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.