Day Trip to Albany and the Dinosaur BBQ

Coxsackie/Albany/Troy, New York - 6 kilometres walked, 1 mile in dinghy, 100 kilometres driven

We began the day with a big, soulful breakfast then gathered up the still wet cushions to take to the Coxsackie laundromat. As we were walking from the dinghy dock through the park I ran into my local buddy Patrick.

"Where you guys going?" he asked.

"Albany for the day.  My people have arrived so I've got wheels now!" I said as I motioned to Ana and Sina then introduced them to Patrick.

"What kind of vehicle?"

"We don't like to brag," said Sina. "But it's a Hyundai Odyssey mini van."

"2012," I added. "Base model."

We left Patrick, nodding and impressed, as we continued our walk through the park to the van. At the laundromat we stuffed the cushions into a large dryer, jammed in some discs of coin, then went for coffee at the cafe next door and planned out our day.

Ana took the helm and drove us north to Albany, taking the scenic route. It seemed to me that we were traveling exceedingly fast, as high speed travel to me in recent months has been limited to nine knots (with the current). I didn't much like it and have realized over the past months how little I care for cars and highway travel. Too dangerous. Too fast.

We first visited the New York State Museum and I enjoyed it just as I had last week when I was here. It is a truly world class museum and provides such an enjoyable experience and profound depth of knowledge of the history and significant events of the state, with a focus on New York City.

Outside the museum we wandered the grounds, enjoying the views over downtown Albany and the towering buildings, performance Egg, and the capital building itself. Ana found a T.J. Maxx a few miles away so we blasted out of Albany and into that retail wonderland. Sina found two pairs of shorts, Ana picked up a shirt, and I found nothing of interest in the food section so I instead wandered over to the nearby Army and Navy store and browsed the Carhartt pants (too expensive), the knives (insufficient hand-to-hand fighting skills), and the semi-automatic guns and pistols (tough to smuggle across the border).

We had only one stop remaining for the day - Dinosaur BBQ, Troy chapter. Ana and I had discussed hitting a BBQ joint somewhere along the way during our US journeys but just hadn't gotten to it. So today was the day and Dinosaur BBQ is as good as it gets.

We ordered the family special for four to six people. It came with a full rack of ribs, an entire chicken, a pound of brisket and a pound of pulled pork. Plus a loaf of the best cornbread we've ever eaten. And large trays of mac and cheese, french fries, and coleslaw. It was gargantuan. It was epic. It was delicious. We waddled out of there with enough food left over for another meal.

During the drive back to Coxsackie we received a message from Darrren at the Coxsackie yacht club and he asked us to bring SeaLight over today as he was at the club and could show us where to dock. When we arrived, Ana stayed at the dock while Sina and I got the boat and brought her over, first for a pump out, then into the assigned dock space. Before long we were securely tied up, attached to electrical (first time in nearly eight months SeaLight has tasted shore power), and enjoying a long evening chat and great music in the comfort of the warm cabin.

This would be our last night on SeaLight before returning home tomorrow, unless the Canal Corporation announced it would be opening within the next day or two, which seemed very unlikely at this point.

I Got My Girl Back

Coxsackie, New York - 3 kilometres walked, 1 mile in dinghy

I got my girl back!

Ana and our friend Sina arrived around 4pm and man was I happy to see them. Ana looked beautiful as always, and I barely noticed her bandaged face from the two little moles she'd had removed the day before. The way she described it to me had me picturing a hybrid of the Bride of Frankenstein and the Mummy, but the Portuguese exaggeration she used in her description was excessive. Sina looked like he always does - slim, sturdy, and ready for action.

I passed the hours leading up to their arrival with a few boat jobs - cleaning out my tool and spares boxes, sucking up bilge water, reattaching the some stern flooring which had become unstuck, doing some final cabin cleaning. I also baked bread and did some writing. I may have also napped in the cockpit, bringing on the inevitible grogginess, which could have been the reason I neglected to close up all the boat hatches and bring in the cockpit cushions  before I left to meet them.

We went for a walk around town together and browsed the shops that were open - the General Store (Sina thought ten bucks for a can of designer tuna was excessive), the Paper Store (Ana was tempted by a t-shirt that said "cook-SAH-key"), and Ravish Liqours, open only on weekends, for a few hours a day, but when we peeked in there was nobody working and the tiny bar seemed to be a "help yourself" model.

We stopped at the Henry James tavern for a beverage and caught up on news. Sina is from Brantford (via a few other interesting countries) and has been a good friend of ours for years. He is an extraordinary craftsman, maker, builder, has been on SeaLight many times, and played a major role in helping me to install the solar arch and dinghy davits on the boat back in the spring. He is the person who took over Ana's job at Glenhyrst while she was away, so as freshly unemployed, was the perfect person to help me with the boat journey, which was looking less and less promising as the hours passed with no official statement forthcoming from the Canal Corporation on an opening day for the Champlain Canal. But I retained some hope that we'd hear something by Monday. If the canal would be opening within a day or two, he would stay and we'd bring the boat up to Montreal or as far as we could. If not, then we would all go home together on Monday and wait.

