The lockmaster, in his starched uniform, hat and dark glasses, looks more intimidating than a state trooper as he motions for us to grab the lines he's tossed down from the port bulkhead. Julie takes the stern and I go forward, through the walk-through windshield. A set of molded-in steps at the helm are easy to climb, and the foredeck has a subtle crown for solid footing. Aggressive nonskid is everywhere and tall, 316L stainless steel bowrails ensure my safety. As the lock fills and the boat slowly rises, a group of young boys lean over a metal rail above us.
Chances are they're camping with their families nearby.
As we idle out of the lock, we see a few people casting baits from shore. The scene reminds the Phillipses of a boat- handling lesson they learned on a previous trip through the Waterway. They were with a group of boats en route to the east coast. When exiting one of the locks, the lead boat applied too much throttle. The wake from that craft toppled a woman who was fishing with a cane pole from a lawn chair at the water's edge.