The Real Day 1

This is the part of the story where our blog name becomes a lie. After a lovely stay in Chicago (food, friends, stores, sleep) we made our way to Crowley’s Yacht Yard where our mast was dropped in about 15 minutes and packed up to be shipped to meet us in Mobile. The crew at the yard did a great job, and we also got to catch up with Grant Crowley himself! It was a great experience, and also the last point where we knew what was coming up next.

Now before I go into our first river day, a disclaimer: in the weeks leading up to our trip departure, every minute was spent working on the boat finishing projects as fast as possible. Navigation for the Great Lakes was taken care of, and we were familiar with our destinations and the lakes. Looming in the backs of our minds we knew we had to do something about how to figure out where to go after Chicago, but between frantic preparation and long days focused on getting out of Lake Michigan, this didn’t become an imminent problem until we were looking down the Calumet River off of the edge of all our existing charts and guide books. S**t. We’re not dumb, we just procrastinated to the point of not being able to do anything about it.

With this minor problem in mind, the morning we left Crowley’s we departed with a lot of diesel and a vague idea of where we might possibly end up after getting some slightly helpful advice from the dock master. It was misty and drizzly as we pulled off the dock and pointed Elpis under the railroad bridge, into the utter unknown. I have never felt more unprepared in my life, and it was thrilling and exhilarating and dauntingly scary. It was a great leap of faith, and maybe just a little bit stupid. I nervously munched my rain-water oatmeal as we snaked between shipping yards with diggers and barges and freighters, feeling like we were trespassing in the backyard of every factory in Chicago.

We weren’t completely at a loss- at the very least, we know how to read channel markers and we haven’t been led astray yet. As well, our Garmin GPS has general charts of the waterways, covered in “NOT TO BE USED FOR NAVIGATION,” but it at least shows the route, channel markers, bridges, and all other generally useful information. Using our newly found highly advanced navigation systems, we picked our way to our first lock—the T.J. O’Brien Lock. How do we go through a lock? How do we call the lock master? What channel is it on? How do we hang on? Ahhhh!!! We managed to figure it out, but maybe having some notes or watching a Youtube video ahead of time would have been a good idea. We made sure to inform the lock master that this was our first lock, sorry if we messed up and asked a lot of questions. This one was easy- it was only about a 2 foot drop and we just floated in the lock for the whole 5 minutes. Whew! That was easy! Cool! Feeling pretty good, we carried on.

All day it was damp and cloudy, and for the most part the Cal-Sag Canal was narrow with cement walls, dotted with factories—generally pretty boring. But as the day got late, we got nervous. There didn’t appear to be a single safe place to stop, anchor, or tie up anywhere. I turned to Google and the Great Loop association app to try and figure out where on earth people stop after the first day out of Chicago, which happens to be the free city wall in Joliet. We did some math and found if we were lucky and didn’t get delayed, we were just barely on time to make it by sunset. As I drove, I danced away my stress in the rain. Every planning decision carefully made so far during the whole trip was to ensure arrival in a port in daylight, and we were pushing our limit. Our only possible snag was the Lockport Lock and Dam, 3 miles upriver of our final destination. Based on our first lock experience, we were hoping to get through just as easily and quickly.

We were not lucky. We figured out how to talk to the lockmaster (again, go us!) and discovered that there would be about a 45 minute wait. “Maybe he’s over exaggerating.” “That can’t be possible, that’s so long!” “Well, the sky stays light after sunset for a while, maybe we can still make it…” The light grew dimmer and dimmer and had just about faded when the green light flashed and we thankfully pulled into the lock. Much bigger than the first, a lock crewman met us with a line at our first floating bollard and patiently described how to use it. We told him it was only our second lock ever, and as he walked away he chuckled and told us not to worry, it’s only a 45 foot drop.

Emily and I looked at each other in terror and promptly listed every way in which we would die during the next 15 minutes. At this point it was a steady rain and fully dark, and as we dropped into the chamber it turned into a scene from Jurassic Park. As the bollards float down, they groan and screech like dinosaurs. I half expected a velociraptor to spring from the water, trapped with us in a cement cage with searchlights lighting up every rain drop. When we reached the bottom, there was probably 50 feet of cement towering over us on every side, and the gates at the far end looked like the Black Gate of Mordor as they silently gaped open, revealing a very black night on the other side. The “ok to leave the lock” horn shocked us into the realization that we actually had to leave the safety of the floodlights and somehow find our way to the Joliet wall.

Inky blackness enveloped us, but shortly the city lights of Joliet reflecting in the rainclouds showed us the way. Thanks to Google, we were able to find the correct wall and tied up next to the crumbling cement. Finally by 8 pm we could relax and hide from the rain.

It was a far more exciting first day than I hoped for, and we’ve definitely learned our lesson. We’re glad we made it to the wall safely!