As we chatted and enjoyed our drinks, the trap door of the heavens opened and heavy rainshowers ensued. Anxiety took hold as I realized the rain was surely making its way into the boat, through the open hatches into the cabin but also onto Ana's loved cockpit cushions.

With a break in the rain we made a run for it and blasted back to SeaLight in the dinghy. The boat was a mess. Water had completely soaked the cockpit cushions, was all over the counter (turning the wine box into mush), and there was water covering the floor in both the heads. My careful staging of SeaLight for Ana's return was a soggy bust.

After mopping up the mess, I made dinner which turned out reasonably well and we enjoyed a meal together and stayed up way past Mariner's Midnight visiting.

I was so happy to have my girl back.

Back On Track

Coxsackie, New York - .5 nautical miles sailed, 3 kilometres walked

Both Perry and I had awoken with ideas and the bleakness and despondency of last night's situation was replaced with optimism and hope.

We talked the ideas through and with a combination of levers (with boards yoinked from a local construction site), ropes, repositioning of the wooden horses, and muscle power provided by two local fishermen (one of whom was strong like bull), we raised the mast up from the dock, then onto the bow pulpit, then fully back in place on the horses. We'd realized the resistance we'd felt last night trying to lift it was because the mast was tied to the lifelines in a place we couldn't see.

The damage wasn't nearly as bad as it had appeared last night. The paddleboard had prevented the mast from hitting the deck or hull. Only one of the stanchions was bent. The lifelines were intact. And the roller furling which I thought was bent and broken actually looked okay. I used a blowtorch to heat up the stanchion and shaped it back into place. I repositioned the mast back into the proper padded space on the arch. I strapped the mast down tightly and secured it to the boat. I tested and confirmed the solar panels were functioning normally. Just as I had finished all this another freighter passed and left a damaging wake (though not as bad as last night) and I shuddered to think what would have happened if he had passed an hour before when we were gingerly undertaking the mast rescue operation. I called him on the radio immediately and explained the mess he was causing. He said he would "make a note" for future passes.

The silver lining? Yes, there always is one. While the mast was down, and with Perry's help, I was able to secure the PVC conduit which had been banging around in the mast in the six months that had passed since it first let go at Langley Air Force Base after a long and bouncy ride on the Chesapeake. Also, we had a cute water snake pass by as we were doing the job. These, were wins.

I had invited the fishermen helpers and Perry and Cathy to SeaLight for afternoon beers as a show of gratitude, but mid afternoon they decided to get off this treacherous dock and make their way up to Albany. And the fishermen, they just seemed to be too busy with fishing. I said goodby to Cathy and Perry and told them they'd get to meet Ana soon, probably in Rochester on our next Lake Ontario boat vacation. Despite only knowing them for a few days, I was really going to miss them. They are real cool cats. And they travel with two actual cool cats on board, though I never actually saw them.

For the remainder of the day I cleaned the boat decks, cleared the garbage off the boat, went for a walk around town, chatted with some fishermen, then threw off the lines and sailed to the nearby protected anchorage, peaceful and safe from ship wake.

A Terrible End to a Fine Day

Coxsackie, New York - 4 kilometres walked, 3 miles in dinghy

The day began wonderfully but ended in despair.

I boiled water, made a Nescafe barley drink, then went for a walk, leaving a small air wake behind me in the still Coxsackie morning. There were few people around that early and I walked at a leisurely pace, picking up new details from paths I've covered many times - flowers blooming, crispy brown helicopter leaves blanketing the grass, crows in the trees speaking to each other, placards in the pavillion highlighting historical curiosities of Coxsackie, the cracks in the concrete steps leading to the foyer of the public library.

After returning to the boat for breakfast, I continued toothbrush polishing the shrouds. This job has taken me far, far longer than I had presumed, mainly because my hands and wrists can't stand the repetitive action for more than a couple of hours at a time. But seeing all that shining, braided stainless steel is the reward. As a side note (and an important detail to explain what happened later in the day), to access the rusty shrouds, I'd had to loosen the ratchet straps that secured the mast to the two wooden support horses, and those to the boat. Since I was at the presumed safety of a dock and not traveling, I hadn't been too concerned about restrapping these between rounds of polishing. That was a terrible mistake.

