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End of season wrap-up

Herewith an end of season wrap-up.  More film, pics and blather to follow from this year's safari.
To summarize:  I entered the Erie Canal on Mon., 14th July'08, just west of the bridge in Tonawanda (S.Delaware), learned  about equipment needs over the next 2 1nd half days, having arrived at Middleport.   More delays in getting adequate tarpaaulin coverage-like a month's worth- and a one day kayak stint(Middleport to Albion) on Aug.32rd.   Then more cogitating over tarps until I came up with a design worth trying.  Back to Albion on 2 Sept. with a pull-out at the junction of the  Erie and Cayuga-Seneca Canals on Sept.8.  There were 9 travel days all told  and one day "rained out".  Total Canal mileage : about 140 miles.  Average mph 2.5 per 6 hr. day.   I will relaunch next  July.   John

8 September, 2008

Monday. I’m thinking 7 days on the road will do it for this season. I find some relief in the thought although the enterprise has gone remarkably “according to plan”, understanding that the planning has been created along the way. I’m especially gratified that there have been many periods of reverie. The sky was cloudless- very good- at 7:30 am. No early indication as to wind. During breakfast- juice, canned fruit, muffin and coffee- the proprietor began referring to various aspect of the local Canal scene as well as historical events, during which I became aware that I had already acquired quite a foundation of lore, folklore and facts, a framework which new information altered, extended, confirmed and other wise was all the more interesting. I hope I can convey this. He directed me to some murals featuring Canal life- again I hope I got some photos. At my departure some “old” folks I had assisted yesterday with their docking maneuvers of their packet boat expressed keen interest in NOCONORCO TWO, but I doubt they’ll pursue the matter.

The whole day was beautiful. Some heavy cumulus developed by late morning which I hoped meant some west wind. Eventually, there was sporadic useful wind, but reduced pedal time ny no more than twenty percent.

Lots of learning to do: one good example. When I started out there were light puffs of air from the east, blowing mist wraiths across the water- enchanting. So I waited to assemble the sail and mast rig. When I decided there might be some useful wind, I then had a deuce of a time getting it together. Only later did I realize that by dropping the bimini- something easily done- I could have gotten the mast and sail up without impediment. Next time.

I have been in communication with Jean about possible pull-out locations. There are several typed of ramps- public ramps, ramps for cartop boats only, and private marina ramps. I’d hoped to get to lock 25 near the junction of the Erie Canal and the Cayuga-Seneca Canal. The chart showed a private marina with a ramp for vessels drawing up to three feet of water. I confess I had yet to measure my draft, but I figured they are probably conservative in their numbers and I guessed mine was no more than two and a half feet. So Jean tried to call the marina, the “Oak Orchard” (do they grow acorns?) and got no answer in the morning. We decided that I’d call when I go to Clyde about noon, where there is a full public ramp, but would mean curtailing the day by six miles. By then she’d talked to Oak Orchard and we agreed to meet there at 3:30 pm.

My routine at the locks was to lower the sail (but not the mast) as soon as I came in sight because the winds in the locks are gusty and often strong- they would blast the sail against the side of the lock, which, in addition to potentially damaging the spar or tearing the sail, would be sure to coat it with the slime lining the lock walls. So, sail lowered, I’d call the lockmaster (the numbers are listed in the Canal guide), announce my name, type of boat (twelve foot pedal boat with sail), and request to be locked through at their convenience. They’d always say “I’ve been expecting you- let me put a foot more water in the lock (or whatever adjustment was needed- not just for me, for all boats), and I’ll get you right through- two minutes”. So I’d move slowly up, back-pedal for a bit (the current would carry me forward), until I got the green light- and then pedal smartly to the weighted lines hanging down the lock walls. With a rubber glove, you hold a line to keep the boat against the wall, the gates clang shut behind, you hear the valves opening and closing, and the water level starts to go down (only down ones so far, until I get beyond Rome), about three feet per minute, the line getting slimier as you descend (thus the rubber glove). At the bottom, more clanging, the gates open and you exit, at which point there is a good bit of turbulence from the remaining outlet of water. I had fun with the lockmasters, asking them to “swell” me out- a term I’d learned from an old Erie Canal book. It refers to a process whereby great barges of your “loaded with lumber, coal and hay” (more likely grain) might lodge against the bottom of the lock. The lockmaster would then release a surge of water “swelling” the barge out of the lock. Needless to say, my tiny craft did not need to be treated in this way. None of the lockmasters had heard of the process.

