Feeling the travel time slipping away, knowing that I need the storm adjustments being made to NOCONORCO TWO, but no completion date, my impatience receded enough, probably at night, to allow the emergence of a thought, a plan and finally to see how a day’s kayaking would be. A vague notion of betrayal, like slack-packing on the Appalachian Trail, was overcome by the prospect of being on the move again. I hoped for good weather and especially a nice west wind because even a gentle tail wind can add significantly to the ease of paddling a kayak, and add to mileage. Because NOCONORCO TWO requires a ramp to launch, I could put the kayak in at Middleport, which I had reached previously, and not have to retrace the distance already covered. And I could end the day at Albion, for a trip of about 15 miles. So Saturday morning, with a favorable forecast, I put the kayak- Granddaughter Robin’s kayak- in the car, packed up wallet, cell phone, binoculars in watertight bags, and Jean delivered me the 90 miles from Canandaigua to Middleport, where a number of boaters offered assistance in launching- a bit tricky down a five foot cement wall. At 11:00 am I was paddling off, under the Middleport lift bridge (no lifting needed- canoes and kayaks slip easily under the bridge girders with a foot clearance.
During the course of the six hour day, I would pass under three sets of guard gates and four lift bridges. I also passed the northernmost point on the Erie Canal.
The weather was stable, the sun becoming very hot; in spite of my good hat, my upper face burned as a result of light reflected off the water. Mostly, there was no wind; what there was came from the south and would be diverted east or west as it reached the surface of the Canal. I found the kayak very comfortable, but after two to three hours I became aware of forearm strain and blistering between thumbs and forefingers. Adjusting my grasp on the paddle helped.
The avifauna was significantly different from my first two and a half days, primarily in the absence of geese. I saw one Canada goose the whole day in contrast to hundreds of them earlier, and only a few mallards. I cannot account for this: the terrain is comparable- corn fields, soy beans, orchards, rich stands of weeping willow, yellow willow, ancient cottonwoods, black locust. Perhaps the matter of a few weeks of summer having melted away means more to avian bipeds fully employed than to a retired mammalian biped. Other birds were familiar. Flocking starlings were superabundant. Great crested flycatchers, blue jays, cardinals, phoebes, black capped chickadees, robins, goldfinches- all filled the air, although not in as great numbers as the three swallow species: barn, roughwinged and tree. Several little green herons “lead” me along the Canal, along with frequent kingfishers. I was surprised I saw no great blue herons, and only one turkey vulture. I followed the path of an osprey, roaming back and forth across the Canal and finally soaring high in a thermal. One very pale buteo with a wide black terminal tail band confused me- most likely a light immature broadwing. Many, but no flocks, of ring billed gulls
A little under five miles brought me to the town of Medina, which has ample marina facilities. Other small communities had four foot dock walls with cleats, and wires strung along at about two feet above the water line. Many had space above for tenting, and many did not.
A number of westbound pleasure craft passed me, but none eastbound. Several boatloads of fishermen were out an about. The canalway trail was well travelled by runners/joggers and bicyclists, including one pod with eight or ten youngsters. In that group was Jean MacKay, an official of the National Heritage Trailways organization, headquartered in Albany. They will be a valuable resource for marinas, camping and other services.
At about 2:00 pm I thought I would reach Albion by 4:00 or 4:30 and called Jean, thereby assuring that she would have very little time to herself this day. I found it interesting that in a boat with three fishermen I got three answers to the question about how far to Albion. One said one half mile, one said a little over a half mile and then after conferring the third said it was a mile. It was two miles. I should have asked how big were the fish they caught.
At Albion I was more than ready to stop, it now being 5:00 pm. I’d averaged a little over two and a half mph, including the slight current in my favor, and the bit of occasional tail wind. At least the drive back to Canandaigua was shorter.
The next day I seemed to have recovered from any fatigue or little aches and pains from the unaccustomed kayaking. Now if I could just get my boat back-
