I’m recovering from having entertained a visitor from out of town. He is a fellow amateur photographer (meaning we’re both enthusiastic about the photographic opportunities). In the nine days that he was here, we stayed close to town, as he preferred to spend his time exploring the streets of Seattle rather than traveling all over the state. The notable exception was a trip down to Tacoma to visit the glass museum and watch the glassblowing demonstration. The museum itself is small, but the demonstration more than made up for it. At this time they are making dog biscuit containers.

This visit marked my first opportunity to visit the EMP. The only photographic opportunity in the EMP is the giant pile of guitars — all other exhibits are pretty much off limits. Fortunately, the sound lab on the top floor more than makes up for it. Where else can you learn how to play Louie Louie on the guitar? (OK, so it’s basically three notes played on one of the strings, but still! Rockstardom, here I come.) Since it was a week day, there were no lines, so I also spent a lot of time smacking the hell out of the drums.

I’m probably the reason Seattle has such a bad reputation for rain. I tell everyone that it rains here 100 percent of the time. I had prepped my friend for a good old Puget Sound winter: overcast and rainy. I must have told him at least a hundred times, “now, you should expect it to rain the entire time you’re here.” Imagine his disappointment at the high pressure system that spent the whole week in Seattle — clear blue skies and a crisp coolness.

Our most exciting event of the week was a visit to the Chittenden Locks. We watched the boats park themselves obediently to one side of the locks at the direction of the Army Corps of Engineers. One of the last vessels to arrive was a sailess yacht, which was traveling a little quickly (to my uneducated eyes). Apparently the rest of the Corps thought so too, and suddenly there was a flurry of activity and yelling to the captain of the yacht to slow the hell down. The other boat owners joined in the chorus, giving the poor yacht’s captain advice to which he could only helplessly yell back, “I can’t slow down!” One of the Corps employees threw him a rope and he started to tie it to the yacht, but the employee couldn’t hold on to it — in fact the rope gouged his hand bloody, and he had to let it go. During a normal locks passage, when everyone is doing everything right, it’s so easy to wonder why the employees are tied to the ground but when things like this happen, you know that the guy holding the other end of the rope would have probably been yanked into the water if he wasn’t anchored to his post.

The yacht sailed towards the other side of the locks — the closed gates. The captain managed to avoid the other boats. The boat owners and the employees continued to yell instructions. The rest of us looked on in silent horror. The yacht swung wildly to one side and then the other, executing a tight hairpin turn right in front of the gates. I heard a scraping, snapping sound, but when I looked, the bow appeared untouched.

Finally at a stop, the yacht was pulled back into position about 3 boats back, being passed from one boat to the other. If I had been the captain I would have been humiliated beyond belief, but the guy still found time to question why they wouldn’t park him at the front row of boats. I guess if you don’t ask, you’ll never learn. Last I saw him, one of the other boats was giving him a tow out away from the locks. Probably the safest thing for all concerned.

Related posts:

1. Ballard locks closed on Tuesday
2. entertaining visitors
3. Ballard Locks
4. Get yer Cameras Out!
5. The Boat Show! The Boat Show! The big Seattle boat show!