I took a break to visit the library. I read a short story - Franny by J. D. Salinger, while I waited for my tablet to download maps for the Champlain Canal, Montreal, and the St. Lawrence Seaway. I stopped at the Yellow Deli for a herbal tea, but the kindly hippie server there talked me into a Dandy Latee, non-caffeinated, which was creamy and sweet and delicious, but it did mess up the food experiment I'd been doing since my Dad left. You see, I had decided to completely cut out alcohol and sugar to see what impact it would have on my body. So, besides a couple of drinks with my boat neighbours the other day (which I really, really enjoyed), I had successfully eliminated those two macronutrients from my diet.

Have I felt better? I'm not sure. I'd probably say yes, to a small degree, particularly the sugar, as I love having a single cookie after lunch or dinner, but replacing that with a small orange has been just as rewarding. As far as the alcohol, I will admit that I have craved a glass of wine with dinners, particilarly the first day or two, but I've started to enjoy an icy carbonated water instead and haven't missed it all that much. I think though, to see any signifcant body changes from these experiments would take months, not weeks.

For the remainer of the day I cleaned the boat, I chatted with the fishermen and my buddy Patrick (who I learned is not just between jobs but is also being evicted from his apartment due to new ownership and has to give up his two cats), I chatted with Sugar Daddy and his boys, and I went for a dinghy ride to explore the area.

By dark I was sitting comfortably in SeaLight's cabin, all dishes were done, all hatches were closed, and I was watching a movie on the tablet.

At shortly after 9pm, all hell broke loose. A series of tsunami waves hit the boat and she started rolling violently from side to side. The coffee pot hit the floor. Stuff fell from the shelves. I jumped up and looked out the porthole and saw the floating dock lurching up into the air, creating triangles between the sections, as the waves crashed in, then echoed off the breakwater and came back, amplifying the height of them. There was a tremendous amount of noise and crashing. Holding on, I pulled myself into the cockpit and looked ahead to see my neighbours boat nearly sideways as it was rolled by the wake. My dinghy was thrashing around madly as it too had not been fully secured by travel strapping.

The waves finally died and the water became still again. I could not see the ship that had caused the damaging wake, but I could see its lights as it disappeared around a curve to the south. I checked the dinghy and found it to be okay, then tightened it down. I then went out on deck to make sure the mast was okay. It was not. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Both the wooden cradles had tipped and the mast had fallen off the boat, to the port side. It had crashed down onto my paddle board and was being held by various ropes attached at various points to the boat and the lifelines and stanchions, two of which looked severely bent. Amazingly, the other end of the mast was still sitting on the aft arch, but instead of it sitting snugly in the foam padded space between the solar panels, it had jumped up and was barely clinging to the edge of the portside panel. I was sure the panel had been destroyed and was worried the whole thing was going to topple overboard and crash into the dock or the hull.

As I was assessing the damage, two fishermen had walked over to see if we were okay as they saw the whole thing happen from the shoreline. I asked them to go and check on Perry and Cathy as I tied up some support lines to hold the mast in place. I then took a spare ratchet strap and secured the mast on the arch so it could not fall off, and I was shocked to see the solar panel appeared undamaged.

Andrew and Epheral, the fishermen, returned from checking on Panacea (they were fine) and told me they'd been fishing here their entire lives and had never seen a ship wake like that before. They'd heard the huge waves approaching and even saw water receeding from the shoreline. They agreed to stay and help try to get the mast back on board.

With their help and help from Cathy and Perry, we tried to lift it, several times, but it was far too heavy for us to raise it the required height. It was also dark and  hard to see which lines were going where and what else might be holding it in place. 

In the end, we gave up, and I had a feeling I might be headed back to Castleton tomorrow to use their crane. Or maybe I could find a small army of fishermen to help raise it. In either case, it was going to take the light of day to fully assess the situation.

I had Cathy look at Marinetraffic.com to see if she could find the vessels and she did find two that would have passed around that time - the Helen and the B. Franklin Reinhauer. I tried calling them on the portable VHF but they were either out of range or didn't respond. I also tried calling the Coast Guard but no response from them either. Boats are responsible for damage caused by their wakes...but how do you actually get compensation from this? I have no idea, but I expect it's nearly impossible.

I called Ana to give her the bad news. At the end of the conversation I felt even worse.

Boating. Long hours and days of boredom interrupted by brief periods of extreme chaos.

Major Delay to the Trip

Coxsackie, New York - 3 kilometres walked, 2.5 miles on paddleboard

The New York Canal Corporation finally broke their silence on the projected opening day for the Erie Canal. It will not be open to westbound vessels for four to five weeks due to major structural problems discovered with a moveable dam and an earthen embankment, both of which need to be repaired in advance of opening.

After a long call with Ana we decided that she will still drive here this weekend as planned, but we will dock the boat for two weeks at the local marina and I will return home with her. At the end of the two weeks we'll reassess the situation. If the Champlain Canal is open by then (which is a different lock system that runs north to Montreal then links up with the St. Lawrence Seaway and upstream to Lake Ontario), then I may bring Magnus with me and we'll sail the boat back that way. If the lock repairs are going faster than anticipated, then we will return here and await its opening.

