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.