At one point on this day I reached an area, just west of lock E25 where the remnants of the original Canal, completed in 1825, the “Old” Erie Canal (widened, deepened and shortened by 1862) and the present Barge Canal, completed in 1918 are in close apposition.

Other weather management ideas occur at odd times- like hypnopompic moments. An improved shielding arrangement, reducing the installation time from a half hour to fifteen minutes, for example, or, taking a cue from motorcyclists, heading for the nearest bridge in the event of a storm. There are many many bridges across the Erie Canal, although some, like railroad bridges are “open” and thus offer little shelter. One early argument against the building of the Canal came from opponents who pointed to the hundreds of farms that would be bisected. The response was to build all these bridges, many for use by only a single farmer or family.

Over the nine days I plied the Erie Canal there was none with anything like a steady west wind. The prevailing conditions were primarily no wind, east wind and weak gusting wind. I suspect and hope that this is because my sample is small and that in time I will enjoy the great thrill of the “prevailing westerlies”.

Probably because of the rich wetlands in this region, culminating in the Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, which the Canal traverses, the birdlife is increasingly active. Great blue herons are continuous along the banks; if one is disturbed and flies a few yards downstream, the next one objects with harsh croaks, driving the perceived intruder up and away. Continuous kingfisher and little green heron activity matches the continuous roiling of the waters by fish jumping. This day also showed a dozen or so ospreys, with frequent vocalizations. The usual crows, another Cooper’s hawk, just two swallows, legions of grackles and starlings, as well as mallards and ring billed gulls and pigeons, especially around any human buildup, where they are often fed. Turkey vultures, jays, warbling vireos plus three spotted sandpipers, cormorants, mourning doves, geese and house sparrows kept things lively, along with the calls of pileated, red bellied and downy woodpeckers. Crickets, katydids, dragonflies of many types, and water boatmen, those little swirling creatures that gather in huge eddies at times. Still no water strider sightings, although I haven’t explored the many coves that are their preferred habitat. “House” flies continue to annoy; there is a rare mosquito. Fall colors are well into yellows with hints of russets and reds.

The Oak Orchard marina is off a back road which is off a secondary road; Jean did well to find it, what with pulling the trailer and all. It is a campground with about twelve small house trailers, three or four small fishing boats, a central building with soft drinks and packaged snacks, and a very small swimming pool. The folks we saw were quite elderly, although my standard of comparison seems to be shifting. A small channel leads into the Canal.

All in all a glorious day. And all in all a glorious trip, covering the western section of the Erie Canal, there being a middle section and an eastern section. The entire Canal is 338 miles (much shortened from the original 363 miles). In nine days travel (eight in NOCONORCO TWO, one by kayak) I have completed a bit more than a third of the distance. So in 2009 I’m looking to get to the Bear Mountain Bridge, where the Appalachian Trail crosses the Hudson River, thus the title of my trip: “The Wedding of the Trails”, a near-to-plagiarized caption with a strong resemblance to DeWitt Clinton’s “The Wedding of the Waters”. Can’t wait for ’09.

7 September, 2008.

Rain 6:30 to 7:00 am. Cardinal, crow, goose, house sparrow sounding off. A sense of familiarity with a feeling I’d had on the AT after 4 or 5 days of hiking. Something comforting about the assurance of a certain kind of activity awaiting me. Went to a diner: juice, waffle bacon and blueberries. Pretty awful all told. The berries were a kind of syrupy mess in the middle of the waffle which thereby lost all definition. I consumed the outer one inch and that sufficed. Blue sky seen but with thick air, clouds at various levels. I got underway at 9:15 am with a very light and intermittent west wind which gave me hopes. An annual bass tournament wan on, so most of the day I could see four or five bass boats, each with two fishermen going at it. I did not see any fish being caught by a fisherman although one young man said he should have entered the tournament because he’d already caught ten fish. Only when he mentioned that he’d have to be returning to Florida soon because it was getting too cold did I remark that he was wearing a heavy coat with a hood over his head, I of course being stripped down to a very light T shirt and shorts, my AT hiking uniform. I did see an osprey and a kingfisher catch fish- when I mentioned that to one bass boat occupant, he said he’d shoot them. I had several osprey sightings, though I don’t know if they were different individuals, except for one in juvenile plumage which localized loudly, sort of a whistle sound. Kingfishers galore, many great blue herons, even getting territorial with each other. Many little green herons as well. Hear pileated woodpeckers, red bellied woodpeckers, and saw a flicker. Lots of blue jays, pigeons and mourning doves. Again warbling vireos. Dozens of mallard groupings everywhere in larger numbers as if flocking, although not all migrate. Six or so double crested cormorants. No turkey vultures today.

