Sunday

After a night at Smiths Falls it was time to move to Merrickville. Smiths Falls is the headquarters for the Rideau Waterway and is the most complicated routing of water that we have seen yet. There are two locks — actually five if we count the three non functional preserved locks, which Smiths Falls Combined replaced — dams, basin, town and lock docks, islands, park, beach etc. See I told you it was going to be complicated.

The day before— the first lock, and bridge, we encountered was Smiths Falls Detached #31. We came only two nautical miles through the marsh from rustic lock #32 called Poonamalie. This lock was named (translation: cat hill) by a Royal Engineer that was reminded of a spot in the Tamil region of India.

Once Carrie Rose was lowered 8.5 feet into the basin at Smith Falls, we traveled a short channel and made a quick decision to tie up to the only remaining spot at the municipal dock. Though we would have to pay to stay here, where anywhere else in the basin there would be no charge, the choice was based on obtaining a much needed shower.

But let me move on to Sunday. The lock system opens at 9:00 AM and is first come, first served. Each lock has a wall or walls before it that are painted blue or grey. Since no one uses a radio or a horn in Canada if tied up too the blue line it signals we will pass through. If on the grey, we will stay for the night. At eight in the morning, I decide to move the short distance to the blue line to be first in a nonexistent cue to transit Smith Falls Combined #29a lock. With this accomplished we sat by ourselves for an hour.

You might ask why a number like 29a when Detached Lock is number 31. Well, in 1973 a modern concrete, electric, and hydraulic lock was built to replace locks 28, 29, and 30, thus forever rendering the systems lock numbers a lie.

Lock 29a quickly lowers us 26 feet to the Rideau River below. Old Slys Locks, set two locks preceded by a bridge cannot be more then a half a mile away. In this short distance, the environment changes from urban to rural. There is a time calculation that goes on with transiting a lock, especially one with a bridge before it. When we were on the Trent-Severn Waterway last year the lockmaster anticipated our arrival by opening the bridge and lock gates so we could continue in and tie up in the lock, but on the Rideau they wait until we are seen and then seem to be reluctant to delay any cars from crossing.

To state the obvious, boats are not like cars. They do not easily stop and remain still, especially with a strong wind at your back and a current pushing us forward. There is also the consideration of depth and many times a channel narrows by walls, rocks, or weeds. The binoculars are brought out as I slowed Carrie Rose to a crawl to look for any signs of life on the bridge and/or lock. Similar to big following seas on the Great Lakes, the wind and the current like to twist the boat sideways or to use the correct nautical term, broadside. In the lakes, this can happen instantaneously requiring an immediate response, but here in the river it is a more insidious process. On the lake, the increased adrenaline that the environment demands keeps me on my toes. On the river, with all its distractions it sometimes sneaks up and is fiendishly difficult to correct for.

But I am being over dramatic here. The lockmaster swings the bridge and opens the gates. We attach to the first of two locks and drop another 16 feet. The walls of these locks look like what I imagine, in an odd twist of imagination, the weeds growing in our neglected backyard and the hanging gardens of Babylon look like.

Edmunds Lock and another 9 feet down is only two mile away. The river is closely bounded here and we move through a gentle s-shaped curve. This is farm country and we have the river almost all to ourselves. Edmonds Lock is straightforward and we pass quickly through it bantering with the lockmaster. The lockmasters keep close tabs on the boats transiting their domain, so they like to know how far we are planning to travel and where we might spend the night.

Now the river opens up. The banks widen and there is enough water for the brisk wind to start generating wavelets. Though this open stretch of water is a couple of miles long and ¾ of mile wide, we follow a prescribed set of buoys along the southern bank, which is bounded by Kilmarnock Island. A picture perfect farm gleaming green in the sun sits just to our right. I pick up the pace to 1500 RPMs here but not for long. Up and around a bend at the top of the island is Kilmarnock Island Lock #24.

Lock #24 is hardly worth it for a drop of two feet. This lock is unique in that the bridge lies solidly between the gates. These gates and the bridge need to be opened by hand. I slow and wait as the staff appears and starts the process. The gates are opened and the bridge is swung. It only clears the side of the west facing lock wall, so the helpful Canadian Parks summer employees cannot help us tie on. The wind blows Carrie Rose’s aft off the wall and Charlotte grabs the wire and pulls us in; saved again from an embarrassing locking moment.

Merrickville is 8 miles away and our destination. Here we will not lock through but tie up for the night. We are back in the river again, now increasingly marsh with five-foot cattails lining the route. This is a quirky place. Instead of going straight down the channel and tying to the grey line lock wall, we take a sharp left and a sharp right through a confusing set of buoys to the overnight docks.

Because of the also quirky buoy conventions, the colors of the buoys change sides for this short distance and I almost the miss the last red one, which is to our right. Mercifully, there is an open dock. I start my turn above it because the current and wind will push Carrie Rose past it if I do not. A fellow boater and a park employee wait for us. Just to make it interesting there are no cleats on the dock only rings and holes cut out of half-inch thick metal stock.

In the end, it is a beautiful warm day with a cool breeze and a bright blue sky. Merrickville is full of original stone buildings and the streets are full of flowers. There is a fiddler, Bob’s Chip Shop, a used bookstore with a knowledgeable owner and Charlotte finds a woven silver necklace with an amethyst set in silver. Today alone would be worth the trip to Canada from Chicago.