//------------------------------// // Canal Boat: Aire and Calder Navigation // Story: Field Notes from Equestria // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// Aire and Calder Navigation Admiral Biscuit Manehattan Harbor tours were popular with tourists, pony and human alike. While the ponies lacked Duck Boats, they had various sailing ships, sidewheelers, and steamboats offering short cruises, as well as a few water taxis—primarily for transportation, although I’d been told that the captains often pointed out things of interest to the passengers. I was standing in front of a sign with the silhouette of a boat. Beneath it, two other signs, one which said “Fens Waterway,” and a second advertising Aire & Calder Navigation Co. That sign was shaped like an arrow, and also had an icon of a castle tower and a rose. It was also pointing away from the Manehattan Harbor. I had a more interesting day trip in mind. My first sight of the Fens Waterway brought to mind an industrialized Venice. It was picturesque and traditional-looking, like most pony construction, but instead of apartments overlooking the canal, my side had a small railroad yard, and the other side was lined with squat warehouses. In the early-morning light, everything looked dingey and grey, with the exception of a thermopolium. A few ponies in harness were lined up in front of it, no doubt getting breakfast before they went on to their next task. Aire & Calder’s warehouse clerk directed me dockside, towards a long canal boat. It had an unmistakable workhorse look to it; it was well-kept, but showed signs of hard labor. It was double-ended, with three open holds—one long one in the center, and two shorter ones at either end. A cabin fore and aft separated the cargo holds. A yellow mare and a bulky blue stallion were busy loading the boat. The stallion was rolling barrels down a spindly gangplank, and as each reached the deck, the mare rolled them into place and set them on end. I noticed that she was working across both sides of the centerline of the boat, in order to keep it level. I didn’t want to interrupt them, so I looked around the area for other activity. Just downstream, next to the rail yards, was a coal dock. A large open barge was being emptied into rail cars by means of a clamshell bucket crane. Instead of the crane swivelling, like I would have expected, the bucket moved transversely along its arm, until it was over the rails. That in and of itself wouldn’t have been too interesting; any number of Earthly cranes worked similarly. What was interesting was that the ponies who built it were apparently afraid it might topple over, and added a counterweight. Since the load moved, so did the counterweight; it slid across a track on top of the crane, staying opposite of the loading bucket. Its movements were mesmerizing, and I didn’t turn back around to look at my boat until the third time the train moved forward to put another empty railcar under the crane. The center hold of my barge had been loaded, and the ramp pulled away. The mare and stallion were working in the stern hold now, passing crates and sacks in. I waited until they’d finished and put the deck covers back on before making my way to the edge. “Is this Aire and Calder Navigation?” The mare glanced up at me. “Sure is. I’m Flash Lock—who are you?” “Joe. I booked passage to Stroudwater.” “All right. We’re almost loaded, but you got time to get to the thermopolium if you want something to eat before we set out. Won’t be any food ‘til noontime or thereabouts. You can use the front cabin—do you need a gangplank or can you jump across?” It really wasn’t a long jump—not even a foot—and judging by the size and load of the boat, I wasn’t going to move it much getting aboard. “I think I can make it on my own.” “Watch your head, it’s not very tall in there.” ••• She wasn’t lying. It wasn’t very tall in the cabin even for a pony. That was fine; I wasn’t planning to spend much time in my cabin. As far as amenities went, there were the bare minimum. A couch, a bed, and a table. I could sit on the couch and not have my head touch the ceiling, and I could almost lie on the bed, as long as I had my knees hunched up. This wasn’t luxury travel by any means, but it didn’t claim to be. It was cheap, a way for Flash Lock and her crew to make a few extra bits on a route they were already travelling. I assumed that they used these cabins for themselves when they didn’t have passengers, maybe one for each of them? Or else they might hot-bunk, if they needed to keep a watch during the night. America had some canals, most famous of which was the Erie Canal. If there was still water in the canal, it might be used even now; I wasn’t sure. Regardless, it lacked the authenticity of a pony canal. I heard hoofsteps above my head, and looked out the window just in time to see Flash Lock hop off the roof, a rope in her mouth. She went all the way up to the bank where a pair of ponies were waiting. One was the stallion I’d seen helping her load the barrels, and he was standing