The lockmasters continue to fulfill their parental duties. When I called one he said he expected me three days ago- they know the when and whereabouts of everything on the Canal. The skies got greyer a long along about 1:00 pm, though the clouds were still high and stratus; I was surprised when a light rain began at 2:00 pm, lasting fifteen minutes or so. Because there was little wind the bimini seemed to be adequate for most of my stuff and me. The rain ceased and I set my sights for Lyons, where I hoped to put the tarp on the boat and find a B and B. The word was there was good dockage and a B and B. I would go through lock E 27 and tie up at the wall below. For the last two miles, and two locks, for a total of forty five minutes or so, it rained steadily and substantially. Nothing much I could do at that point but tough it out. When I tied up, put the things I needed on the wall, collapsed the mast and sail and got the tarp on- the rain stopped. I walked through a very down-on-its-heels part of town, closed shops and businesses, by some well kept churches, and then large houses most of which had been “let go”, but were occupied. The B and B has been in operation for eleven years or so, run by an older couple who used to live in Rochester. The proprietress continues to work full time and commutes an hour and a half by bus each day. It seems you have to really love collectibles to have a B and B. Fortunately, a pizza place within two blocks served up an excellent eggplant ½ hoagy- just the right amount. The young man running the shop (very clean), referred me to his uncle’s tavern around the corner where I could find beer on this Sunday evening. And what a hubbub! Eight large screen TVs all going full blast, showing every football game being telecast, and a crowd to match. No need to buy a TV in Lyons. If you like football.

Weather report says tomorrow is expected to be clear. Uh huh.

The terrain is becoming more variable, with more forested hills and less farmland. One fairly short stretch between locks has no drainage into it from the surrounding countryside. It was noticeably freer of underwater vegetation. The day was about 90% pedaling overall, but I did not press.

New photos courtesty of Sinda

5 September, 2008

5 September, 2008 Up at 7:00 am. Very good sleep. Fabulous breakfast: good orange juice, fresh peach/banana/kiwi etc dish with yoghurt, corn muffin and a terrific ample casserole- potato-egg-cheese and ham bits, and very good coffee. Very interesting folks, with many tales to tell, including subjects such as the Wegman clan. The sky was clear with gusts from the east, some strong, so no sailing in the morning. Got to Macedon about noon, and by then the wind was shifting around enough to be useful on occasion, but the strength was often challenging. The smaller sail is a great improvement. Midstate Navigation from whom we rented the packet “Honeoye” years ago is now headquartered on Macedon, having moved from the upper end of Cayuga Lake. I stopped to stretch, get water and see if the “Honeoye” was there. It was, as were all or most of their packet boats, all named for the various Finger Lakes. They said they are all booked for the upcoming week end.

During the day I passed the first numbered buoy, R810 which are placed every few hundred yards or so all the way to Albany, red on the port side, even numbered, green on the starboard, odd numbered. For navigation purposes, red is always on the right when a vessel is returning from ocean travel (“Red Right Return”), an international convention. Why they don’t appear west of Macedon is not clear. In any case, they make pinpointing one’s location very easy. Lockmasters were all helpful as usual.

