In a cove off Yellow Creek at the north entrance to the waterway, we rendezvoused with CANOPUS, a 34-foot Marine Trader owned by Dick & Carol Masse, for the trip south to Mobile. We had first met CANOPUS, who hails from Solomons, MD, at Pier 3, our home berth, in Philadelphia in the summer of 2001. She was headed north on the first leg of a multi-year trip around the Great Loop. Then the following year we embarked on a similar trip and caught up to her in Thessalon, ON at the top of Lake Huron’s North Channel. We headed our separate ways, and again met by chance in 2003 in the Cumberland River, we heading down river to the Ohio and she heading up to Nashville. This time realizing that we were both planning to travel through the Tennessee-Tombigbee in July 2004, we agreed to meet and travel together. Now here we were in a park setting reminiscent of the Adirondacks, although we were in Mississippi. The route follows Yellow Creek south for seven miles and then enters a 22-mile cut through the divide to reach a tributary of the Tombigbee River. The weather now turned hot and we joked about the wisdom of visiting Mississippi in July. And we were warned there were alligators in the river, making us a bit cautious about swimming. The towns along the way are quite charming; Columbus, MS has one of the largest collection of antebellum homes to be found anywhere. And it was here that our cat, Teak, decided to go for a morning swim. The cats had gone for a walk on the floating dock, when we heard a splash and the other cat, Leo, came trotting back to tell us what had happened. Marge yelled, “Teak is in the water”, and ran to fetch our crab net. I ran down the dock and saw Teak doggy paddling (or is it kitty paddling?) with just his head above the water. He was within an arm’s reach, so I was able to grab him and lift him back on the dock. He was one heavy soggy frightened cat. Leaving a trail of water behind him, he galloped back to the boat, where Marge wrapped him in a towel. There were floating mats of vegetation in the basin and he may have thought they represented a solid surface on which he could jump, or he may have just fell in. Fortunately, there were no alligators around. Demopolis, AL, another town with historic homes, is located just below the junction with the Black Warrior River. This marks the formal end of the Tennessee-Tombigbee project, though it is still 217 miles to Mobile, as the rest of the route had been rendered navigable a century ago. However, towns are scarce below this point, and the river appeared to be endless, with few landmarks to mark progress. The last dam and lock was passed at Coffeeville. Palm trees started appearing, a few at first and then increasing in number, and we saw our first brown pelicans. We passed Big Bayou Canot where Amtrak had its worst accident in 1993, when a errant barge rammed a bridge causing the Sunset Ltd. to derail a few minutes later, killing 47 people. Then we were passing Mobile with its barge terminals, docks, ship yards, and other industrial enterprises. Mobile Bay opened up in front of us and heading into a stiff south wind we were facing a relentless chop and the first tides since leaving the Hudson River over two years earlier. Welcome back to salt water. With no facilities in Mobile itself, most boaters head for marinas in the Dog River, about 10 miles south. Here we bought a GPS receiver to use while making open water passages in the Gulf of Mexico. Our Loran receiver did not want to work properly, although it did work fine after we reached home. We said goodbye to CANOPUS and headed east on the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway (GIWW). The GIWW provides a protected waterway along the Gulf coast from Texas to Florida, except for a 169-mile stretch in Florida, where the coast turns the corner of the Gulf. Our plan was to follow the GIWW east from Mobile Bay to Carrabelle. From there we would make an overnight run straight across to Tarpon Springs. This saved 17 miles and avoided the shoal coastal waters. From Tarpon we would resume following the GIWW south. The 247-mile waterway from Mobile to Carrabelle is a varied one, passing behind barrier islands with white sandy beaches and through marshy lakes, swampy rivers, and long cuts or canals. There is also a strong military presence, as the Pensacola Naval Air Station and the Elgin and Tyndall air force bases all lie along the waterway. When convenient or where there were interesting towns to visit, we stopped at marinas, but about a third of the nights were spent at anchor. Not only did this save money, but allowed us to enjoy a quiet time, savoring the water and natural surroundings. One such place was Saul Creek, off the Jackson River and six miles northwest of Apalachicola. It offered good water, took us off the GIWW, and with lush vegetation on both banks, presented a semitropical wilderness aspect. Herons walked the banks, other birds called from the forest, and we met a six-foot alligator swimming down the creek. Though we had talked a lot about the creatures, this was the first we had actually seen; although later we were to see quite a few more. The next morning we passed Apalachicola, a colorful town and a center of Florida’s oyster fishery, but could not stop as we were on our way to Carrabelle, the end of this segment of the GIWW. Carrabelle is a shrimping and sport fishing port, but one that is undergoing upscale development, as the entire coast is gentrifying with high-rise condominiums and fancy resorts. Many of these old fishing ports are losing their unique character as rising land costs drive out the locals. Now it was time to face the open water that lie between here and Tarpon Springs. We had heard tales from northbound boats of sudden storms and rough seas, and had been warned that almost no one crosses without problems. However, the skies were clear with an afternoon sea breeze of 10-15 