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.
No comments:
Post a Comment