I was on my way to Melton Hill Park to let the hounds stretch their legs when Tom called. He and Jim were going to lock through to Watts Bar. Did I want to go?
Hell yes.
I returned to the house and met them on my dock, and we set off for the Fort Loudon Locks. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do but was way too intimidated to try. Growing up in Pittsburgh, I was well aware of locks and how they allow you to rise or fall to the next water level on a river. But I’d never tried to go through myself.
Here in Tennessee, the locks at Fort Loudon form a barrier. Watts Bar was always like some other, mystical world that I couldn’t enter. I’ve gone up into Tellico a good ways. And I’ve gone all the way upstream to Knoxville. But I’d never gone onto Watts Bar.
It really wasn’t as tough as I thought it would be, but it’s still a process. And the laughing lockmaster was quick to remind us that we were indeed newbies here. “This wouldn’t be your first time locking through, would it,” he asked. We just laughed.
As the water level drops 90 feet to Watts Bar, it’s a pretty astounding sight. We looked up at the gate holding back Lake Loudon while Tom reminded us that it was the only thing between us and millions of gallons of water that we were beneath. When the lock into Watts Bar finally opened, we motored through the flotsam and jetsam outside it and into Watts Bar.
It felt much more like a river than Loudon, with narrower channels and less development on the shores. It reminded me of the portions of Melton Hill Lake that I’ve paddled in my kayak.
We went about four or five miles downstream, to about mile marker 596, then turned around and locked back through into Lake Loudon.
Tom and Jim dropped me off on my dock as the sun set and a full moon rose, and I was once again reminded of what a sublime place Tennessee is in the autumn …
More photos here, including indisputable proof that Jim truly is the Bishop of Bivalves.
