First Bridge, First Lock, First Day Underway (Inland Transit Day 1)
Calumet River, Palos Heights, IL
Log Entry by Program Manager Tatiana Dalton
Tuesday, October 25, 2022
19:22
This morning began with 0800 breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and toast. Being new to the vessel as we are, we’re still figuring out the rhythm of life on board. Where should the coffeemaker live in the galley? Where are those new sponges we bought yesterday? How much rain comes in the emergency hatch if we open it for fresh air?
After breakfast, mate Jen Scholz made a trip to the marina to pick up a few last packages and mates Geoff Geis and Johnny Davenport ran our crew through the correct way to handle the winch that raises and lowers the small boat—something new for most of our deckhands (there aren’t any winches on Roseway).
We departed from our dockage at Chicago Yacht Club at 10:14 and made our way across state lines to Hammond, Indiana for one last pit stop before entering the Calumet River. We topped off on fuel and water and pumped out our blackwater (human waste) tanks.
I chatted a bit with Mackenzie, who manages the fuel dock. She grew up in Hammond and will graduate from Indiana University in the spring. I asked her if she does a lot of boating, but she says she’s not interested. “I just watch people come through here and spend five, ten thousand dollars a year on fuel for their boats,” she said. “I’d rather buy a fixer-upper lake house and put my money into that.” Fair enough. She certainly sees first-hand the amount of time, energy, and resources it takes to operate and maintain a boat—even one much smaller than the Sullivan.
After departing from the fuel dock, we motored back into Illinois and soon entered the Calumet River. Almost immediately, we passed under a bridge so low it looked like the crew member on forward lookout would be able to reach up and touch the steel beams. The second bridge we passed under, not as low as the first, was a drawbridge. I was surprised to see it open ahead of us—until I realized that it was actually opening for a much smaller sailboat coming up behind us. That’s why we pulled the Sullivan’s masts back in Wisconsin—to transform her into a barge that will slide easily under bridges sometimes no more than 18 feet from the water.
Being on the river feels strange—more like being on a train than a boat. There is so much to look at—trees and factories and garbage dumps and boats five times as high as the Sullivan. There was a scaffolded series of waterfalls that looks like it was constructed for fish to travel upstream. There was a yard piled with sandy mountains a bright yellow color. I have a lot of questions about everything we’re seeing, but we are close to the shore, so it’s hard to keep up.
It’s also cold and rainy today, so I don’t mind taking time to visit the galley for cups of tea or a leftover muffin. It’s so warm in the galley from the oven and the engine room next door that Jake has been cooking in a t-shirt.
Just before 1700 hours, we came upon the first lock in our journey: the Thomas J. O’Brien Lock in south Chicago. A stoplight guided us into a giant chamber marked with signs urging us, “Do Not Get On or Off Boat During Lockage”. We came alongside and the gates swung slowly shut behind us. We waited. Almost before I had realized that the land was rising beside us, we had dropped four feet and were being released.
A lock official came by to say hello. He explained that while this lowered us 4 feet over a distance of 1,000 feet, the next few locks on our route will drop us more than 30 feet in a smaller chamber. He asked us a few questions about Denis Sullivan and took a photo for his department to post on their social media channels. “We don’t get a lot of boats like you all through here,” he told us.
The sun has set now, and we continue to make our way. Forward lookouts stand watch with bright spotlights and the ship has grown quieter now that the busy first day of transit is coming to a close. With every hour my crew and I more fully settle into life on Denis Sullivan—installing hooks and storage hammocks in our bunks, finding the best place in the hot engine room for drying out leather boots, and dreaming of all the leaky seams we’ll caulk as soon as the rain stops.