I ended the day at 3:30 pm after six hours of very hot weather, having reached Palmyra, said to have a fine marina and services. I beg to differ. The docking wall, not large, was uniformly high- no provisions for “low” craft, no rest rooms, no tenting within walking distance, and very uninspiring restaurants. I ate dinner in a tavern and had ribs and fries, and they were glad to give me a glass with a bottle of beer, when asked, and seemed less glad to come up with a knife and fork for the ribs and fries. They did supply three paper napkins without asking. So I spent an inordinate amount of time readjusting NOCONORCO TWO for the night, including making it rain-ready. I still haven’t “perfected” the procedures. A bicyclist I had seen earlier along the tow path came by and gave me an earful about the town fathers mothers and council, particularly their ignoring the pleas from kayakers, canoeists , bikers and hikers for even minimal rest rooms on an otherwise nicely groomed and quite ample town waterfront. Palmyra in ancient Syria was, like this Palmyra, sited on an important trade route. Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon Church, found the golden tablets on or near Hill Cumorah, very near to the town, between 1820 and 1827, the Canal being completed in 1825. I don’t know if his presence in Palmyra was influenced by the growth made possible by the Canal, but it seems likely. Mormon presence in the town is evidenced everywhere. A while back Jean and I were treated to an expert walk-through of the magnificent Mormon facility on Hill Cumorah by visiting friends from Pittsburgh. In the expensive diorama exhibit, the resident docents began to hover around us to listen in on the history being portrayed. Our friends were reared in Salt Lake City, and were steeped in Mormonism, although no longer LDSs.

Back to the story of the bicyclist: he recounted a recent event involving a boater tied to the town dock. The boater found himself late in the evening in want of relief and found it off the stern of his boat. In minutes, the police arrived, charging him with some sort of indecency. It seems they monitor the area with cameras. He proclaimed loudly that if they had a rest room, such would not be necessary. All this prelude to the next morning’s events- read on.

Before completing the saga of Palmyra, a summary of the day’s observations on the Canal. Lots of birds, including swallows which have been rare the last few days. Pigeons, house sparrows, one float of over 120 (I counted them) ring billed gulls, dozens of mallards, another Cooper’s hawk, and osprey, many turkey vultures, many great blue herons, little green herons, and always kingfishers. Again heard warbling vireos. Streams and rivers of thousands of grackles with occasional starlings in their midst, all heading west at this point. Leaves are beginning to cover the water.

Lights and some industrial hum did not prevent my sleeping well. Lots of dreaming about every possible topic. At some point, I heard a group of what sounded like intoxicated teenagers came down the dock- I couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see me- and one girl kicked the side of the boat, out of sheer exuberance. Where are the cops when I need them?

I awoke at 6:30 am to a heavy overcast, the air much cooler. No wind. No point in travelling- I’d have to leave the “rain prep” up, reducing visibility, and I’d have to pedal- no wind, plus no urgency to get anywhere. So I’ll just stay in the covered boat and read the excellent Canal book Mary Alice Bourget loaned to me. It’s a slow process getting in and out of the boat with the rain rig up, so I’m disinclined to go up to the village. No need to- I have food and water. I’m beginning to get a glimmer of what it must have been like before steam and diesel power, when ships had to wait for fair weather, or at least a favorable breeze.

A light rain begins at about noon. Garrity’s book, “Canal Boatman”, one of the two books I would strongly recommend to anyone wishing to get to know the Erie Canal, comes to the same conclusion as I do as regards the length of shift of a boat animal- in his case a mule, in my case, me. Six hours is optimal. Probably around 3:00 pm I discover the biggest tragedy this far: I must have clicked the “on” button of my camcorder, so when I finally got up the gumption to dress, pull back the rain protection stuff, haul myself out of the cocoon for an elimination/forage foray, and stumbled upon the “Towpath Fife and Drum Corp” providing the musical accompaniment for the ground breaking for the new expression of Palmyra’s marina, my camcorder did not answer the helm. Oh alack! All that self-congratulatory palaver from the state senator, a state representative, the mayor and all the apostles, to get- nothing. Even a brief- probably 30 second byte would have captured the essence: The Canal Corp, through the beneficence of the state, had awarded Palmyra, along with untold others, the wherewithal to upgrade their Canal waterfront, and through collaboration, cooperation etc etc, they were now going to have a restroom!! Way too late for the likes of me. The eight gold shovels lined up along the side of a plot the size and dimension of a grave, even if they all suddenly discovered how to work, could not have dug a field latrine in two days. I’d have loved to record the fife and drum corp, however. That was worth it. The rain had let up a bit, so I went to a restaurant where, in spite of the presence of a cherry in a concoction for which I had carefully specified “no cherry”, I learned a neat way to prepare flank steak. You marinate it in a mango/orange vinegrette, sear it, then slice it and grill the slices. Tender, excellent. During this repast, the rain came down again and picked up to the category of “dump”- understand when I exit the craft I cannot “reseat” the rainguard at the bow, so- I agonized briefly over this- took my mind off the camcorder lapsis, advised the restaurant people on their décor (generally very nice- just an occasional annoying spot of easily correctible glitsch). The rain stopped, I felt better than I expected (I hadn’t realized how un-better my spotty intake and output made me feel), and found to my pleasure that the rain had done little to make my craft unpleasant. The word on the street is good weather tomorrow. A last word about the restroom ceremony: I neglected to say how phenomenal the MC was, an older gentleman in colonial garb who adlibbed trenchantly and with great humor, especially to the primary purpose of the gathering amidst all the hoopla, namely a loo. So I dozed and slept the rest of the day away, pondering how much more I want to do this year, and how to maximize the esthetics of the experience.