knots, and NOAA weather promised us a good window for the next several days. We had planned to move to the fuel dock about 1530 and then head out to sea. With an estimated 19-hour crossing, this would allow us to make landfall the following morning in daylight. But a shrimp boat moved to the fuel dock ahead of us and took on several thousand gallons, a process that lasted two hours. So it was 1830 by the time we left the dock and there was just enough daylight left to reach open water before darkness fell. After dark the wind shifted to the west and moderated to less than 10 knots; we could not have asked for better conditions. During the first half of the night, we passed several shrimp boats and there were military exercises visible on the northern horizon. After midnight we had the place to ourselves–just the drone of the engine and the lights from the radar and GPS screens, watching for hazards and keeping us on course. In the morning the sun rose on an almost glassy sea, and the flying fish came out to play. They actually do fly on a flat trajectory just above the water; it is not just a leap with a long glide path. Then Anclote Key appeared in front of us and we headed into the Anclote River and up to Tarpon Springs, docking about 1320. After docking we discovered two dead flying fish in the cockpit. Tarpon Springs was settled by Greek immigrants and was a center for sponge diving. Though residual activity still remains, the town has become very touristy with museums, restaurants, and curio shops. If you enjoy Greek food, this is the place. The GIWW resumes and continues south to below Fort Myers. However, the nature of the waterway is now quite different. There is much more development with high-rises and expensive homes, and it is now a 9-foot small boat channel carrying almost no commercial traffic. West of Carrabelle the Army Corps of Engineers maintains a 12-foot barge channel. The procedure is basically now to just follow the markers, and we continued south crossing the entrances to Tampa Bay and Charlotte Harbor. At San Carlos Bay we reached the southernmost point of our trip (26E28') and turned east into the Caloosahatchee River, docking at Fort Myers. Here Thomas Edison and Henry Ford built winter homes and the streets are lined with palm trees. The 135-mile Okeechobee Waterway links the Gulf coast with the Atlantic and avoids the necessity of going around Cape Sable and through the Keys. It also provides a chance to visit Florida’s vast inland lake. Since Lake Okeechobee is 13 feet above sea level, three locks on the west (Caloosahatchee) side are used to gain elevation and then two on the east (Saint Lucie) side to bring one back to sea level. Unlike all the other locks we traversed, these locks do not use ducts through the bottom of the chamber to fill or empty it. Instead the lock master simply cracks the upper gate to fill the chamber and the lower one to drain it. Lake Okeechobee is an almost circular lake about 30 miles in diameter and in the middle, one is out of sight of land. The lake is shallow, with its deepest depth 14 feet and much of it under 10, and it has a reputation of kicking up a nasty chop when the wind is blowing. However, our time on the lake was spent under almost dead calm conditions. In spite of its size, few visitors to Florida ever see it, unless from the air, as it is off the beaten track and not easily approached by land. It was at first puzzling to see so many sailboats in dry storage at yards far up the Caloosahatchee and Saint Lucie canals, and so far from open water. Then I realized these boats were owned by snow birds who used them in the winter and wanted to keep their boats out of harm’s way when hurricanes hit the coasts. I am not sure that strategy worked in 2004 when this part of Florida was struck by three major storms. At Stuart we reached the Atlantic coast and turned the corner to head north and home. Only 988 miles to Norfolk and Chesapeake Bay! The Florida portion of the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway (AIWW) is largely a well-marked route through shallow bays and creeks lying behind barrier islands. Development is extensive and no-wake zones abound. It is sort of an expanded tropical version of the New Jersey Intracoastal Waterway. We had little problem with bridges, although they are increasingly moving to scheduled openings. As a trawler we were able to pass under most of the bascule bridges and in any event, many have now been replaced by high-level fixed structures. Although the route passes the Kennedy Space Flight Center, it is not easy to visit by boat. The nearest marina is on the Canavaral Barge Canal about seven miles away, necessitating a rental car in order to reach the visitor complex. On the tour we learned that a launch–a Delta 2 rocket sending the Messenger spacecraft on its way to Mercury--was scheduled for the wee hours of the following night. So we decided to lay over an extra day and the next afternoon we moved over to an anchorage in the Banana River near Port Canaveral, a location offering a clear view of the launch pad about four miles away. This would be exciting–expecting to see the sky lit up and to hear a deafening roar. With the launch scheduled for 0116, we rose 45 minutes earlier and fired up our laptop to watch the countdown. Everything seemed fine, but with ten minutes to go the launch was scrubbed and rescheduled for the following night. We could not afford to delay another day, and besides the launch could be scrubbed again, so in the morning we hauled anchor, returned to the AIWW, and continued our journey north. The next night we were anchored in the Halifax River by Daytonna Beach. Since it was a clear night, so we rose again after midnight and watched the countdown. This time it went to liftoff, and a few seconds later we saw a red star rising from the southern horizon. With binoculars we could see the outline of