7/17 Reflections at row's end

 

Hammondsport, Keuka Lake

No miles, not a stroke

 

Alan has taken me for a whirlwind tour of Hammondsport and its environs.  His deep family history here shows up at every turn, revealing ‘community’ in the best sense of the word. Weeks ago I whimsically named this blog ‘Laker to Laker,’ and a day with ‘a lake guy’ 400 rowing miles away from ‘my’ lake is simply a mirror image of what he’ll see in me when we head back to Lake George. We went out for a boat ride last night and Alan opined how remarkable it is when one can ‘geo-locate’ on a lake at night simply using the sightlines of mountain silhouettes, the juxtaposition of lights, and the dimly-lit contours of shoreline. It’s knowing a place by heart, by decades of memory and experience and meaning and love, and knowing that what you know is never-changing, a kind of north star. ‘Lakers’ enjoy the unearned privilege of this intimacy with a place through time, and with it, I think, a responsibility to pay it forward.

Hammondsport hosted a wooden boat show this weekend, an event sabotaged by today’s relentless downpour, but a smattering of Centurys, Gars, and Chris Crafts gave the waterfront an old-timey feel. The wooden boat bug isn’t all too different from the kind of environmental protection and stewardship that’s so much on my mind on this adventure. Care, commitment, vigilance, monitoring, corrective or curative action … these are the attributes of the wooden boat owners as well as of the environmental advocate. We inherit something through no doing of our own, and we aspire to care for it, to preserve it, and to pass it on.     

To be blunt – now that I’m coming to the end of this blog as a capstone to this adventure – we’re going to reach a crossroads at Lake George, if indeed we have not already arrived. Unmonitored, untested, or non-compliant septic systems will take us to our next HAB, and the one after that, and we’ll act, but after much natural and reputational damage will have been done. The failure rate of assessed systems points to this outcome.

Or, can we (every constituency that has an economical, emotional, or moral interest in Lake George) act in unison and collaborate to fashion a best path before too much damage is done? What’s in the way of doing what Keuka Lake has done? Why can’t we act before our preservation must become reclamation? That we are not now actively monitoring, assessing, and improving septic systems around the entire lake as a regular practice of protection will someday be seen as the public policy negligence that it is.   

Really, why not now? ‘Best practices’ are out there, great people are in leadership positions, the institutions are in place … and the Lake doesn’t care about politics or process. Time will tell if we are listening to her. Our actions will tell if we are hearing her.

Day 11 - arrival in Hammondsport

 

Penn Yan to Hammondsport

23 miles

 

My boat sits in the grass in Alan’s back yard here in Hammondsport. I think I hear it whimpering, or panting. It wants to go further. I love my boat.

Me? I’m showered, shaved, hydrated, and now liberated from the stocks of the oars and foot brace. I’m at once sad that it’s over, like my boat, but also ready to ‘stop rocking’ and get back to friends, family, and home.    

Today’s row was by far the most pleasurable. Keuka Lake is utterly charming: great water, accessible shorelines, nice vistas of vineyards and forests, and today, not much boat traffic. The aquatic grasses don’t seem to be as prevalent as on Seneca, and as I rowed the shoreline I took great comfort and even envy that each of these residences receives an inspection of their septic system every 5 years. This commitment to a common standard for the common good, a recognition of each property owner’s responsibility, makes me believe that if I come back here in five or ten years, I’ll see a remarkably clean lake. Well done, Keuka community! I sure hope we Lake George natives can follow your example in the name of prevention and not out of a need for future remediation!

So, it’s over. My friend Alan will squire me around Hammondsport and its environs for the next few days, and then he’ll drive me home, and I'll do my best to reciprocate. One thing's for sure, I can never repay the many kindnesses that a score or more people have shown me over the last eleven days, but I can pay it forward to the next person, and then the next, and in that way try to close a loop, make a chain.

I do find myself wondering how this may have worked as a ‘fundraiser.’ The Lake George Association, The Friends of the Outlet Trail, The Keuka Lake Association …hopefully they saw some checks trickle in?

I hope, too, that through the banality and silly stories the reader may have been incited to investigate and prod processes that will lead to cleaner water, to more thoughtful and even urgent environmental stewardship. Everybody’s going a mile a minute these days, stressed and distracted, and I’ve had the profound luxury of eleven days facing backwards in a boat going 4 mph. Such time ignites reflection. Such views off the stern invite awe, joy, and alarm in equal measure.

