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