beside a pony in harness who was his mirror-image twin—white where he was blue, and vice-versa. “You ready?” Flash Lock poked her muzzle into the cabin. “We’re loaded and as soon as Swanky gets the rope on Mersey, we’ll be ready to go.” “Yeah.” As soon as she moved back, I got out of the cabin. It had generous windows, but I didn’t want anything to restrict my view. Mersey had a half-harness. I wasn’t an expert in how pony harnesses worked, but I’d seen more than enough of them to have a general idea of what they ought to look like. This one was only the front half. Mersey was also a mare, something I hadn’t realized until she turned to face down the towpath. She pulled the line—which was attached on top of my cabin—until she’d taken the slack out. Flash Lock had already taken the stern-rope off the bollard and pushed away from the dock; Swanky had the bow-rope in his teeth. He tugged on it to get the barge moving, then jumped aboard and we set off. He stopped at my cabin and held out a hoof. “Swanky Brook, and that’s Mersey, my twin sister, up there on the tow-rope.” “Joe.” I gave him a fist-bump. “So I hear you’re bound for Stroudwater. Got business there?” “Just curious,” I admitted. “I’ve never ridden on a canal boat before.” “It’s a real nice trip,” he told me. “Once you get out of Manehattan, anyway. You’ll want to watch your head on bridges, and I hope you ain’t scared of tunnels.” “Tunnels?” “Yup, they built some of the city over the canal. That’s a mile ahead or so. Some ponies don’t like it, if it bothers you we can stop at the mouth and let you out, and you can walk to the other side and we’ll pick you up there.” “I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “I went down in a coal mine.” ••• The entrance to the tunnel reminded me of a scene in a movie. The curved stone wall arcing over the river, the city atop. It was smaller than I’d imagined, and I couldn’t see any light through it, or in it. We stopped before entering. Swanky Brook tossed the bow-rope around a bollard as we passed, letting it slide as the boat braked and sprung back slightly. He had a brief conference with a colt who was the tunnel attendant. It was too narrow for two-way traffic, so we had to wait until a barge came through before we could start our journey. Swanky took that opportunity to hang a lantern—similar to the miner’s lamps—on the front of Mersey’s harness, and another on the bow of our boat. “You’re gonna want to watch your head,” Flash Lock advised. “The center part of the tunnel’s real low and narrow, not much higher than the posts on the cabins.” “Got it.” That would make it lower than the mine shaft, at least as much as it mattered to me. I didn’t know how deep the water was. ••• I could see moving lights in the stygian darkness of the tunnel, and it seemed like forever before a pair of ponies finally emerged. They were walking single-file, rather than side-by-side. For longer than I thought possible, the illusion that the rope trailing behind them connected to nothing persisted, before the boat finally came into view. It wasn’t until they’d fully emerged from the tunnel that I realized they were on the same side of the canal as we were—apparently there was only one towpath through the tunnel. I assumed that the ponies had figured this out, and indeed they had. The pair stopped pulling as soon as the bow of the boat emerged, and their helmsmare pushed the tiller hard over, angling the boat across the canal. The two of them, still attached to their rope and each other, hopped up on the stern and trotted across the deck. The bow was nearly at the other bank and they only had to wait a moment before it brushed the edge. They jumped off and hurried forward to pull the slack back out of the line, while the helmsmare straightened her course, now on the opposite side of the canal. Flash Lock waved as they passed, and Mersey started to pull us into the tunnel. As she moved into the shadow, her coat seemed to turn grey, and then she became a shadow, only illuminated by the lantern on the front of her harness. Then it was our turn; the front of the barge passed under the arched stones and towards the shadow. Swanky glanced up as the tunnel portal passed by overhead. “Did Flash warn you about how low it gets in the middle?” “Top of the cabin, she said.” “Yeah.” He sat down on the bow. “It’s dangerous. They ought to put crystal lamps in, but nopony wants to spend the bits.” ••• I hadn’t thought I was claustrophobic, especially after the mineshaft, but the tunnel was a different matter altogether. Swanky Brook was keeping a close watch on the bow of the barge, ensuring it didn’t get too close to the wall. He had a barge pole to push off if needed, and I didn’t want to distract him by trying to carry on a conversation. In the stern, Flash Lock was concentrating on the helm, keeping the boat centered in the canal by the feeble light the bow lantern gave off. I just listened to the weird sounds of Mersey’s hooffalls reflecting off the walls, the echoing sounds of drips from the ceiling and the