I do hope we can do what we have to do to save it before we lose it. If these pages have brought you outside to think about these things with me, then that’s something.    

I’m already missing you.

xxoo

Day 10 - Seneca Lake and Keuka Outlet Trail

 

Waterloo NY to Keuka Outlet Trail to Keuka / Penn Yan

28 miles  (20 rowing, 8 walking)

 

Today was a sample plate at the all-you-can-eat buffet of life on the water. Up at 5, on the canal by 5:40 to see a fog-enrobed sunrise, out on the wide open waters of Seneca Lake by 7:30, across 2 miles of open water in a rising breeze … then 17 miles of upwind/crosswind rowing to Dresden.

Seneca’s clear waters are colder because this is a very deep lake. The clarity, sadly, reveals a lot of milfoil/vegetation that crowds out everything in the shallow water, a shame because the water itself seems so pure, so healthy. Aquatic weeds are fun sponges.

Seneca conveys a sense of size because it offers such a broad horizon, its gently rising farmland and plateaus offering long distance vistas, not close-in mountain ranges. It’s really grand and sweeping and the cloud formations today masqueraded as mountains in the sky. I once heard a western skier describe Stowe as ‘claustrophobic’ because of the nearby adjacent peaks, and could imagine a Seneca Laker applying that term to Lake George’s mountain-ringed shores. Me?  I love ‘em both.

I reached Dresden at noon and met my crack logistical team - Keith and Phillip in the lead, with additional good-hearted muscle whose names I’ve lost. They took my boat and gear to Steve’s house, here on the very northern shore of Keuka, and it will be an easy launch to Hammondsport, 22 miles south, tomorrow morning.

Phillip is president of Friends of the Outlet and a prince among men. His passion for environmental stewardship and his humble yet assertive and tremendously knowledgeable leadership show in his recounting of history, accomplishments, and challenges. We walked the 8 mile trail together, from the shore of Seneca Lake to Penn Yan, and I soon found myself wishing we had the likes of Phillip at all levels of leadership and administration in government. When I asked him, at about mile 4, what he thought of when he walked this trail, he said, with a pause, ‘People …the people that worked these locks and factories that lined it, and now my fellow volunteers who give everything to preserve and protect it.’

Gentle readers, their website is at www.keukaoutlettrail.org. What a cool group, what a model for volunteerism! Thanks, Phillip, for the ‘insider tour’ of the trail, a walk I now know you’d do for anyone because of who you are. You’ve given me another model, another fabulous example of environmental advocacy at its best.

So now I’m at Steve’s house on the very north end of Keuka Lake. I’ve had a long, refreshing swim, and I await a vanilla malt from the stand down the street. Ryder, Steve’s enterprising grandson, is on a mission.

Early this morning I rowed past a big fake bird on a post, the kind of thing that people buy to scare away other birds or pests. The thing was so overdone, so gaudy in its exaggeration of what a real bald eagle looks like, I did an eye-roll at the cheesy extent to which industry caricatures the bald eagle and people get swept in and nail the damn plastic likeness to a pole.    

Then, as I rowed on by, it flew away.

Later, I found a swim spot along the west shore of Seneca. I rowed in close, hopped out in my Crocs into knee deep water, and came face to face with a lamprey eel. They’re harmless to humans, they say, but they say a lot of things. I rowed on.

Phillip took me to a pub after my 20 mile row and our 8 mile uphill walk. I drank 7 Cokes and ate a Beyond Burger.

Tomorrow is a 22 mile sprint to the finish line on Keuka Lake. Alan, who bought mom’s ‘Princess’ pontoon boat, plans to find me and feed me during the row, and I’ll plan to drink all the chocolate milk the Princess can carry.

With only one day to go, I’m already getting misty about finishing – Steve, Phillip, Keith, Mark, Mitch, Lindsey, Tom … lovely people along the way, giving unconditional support just because they can.

It’s really heartening to see this side of America so clearly, so personally. We’re better than we present ourselves to be, I think.

xxoo

 

 

 

Day 9 - on the Cayuga-Seneca Canal

 

7/14 Waterloo, NY (Birthplace of Memorial Day)

Lock CS4  (CS4 meets C-12 platter)

10 miles 2:30 hours

 

Over 15 years of rowing expeditions, I have never been so bold as to combine a C-12 combo platter with the rigors of rowing. Tonight I make that bet. Tonight I take that chance. Tomorrow will tell the tale.

