CA Update - Al Zagofsky 3

The William B. Stone Sacramento Locks—the only ship lock ever built in California, briefly connected the Sacramento Deep Water Ship Channel to the Sacramento River. The canal locks are shown in the center with its far side ending at Jefferson Blvd. in West Sacramento. In the distant right is the Farmers’ Rice Cooperative docks and the Lake Washington turn around basin.

California’s Forgotten Ship Lock

When I moved to West Sacramento from Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania—a town once alive with canal boats hauling anthracite coal—I didn’t expect to find echoes of that history here on the banks of the Sacramento River. In Pennsylvania, I’d spent years as a journalist writing about the old Lehigh Canal—producing articles, a trail map, and even a book about its locks and towpaths. So when I discovered that West Sacramento had its own long-forgotten lock system, I was instantly hooked.

One morning, pedaling along the levee near the Port of West Sacramento, I came upon a massive concrete structure that seemed both ghostly and grand. Rising from the tule marshes stood the William B. Stone Sacramento Locks—the only ship lock ever built in California.

At first glance, it looked like a relic of the Cold War—steel gates frozen in time, control towers empty, the chamber half-filled with still water. But behind that quiet exterior lies a story of ambition, delay, and transformation that spans decades.

After World War II, the federal government sought to make Sacramento a seaport. The River and Harbor Act of 1946 authorized construction of the Sacramento Deep Water Ship Channel, extending 43 miles from Suisun Bay to Lake Washington in West Sacramento. The William B. Stone Locks were built at the channel’s eastern end to connect it to the Sacramento River.

Construction began in 1949, halted a year later due to funding shortages, and resumed in 1956. By June 1963, oceangoing ships were navigating the newly completed waterway, bringing California’s heartland a step closer to the Pacific.

The locks were meant to balance two competing forces: the freshwater that flows from underground springs beneath Lake Washington and the salty tides that push inland from San Francisco Bay. They were also intended to allow ships to pass safely between the channel and the river. But in practice, they were rarely—if ever—used for commercial navigation.

Today, the locks stand silent, but the ship channel remains busy. Its most frequent visitors are the massive bulk carriers that load up at the Farmers’ Rice Cooperative docks just west of the locks. There, towering silos store the harvest from Sacramento Valley farms. Conveyor belts and metal chutes descend to the water’s edge, pouring rice into the open holds of freighters bound for markets across Asia and the Middle East.

The Sacramento Valley’s rice industry is a quiet giant—nearly half a million acres of flooded fields stretching across Yolo, Colusa, Sutter, and Sacramento counties. The region produces billions of pounds of short- and medium-grain rice each year, prized for sushi and premium table rice. Most of it begins its journey right here, in West Sacramento, where steel meets water and agriculture meets the world.

I sometimes kayak along the ship channel, and one afternoon I got a vivid reminder of its working nature. I was paddling in calm water when I saw a cargo ship easing up the channel toward the Rice Co-op dock— and I was directly in its path. I paddled like mad, my kayak bouncing in the ship’s wake, until I was clear. of the ship When the vessel finally passed, I sat catching my breath, watching its wake ripple toward the tule reeds. It was a close call—and a thrilling reminder that this waterway still carries the pulse of commerce.

Now, the City of West Sacramento hopes to breathe new life into the Stone Locks area. Plans are underway to turn the decommissioned lock site into a public recreation district, with trails, waterfront parks, and kayak access. The locks may once have been built for ships, but their next chapter could be about people—connecting them to the canal and river rather than dividing it.

Standing beside those weathered gates feels like straddling two worlds. In Jim Thorpe, the old canal locks I once wrote about have become hiking trails and heritage sites, celebrating the very history they once served. Here, the Stone Locks may follow a similar path—from industrial infrastructure to cultural landmark.

The William B. Stone Locks may never have lived up to their grand maritime promise, but they remain a monument to vision and perseverance. Like the canals of Pennsylvania, they remind us that even when human enterprise fades, the waterways endure—quietly waiting for a new generation to rediscover their purpose..

~ Al Zagofsky