“Very quiet here”, this from the gal behind the desk who thought, as the calculator said, that $.70/ft (.70x12) = $84.00., but noted that the maximum for any boat was $20.00. This prompted her to call the boss, who took some time to figure out that she couldn’t figure out the decimal. The tariff: $8.40. For that you get dockage, electric and water hook-up, neither of which I needed, and clean rest room with shower. I could have tented, but stowed the sail on shore, covered the seat on the dock and scrunched things around until I could lie down in the boat with the cover snapped on. Scrunched. I slept well enough, some dreaming, some sorting of the loud sounds the traffic made over the bridge just downstream, and the waves of raucous cooing and growling this would trigger in the large pigeon population residing in the ironwork supporting the deck. By the time I thought “get up”, it felt like enough sleep. Made up my AT familiar stuff- esbit-heated water, 2 packets of grits, dried milk, olive oil, dried fruit. It all took a long time to get going- eating, repacking and all. I’d gotten up at 7:00 and didn’t get on the water until about 9:00. Clear sky, no wind (and no chart- I’d left it in the car). So, leisurely pedaling for the 7 miles I figured it was to Lockport where I’d get some good food and replacement chart. Turns out: As you mosey along, of a sudden the lock is there, and like in London where the merest hint that one’s intention is to cross the street brings all traffic to an immediate halt, bells started ringing, the lock gates open (without any message from me that I wished to go through- the lockmaster probably figured I was a greenhorn) so- in you go, and immejately upon the opening of the gate ahead, you are into the next lock, the only double lock on the Canal. Once out of the second lock, you encounter two low bridges carrying car traffic. The alert bridgemasters (they didn’t have much to do this morning) decided that I intended to proceed, and the bells clanged, the bridges rose (in succession)and I didn’t have the heart to tell them “Not just yet!” so I could tie up and explore things. Actually, I had no reason to stop here, and I knew there were marinas coming up. A public one just east of Lockport provided me with a rootbeer float, and some grousing by a local official about the fact that in spite of much promising of funds for businesses to promote recreation along the Canal, since its management was taken over by the NY State Throughway Authority, the Canal has been treated as an afterthought. I suspect whatever funds there have been have gone to the various towns and “ports” along the Canal, and that those entities use the funds as they see fit.
Between Lockport and Gasport, about 5 miles, there was abundant avian life. Plus turtles- in addition to the snapper I saw yesterday there were a dozen mud turtles on rocks, in various stages of procreation. Squadrons of swallows, mostly barn, nesting under the many wooden docks and piers along the Canal, plus tree swallows. The bad news born by these creatures being the presence of lots of insects. Nasty biting house flies, occasional deer flies and horse flies. No mosquitoes. Lots of dragonflies. Today 6 or so great blue herons, many little green herons, many spotted sandpipers, grackles, robins, cardinals, kingbirds, kingfishers, turkey vultures, in the air and on the ground, right by the Canal- probably enjoying the many dead fish to be found along the banks. I watched an osprey as long as I could keep it in view. Hundreds of Canada geese, mallards and at least 3 other species of duck, one of which was all white from the chest forward and all black to the rear. Crows and starlings abound. Redwing blackbirds everywhere. I heard three wood thrushes along the way. Many phoebes as well.
