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Capt. Kerr A. Jess
Looking up at the fore-bay, west bound from a 2 knot river, with one thousand feet of
tow, is a truly nauseating experience. There I was, waiting my turn for Port Allen Lock,
wishing I would have doubled up the tow and just dealt with it until Bayou Sorell. Instead, in
my greed for speed, I strung it out. Typical. I was left struggling to decide exactly how to
make this work. The south point is shallow; there is an eddy working in the slip moving the
water north towards the long wall; and the river, while not exactly screaming out, is moving
enough to give me pause. I considered two options: Carry a bunch of speed to get the boat
out of the current and then hope I can check it up in time so I do not go steaming into the pit
like some madman or; proceed very slowly and cautiously and try to handle it into the fore-
bay alongside the long wall. It was one in the morning and I was tired. The guy on the back
watch was not very experienced and I was not about to give him this mess until we were tied
off in the lock. I opted for the cautious approach, knowing it would probably go wrong. It did.
I watched the outbound tow turn north in the river and drop about a quarter mile with
the current before getting a good point on it. Not a very positive sign for me and my
ridiculously long tow. I slowly eased up to the long wall, falling onto the point with my boat all
the while. I had no speed and therefore no slide or momentum to offset the current. Then
the deckhand suddenly tells me I will not clear the long wall. What the hell?!?! One minute I
am 20 to the good and the next I am 5 to the bad and my speed is somewhere on the short
side of 1. Something is not right and I soon realize it is the deckhand. He has his own
concept of how to talk someone into a lock and unfortunately it does not coincide with the
reality the rest of us share. Great. I found myself in a fine situation. I stopped and soon lost
the stern to the mud. My bow was pointed square at the massive concrete cell marking the
long wall and falling. As I try to work the stern off to back out and try again I watch as the
bow falls easily clear of the long wall. “20’ to the bad on the long wall,” interprets the
deckhand over his handheld. I reach over and turn him off. No information is better than bad
information. Meanwhile, the pilot is heading out to the bow. I continued wrestling to pick up
the stern and get into the fore-bay and out of the current, all the while praying the eddy will
help me. I worked the rudders aggressively and began to be rewarded with a steady set
towards the long wall. Lots of horsepower is a great thing. Just as I began to relax and feel
like things were back under my control, there erupted from the first coupling (a high-low
monstrosity), a deafening explosion with all the attendant sparks and flailing cables one
would expect when things go all wrong. Typical. Now I am piloting a 1000’ foot tow, hinged at
the 300’ mark into Port Allen Locks at 0200hrs.
Once tied off inside the lock, I sheepishly thanked the lock tender for her patience and
pretended like everything was cool. I am sure she thought I was an idiot, flailing around in
the fore-bay for 45 min and then entering the lock with a thousand foot banana poked out in
front of the boat. I turned the thing over to the pilot, who I am sure was thinking of all the
ways he would have done that differently, and headed off to my bunk. I went through a lot of
“woulda, coulda, shoulda” lying sleepless in my bunk that night. I “shoulda” found out more
about the experience level of the deckhand and possibly chosen someone else to guide me
in. I “coulda” carried more speed and momentum which “woulda” probably made the entire
ordeal a routine locking. I second guessed myself which is almost always the wrong thing to
do. I guess I should look at it in a positive light, further evidence that regardless of our
experience or years at the sticks, there is always something to be learned.
-Capt. Jess
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