Now we move into cottage country known as the Kawartha Lakes region, with the rivers and lakes lined with cute cottages.
One has an interesting tree house.
Some locks have dog mascots. Scott Mills’ Lock 19 had a lock monkey to make sure the lock is working correctly. Sailors will appreciate this, as they have sometimes have stuffed anchor monkeys who watch to make sure the anchor doesn’t drag while the owners are away.
Next, on to bustling Peterborough, the largest town on the waterway with a population of 81,000. We tie up overnight at lock 20.
We went for a walkabout in downtown Peterborough, and to get Chuck’s car, which had been repositioned by a marina employee from Trenton. Part of our tour took us to check out the famous Peterborough Lift Lock, through which Monarch will pass tomorrow. We wanted to see this engineering marvel for ourselves prior to using it.
The Peterborough Lift Lock, opened in 1904, has a lift of 65 feet, making it the highest hydraulic lift lock in the world. It is the first of two built in North America, both on the Trent-Severn Waterway. The lock conveys boats in two water filled steel tubs, or chambers, each 140 feet long.
It operates on a balance principle; a constant water pressure supports a 65-foot high, 7½-foot diameter ram in each of two chambers, through connecting pipes below ground. When a foot of extra water from the river is let into the upper chamber, a connecting valve is opened and the heavier chamber automatically descends, forcing up the lower chamber to start a new cycle. It doesn’t matter how many boats are in each chamber, or their weight, as boats displace their weight in water.
This type of lock allows boats to ascend and descend in the same cycle, unlike more conventional locks. We were suitably impressed, and excited for Monarch’s transit of this amazing lock.
After a fine dinner at Riley’s rooftop restaurant, we retired to Monarch, and watched Little Lake’s fountain turn colors as the evening progressed.
We like the Trent-Severn Waterway before peak season; not only is traffic light and plenty of wall space available for docking, the locks operate on “banker’s hours,” starting at 9:00 a.m. and concluding at 4:00 p.m., giving us welcome short travel days! So at a most civilized hour, we departed for our much-anticipated trip up the Peterborough Lift Lock.
Charles points the way.
Our new friends, Craig and Barb, on Alacrity from Colorado Springs, go on ahead into the tub.
Boats are secured with mooring lines, fendered and packed in for efficiency.
Next, the lockmaster lifts the gates.
The lockmaster secures the gates with surprisingly lightweight pins, and in a humanitarian gesture, uses a coal shovel to scoop up panfish that have gotten trapped in the gate and return them to the water.
Then, the lift lock begins operation. It’s a smooth, quick ride to the top, much easier than conventional locks from the boat operator’s perspective. The water level doesn’t change, so lines don’t need to be tended.
We see breathtaking views all around at the top.
And the crew enjoys the ride.
Once we are released from the lift lock, Monarch pulls just close enough to the wall to let Chuck jump off for his trip home via car. He will be missed – bon voyage, Charles!
As with many places on the canal, it can be a tight fit for Monarch.
We saw loon parents tending two chicks.
A quaint church and cemetery mark this small town.
In the area, there are cottages large….
…..and small.
Taking up all of one tiny island is an Anglican Church. It holds services only in the summer months, and provides docks where parishioners can tie their boats.
Now we are among topography that reminds us of our beloved North Channel, and places like the Sow and Pigs.
Stopping for the night at Lovesick Lock on Lovesick Lake, we learn the story behind the name. Young Indian Richard Fawn was hopelessly smitten by the beautiful Irish lass Katharine O’Donahue. Her father would have none of it, and the heart broken Fawn vowed to anguish in solitude for the rest of his life. With the plaintive wail of the loon echoing in the morning mist, the forlorn native paddled his canoe to a nearby island. Here he pined away for days, until his buddies found him, pathetic and near exhaustion and convinced him there were other fish in the sea. (Or something like that!)
No comments:
Post a Comment