Toward 4:00 p.m. – still no breeze- no point in raising sail, but 1 to 1 ½ mph current plus 3 to 3 ½ pedal speed brought me to Gasport Marina, private, quite clean-looking, but, no one there- closed because its pump-out facility was under repair, I later learned. So, on I went another 5 miles to Middleport, where a fancy restaurant has its own marina, but not an overnight deal. A few hundred yards further was the public marina, where, as I reached up to tie a line, a gentleman offered to help. He and his wife owned the substantial cabin cruiser just in front of me (my boat now pointing west to face the current). The high cement walls which constitute the public marinas usually have cables strung along two to three feet above the water line to accommodate small craft. The hostess at the restaurant had gone out of her way to try to track down B and Bs she thought were in the area, to no avail. I’d be loathe to leave the boat at an unsupervised marina anyway, so tenting is the thing for me. There are no managers at these public marinas; I don’t know who looks after the restrooms , which are always open, or who sees to the electricity and water sources for the boats. I suppose the towns do this. Those using the Canal pay a fee, either per lock or lift bridge, or by the day, week or season, but non-powered craft pay no fee even though they use all the services except electricity and water at the marinas. Interesting. There were several restaurants in Middleport near to the marina. I had dinner at the “fancy” one, quite expensive and quality only fair. I breakfasted the next morning at the “everyman’s” place where the quality was poor but adequate. I tented because of the cramped boat and because the weather looked good. The owners of the “Irish Dancer”, Jim and Barb Collins, were very helpful with info about the Canal and even drove me to a hardware store to get the makings of a cable and lock they suggested for the boat. The Canal isn’t like the AT: minor mischief is always afoot. They live in Cheektowaga, a suburb of Buffalo, moor their boat all summer at Gasport, but are here now for the same reason I am. I arose about 7:00 a.m. to some nice wind and clear air, but there was significant darkening in the west. I watched it grow, and after the trip to the hardware store it was clear it was going to hit. I just had time to use the facilities and close myself in the boat (sail wrapped up on lawn) and the storm unleashed itself- big lightning, very close crackling thunder, heavy rain, but I remained dry throughout. However, I could not get comfortable inside. My storm arrangements need to be adjusted. The weather cleared by about 10:00 a.m. I had breakfast, Jim checked the weather- mostly clear weather with chance of thunderstorms all week. I made ready to proceed, thinking I’d have to fight the sail as I did the first day, and while waiting for the bridgemaster to raise the bridge (he travels between two bridges on the Canal, so it can take 15 to 20 minutes at one or the other), I decided I needed to do two things to feel safe and comfortable: 1) I needed a smaller sail (I knew they make them), and 2) I needed better storm protection. So I decided to go back to Gasport Marina where I knew there was a ramp for pulling out (none at Middleport), have shelter under the marina’s eaves, call Jean (she now in Pittsburgh- the Canandaigua place is rented this week) and when she could come she would get me, drive to Canandaigua, pick up the trailer, get the boat, take it to the upholsterer (who, it turned out, was out of town leading a camping trip in the Adirondacks), order the smaller sail, and pick up again at Gasport.
The return to Gasport, 5 miles, and now both “upstream”( 1 or so mph current), and upwind, which was quite steady. It took me only 2 hours to make the trip, and although I had to pedal constantly, it was not only easy but quite pleasant. I called Jean who began processing this new turn of events, and asked her to email Jim Collins that I’d be staying overnight at the private marina. I also called the number listed at the marina and was told that there’d be no problem with my tying up overnight. The weather as of 3:30 p.m. continued to be attractive except for scattered large thunderheads. So- right decision to interrupt.
As the day wore on, calls to Jean re plans for pick-up etc, would it wouldn’t it storm evolving into a sure thing. Large black buildup to the west. I was conversing with a fisherman, who expressed interest in seeing the escapade. As we started over, walking under the steel roofed porch of the marina, a gawd awful pounding commenced, with thunder and lightning, and hale, largest I’d ever seen, walnut sized, and lots of it, for a long time (see video), followed by gorgeous rainbow, a double, with the primary arising right out of the escapade and the Erie Canal behind it. I was reminded of a quote I read in Samuel Hopkins Adams book “The Erie Canal”: In 1817, Elisha Williams is speechifying to convince New Yorkers to support the building of the Canal, and says: “If the canal is to be a shower of gold, it will fall upon New York; if a river of gold, it will flow into her lap.” Apparently, the gold keeps flowing, at least at the end of this rainbow.
I finally identified a very common bird hereabouts I’d never seen before, or hadn’t known what I was seeing and hearing: the rough-winged swallow, whose call is highly reminiscent of the night hawk, which I haven’t seen in years.
The wave action in the Canal is amazing. The wakes of various boats in the confinement of the channel last up to 20 minutes after the boat has passed, even though all are at slow speed. I would have thought the wake would rebound off the banks and fairly soon cancel out, but not so. They seem to convert from the typical “V” shape to straight across, perpendicular to the banks, and carry on.
Starlings, house wrens, red bellied woodpecker, gold finches, common yellowthroat warbler, plus one warbler NFS, many house sparrows, mourning doves, catbirds, flickers.
