My girlfriend Rachel, my dad, and I paddled through the Ballard locks here in Seattle in February. It was such a cold, rainy day that even the heavily Gore-texed crew of a sailboat that locked through with us leaned over to say, “Wow, you guys are hardcore!”
I certainly felt hardcore, if “hardcore” is another word for “freezing cold,” because I stupidly forgot the deck to my Feathercraft Klondike.
Route map. Shilshole is the standard launch for saltwater kayaking in Seattle.
The sprayskirt, I brought. Oh yes, no worries about the sprayskirt. But the deck to cover the enormous cockpit, the thing that the sprayskirt is supposed to be attached to, that I did not have.
I tried using the skirt as a pathetic little blanket to keep my jeans dry during the paddle, but that worked about as well an umbrella in a windstorm.
I did have enormous fun out there with two of my favorite people. We saw a lot of cool waterfowl, and we gave the tourists at the locks quite a tickle with our little boats in the big machine. But I sure was glad to hop in the warm car when the paddle was done. Hardcore!
Launch at Shilshole Marina. Rachel and dad are wearing typical Seattle clothing on a typical Seattle day.
Ballard Locks overflow. Here we waited until enough boat traffic had accumulated that the lockmaster was willing to cycle us through.
Entering the small lock. The large lock is on the other side of the concrete barrier to the left; the spillway is visible to the right.
Canyon-like walls of the locks. The western watertight doors, currently open, are pressed against the wall just ahead of us. The eastern watertight doors are closed in front of the sailboat.
Locks rising. The water actually fills and drains through underwater valves. The dribble through the watertight door is just an incomplete seal, not the actual source of water.
Alex in Salmon Bay. Rain can only dampen my jeans, never my spirits.
Alex and dad near Salmon Bay houseboat. Seattle’s Lake Union hosts residential, commercial, and industrial interests, all side by side.
Sorry for the poor picture quality; the lens just would not stop fogging up on me. Normally, I would have dried the lens off on my jeans, but, well, no deck, you know?