This short day on the water has been long on engagement with people along the way. Tom motoring a beautiful Alberg 28 sailboat from Buffalo to Seneca Falls, where he and it will spend the summer, modeled his Cambodian fishing hat … a lovely garment indeed! He admired my boat and adventure as much as I admired his ‘plastic classic’ and mariner’s aura.

Later on, waiting out the rain in a public pavilion in the park, I met Mark, by his own admission ‘one of the very few Waterloo liberals and believers that Biden is president.’ We talked politics and culture for well over an hour; I got a distinct sense that he was very hungry to talk with a kindred spirit.  

As if to validate his point, after he left, a couple arrived to tell me that their church group was getting together at the pavilion in about an hour, and that, well, you know, it’s our church group, and we’ll be expecting to have the pavilion …

Does that sound right to you?

So … that’s when I walked into town and found my Chinese. Doors close, doors open.

For all the wrong reasons, this is the first time I’ve felt uneasy about my evening abode. I may row back across the canal and set up at the lock, where I’ll feel somewhat more secure in the embrace of the state, elected by the people.

Too political? Sorry, I just so dislike hypocrisy.

Tomorrow, Seneca Lake (20 miles) and an 8 mile historical hike over the Outlet Trail. The Outlet Trail follows the course of the old locked canal that used to connect Seneca and Keuka Lakes. The Friends of the Outlet – Sally and Keith in particular – have taken an interest in my row and plan to meet me in Dresden and help me with my stuff. I ask you, where do we find such friends?

A full water report tomorrow! I expect to do some Seneca swimming.  

Bonus Blog #2 from Seneca Falls

 

Seneca Falls

Bonus Blog #2

 

I’m halfway through what will be a sinfully leisurely 10 mile day, sitting in a nice café in Seneca Falls, drying out and sipping my first cup o’ Joe since last Tuesday. Luxury indeed!

Seneca Falls is an exceedingly charming town that nonetheless looks like it’s catching its breath for another run; nine ‘for sale’ signs on the main street hint at some economic struggle here. But the history is rich, and the Elizabeth Cady Stanton Park and murals are powerful and, sadly, still so timely, so germane.

I’ll poke around this afternoon if the rain abates and will settle in at the final lock leading to Seneca Lake, my 25^th. The locks ‘on the lake’ are lovely, and the water – lake water – is getting clearer as I proceed. I had a long talk with a lockkeeper this morning, and he provided a bit of history on canal stewardship (from the purview of the NYS Thruway Authority to, today, the NYS Power Authority) and staffing challenges. The lockkeepers love their jobs – being operators, mechanics, curators, historians and such – but tight budgets have caused labor/staffing/training issues.

I hope NYS doesn’t lose sight of or care for this incredible infrastructure. It’s woefully under-utilized, but it’s so unique, such a testament to slower, simpler, even ‘mechanical’ times … times that duffers like me pine for (over our hot coffee and creature comforts.)

And in my haste to get buttoned down for last night’s storm, I neglected to give proper props to Mitch at Cayuga Seneca Lock #1. Yes, he cooked me a cheeseburger, introduced me to Lindsey, provided advice for positioning the boat before the storm … just a great guy, the kind of person who offers unconditional kindness and infectious enthusiasm for this thing called living. Thanks, Mitch and Lindsey, for making my ‘port in a storm’ seem more like home away from home.

I asked a lockkeeper about the challenges of ‘invasive species’ here. It seemed to me that a lock leading from ‘the rest of the world’ to Cayuga and then to Seneca Lakes sort of invites invasion … and indeed it has. He cited zebra mussels, Asian carp, and milfoil as the issues of the day, the difference here being in expectations. Here, the name of the game is ‘control,’ or ‘defense,’ not eradication.

‘When these lock gates started swinging over 100 years ago, that horse left the barn,’ he said.

A trip to these challenged yet beautiful lakes teaches in full measure the importance of ‘prevention’ at a place like Lake George, a place that has held a line because of the forward-thinking and hard work of the LGA, the Fund, the Nature Conservancy, the LG Park Commission, and environmentally responsible public officials – and hundreds of volunteers. We live in a garden spot. Tending a garden takes a keen eye, vigilance, and persistence, but oh, it’s worth it!