Samuel Hopkins Adams aforementioned book (I hope) “Grandfather Stories” gives devotes a very lively chapter to Palmyra.

During dinner I saw a Cooper’s hawk perch briefly in a treetop before swooping after a small bird. Heard tufted titmice, chickadees, cardinal and robin.

4 September.

A section of the Canal reminded me of the Hawaiian Islands. Where I’ve never been. I read though. And a while back I read that the Islands have been and are being created by volcanic activity arising in an area of weakness between two plates. So the periodic eruptions appear to be moving northward, resulting in the Islands appearing in a chain. Well, I see a string of bubbles along the Canal, briefly ponder the source, and while I suspect it has to do with decaying vegetation, I conclude that the current makes it appear to be a string when in fact it is a single source. (My mind wanders in the absence of sudokus).

The day started off with some further imaginings about rain/tarp configuration- I had “half” assembled what I had, and it more than half worked, what with some rain during the night, never hard or blowing. I certainly slept, and told myself to do whatever I did slowly. So I did. I elected to leave the basic protection configuration assembled, opening the fore and aft sections, moved luggage, fittings, sail rig back and forth (remember the fox, the goose and the grapes, and how to get them across a river in a boat too small to carry all at once?) Interesting I should think of that: I was facing the challenge of crossing the Genesee River shortly- having been forewarned about the current swallowing boats and driving them north, and that the Canal police (there aren’t any) make you sign a waiver that you understand the risks, etc. None of that happened. If I hadn’t checked the bridge sequences I wouldn’t have known I’d traversed the river.

The weather was “heavy”, overcast, no big rain threat, but no wind, very occasion breaths from any and all directions. I called Sinda Hooker to move toward a plan for meeting a few miles ahead. She would drive to a point eastward, ride her bike westward along the towpath until we met. We would then exchange vehicles and move eastward to ? In the meantime the skies lightened some, but no question of sailing. Then up came Lock 33- again, great lockmasters, anticipating every eventuality, even adapting smoothly to my mishearing a communication that a Midstate Navigation Packet was to precede me into the lock. I, thinking I was to go first, pedaled furiously, even gallantly, along, to be, finally, passed on my left by the beschtutzed captain of the packet. I finally figured it out, made profuse apologies (I will not consider the advantages of a hearing aid- better they just put me in a sound proof box, Emily). Then onward a mere mile to lock 32, after which I began to keep a lookout for Sinda. On through Pittsford, Bushnell’s Basin, under Henrietta Road, Interstates 390, 490 and 590, all places Jean and I had been in, over and under for all the years of our lives- most of which were before the interstate system. We had been as far west as Pittsford on our Canal packet week-long trip in 19 . Much more boat traffic today. Before I took my rainrig down, I had limited visibility, and so was particularly vigilant.

Again, rich canalside vegetation, early fall colors, lots of dragonflies, swallows, endless mallards, especially around towns. Heard Canada geese but didn’t see any. Often heard warbling vireos, tons of great blue herons, little green herons, kingfishers, ring billed gulls, chickadees, bluejays, starlings, pigeons, English sparrows, cardinals, crows, and, as before, I regularly saw spotted sandpipers. On several occasions I heard red bellied woodpeckers although I didn’t see them.

Sinda and I met about a mile and a half west of Fairport, so we didn’t have a very long swap, but it was good to change from the recumbent position of the boat to the upright of the bike. Took some getting-used-to. In Fairport I went ahead to alert the liftbridge master about NOCONORCO TWO’s arrival. In scanning the height of the lowered bridge and the boat’s height, it was clear that no lifting would be required. This is the only lift bridge in the world for which one end is higher than the other. It is also the last lift bridge eastbound on the Canal.

