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.