I’ll be on the main body of Seneca Lake tomorrow for 20 miles or so, to Dresden, where I’ll trek 8 miles to the top of Keuka. I look forward to a swim in the clear waters of Seneca!

For now, one more cup o’ Joe while the rain clears!

     

Bonus blog from early this morning

 

Bonus Blog – 7/14 6:15 AM

I had a song in my head this morning, and it was for a reason. Remember at the end of ‘The Poseidon Adventure,’ the first one, when the survivors bang like crazy on the steel hull to gather the attention of the rescuers outside? Even Rogo, played by Ernest Borgnine, lamenting the loss of his wife, Stella Stevens, (and parenthetically, who wouldn’t cry if you’d just lost Stella Stevens in 1972?) is reduced to tears by his improbable survival.

Overlaying Rogo’s dual epiphanies is Maureen McGovern’s soon-to-be hit single, “There’s got to be a Morning After,” a saccharine yet fitting close to a hokey movie about loss and new beginnings, albeit for Rogo, not Stella.

Anyway, Maureen’s song was/is in my head as I unzipped my tent this morning and fell out into the wet grass. Last night’s storms were fierce – terrifying, really – and they went on and on, and I spent it all inside a tubular frame underneath the largest tree within miles.    

So I have my morning after yet ahead. And a day, at last, on the lakes.

Day 8 - Baldwinsville to Cayuga

 

Baldwinsville to Cayuga Lake Lock #1

35.5 miles

11.5 hours

 

Some days are tougher than others, and this was one of those days. The Seneca River is 3 feet about normal, running hard to the east, so my day was uphill all the way.

The lockkeeper let me through at 35.5 miles, and within 5 minutes I was:

1. Handed a cheeseburger and a coke

2. Provided with a power outlet

3. Shown to a lovely campsite
4. Given a brief history of the issues of invasive species from the canal (i.e. the world) to Cayuga and Seneca Lakes
5. Shown a faucet so I can ‘wash’

Folks, I am so spent I’ll have to write later, and a second storm is due here in an hour, and I still have to make camp.

I can’t dunk, throw, dance, cook, or skate, but I can row for 11.5 hours straight and write in a little black book. Each has his or her gifts, yes?

More tomorrow!!

ZZZZZ

 

Day 7 - to Baldwinsville NY

 

Hero Steve holding Al's food box in his right hand and imaginary oars in his left

Brewerton Lock 23 to Baldwinsville NY   

22 miles  6:20 hours

1 lock

Steve arrived at 12:00 sharp, bearing my oars, my food box, and his typically wonderful aura. I am so appreciative of his generosity of spirit. Sure, there was a new boat on top of his van, but that could have been for show.

 Steve, I love ya, man. Thanks!

 My first 7 miles were like a dream; the Oneida River current pushing me along at better than 6 mph … a far cry from the Mohawk’s 1.5! But then the Oneida merges with the Seneca River, and while they go rushing off happily together to Lake Ontario, their waters comingled, singing a happy song, I go west on the Seneca, again upstream against these near-record waters, now slowed to a pedestrian 2.8 to 3.0. But I’m not complaining. Nobody likes a complainer.  

 It poured rain all night last night, hard, so there is still a lot of water running down these valleys, making trouble for septuagenarians. My plan to make a big run at Seneca Falls tomorrow might have to be reconsidered. I’ll be in the Seneca River for all of it, and rowing uphill for a whole day is, well, daunting.

 We’ll see what happens.

 The waters of the Oneida and Seneca seem surprisingly clear, especially considering the present turbidity. Can I say turbidity?  As I waited for Steve, I sat on a dock wall and watched sunnies and bass, I think, darting in the current, and 2 herons stalking the smaller stuff on the far bank. The nasty water chestnuts that so dominate the lower Mohawk are less prominent here … maybe it takes time for them to propagate upstream? They are by far the most fearsome and intrusive of the non-natives I’ve seen … simply dominant, stifling, and the story of its release into North American is typically astounding.    

