(Written late last night, posted now that I have internet)
Once upon a time, there was a circus artist who got hired by a truly bizarre theatre company and meant to write about it but then would forget to write about the important things and only write about the things that don’t matter as much and then when she finally DID remember, she started writing down notes for herself to reference later for when she had internet access and then those notes got to be roundabout and confusing and so she just started writing and then simultaneously, all of her high school English teachers suddenly woke up in a terrified cold sweat, knowing that somewhere -somewhere- there was a run on sentence that just wouldn’t quit and definitely wouldn’t be edited.
The horror!
Actually, it’s entirely probable that her cousin, who writes horror fiction, also woke up in a cold sweat in fear of a badly constructed story. Actually, no, I doubt he’s asleep. Wellll maybe. I think he’s more of a get up early type of person…
OHMYGOD see, I did it again! NONE OF THAT IS IMPORTANT TO THIS PRESENT ADVENTURE. I’m just taking advantage of a platform to yell loudly into the void about noooooooothing.
Mayhaps I need an editor.
You wanna know the most ridiculous thing? The reason I’m off on a completely irrelevant tangent is because I want to talk about locks. Not door locks, but water locks. There are, like, a million in the Erie Canal. OH! Speaking of which, we weren’t in the Erie Canal when I thought we were! Which is to say, we traveled up the Hudson River, and then after the lock in Waterford (which was our third lock? second lock?) then we were in the Mohawk River, and then after Lock #(I don’t remember) THEN we were in the Erie Canal. And it’s funny; the Erie Canal is kind of like a highway! Rivers have all jagged edges and slopes and curves and inconsistencies (because water is an imperfect -although persistent- architect), but the Erie Canal has stone edging and is a consistent width and is in most places just a straight line! It felt super strange after being on the river to being in this very manufactured canal.
Right! But locks! There were…uhmmm…28 locks I think? Is that right? Gosh, that seems like a lot. But I think that’s how many episodes there were…wait, Victoria, focus. Okay, so I don’t think it started with our first lock, but somewhere early on in the lock process, P started telling a story and each lock would be a new episode of it. All told, I heard pieces of one earlyish episode (the story of how the got his stallion, Rom?) and then I heard (although I was distracted by my own thoughts and wasn’t fully listening) the penultimate one. I think there was an ongoing thread about a girl with luminous eyes, although I couldn’t for the life of me tell you anything more specific than that. I know that the early stories weren’t necessarily part of the thread, they were stories with a grain of truth and a massive amount of creative padding. (I was about to say a massive amount of creative myelin sheath because apparently when I’m thinking about padding, the first thing I think of is neurons. Nerd.) Anywho. So that was a great idea, because locks provide 15-20 minutes where you have a captive (literally…we can’t go anywhere) audience who are holding lines.
Basically, we arrive at a lock, which looks like a huge blocked off area of the river next to a dam. Often, there will be a red light and it’s closed, but if the green light is on and the lock is open, then we go in. We slowly glide in to this enclosure, the massive doors of the lock creak closed behind us with a sound that would send shivers of delight up the spine of my aforementioned cousin (see? hah! tangent becomes relevant!) …well, wait, actually, as we glide in, P and N are on the walkie talkies (P at the helm, N up at the bow checking our distance to the wall). Once we are close enough to the wall, we use these hooks to grab ropes which are attached at the top of the lock and hang down into the water. Those ropes get pulled through and we put a bite (loop it around the big metal cleat once) on it. This prevents the boat from bopping around as the water level changes, which is especially important if there are other boats in the lock at the same time. If we are going up (which was most of our journey with the exception of the last two locks), you have to constantly take up tension and keep a very tight hold on the line (line = rope) so it doesn’t go slack.
Then, once we’re all snug up against the wall, THEN the lock doors close behind us and for the next 15-20 minutes, depending on the size of the lock (OH! lock 40 is one of the biggest in the world! It was 40something feet! And it’s in Little Falls, NY. Generally they’re 18-25 feet) the water level rises. We all go up, occasionally chatting to the lock master, which was usually some variation on the same conversation every time.
“You guys just missed Pirates Weekend!”
“Yeahhh, we know.”
“Where you going?”
“Oswego, for a performance!”
“Oh, you going there for Harborfest?”
“No, we’re going to miss it by a few days.”
“Oh. Huh. You guys are missing everything.”
“…..Yup. Guess so.”
And once the water level has completely risen, the monstrous doors in front of us groan open, we let go of our lines, and start forward to continue our journey several feet higher than we started. It’s basically like an elevator for boats. I took a video and sped it up because sure, it’s fun at first, but no one actually wants to sit through 15 minutes of watching water very very very slowly rise. Or maybe you do. Oh well!
So that’s what going through locks is like!
Now we’re on Lake Ontario in Oswego, NY, where we have shows July 5, 6, and 7th (Wed, Thurs, Friday!). Our set up this time around was actually not too bad! Also, Lake Ontario has the PRETTIEST skies. The sunsets last forever and are consistently stunning (see figure A). Also, last night there was heat lightning that took over the whole sky, lighting it up as a silent spectacle. And then the moon was massive and the clouds were this ghost-like veil floating over it. So gorgeous.
Lately the big challenge has been training. I mean, now the truss is up, but for the past week I’ve been waking up at 6:30am, rolling out of bed, throwing on sneakers and going for a run before my body wakes up enough to say, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WE HATE THIS, STOPPPPPPP”. Usually by then I’m already 5 minutes in and c’mon, it’s only another 15 minutes. I meant, it’s basically only another 10 minutes because the last 5 minutes are always really easy anyway. And look, by the time you finish running up this hill -I know, I know, hear me out though- by the time you finish running up this hill, you’ll only have like, 3 minutes until you’re halfway and coming back is always easier, you know that. See? See look, that was 4 minutes! Now 1 minute is just silly, you can’t turn around after one minute because you haven’t even finished this block. Get to the end of the road and THEN we’ll turn around. Oh shoot, it’s taking longer than you thought. Well, better run faster!
Anyway. So I go on my 20-30 minute run, get back, stretch, and do abs. Sometimes I find a place to do pull ups too! By then, it’s time for wake up and breakfast and morning meeting and then getting started on work!
Which means that ’round about 6pm I am tiiiiireeeed. But it’s not like I’m going to work all day and then work out for 2 more hours at the end of the day. After dinner, I am doooone. I am so not a night person. And lunch is barely enough time and it’s usually too hot. Soooo that puts us at waking up too darn early and going for a run. Which puts me in a perpetually vaguely grumpy/hazy mood which doesn’t really seem sustainable. Merg. I’ll figure out a better system at some point, right? In the meantime…
Next time, I will try to remember to write about tugging the tugboat that (may or may not have) shot down a Nazi plane during D-Day! (Spoiler alert: it took credit for it. History buffs cast a dubious although indulging eye at giving this boat credit for it.) (Wait, actually, that’s pretty much the whole story. We had to move it forward 20 feet or so, so a bunch of us helped pull it. The end!)
Wanderlust 