The time was about 3:30 pm- I’d been going since 8:30, and with continuous pedaling, I felt it was enough for the day. Fairport, like Brockport, has a harbor master who sees to law and order (he is not an officer of the law), fees, general clean-up and who promotes the local businesses. Tom was very helpful, reinforcing the chart info about a B and B, and had lots of observations on restaurants. I called the B and B, bid farewell to Sinda, who was going to bike a few more miles to the east before returning for her car. She had brought me two fresh tomatoes and basil from her garden, and a luscious peach. Lunch tomorrow is looking bright.

I had a glorious cleansing: tub with jets at the B and B recommended by Tom. Here I’m coming to grips with a conundrum which as a journal writer and logger I have met before and have yet to solve. Much of what is interesting, notable and even essential in experiencing events and places is the makeup of the people met along the way. However limited, altered or disguised, any quote or characterization can often be traced to an individual who has not given permission, and whose permission, if granted, cannot be assumed to be informed. In the friendliness of a moment, the possibility that some advertising advantage might be gained, or even when offered the opportunity to edit comments to be publicized, later review may be felt to be unwanted. Added to this is the grounding in professional confidentiality that I bring to the issue, and hopefully will not result in paralysis. I would very much like to describe many of the folks I encountered and am encountering; I doubt that they would object, but “do no harm” resonates. I will forge ahead as best I can.

So, on Tom’s recommendation again, I had dinner at one of two Irish restaurants. Harp beer and pulled pork went well together (sequentially) although the amount of pork was just twice what I or any self respecting consumer could ingest. I found that this did not interfere with the enjoyment of the root beer float about which I am becoming a Canal expert. The bed, after a major tooth cleaning job, was so heavenly it hurt- not unlike the nights after a hard hike on the AT. My usual inclination to avoid drinking water is catching up with me also. Again I’m hoping for a “fair breeze” tomorrow.

Earlier today I had an opportunity of which I took advantage when I encountered several overgrown apple trees of different varieties, overhanging the Canal, defining clearly for me the term “low hanging fruit”. I had learned from Jean years ago that anything you can reach from a by-way is fair game. The apple was excellent. There are many more leaves on the water now. I will probably no longer be on the Canal when they are at their most vibrant.

Tufted titmouse, turkey vultures, mallards, pigeons and kingfishers accompany.

Wed., 3 September, 2008

Wed., 3 September, 2008, the day my oldest sister would be 87 had she lived. The night was a little fractured: new place/sounds/lights and new tent, still musty in spite of much better ventilation than my last one, which saw service on the Appalachian Trail. Gaggles of mallards scrapped, squawked and in general made a nuisance of themselves all night. Nonetheless, I felt rested in the morning. My sleeping bag was just a shade too warm. Woke about 6:30 to clear day, calm air. I hoped for a little west wind as long as the day remained clear. “OK” breakfast at a diner, good Belgian waffle, poor bacon. Then had a shower in the wonderful public marina facility. I think I mentioned they give you a keycard, included in your Canal fee which I don’t pay. Nice Canal palaver amongst a bunch of “oldtimers” (I think they were younger than I), volunteers who do all sorts of things for the marina and the boaters. For a number of years, the Canal authority had been transferred to the NY Thruway System, and according to the “canawlers” received step-sister attention. Control is now again separated, and the State puts many millions a year into maintaining the Canal, including making grants to communities along the Canal to improve attractions for tourists, which is the Canal’s only source of revenue. I learned that the many private properties fronting the Canal have docks, often with cabin cruisers or party boats moored, pay NY State $35 per year for the privilege! There are as many docks in unusable disrepair as there are intact nes. It is most interesting to see which communities have availed themselves of these grants, and what they do with them. One effort, seen so far in many of the Canal towns, has been the production of murals depicting old Canal scenes and activities. These have been uniformly interesting and attractive- I hope my efforts to photograph them are being successful. Back to the oldtimers- two were recounting their flying days years ago, when on a cross country flight in a small four-seater they were unable to gain more than ten feet of altitude as they attempted to cross the Rockies- thin hot air, too much luggage. They were able to return to the strip, send the luggage on the Seattle and get the 11,000 feet about sea level they needed. Reminded me of the scene in “Never Cry Wolf” where the bush pilot wondered why it took so long to get airborne until he discovered the cases of beer the protagonist had stowed in the canoe slung under the plane.