 Tonight I’m camping at a nice low dock here in Baldwinsville … many other boats here hung up by the closed locks to the east. The fun of a traffic jam on the water is that it creates instant community; people want to tell their stories and they want to hear yours. I’m tied up next to a big catamaran with its mast lashed to its deck. Trey and his wife are on ‘the Loop’ from Florida to Florida, expecting to take a year… and happy that the mayhem of the Mohawk is behind them. I’d love to spend a year on a boat, but not with the mast lashed to the deck, or in a guideboat with no amenities.

 Eating inside in a restaurant tonight on a cushioned seat … luxury! And the Seneca River roars beside me … a promise for tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to rowing through waters I can swim in ... three days away, I hope?       

 Hands are getting hard,

Brain is getting numb,

Odd places are getting wrinkled,

…but gratitude and joy are not abating

 xxoo

Bonus blog at the end of Day 6

 

Pop Quiz: Can you tell what essential piece of propulsive equipment is missing from this picture?

I'd promised to be learning about and reflecting upon and writing about certain environmental issues facing our waters, but today's string of madcap and inane events and decisions leave me with ten end-of-day epiphanies:  

‘Bob, at these speeds and with this level of climate-controlled comfort, I could row across the country!’     - (Al, in Bob’s Subaru, with the boat on the roof, heading west)

 ‘Lewis and Clark were chumps to do it the way they did it.’   -  (same)

 ‘Bob, where’d you put the oars?’ ‘Al, where’d you put the oars?’   - stated in unison

 Tonight’s dinner, a  quart of chocolate milk, is enough, because my food box is with the oars.    - Al, who packed too hastily

 ‘Everywhere I itch I can’t reach.’   -  Anonymous

 If you’ve been wet for three days, you ought not to look.  - truism

 In a tent at night, a rogue raisin can be frightening.   - Lived experience

 ‘The river will do like she does.’   - Lockkeeper

 ‘Sure, you just took 3 or 4 days off your row, but if you row slower, you’ll get it back.’          - Sage fellow traveler

 At the base of Lock 8, some pointed, some waved, some took pictures, and more than a few wondered, ‘Why? Why?’  

 

Day 6 - Lock 9 to Lock 23 by car

 

Lock 9 to Brewerton, NY

119 miles  2:35 hours

Didn’t pull a stroke 

Where do I start? How about the chronology before the commentary?

1.     At 9:00, the lockmaster announces that due to dangerous high water, locks west of us are closed, maybe for days. No more rowing on the Mohawk.

2.     My dear, dear friend Bob Ashton volunteers … even insists … to rescue me. He drives to Lock 9 from Saratoga, we load the boat and gear and head west at 60 mph, me feeling the conflicting emotions of excitement at continuing and guilt for not rowing.   

3.  Bob leaves me in Brewerton, past both the Mohawk River and Oneida Lake, an especially dangerous patch of water that has already almost dispatched me twice. From the comfort of Bob's Subaru, as each mile clicked past 56 minutes faster than I could have rowed it, I made a (chicken) executive decision. No Oneida Lake, not in this weather, not in these conditions. 

4.  As Bob and I unload the boat 119 miles west of Lock 9, we realize that we forgot the oars.

            Really, we forgot the oars.   

     5.     A flurry of phone calls ensues.

    a)     The lockmaster at Lock 9 confirms that he has and will hold on to my oars ...whew!

    b)    I call Adirondack Guideboat to see if there’s anyone near Brewerton who might offer a short loan of theirs. No dice.

    c)     But Steve Kaulback offers to leave Vermont tomorrow morning, pick up the oars that Bob will recover at Lock 9, and drive them to me here in Brewerton. From … Vermont. Yes, from Vermont. I ask you … how does one say thank you for these kindnesses?

 Steve says he has ‘other business’ to tend to near Syracuse, but I for one don’t think a person offers to drive 6 hours (one way!) on a whim of ‘business in the area.’

 Bob? Steve? I’ll get you back for all of this – somehow, some way. I owe ya a ton!

 So the net of it is the lock closure on the Mohawk has catapulted me 4 days ahead, thanks to Bob and Steve, and I could be back on the water by noon on Monday. But really, how does one forget 2 cherry oars?

 I feel like an idiot.

A lucky, happy idiot.

 It’s resumed raining here, more water for the cauldron downstream. My poor Lock 9 fellow boaters, Gene, Marian, and Ray, could be hung up for days… they were great company, and fine cooks.

 Question: Because nature has intervened, ought I feel guilty about welching on the 400 miles, even though it was not especially ‘elective’? This row will come in at 280 miles or so, still something, but taking a pass on crossing Oneida Lake was an ‘elective.’