the rocket and its exhaust, but no roar or lit-up sky. Saint Augustine was one of the few places we decided to spend an extra day. As the oldest European settlement in the U.S., it offers an Old World atmosphere that we last experienced two years earlier in Montreal. Towers, balconies, red-tile roofs, the Castillo de San Marcos, Flagler College, Ripley’s Believe-It-or-Not Museum, and great restaurants. After crossing the Saint Johns River below Jacksonville, the character of the waterway changes, with less development, more marshes, winding creeks, and open sounds. Passing Fernandina Beach, we crossed Saint Marys Sound and entered Georgia. It was now 5th August, having taken us 18 days to traverse the 954 miles around Florida. A word about the wildlife is in order. Brown pelicans are plentiful and can be found perched on almost every buoy, light, and daybeacon. Graceful fliers, they fish by crash diving into the water, and closeup they must be one of the ugliest birds around, right up there with vultures. Dolphins were common, sometimes swimming alongside the boat, and manatees were not rare, although they spend most of their time out-of-sight on the bottom. Alligators are there and sometimes constitute a worrisome presence. While docked in Fort Myers the local newspaper reported that a woman on Sanibel Island had been attacked while gardening in her back yard and dragged into the water. She died from her wounds. Our first stop in Georgia was at Cumberland Island National Seashore, which offers a day dock and anchoring space. It also offers marshes, while sand beaches, and a dense live oak forest, and it is the only place I have seen armadillos in the wild. While some docking is available in downtown Savannah, it is pricey and requires a detour from the AIWW. Thunderbolt on the Wilmington River offers a possible alternative, and one can take a bus into town, although it is not particularly convenient. A compromise solution might be to dock on the South Carolina side of the Savannah River and take the ferry across to town. As a historic city, planned by James Oglethorpe and spared by General Sherman on his march to the sea, there is much to see and do. Beaufort (pronounced Bew-fort), SC is almost another mandatory stop with old houses and good eating. The Big Chill and The Prince of Tides were filmed here, and oh yes, the marine boot camp at Parris Island is nearby. The upscale marinas in Charleston are on the Ashley River, a pleasant enough area, but removed from the historic district that makes the city a destination. So instead we headed for the Charleston Maritime Facility on the Cooper River. In the midst of commercial docks and offering less protection from harbor swells, it nonetheless is in within walking distance of historic neighborhoods, great restaurants, and a fancy supermarket. We were thankful we had cleared Florida before the hurricanes hit, but now we were to meet up with Bonnie and Charley, albeit now reduced to tropical storm status. Bonnie hit with 45 knot winds at 0400 on Friday, 13th August, while we were anchored in Mile Hammock Bay off Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. Aside from some minor damage to the bimini, which I foolishly left up, we survived that one without difficulty. With morning light we left the anchorage and continued on to the city docks at Beaufort (pronounced Bo-fort), NC. The following morning, with Charley expected later that day, the dockmaster ordered the docks evacuated. Fortunately, one of Marge’s school colleagues had parents living in town, and they had waterfront property with a private dock. They graciously offered us space, which we gladly accepted. Charley was a fast moving storm. The first band of heavy rain and strong winds arrived about 1500 and the second struck about 45 minutes later, and then it was over. We had only received a glancing blow with wind that probably peaked at about 65 knots. This time we had secured everything and suffered no damage at all. As we were running behind schedule, we had to make tracks home. So it was a long day’s run to Belhaven, another to Elizabeth City, and then in spite of morning fog on the Pasquotank River, through the Dismal Swamp Canal to Norfolk. While still very much a navy town, Norfolk’s downtown has undergone extensive renewal and the waterfront is now home to the Nauticus maritime museum and the U.S.S. Wisconsin. The latter was one of the three battleships recommissioned at great expense by Reagan in 1988. After seeing limited action in the first Gulf War, it was decommissioned in 1991. Chesapeake Bay now stretched in front of us and we were entering home waters. With its mid-bay location, Tangier Island makes a good stopping point, and there is a family-style dinner with crab cakes awaiting at Mrs. Crockett’s Chesapeake House, and then it was on to Annapolis, where our son, his wife, and our two young grandsons, met us for dinner. Now it was up to the top of the Bay and through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal to Delaware City (our home for winter storage) and a chance meeting with Dave Shipton, the outgoing manager of the The Piers Marina, our destination in Philadelphia. He was on his way south with his sailboat. After a half day run up the Delaware, we reached Pier 3 in Philadelphia on Saturday, 21st August, three days behind schedule. AURORA was home after an absence of 26 months. In total she had covered 9251 statute miles and traversed 228 locks. Needless to say, we are now well versed on locking procedures. The route passed through or touched 23 states and two Canadian provinces. We were glad to be home, but with a tinge of regret that there were no more miles to cover. Leo and Teak were happy to be back in a house with a yard, and safe from alligators.
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G. Winter's Sailing Center, Inc.
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