Thinking of a houseboat holiday?

The Griswalds have nothing on us when it comes to the Park-Bozzo Houseboat vacation.

We researched our week trip on the Internet (www.rideau-info.com) to discover the Rideau Canal flows between Kingston and Ottawa through a series of 47 locks. It runs 202 Km and visitors can navigate it by boat, canoe, kayak, road, or trail. By day two we wished we had chosen any option other than a 40-ft, 8-ton houseboat.

We picked it up in Portland Ontario, about a two and a half hour drive from Toronto. Despite verbal guarantees, it was not ready. A young woman began cleaning it although she repeatedly told us it "wasn't my job" and said little else. Lucky for her she wasn't paid by the word. She reviewed the inventory, 10 plates, 10 spoons. "Make sure you bring it all She dipped a ruler in the gas tank. "17-1/2 inches, if it's returned with less, you pay."

Anything else we needed to know? "I don't know. I just do inventory."

The houseboat staff had assured us that driving was simple. Later, one lockmaster compared manoeuvring a houseboat to driving a sailboat.

The instructor gave "only two captains", dads John P and John B. a ten-minute training session. The young man also informed us that no one under 25 years old was allowed to drive. That eliminated our teenagers - Michelle, 15, Brandon 15, Mario 17, Trevor 17 and Haley 18. No problem: Michelle wanted to tan, Brandon to fish, and Haley to read. The reluctant travellers, Mario and Trevor, wanted to sleep until they could return to their city friends. .

Towels alone took most of the storage. There was one small room with a door, the penthouse, a crawl space above the room, and the benches that opened into two double beds while the table dropped to create a third. These were meant to hold two people each. It didn't matter. Not yet. It was sunny and warm and we were on holiday. Anchors up.

We headed to Smith Falls and to our first lock. A lock in a canal is like a water elevator, letting some boats up and others down. When a boat enters a lock, the gate closes behind it so the boat is enclosed in a chamber. Valves are contained within the walls and gates. If a boat is travelling upriver, the valves upriver are opened until the water level within the chamber rises and equals the elevation of the water upriver. The upriver lock gates are opened and the boat departs. It works the opposite way going downriver. The lockmasters at each lock manage the traffic. It was obvious to them at our first lock, Smiths Falls Combined Locks that we were novices. People rushed from above to throw us lines. We held onto ropes slung through cables on the chamber walls and released them once the gate reopened. We found the Lock Masters hugely helpful and the crews on happy holiday mode. We felt sorry for those people with beautiful expensive cruisers who shuddered (with excellent reason) when they saw us approach. Not surprisingly, houseboats were told to be first in line. We did not take the snickering and comments personally.

That night we docked at Victoria Park and the boys slept on the adjacent parkland.

Day 2
The adults toured the Hershey's Factory, a chocoholic's version of heaven. While the others jogged, my workout was carrying the bags of chocolate back. The chocolate filled up the entire fridge but no one doubted it was the best use of space.

Next stop: Poonamalie Lock. We pulled in at a swampy dock as a favour to the lonely mosquitoes. We discovered that most of the screens had holes.

Day 3
We trolled the river before anchoring in a secluded spot enroute to the town of Westport. Everyone, except for our non-swimmer Grace, dove into the deep, clean water. The kids jumped off the side of the boat and it could not have been more idyllic. Feeling optimistic, we dried off and started toward Westport. The motor turned, but then immediately died. The wind picked up and the Refreshed, John P. restarted the houseboat. The wind rose and we started drifting. A young man was sent to our rescue. He couldn't get the engine going either. He towed us to isolated Narrow Lock but not through it as he didn't have enough gas to get back, and his girlfriend was waiting. Much later the head mechanic found the problem. No gas.

No one had mentioned that 13 inches of gas meant empty. We had assumed the tank had been filled. Silly us.

Once stranded without food (five teenagers, remember) the boys perked up. Brandon was determined to catch dinner. His hook was too big for the tiny sunfish, so he lured, Mario scooped and Trevor gutted. They barbecued twenty sunfish. Not meaty, not tasty, but wonderful.

That night John B. was delighted to leave the crawl space and sleep on top of the boat. Shame about the midnight thunderstorm.