Although many folks had heard of the name “Lusky”- a forebear of Jean’s cousin Mary-Alice Bourget of Buffalo- who had been a lockmaster long ago, none knew of a Canal official by that name. I’ll keep inquiring. I got myself in order about 9:00 am and called the nearby lift bridge number- no answer, so I messed about, telling one of the volunteers I wanted to head east. He pulled some sort of rank and soon the lift bridge was up and I sped under. I realized only later, with but two lift bridges left on the whole Canal that my mast and rigged sail clear easily. So now I know. Anyway, there was very little wind at that point. However, soon thereafter, a west wind of irregular strength arose- never too strong, so for the eight or so hours I travelled I pedaled less than one third of the time, and felt relaxed and even rested. This is how it was intended to be. Plus the wind kept things cool.

The countryside continued as before; rural, large trees and shrubs lining the Canal, until I got beyond Spencerport where the Canal walls rose gradually from four to eight feet and eventually to thirty feet or more, sliced out of sedimentary layered limestone, uniform grey. I don’t think there is shale or slate in it- not sure. Felt like going into and down a chute. Also, the character of the surround became much more urban- lots of bridges, car traffic, industry and noise- an outcome of the presence of the Canal itself, which within its confines remains serene. Also, until I got very near Rochester, the flora and fauna Canalside remained plentiful. I passed through a number of historic communities (aren’t they all?) and was especially alert going through Adams Basin. Very little to see from my vantage point, but the ancestral home of Samuel Hopkins Adams , a Hamilton alumnus who wrote many stories about the Erie Canal. His forebears were intimately involved in the building and maintenance of the Canal.

I had hoped to get to a marina such as the one at Brockport but there are none to be found in the vicinity of Rochester. I elected to tie up to the bank and test my equipment and mettle. I thought that if the weather holds I can be far enough beyond Rochester tomorrow to again find friendly docking and facilities: that is, rest rooms, shower, flat place for tenting, and restaurants. We’ll see. The last forecast was for rain. If so tomorrow I may just stay put, moored between my birch tree hanging ten feet into the Canal and a large shrub for a stern line, holding me enough offshore so that the prop and rudder don’t foul. I have my mosquito covering and tarps at the ready. Some plants I don’t think I’ve mentioned are beautiful lush stands of joe-pye-weed, lots of Queen Anne’s lace, plus a lovely pale yellow flower that grows in tall clumps- the flower somewhat like a snapdragon.

The water’s surface is almost constantly disturbed by tiny silver fish- one half to one inch long- leaping an skittering along the surface for five to ten feet- pursued no doubt by larger creatures one of which I saw as a young lad proudly displayed a two foot long carp he had caught and would release. At least ten pounds. I seen reference to and heard tell of the many species of fish that inhabit the Canal, more than I’ve ever heard of. I think I’ve mentioned the one advisory I heard: eat no more than one fish per month from the Canal. Insect life is rich and varied, although today I saw no swallows. I did hear a great crested flycatcher. Biting “house” flies abound. All manner of dragonflies everywhere. M They’ll land on the boat, on me. Crickets and katydids almost continuous. Other birds: again, many mallards, plus a group of smaller ducks with no distinct markings. Two Canada geese, one turkey vulture, one Cooper’s hawk, three great blue herons, many little green herons including one that vocalized- a first for me. Quite unheron-like. Goldfinches, chickadees, crows, jays, pigeons, starlings, house sparrows abounded, along with a number of warbling vireos. One flock of at least fifty ring-billed gulls floated on an ”aneurysm” ,a bulge off the south side of the Canal.

I passed a collection of heavy barge and tug vessels engaged in removing trees overhanging the Canal- big trees, like huge. The boss tug was named the “De Witt Clinton”. Much more boat traffic today, in both directions. Mostly large cabin cruisers. My tie up is just east of the Rochester Airport, and I guess in no wind, at least at ground level, the planes take off to the east, very low. However, there were few of them. Maybe six all told throughout the evening. By morning, they were landing to the west- still low and loud.