 Answer: In my defense, when I pass groups of 69 year-old guys doing this, I’ll ask them. I haven’t seen them yet …

 Final Kudos: The Lock 9 and Lock 23 folks have been wonderful and informative hosts. While lock-keeping might seem a sedate profession, these folks employ a wide range of skills. Yesterday’s near-disasters at Locks 8 & 9 called on snap decision-making in a literal life-and-death situation. Lock-keepers also maintain this antiquated equipment, act as ambassadors and advisors, offer rich local lore, and will hang on to your 8’ cherry oars for a day if you are loopy enough to drive off without them.

Thank you, lock-keepers!

 WHAT A DAY.

Day 5 - A tough day on the Mohawk River

The water at Lock 9

Crescent Boat Club to Rotterdam

Erie Canal Lock 9

24.2 miles 10.2 hours (ouch!)

Oh hey, I’m in it now. Caught in a public dilemma, a promise made but perhaps out of reach. A reach that has exceeded my grasp.

 The big news is that the canal people have closed several locks ahead of me. The water is roaring. I saw a 54’ Cruiser swirled around like a tub toy before it smashed its way into the lock ahead of me, and I have been seeing 1.2 mph (over the ground) for the last 8 hours.

 The Mohawk River is raging right now, and I don’t have an answer.

 If the locks remain closed, I can’t proceed.

 If I can’t make 1.2+ mph over the ground (15 mile days?), I can’t proceed.

I feel terrible about this state of affairs. I ‘promised’ a 400 mile row … I feel obligated.

 But ... I’m thinking … maybe it’s about connecting ‘Laker to Laker’ even if the Mohawk steps in the way?

 Tonight a canoeist (and 20 other people) congratulated me on getting into Lock 9 alive. It was quite a nifty bit of oarsmanship, if I may say so myself. A 54’ Chris Craft was manhandled, my 16’ Adirondack guideboat got me through!

A surprise visit from Anja at Lock 9

 Anyways, the 84-year-old masters champion canoeist told me his life story … and then I asked him if he or anyone in his cohort might want to leapfrog me and my boat over this unpleasantness. A truck and a rack and map and we could be on again, past the troubled waters.

He’s shaking the bushes tonight and will call me in the morning.

Sadly, one thing for sure – I won’t be rowing tomorrow …

1. A brutal day … still can be fun
2. High water trumps high ambition
3. People are wonderful when you ask them with respect and humility

Oh! Gene, Maria, and Ray, the folks on the plucky down-east type boat, treated me to a wonderful dinner and terrific stories along Lock 9. A stranded community is forming – lovely people, and damn good boaters!    

Much later!!

    

Al spent the night at Lock 9 - he needs to at least get beyond the last closed lock (#16) at St. Johnsville

Day 4 - Schuylerville to Crescent Boat Club

 

Schuyerville to Crescent Boat Club

31.8 miles  7:48 rowing

10 locks

We enjoyed a glassy downstream run for 22 miles on the Hudson; 4 boats passed us in 6 hours, virtually no one on the shore enjoying the water or a Friday afternoon … almost Covid-like quiet. After reading more about the PCB legacy on the Hudson, I wonder if folks are still reluctant?  

We turned the corner into the Erie, finally heading west, and one must climb ‘the flight’ of 6 locks within 2 miles in order to get to the Mohawk. Now it will be an uphill climb to Herkimer, as the Mohawk’s current will be against me until I get to the ‘classic’ Erie Canal, not influenced by the Mohawk’s torrent. The buzz is that the M’s water is high right now, so I’m anticipating a slog until then.  

 It was great having Bob along for two days. He’s a strong rower and goal oriented, and only family obligations pulled him off the water tonight. Tina delivered a quart of chocolate milk to me when she picked him up, and that softened the blow.

 I’m curled up at the Crescent Boat Club, a lovely facility where I’ll have access to running water … the most important amenity!

 If the Hudson’s PCB past still haunts it, the Mohawk – at least this early section – is bedeviled by aquatic weeds; many docks are plastered in by 50 yards of the densest vegetation … invasive, I wonder? It simply seems out of control – totally dominant – and occasionally one rows past a gargantuan Zamboni-like device, water-going, of course, that simply clears a channel to open water. As I sit here at this lovely club, looking out at the river, it seems that in places half its breadth is painted green.