occasional splash of water. In the dim light of the lanterns, the roof appeared to be rushing by faster than the walls which I imagined was some kind of weird optical illusion. For a while, I could see a spot of light behind us, and then it faded and was gone. The tunnel might have curved, which would have covered any light from the entrance or exit. I didn’t know for sure; all that I knew was that I was stuck in a pitch-black cave. I didn’t want to risk moving—overhead was the roof and its dangers; and I had an idea that if I were to fall out of the barge, they’d have a hard time finding me in the darkness. So I instead concentrated on the wall passing alongside, and the bounce of Mersey’s lantern as she plodded through the tunnel and wondered how soon we’d reach the other end.  ••• We eventually emerged from the mouth of the tunnel. Not only was the open air around us a welcome change, but the scenery was different, too. It was a more suburban neighborhood, rather than the crowded city center.  There was a large basin where barges could wait for their turn to get into the tunnel—Swanky Brook told me that they tried to leave as early as possible in the morning to avoid traffic. The tunnelmaster prefered to send barges through in clusters, since that was most efficient; while we were in the tunnel, a cluster of barges had accumulated. “A lot of times, we’re bucking canal traffic,” he said. “’Cause we leave the city in the morning and return in the evening.” “You’ll be back tonight?” I’d looked at the map and maybe it was possible, although only if there were no delays and the cargo got quickly loaded and unloaded. “No, tomorrow. We lay up in Stroudwater for the night.” He yawned, and covered his mouth with a hoof. “Sorry, long morning loading. Just gotta stay awake until the first locks, then I can go back to the cabin and have a catnap.” “If it’s something I can help with, I will,” I offered. “Well, if Flash Lock says it’s okay. It’s her boat.” “I’ll go ask her.” ••• The ponies didn’t go for handrails, and I wasn’t sure how sturdy the barrels were. Probably quite sturdy, but I didn’t want to get in trouble for stepping in their cargo, whatever it was. So I followed along the edge, keeping my arms out for balance. I offered to help at the lock if I could, and she gave her assent. Swanky Brook retired to the cabin, and I stayed in the stern of the boat. “So what’s the big advantage of your barge versus a train or a cart?” I asked. “It’s cheaper for some bulky things,” she said. “And we can service customers right on the canal, while a train would have to leave it at the station for pickup. Stroudwater isn’t on the same division as Manehattan, so even though the train’s faster over the ground, it would have to go to Fens Junction and then the car’s gotta be taken out of the train and set aside for another train to take it the rest of the way.” “Unless they built tracks from Manehattan to Stroudwater.” “Then we might be out of a job,” she admitted. “Or find something else to carry on the boat. Lots of ponies live alongside the canal, even on boats anchored in basins, and it’s really convenient to have things delivered right to you.” She moved the tiller as the boat came up to a bend in the river. “I’m more worried about Swanky and Mersey; some ponies have invented steam engines small enough to fit in a canalboat, and if those get cheap and popular, a lot of towponies will be needing to find new work.” “We have the same problems on Earth,” I told her. “Jobs change, or how jobs are done changes, and people who work one job might find that nobody wants that product or service any more. There’s a lot of debate about what to do about that, if people should be re-trained or if the government should help prop up industries that are past their prime.” We’d pulled clear of the basin and back into the narrower canal proper. “But never mind that, I’d rather focus on the positive. It’s really pretty out here already. Is this what the rest of the trip is going to be like?” “Mostly. After the second set of locks, we’ll be along fields and forest for a while, before we come along the edge of Fens Junction—it used to just be Fens before the railroad came by—then we cross a valley on a bridge. We’ll get lunch on one side or the other, it depends on whether we have to wait for traffic.” “The bridge is only one barge wide?” She nodded. “And then a couple more locks, more forest, Oakton, Lock Lake Causeway, Lock Lake Basin, more fields and forests, and eventually Stroudwater around dinnertime.” ••• Locks were another holding point for the boat. “The gate’s open,” Flash Lock said, “so we just go right in. Mersey’ll get to the end of the lock and loop around that capstan and then walk back; she’ll wind up right alongside. You gotta go uptop and cross over the gates on the uphill end, ‘cause all the valve controls are on the other side of the canal. I’ll shout instructions to you, it’s not hard.” “Is there any way I can mess it up and make the boat crash through the gates?” “No.” “Good.” I jumped off the