“Very quiet here”, this from the gal behind the desk who thought, as the calculator said, that $.70/ft (.70x12) = $84.00., but noted that the maximum for any boat was $20.00. This prompted her to call the boss, who took some time to figure out that she couldn’t figure out the decimal. The tariff: $8.40. For that you get dockage, electric and water hook-up, neither of which I needed, and clean rest room with shower. I could have tented, but stowed the sail on shore, covered the seat on the dock and scrunched things around until I could lie down in the boat with the cover snapped on. Scrunched. I slept well enough, some dreaming, some sorting of the loud sounds the traffic made over the bridge just downstream, and the waves of raucous cooing and growling this would trigger in the large pigeon population residing in the ironwork supporting the deck. By the time I thought “get up”, it felt like enough sleep. Made up my AT familiar stuff- esbit-heated water, 2 packets of grits, dried milk, olive oil, dried fruit. It all took a long time to get going- eating, repacking and all. I’d gotten up at 7:00 and didn’t get on the water until about 9:00. Clear sky, no wind (and no chart- I’d left it in the car). So, leisurely pedaling for the 7 miles I figured it was to Lockport where I’d get some good food and replacement chart. Turns out: As you mosey along, of a sudden the lock is there, and like in London where the merest hint that one’s intention is to cross the street brings all traffic to an immediate halt, bells started ringing, the lock gates open (without any message from me that I wished to go through- the lockmaster probably figured I was a greenhorn) so- in you go, and immejately upon the opening of the gate ahead, you are into the next lock, the only double lock on the Canal. Once out of the second lock, you encounter two low bridges carrying car traffic. The alert bridgemasters (they didn’t have much to do this morning) decided that I intended to proceed, and the bells clanged, the bridges rose (in succession)and I didn’t have the heart to tell them “Not just yet!” so I could tie up and explore things. Actually, I had no reason to stop here, and I knew there were marinas coming up. A public one just east of Lockport provided me with a rootbeer float, and some grousing by a local official about the fact that in spite of much promising of funds for businesses to promote recreation along the Canal, since its management was taken over by the NY State Throughway Authority, the Canal has been treated as an afterthought. I suspect whatever funds there have been have gone to the various towns and “ports” along the Canal, and that those entities use the funds as they see fit.
Between Lockport and Gasport, about 5 miles, there was abundant avian life. Plus turtles- in addition to the snapper I saw yesterday there were a dozen mud turtles on rocks, in various stages of procreation. Squadrons of swallows, mostly barn, nesting under the many wooden docks and piers along the Canal, plus tree swallows. The bad news born by these creatures being the presence of lots of insects. Nasty biting house flies, occasional deer flies and horse flies. No mosquitoes. Lots of dragonflies. Today 6 or so great blue herons, many little green herons, many spotted sandpipers, grackles, robins, cardinals, kingbirds, kingfishers, turkey vultures, in the air and on the ground, right by the Canal- probably enjoying the many dead fish to be found along the banks. I watched an osprey as long as I could keep it in view. Hundreds of Canada geese, mallards and at least 3 other species of duck, one of which was all white from the chest forward and all black to the rear. Crows and starlings abound. Redwing blackbirds everywhere. I heard three wood thrushes along the way. Many phoebes as well.
Toward 4:00 p.m. – still no breeze- no point in raising sail, but 1 to 1 ½ mph current plus 3 to 3 ½ pedal speed brought me to Gasport Marina, private, quite clean-looking, but, no one there- closed because its pump-out facility was under repair, I later learned. So, on I went another 5 miles to Middleport, where a fancy restaurant has its own marina, but not an overnight deal. A few hundred yards further was the public marina, where, as I reached up to tie a line, a gentleman offered to help. He and his wife owned the substantial cabin cruiser just in front of me (my boat now pointing west to face the current). The high cement walls which constitute the public marinas usually have cables strung along two to three feet above the water line to accommodate small craft. The hostess at the restaurant had gone out of her way to try to track down B and Bs she thought were in the area, to no avail. I’d be loathe to leave the boat at an unsupervised marina anyway, so tenting is the thing for me. There are no managers at these public marinas; I don’t know who looks after the restrooms , which are always open, or who sees to the electricity and water sources for the boats. I suppose the towns do this. Those using the Canal pay a fee, either per lock or lift bridge, or by the day, week or season, but non-powered craft pay no fee even though they use all the services except electricity and water at the marinas. Interesting. There were several restaurants in Middleport near to the marina. I had dinner at the “fancy” one, quite expensive and quality only fair. I breakfasted the next morning at the “everyman’s” place where the quality was poor but adequate. I tented because of the cramped boat and because the weather looked good. The owners of the “Irish Dancer”, Jim and Barb Collins, were very helpful with info about the Canal and even drove me to a hardware store to get the makings of a cable and lock they suggested for the boat. The Canal isn’t like the AT: minor mischief is always afoot. They live in Cheektowaga, a suburb of Buffalo, moor their boat all summer at Gasport, but are here now for the same reason I am. I arose about 7:00 a.m. to some nice wind and clear air, but there was significant darkening in the west. I watched it grow, and after the trip to the hardware store it was clear it was going to hit. I just had time to use the facilities and close myself in the boat (sail wrapped up on lawn) and the storm unleashed itself- big lightning, very close crackling thunder, heavy rain, but I remained dry throughout. However, I could not get comfortable inside. My storm arrangements need to be adjusted. The weather cleared by about 10:00 a.m. I had breakfast, Jim checked the weather- mostly clear weather with chance of thunderstorms all week. I made ready to proceed, thinking I’d have to fight the sail as I did the first day, and while waiting for the bridgemaster to raise the bridge (he travels between two bridges on the Canal, so it can take 15 to 20 minutes at one or the other), I decided I needed to do two things to feel safe and comfortable: 1) I needed a smaller sail (I knew they make them), and 2) I needed better storm protection. So I decided to go back to Gasport Marina where I knew there was a ramp for pulling out (none at Middleport), have shelter under the marina’s eaves, call Jean (she now in Pittsburgh- the Canandaigua place is rented this week) and when she could come she would get me, drive to Canandaigua, pick up the trailer, get the boat, take it to the upholsterer (who, it turned out, was out of town leading a camping trip in the Adirondacks), order the smaller sail, and pick up again at Gasport.