200 yards to shore - that's water chestnut

Was it always this way? Are these non-native invaders? If so, was or could anything have been done? What does the future hold … will open water on the Mohawk someday be a rarity? What will I see further upstream?  

So much to learn …

 My, how nature has her way … unless we interfere!

I’m so lucky to see this, to be doing this, to hope that at least my granddaughters will someday read this.

Gotta fight the tent before dark; have you ever watched Snoopy and the lawn chairs?

 Same thing -

 

 

Morning Bonus Blog

 

AM Bonus Blog

Our shipping containers here at Schuylerville Marina really saved us from a night of rain … it’s still threatening this morning, but at least we’re starting out dry.

If you are ever by this way, you must rent a shipping container here at the spotless Schuylerville Marina, and dine at Amigos Cantina right down the street ... all the conviviality and color of the row, without the row.

We’ll be off at 8 with the goal of passing through ‘the flight’ of locks in Waterford by end of day… then I lose Bob – so sad – and head west. Tina, thanks for your logistical support and for sharing Bob. ‘Sharing Bob.’ So sweet.

The Hudson gives us a nice boost downstream, maybe more psychological than real, but this is the beginning of the time in a row where psychology matters. The Mohawk will be flowing against me … and I anticipate its opposition to my progress to be more physical than psychological … which is psychological.

 See what I mean?   

 

 

Day 3 - Kingsbury to Schuylerville

Kingsbury Lock 8 to Schuylerville

20.5 miles

6.3 hours

4 locks

 

Some days are close to perfect, even if one’s lower back is screaming and the hands are blistering out.

 Met up with life-long friend Bob at lock 7 – his beyond-wonderful wife Tina ferried him, his boat, and PB&J’s to the water’s edge – and Bob and I rowed in tandem and wing-to-wing for 15 miles to the Schuylerville Marina, where we are sleeping in re-habbed shipping containers. Way cool, and dry!

 My daughter Katie arrived with granddaughters Rose and Sylvie, and the 5 of us enjoyed a wonderful dinner at Amigos Cantina, world-class fare a short walk from the river’s edge. If I were writing a dinner review and not a rowing blog, I’d end this with 5 stars, plus! A great place … thanks, Rob!    

 So … best friends, fantastic daughter, delightful granddaughters, great food, and a warm, dry bed … the lower back may ebb and flow, but a memory like today is timeless. I’m a lucky dude.

 Tomorrow’s goal is to turn the corner at Waterford and start to head west, at last. It will feel good to be making a wake in the direction of my destination. I’ll have one more day with Bob as a most able wing man, then solo again.

This stretch of the Hudson is sobering if one recalls the PCB debacle and the untold sums and lives spent in the clean-up. The water here is surprising clear, the shoreline and vistas are beautiful, the wildlife abundant, and our nation’s history is everywhere in these parts. But the environmental disaster that came from 30 years of PCB pollution still hangs over the river … a stark reminder that preventing the ruin of our environment is far easier … and more effective … than remediation, if restoration is even possible.

 The stories of failure and success in environmental stewardship are all around us. A treasure like Lake George is the best of stories, if only we don’t love her to death. A story like Keuka Lake is heartening; it shows what is possible through unity of purpose, compromise, and bold action.

 Xxoo, and to sleep.    

Al exiting Lock 5

Day 2 - Orwell VT to Kingsbury NY

 

Orwell VT to Kingsbury NY

Champlain Canal Lock #9

35.6 miles, 9:15 in the seat

3 locks

 Just finished a sumptuous repast prepared by a chef ending in ‘Dee.’ I’ve got a pasta refrain going on this trip. When I’m on my own, I eat like a teenager. But I do love what ‘Dee does with the sauce … delicate, savory, a bit sweet, nes pah?

 Three highlights today:

1.  A following wind all the way, which really enables the boat to glide between strokes.  A flat water 35 mile day is, for me, about 7700 strokes. Today, because the wind enabled me to cruise at hull speed with reduced cadence, it was a lot less. Every little bit helps. Don’t know if my luck will hold on wind, but I’ve had two favorable days … one from the south, today from the northeast. Go figure!!