Wednesday night the sky again thickening in the west. Many fishermen and women along both sides of the Canal and in boats. A number of fishing competitions had been announced on flyers along the Canal. I finally saw one caught- a redfin sucker, I think the man said, probably 2 pounds or so, and released at once. One man I met fishing from a kayak said that he understood that you can eat the fish from the Canal- the many types I hope to recount at some point- but the advice is no more than one per month due to lead and/or mercury. An almost full moon was very hazy, with thunder and lightning about 4:30 a.m. No wind. Eventually a few drops of rain, and again at about 7:00 a.m. A full bore thunderstorm hit at 7:50 a.m. with strong gusts. The tent was flapping about, but remained stout. My initial opinion that there was no moisture inside proved to be all wet, as was the entire floor on the tent and the bottom third of my sleeping bag.
So I awaited the arrival of Jean, hoping for noon, and in the clearing air strung and hung my things out to dry. She arrived about 1:30 p.m., the same time as Jim and Barb Collins who had brought their boat back to its berth, and thus was able to meet them.
I drive of about 90 miles brought us to Canandaigua where we hitched up the trailer, drove back to Gasport, retrieved the boat, and returned, where I made contact with Ray the upholsterer to construct a storm covering which would allow me to sleep in the boat. I would also order a smaller sail, and look to some other modifications, like rigging a rear view mirror. We had to return to Pittsburgh in the meantime, and as of 29 July will be travelling back to the Finger Lakes for a Canal reentry as soon as the changes are complete.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Monday, July 14th, 2008
It is 6:40 pm on Monday, July 14th, 2008. I am lying in the boat about 10 miles from North Tonawanda, 9 miles from Lockport, tied into an ancient barebones marina, the “Amherst”, though I don’t think it is near Amherst, the suburb of Buffalo. No town, restaurant, motel, store. I stopped at about 3:30 due to threatening skies – just a threat so far. Could probably have put my tent up but don’t want to risk wet stuff.
Left Canandaigua with Jean about 8:15 this morning after hectic last minute preparation and getting the Stine House ready for rental. The week’s weather forecast looked favorable. As we approached Buffalo (about 90 miles), some large thunderheads developed, probably to the south, and already downwind. We found a “put in” at North Tonawanda easily, did last minute jobs, like filling 5 gallon ballast bags-I’d found that the escapade sails better with weight in the stern- prepared the sail and set off at about noon under pedal power- not much wind then, and crowded narrow waterway. Lots of people, boats, kayaks, bikes on pontoons. Soon able to raise the sail. Wind, although strong and steady above ground level as told in the trees, was very squirrelly at canal level, both in gusts and frequent changes of direction, plus completely calm spots. Rarely could I hold a course and sail setting for 30 seconds. At one point the wind was so strong I had to let go of the sheet. This concerned me, so I lowered the sail and attempted to lash it, but could not keep it from dragging in the water. Plus it offended my nautical esthetics. So when things (me, the wind) calmed down I raised the sail and the next time high winds came, I released the sheet and let the sail luff downwind. By applying a little pressure to the clew (the part of the sail where the boom and lateen meet), I could both steer and capture some wind energy. Not very elegant. I did this off and on according to conditions, increasingly “competently”. I pedaled through flat spots, and all in all, with the 1 to 1 ½ mph current, figured I was doing 4 to 5 mph, without pushing
In the course of three hours I encountered 4 boats westbound- sport craft, large cruisers, some fishermen, and was overtaken by 4 boats- houseboat/canal boat, bulky cruisers. Not much traffic.
Abundant wildlife. Legions of Canada geese, mallard families, two other species of duck, 2 great blue herons, one buteo, three kingfishers, many barn swallows (nesting under docks), and kingbirds, feeding young. The kingbird and swallow young, newly fledged, were lined up on branches, still expecting full service from mom and dad. Many purple grackles, cardinals, blue jays.
Still by 7:10 no rain- I could have gotten to Lockport but this felt fine for the first day. The sail is still very much in trial mode with much awkwardness in attempting to get the sail and boat cover arranged, plus air mattress, sleeping bag, food and other storage. At least this marina (the tie-up cost $8.40) has good restrooms. I hope to get a full day tomorrow.