2 September, 2008 restart.

After weeks of trying to get a smaller sail (I did) and rain/storm protection from my very competent upholsterer- very competent but unpredictable, by me, as to time for work completed, I dreamed up a system of tarps and grommets, overlaid with the superb mosquito netting he had made. Although not yet put to the downpour test, the rig gave me enough confidence to put to sea, in the meantime having enjoyed several days of sailing, tennis, visits from Rachel et al, Kate et al, minus Oliver. Pittsburgh obligations and Canal dreams converged to allow for another launching. We left Canandaigua at about 8:30 am, went to the launch ramp at Albion, just west of the end of my kayak day, and found ourselves right opposite a large penitentiary complex which I thought was Attica; it was not, but apparently there is enough work for several such large institutions. This one had rolls of concertina wire surrounding it and stern warning signs. Three young men were lollygagging about, and began jumping in the water ( I had seen several families with young children here swimming when I came by in the kayak earlier in the trip). Whether one finds the murky water inviting may have to do with the alternative: school or prison, perhaps. The day was beautiful with a felicitous forecast. Jean was to return to Canandaigua (about 75 miles), unhitch the trailer and head for the ‘burgh. I got underway about 10:30 am, high ‘70s, no wind for a while. I managed to rig up a rear view mirror- amazing benefits, especially my sense of comfort. I didn’t realize how much I missed the ability to periodically check out the rear. Plus I put it to the test, being overtaken by some four boats throughout the six hours. When I’m pedaling, the whirr obscures the sound of overtaking boats, many of which are large sailboats with very quiet inboard engines. There were probably six westbound boats as well during that time, so I guess the west is continuing to be peopled as a result of the Canal, as Clinton (Dewitt) intended.

The wind picked up gradually, always from the east, so that I figure it more than compensated for the one mph current. I made about three and a half mph overall, discounting a total of an hour or more waiting for lift bridges. I can leave my mast up but not the sail under raised lift bridges- the vertical part of the lateen rig extends about three feet above the mast. All moot today because there was no usable wind. I was quite stiff after six hours of pedaling- such stiffness subsides after a couple of hours.

In general, the landscape between Albion and Brockport was like that of the previous sections, but even a few days seem to have brought fall into play. There is russet in tree tops, goldrod is appearing along with cornflower, and that large-leafed thick growing shrub with spiky white flowers. Lots of phragmites, and much purple loosestrife, galloping invasives. No cattails.

Avifauna: one cedar waxwing got my attention at the launch, with Jean giving me strong non-verbal signals to get going- then little green heron, three great blue herons, one of which I filmed catching and swallowing a sizable fish- hope the camcorder shows it. One turkey vulture, blue jays, many pigeons, house sparrows, two Canada geese, scattered mallards along the Canal, dozens at the Brockport marina areas, where they are often fed. Both Holly and Brockport have handsomely treated public marinas. State support is much in evidence. I arrived in Brockport about 4:30 pm where the liftbridge operator gave me some good advice as to over-nighting. The Canal wall is beautifully designed and maintained. There is a staffed visitors center, ample rest room-showers for boaters, who get a card that opens these rooms 24/7. I inquired about putting a tent on the public space next to the docking walls, and after checking with her supervisor, the woman staffing the office said fine. When I asked about security, she seemed quite surprised: the police patrol the area regularly, and the fire/emt station fronts the dock. Because my craft is only 12 feet long and is human powered I am not charger the Canal fees that are based on length, and by the day, two days, weeks or season. So I make a donation at the public marina where I stay. In addition to the mooring and restroom/showers, these public marinas also provide water and electricity for the boats. Again, there were lots of knowledgeable and helpful boaters, interested in the Escapade, and my escapade.

When I started off at Albion the lift bridge operator came down and told me the Canal was closed to the east! A boat had sunk and spilled gas and oil and there was a cleanup effort underway. When he realized I make about three to four miles an hour, he said things would probably be open by the time I got to the next lift bridge, and indeed it was. Another bit of excitement occurred as I was getting a root beer float out Main Street n Brockport: a succession of more than twenty emergency vehicles went roaring past, headed south away from town. People “in the know” and locals with emt friends, for example, used cell phones and were told it was a bad accident and a brush fire. I later learned there had been no accident and the brush fire had been set to control overgrowth and was not a problem. I wonder what they’d do if there was a real emergency. So I’m in my tent at 10:00 pm, enjoying the cool temperature, hoping for good weather with a west wind tomorrow. I expect more boat traffic as well as bike and jogger traffic as I approach Rochester, even though school has started, summer is about over, and as of Thursday, two days away, the bridges, locks and other services will reduce their operating hours, but still well within my capability and interest. So fine by me.