2. Locks take time. I was in the seat for an extra hour today for essentially identical mileage, the difference being the transit of three locks on the Champlain Canal. The lockkeepers have been wonderful – they’ve put me right through – but it’s still a pause. But the lock folks have great stories and wonderful pride in their canal and the lock stations … what a resource, and this year it’s free!   

3. An epiphany! I’ll be passing through seven lakes on this row. Up to now, I’ve been focused on mostly two, and how they are each dealing with septic issues (Keuka and Lake George,) but if I do make it all the way to Hammondsport, I’ll have wet my bottom in Lake George, Lake Champlain, Oneida Lake, Cross Lake, Cayuga Lake, Seneca Lake, and Keuka Lake. Seven lakes … seven hills of Rome … seven rooms of gloom … the Seven Sisters colleges … Gentle reader, this is how one spends his/her time for 9+ hours in a fiendishly small wooden boat under a baking sun trying to fulfill what is now a public obligation while eating ‘O’s and Dee at the end of the day.

More on these lakes as I get to ‘em, but I’ll just say that southern Champlain faces a huge challenge with its agricultural runoff … and with its interconnection with the ecosystems of the Hudson and, really, the world, through the Champlain Canal.  

Does my memory serve me right that in the 40’s or 50’s, a canal was considered to connect Lake George to it all? It would have been so easy. It would have been so tragic.

Let’s give a cheer for clear heads and a commitment to the common good … yesterday, today, and tomorrow!

Gotta sleep.

Map of the Champlain Canal 

Day 1 - Cleverdale to Orwell VT

 

At Chipman Point Marina

Cleverdale to Orwell, VT (Chipman’s Point Marina)

35.65 miles,  8:15 hour ‘moving’

 The T-storm abated at 5:15 AM, so I pushed off at 5:45 in light rain. Brian & Cecile met me at their dock 2.2 miles up; an egg and English muffin sandwich added ballast and fuel. Where do we find such friends?

 A pretty nice south wind pushed me to Ticonderoga, but my lack of training took its toll nonetheless. A combination of factors sabotaged my aim to push the boat to the falls ….

1.       Poor conditioning

2.       An undersized carriage

3.       Too much luggage

4.       High heat!

 The boat kept sliding off the cart, so I presented my exhausted self to Jeff and Tristan at Snug Harbor Marina, pled my situation, and learned yet again that kind, ‘can-do’ people like Jeff and Tristan walk among us. Jeff gave the ‘OK,’ Tristan helped me toss my bags and the boat in the back of his Ram Hemi, I climbed in the bed to hold the boat in, and in four minutes we were at La Chute.

 Jeff, it would have been easy and entirely understandable to say ‘no’ to a guy with a 16’ boat out in the road, but you didn’t. Snug Harbor? They’re the good guys and thanks so much!

 And Tristan? There may be a few rust spots in that truck, but it purrs like a tiger – what a great sound – thanks for bailing me out … you are a rock star, too!

 Failing to complete a 2-3 mile portage today does not bode well for the 8 miles in Dresden, from Seneca to Keuka! I so want to walk it … perhaps I can do it if I just pull my boat (74 lbs) and oars (14 lbs) and ‘ship’ my sea bags (2,642 lbs!!) to the end?

 Am I a wuss?

 Just getting old?

Is this row already compromised because of Tristan’s generosity and my exhaustion?

 I do have 35+ miles in 8:15 to show for my labors, so that’s something. And I’m finally rowing towards Hammondsport, which feels more gratifying than 27 miles North in order to turn South!

I’m 82 miles from my right turn onto the Mohawk and Erie … which will be a morale booster extraordinaire.

Anyone who sees what I’ve seen today – the incredible purity of Lake George water flowing into the brown patina of southern Champlain – can’t help but be struck by how little separates these two eco-systems: gravity, the falls, and eagle-eyed inspectors keep us in the pink, or in the clear … and I sure do hope the septic inspection momentum picks up steam and support. What we have is just too special – too unique – to not do all that we can do to preserve, protect, and pay forward.

 My agenda tonight?

     1.       A shower here at Chipman’s Marina

2.       Some circular pasta ending in “O’s”

3.       A deep, deep sleep!        

 And tomorrow? Jackson Brown sang it, I just have to do it … again.

 Xxoo,

Al

Al has traveled this route before - for further reading and photos of La Chute and the Portage, see

http://arowtoofar.blogspot.com/2017/07/home.html