The Canal is mostly murky, sometimes downright yucky with frequent dead fish. Swimming is not for me. Abundant foliage. Usually paths or roads along both sides. Lots of private homes with docks- the homes looking kempt, the docks often is disrepair, as though the owners had outgrown or tired of canal travel or sport. Quite a sense of bustle so far, this near to Buffalo. About 8:00 p.m. the wind stopped; sky dramatic with large dark cumulus and bright setting sun. A few drops of rain.
Left Canandaigua with Jean about 8:15 this morning after hectic last minute preparation and getting the Stine House ready for rental. The week’s weather forecast looked favorable. As we approached Buffalo (about 90 miles), some large thunderheads developed, probably to the south, and already downwind. We found a “put in” at North Tonawanda easily, did last minute jobs, like filling 5 gallon ballast bags-I’d found that the escapade sails better with weight in the stern- prepared the sail and set off at about noon under pedal power- not much wind then, and crowded narrow waterway. Lots of people, boats, kayaks, bikes on pontoons. Soon able to raise the sail. Wind, although strong and steady above ground level as told in the trees, was very squirrelly at canal level, both in gusts and frequent changes of direction, plus completely calm spots. Rarely could I hold a course and sail setting for 30 seconds. At one point the wind was so strong I had to let go of the sheet. This concerned me, so I lowered the sail and attempted to lash it, but could not keep it from dragging in the water. Plus it offended my nautical esthetics. So when things (me, the wind) calmed down I raised the sail and the next time high winds came, I released the sheet and let the sail luff downwind. By applying a little pressure to the clew (the part of the sail where the boom and lateen meet), I could both steer and capture some wind energy. Not very elegant. I did this off and on according to conditions, increasingly “competently”. I pedaled through flat spots, and all in all, with the 1 to 1 ½ mph current, figured I was doing 4 to 5 mph, without pushing
In the course of three hours I encountered 4 boats westbound- sport craft, large cruisers, some fishermen, and was overtaken by 4 boats- houseboat/canal boat, bulky cruisers. Not much traffic.
Abundant wildlife. Legions of Canada geese, mallard families, two other species of duck, 2 great blue herons, one buteo, three kingfishers, many barn swallows (nesting under docks), and kingbirds, feeding young. The kingbird and swallow young, newly fledged, were lined up on branches, still expecting full service from mom and dad. Many purple grackles, cardinals, blue jays.
Still by 7:10 no rain- I could have gotten to Lockport but this felt fine for the first day. The sail is still very much in trial mode with much awkwardness in attempting to get the sail and boat cover arranged, plus air mattress, sleeping bag, food and other storage. At least this marina (the tie-up cost $8.40) has good restrooms. I hope to get a full day tomorrow.
The Canal is mostly murky, sometimes downright yucky with frequent dead fish. Swimming is not for me. Abundant foliage. Usually paths or roads along both sides. Lots of private homes with docks- the homes looking kempt, the docks often is disrepair, as though the owners had outgrown or tired of canal travel or sport. Quite a sense of bustle so far, this near to Buffalo. About 8:00 p.m. the wind stopped; sky dramatic with large dark cumulus and bright setting sun. A few drops of rain.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Cruising the Erie Canal (and beyond?) by Pedal Boat with Sail
It all began……
I am awash in emendations even as I commit my thoughts to print. I hope the balance I achieve between my inclination to reconstruct and portray a logical and chronological story and my wish to highlight the fancies that strike me at the moment does not work too much mischief in favor of either approach.
To my lifelong fascination with wind, water and the motions generated by each and both I must add an addiction to sound as determiners of my explorations.
I have many memories of a period from ages 4 – 8 of the excitement in going to spend an afternoon at “Big Sandy”, a freshwater pond on Cape Cod. Movies from that time show me, standing thigh deep in water, holding tightly to a toy sailboat. I was a proficient swimmer by the time I was 5, and by 7 was crewing on our sailboat, “The Yank”, a snipe, affording my endless opportunities to play with wind and water, harnessing the power of the sails and being tossed about like a cork.
An enduring visual and kinesthetic and, as I later realized, esthetic experience took place when I was 9 years old when a visit to Canandaigua, NY included my being allowed (by my future Grandmother-in-Law) to row her Peterborough cedar strip boat in the still shallows, gliding over crystal clear waters near shore
I learned canoeing from the experts: Canadian guides, trappers and handymen who built our and others’ cottages with me “helping”, of a summer. Later on, with the advent of windsurfing, this too became a passion.