boat where Flash Lock indicated, and walked up the ramp alongside the lock. She hadn’t said, but I assumed that Mersey would ride the barge up, her first break since we’d left the tunnel. I’d gotten to the controls before the barge was all the way in, and looked down inside the lock to watch the progress. The capstan was shaped almost like a fat T. Mersey walked up to it, waited until the boat’s momentum had given her a bit of slack in the towrope, then dropped it over the edge and started walking back the other way. They’d obviously done this a time or two; Mersey stopped before the entire barge was in, but it coasted the rest of the way, until Flash Lock looped a rope over a bollard near the stern and brought it to a stop. Mersey hopped aboard and brought in the towline, while Flash Lock looked up to make sure I was in position. “First thing is to close the gates—do you see the big lever? That’s the gate lever.” It was impossible to miss; like the tiller was hooked to the rudder, it extended from the top of the gate. A linkage ran across the top of the lock so both doors could be operated together, and it was sitting in a recess in a stone pillar.  “Lift it up to get it out of the lockstone, and pull it to the other lockstone. Make sure it’s seated in the notch.” “Got it.” I lifted it up and began pushing. At first, it didn’t want to move, but as the doors started to push through the water, it got easier. I held back at the end; I wasn’t sure if they could be damaged by closing them too enthusiastically. “There’s a wheel next to that, you want to turn it all the way sunwise to close the paddle gate.” “Sunways?” “Yeah, how the sun goes around on a dial.” “What if I don’t know which way that is?” “Um, you should see a rack gear sticking out of the ground next to the mechanism. If it’s up, the paddle gate is open.” “How far up?” “At the uphill end of the lock, there’s another one just like it, they both should look about the same. Just turn it so the rack’s moving down, and won’t move down any further.” “Got it.” The wheel was too large for a human—I imagined that ponies would hook something on their harness on it, and turn it that way. It moved easily, and the rack came up, so I turned it back the other way. “It’s all the way closed.” “Good. Ponies are supposed to leave it closed when they leave the lock, but sometimes they’re in a hurry and don’t. Now go to the uphill lock and open the paddle gate there.” “Same process?” “Yes.” “Do I have to stop it when the water gets at the right level?” “No, it will level itself.” I should have remembered that water worked that way. ••• The boat rose slowly. Mersey sat on the gunnel and snacked on an oatcake while Flash Lock checked on the load. She didn’t trust me to close the valve; once the barge had reached the top of the lock and I’d opened the uphill gates, she hopped out and checked both valves wheels to make sure they were set in the right position for the next barge to come through. I boarded the barge while Mersey disembarked and started walking down the towpath again. Flash Lock waited until the rope pulled taut, then gave the barge a shove, leaping aboard as it started moving. The terrain on either side of the canal was hilly, and we passed through several cuts and across the top of a couple embankments. It was hard to imagine how the ponies had built all that, although historically, humans had done the same thing. We passed by a couple having a picnic on the bank, and further along a small flock of ducks who were very familiar with passing barges. Flash Lock tossed some bread in the water for them. Every now and then, we’d pass a coal barge headed the opposite way, towards Manehattan. Flash Lock admitted that she didn’t like them, but that they were helping to keep the canal open and keep towponies at work, so they were a mixed blessing. ••• Just before reaching the next set of locks, we did our first barge-to-barge transfer, which caught me totally by surprise.  “Hoy! Mersey! Transfer!” Mersey glanced over at the approaching boat and adjusted her steps, enough to stop pulling but not to let the rope completely slack. Flash Lock angled the barge towards the center of the canal, and I could see that the tillermare on the other barge was doing the same. Both of them clearly knew exactly where to position themselves in the canal. I’d expected to stop completely and rig some kind of a transfer ramp, but instead Flash Lock tossed a sack across as the sterns slid by, and then we were on our way again. “What was that?” “Fresh bread and cheese,” Flash Lock said. “From Manehattan.” I thought about that. “They’re downbound, why don’t they just get it in town themselves?” “Barge is too tall to fit through the tunnel,” she explained. “So I get it for them. Every couple of weeks they pay me back with a case of wine from a vineyard on their route. It works out well for both of us, and we bargees gotta stick together.” “So they don’t go all the way into Manehattan?” “No, they stop just above the first lock, that’s where their final delivery is.”