The return to Gasport, 5 miles, and now both “upstream”( 1 or so mph current), and upwind, which was quite steady. It took me only 2 hours to make the trip, and although I had to pedal constantly, it was not only easy but quite pleasant. I called Jean who began processing this new turn of events, and asked her to email Jim Collins that I’d be staying overnight at the private marina. I also called the number listed at the marina and was told that there’d be no problem with my tying up overnight. The weather as of 3:30 p.m. continued to be attractive except for scattered large thunderheads. So- right decision to interrupt.
As the day wore on, calls to Jean re plans for pick-up etc, would it wouldn’t it storm evolving into a sure thing. Large black buildup to the west. I was conversing with a fisherman, who expressed interest in seeing the escapade. As we started over, walking under the steel roofed porch of the marina, a gawd awful pounding commenced, with thunder and lightning, and hale, largest I’d ever seen, walnut sized, and lots of it, for a long time (see video), followed by gorgeous rainbow, a double, with the primary arising right out of the escapade and the Erie Canal behind it. I was reminded of a quote I read in Samuel Hopkins Adams book “The Erie Canal”: In 1817, Elisha Williams is speechifying to convince New Yorkers to support the building of the Canal, and says: “If the canal is to be a shower of gold, it will fall upon New York; if a river of gold, it will flow into her lap.” Apparently, the gold keeps flowing, at least at the end of this rainbow.
I finally identified a very common bird hereabouts I’d never seen before, or hadn’t known what I was seeing and hearing: the rough-winged swallow, whose call is highly reminiscent of the night hawk, which I haven’t seen in years.
The wave action in the Canal is amazing. The wakes of various boats in the confinement of the channel last up to 20 minutes after the boat has passed, even though all are at slow speed. I would have thought the wake would rebound off the banks and fairly soon cancel out, but not so. They seem to convert from the typical “V” shape to straight across, perpendicular to the banks, and carry on.
Starlings, house wrens, red bellied woodpecker, gold finches, common yellowthroat warbler, plus one warbler NFS, many house sparrows, mourning doves, catbirds, flickers.
Wednesday night the sky again thickening in the west. Many fishermen and women along both sides of the Canal and in boats. A number of fishing competitions had been announced on flyers along the Canal. I finally saw one caught- a redfin sucker, I think the man said, probably 2 pounds or so, and released at once. One man I met fishing from a kayak said that he understood that you can eat the fish from the Canal- the many types I hope to recount at some point- but the advice is no more than one per month due to lead and/or mercury. An almost full moon was very hazy, with thunder and lightning about 4:30 a.m. No wind. Eventually a few drops of rain, and again at about 7:00 a.m. A full bore thunderstorm hit at 7:50 a.m. with strong gusts. The tent was flapping about, but remained stout. My initial opinion that there was no moisture inside proved to be all wet, as was the entire floor on the tent and the bottom third of my sleeping bag.
So I awaited the arrival of Jean, hoping for noon, and in the clearing air strung and hung my things out to dry. She arrived about 1:30 p.m., the same time as Jim and Barb Collins who had brought their boat back to its berth, and thus was able to meet them.
I drive of about 90 miles brought us to Canandaigua where we hitched up the trailer, drove back to Gasport, retrieved the boat, and returned, where I made contact with Ray the upholsterer to construct a storm covering which would allow me to sleep in the boat. I would also order a smaller sail, and look to some other modifications, like rigging a rear view mirror. We had to return to Pittsburgh in the meantime, and as of 29 July will be travelling back to the Finger Lakes for a Canal reentry as soon as the changes are complete.
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