No surprise that Kenneth Graham’s “Wind in the Willows” touched me like no other book. More on this later.
The Erie Canal entered my life when my family moved to the Niagara Frontier; the fearsome mesmerizing of the cataract, the rapids above and the whirlpools below was probably all the stimulation a five year old could process.
How a canal system managed to get around the roiling power of that natural wonder was revealed only gradually and much later. Memory of glimpses of the Canal from childhood remained with me and received reinforcement periodically across New York State, and especially from the three years we lived in Rochester: a canal over a road? A canal over a river? Yes- these and more. From the two Canal songs I learned as a child came understanding of towpaths and mules, though again I couldn’t figure out how the barges could be held off the banks.
The writings of Samuel Hopkins Adams, an up-stater and Ham Coll Grad, about the Canal, especially “Grandfather Stories”, in which he recounted tales of the creation of the Canal as recollected by his grandfather whose father had helped build the Canal, are full of facts, myths and the humans who generated them.
Then is 1998 or so we got wind of a company that rented canal boats by the week, beginning and ending at the North end of Cayuga Lake which is joined to the Erie Canal by a spur. These boats were modeled after the barge boats of yore: narrow and long, full galley (kitchen), six beds, two baths and shower, powered by a 50 hp diesel engine plus bow thrusters. It was during that trip, with Eric and Lorraine von Brockdorff, that I experienced a particular “state of mind” for the first time- a kind of tranquility, calm and relaxed, but alert to the sights, sounds and scents of the Canal. I didn’t miss a heron or an osprey. Too, the perspective of the countryside from the Canal is so unlike that seen from road or street: much more greenery, far fewer buildings, roads, traffic, noise- very much a different world, although in the same place.
The development which propelled the whole enterprise from dream to reality came- and here I reveal something of my personal habits- in the form of a Hammacher-Schlemmer catalogue. Although I rarely (honest!) purchased anything from H-S, I enjoyed leafing through their offerings, especially far out (and farout expensive) vehicles/toys which were wind or human powered or both. What I saw in 2006 was the very thing to transport me to tranquility: a pedal-powered boat which accommodated a sail, and which could take 3 adults, so they claimed, which I amended at the time, and confirmed, would be 2 adults and a child or one adult and 2 children. Anyway, H-S kindly put me in contact with the company that manufactured these boats, located in Muskegon, MI. Some phone queries lead to a visit in June of 2007, a test run, and the decision to make the boat my flagship of the Erie Canal, the Hudson River, and possibly Long Island Sound. To get to Block Island would be a stretch, but I wasn’t going to rule that out.
The plan was to obtain the boat (called a Nauticraft Escapade) in mid June of 2008, acquire the sailing rig (made for this boat by another company) and test out the nautical characteristics under varying conditions at Canandaigua Lake, including sleeping/camping in/on the boat, trailer back to North Tonawanda (the Western terminus of the Erie) and Bon Voyage!
One event interfered with my shakedown efforts. In the month of May, clearing brush from a wall of Block Island I (again) proved to be a fine target for a deer tick which I discovered some weeks later. Inflammation around the site suggested early Lyme disease, so- three weeks of doxycycline, one effect of which is to make one’s skin highly susceptible to damage from the sun, and indeed this happened, thus restricting my outdoors activity, and thus limiting the opportunities I might have had to learn my boat (now named NOCO NORCO TWO). Registering the boat, and especially the trailer, in NY State deserve their own play, act or at least scene.
So much for prologue: the story continues in the form of the log, all in process.
I am awash in emendations even as I commit my thoughts to print. I hope the balance I achieve between my inclination to reconstruct and portray a logical and chronological story and my wish to highlight the fancies that strike me at the moment does not work too much mischief in favor of either approach.
To my lifelong fascination with wind, water and the motions generated by each and both I must add an addiction to sound as determiners of my explorations.
I have many memories of a period from ages 4 – 8 of the excitement in going to spend an afternoon at “Big Sandy”, a freshwater pond on Cape Cod. Movies from that time show me, standing thigh deep in water, holding tightly to a toy sailboat. I was a proficient swimmer by the time I was 5, and by 7 was crewing on our sailboat, “The Yank”, a snipe, affording my endless opportunities to play with wind and water, harnessing the power of the sails and being tossed about like a cork.
An enduring visual and kinesthetic and, as I later realized, esthetic experience took place when I was 9 years old when a visit to Canandaigua, NY included my being allowed (by my future Grandmother-in-Law) to row her Peterborough cedar strip boat in the still shallows, gliding over crystal clear waters near shore
I learned canoeing from the experts: Canadian guides, trappers and handymen who built our and others’ cottages with me “helping”, of a summer. Later on, with the advent of windsurfing, this too became a passion.
No surprise that Kenneth Graham’s “Wind in the Willows” touched me like no other book. More on this later.
The Erie Canal entered my life when my family moved to the Niagara Frontier; the fearsome mesmerizing of the cataract, the rapids above and the whirlpools below was probably all the stimulation a five year old could process.
How a canal system managed to get around the roiling power of that natural wonder was revealed only gradually and much later. Memory of glimpses of the Canal from childhood remained with me and received reinforcement periodically across New York State, and especially from the three years we lived in Rochester: a canal over a road? A canal over a river? Yes- these and more. From the two Canal songs I learned as a child came understanding of towpaths and mules, though again I couldn’t figure out how the barges could be held off the banks.
The writings of Samuel Hopkins Adams, an up-stater and Ham Coll Grad, about the Canal, especially “Grandfather Stories”, in which he recounted tales of the creation of the Canal as recollected by his grandfather whose father had helped build the Canal, are full of facts, myths and the humans who generated them.
Then is 1998 or so we got wind of a company that rented canal boats by the week, beginning and ending at the North end of Cayuga Lake which is joined to the Erie Canal by a spur. These boats were modeled after the barge boats of yore: narrow and long, full galley (kitchen), six beds, two baths and shower, powered by a 50 hp diesel engine plus bow thrusters. It was during that trip, with Eric and Lorraine von Brockdorff, that I experienced a particular “state of mind” for the first time- a kind of tranquility, calm and relaxed, but alert to the sights, sounds and scents of the Canal. I didn’t miss a heron or an osprey. Too, the perspective of the countryside from the Canal is so unlike that seen from road or street: much more greenery, far fewer buildings, roads, traffic, noise- very much a different world, although in the same place.
The development which propelled the whole enterprise from dream to reality came- and here I reveal something of my personal habits- in the form of a Hammacher-Schlemmer catalogue. Although I rarely (honest!) purchased anything from H-S, I enjoyed leafing through their offerings, especially far out (and farout expensive) vehicles/toys which were wind or human powered or both. What I saw in 2006 was the very thing to transport me to tranquility: a pedal-powered boat which accommodated a sail, and which could take 3 adults, so they claimed, which I amended at the time, and confirmed, would be 2 adults and a child or one adult and 2 children. Anyway, H-S kindly put me in contact with the company that manufactured these boats, located in Muskegon, MI. Some phone queries lead to a visit in June of 2007, a test run, and the decision to make the boat my flagship of the Erie Canal, the Hudson River, and possibly Long Island Sound. To get to Block Island would be a stretch, but I wasn’t going to rule that out.
The plan was to obtain the boat (called a Nauticraft Escapade) in mid June of 2008, acquire the sailing rig (made for this boat by another company) and test out the nautical characteristics under varying conditions at Canandaigua Lake, including sleeping/camping in/on the boat, trailer back to North Tonawanda (the Western terminus of the Erie) and Bon Voyage!
One event interfered with my shakedown efforts. In the month of May, clearing brush from a wall of Block Island I (again) proved to be a fine target for a deer tick which I discovered some weeks later. Inflammation around the site suggested early Lyme disease, so- three weeks of doxycycline, one effect of which is to make one’s skin highly susceptible to damage from the sun, and indeed this happened, thus restricting my outdoors activity, and thus limiting the opportunities I might have had to learn my boat (now named NOCO NORCO TWO). Registering the boat, and especially the trailer, in NY State deserve their own play, act or at least scene.
So much for prologue: the story continues in the form of the log, all in process.
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