Yes, it's a major delay, but there's nothing we can do about it besides wait it out. I am happy I will get to go home and be with Ana while the kids are away on their holiday. And I plan to spend a lot of time hanging with Winnie the hamster while Ana's at work. At night, the three of us will party hard.

Other than the bad news, which came right at the end of the day, I had a lot of fun today. I began the day with a long paddleboard ride around Coxsackie Island. I hadn't had the board out for a very long time due to the heavy winds and currents but I figured out that leaving at 6am gave me slack tide to paddle upriver then the changing tide gave me a nice boost downriver. Paddling in the current was dizzying. When I looked at the water below me, it seemed like I wasn't going anywhere. But when I looked at the trees on the shoreline, I was speeding by rapidly. Made me think of Einstein's theory of relativity and I tried to remember how that works, but it just started making me dizzy and I didn't want to risk falling into the frigid, sludgy water, so I just got back to thinking about chili dogs and cheese nachos and 80's glam band metal song lyrics.

After my paddle and breakfast I carted our one empty propane tank up to the Sunoco station, which is run by two perpetually smiling Indian gentlemen. I stepped inside the store.

"I'm back with my cylinder," I said to the older fellow, the man I had spoken with yesterday to confirm they did do fills.

"Ah yes, welcome, yes I can fill that for you," he said, smiling and nodding, his collared and checkered shirt buttoned up to the top.

"I'll just pay for it now since we're in here. How much?"

"Twenty-five," he said as he walked away from me and into a storage room to grab a pair of gloves.

"Twenty-five?" I said to the other man who was at the cash register. "This is just a small, 11-pound tank."

"Twenty," he said, tilting his head and pointing at his partner with his lips, then giving me a slight smile.

I gave him a twenty dollar bill and he stuck it in his pocket. I think it should have been fifteen, but I still felt like I was getting a deal.

As I was returning to the boat one of the fishermen stopped to talk to me and said something like, "You're getting close to 24."

"24? What does that mean?"

"24 hour limit for using the dock. You're almost at the limit."

I'd actually already been there for four days, but this must have been his first day fishing stripers.

"Where does it say that? I've looked at all the signs here and didn't see any mention of a limit," I said to him.

"It's there somewhere. The town enforces it."

"OK, thanks. I'll look into it," I said, then walked down the gangplank and back to the boat. I knew what was going on. The fishermen wanted to fish off the dock and we two sailboats were taking up most of the space, leaving only enough room between us for one fisherman. I scoured the town website and could find nothing. I tried calling them several times throughout the day and nobody answered. So I think I will stay put until either somebody official tells me I have to leave, or one of the fishermen unties my lines and SeaLight self-sails her way down the Hudson with me running wildly down the shoreline cursing and waving and planning my next move.

I spent several hours toothbrushing the shrouds, taking a break only to have a quick visit with my boat neighbours Perry and Cathy, who gave me a tour of Panacea and Perry showed me his built-in water maker. They asked me to join them for pizza tonight, which I happily agreed to, and countered offered snacks and drinks in SeaLight's cockpit as a warm up to dinner.

While I was having a shower, I opened up the window to de-steam the room and saw something strange on shore. Something white and sort of bent over. And a fisherman also bent over holding something in his hand. And a tiny brown eye. It was a little kid, with his pants down, bent completely over, hands grasping his own ankles while his dad wiped his bum with a rag. I guess he couldn't hold it, or maybe it was just too much trouble to walk to the bathrooms. I mentally geotagged the shore area in which they were standing as a place to avoid walking.

I had a smashing time with Perry and Cathy. After touring them through the boat we sat down to snacks and drinks. I tried to put together a visually stunning snack plate, but nothing compares to the ones Ana does. Fortunately, they've never seen hers so thought mine was pretty good.

We went to Patrick Henry's Tavern and shared a delicious thin crust pizza, had a beer, and shared stories about cruising the Bahamas. Cathy and Perry are originally from a small town in Indiana but now live in Buffalo and dock their boat in Rochester, one of our favourite stops on Lake Ontario. They are lovely, kind, and so easy to talk to. It was nice to be with cruisers again.

Neighbourhood Folks and Striped Bass Capture

Coxsackie, New York - 11 kilometres walked

I spent the day toothbrush-cleaning shrouds, walking to the yacht club to arrange for dockage, stretching, eating, walking some more, cleaning shrouds, talking to my girls, cooking and eating, watching Mad Max - The Road Warrior, a bit more shroud cleaning, then finished the day with an evening stroll around town and captured nocturnal images of Coxsackie.

I also met some interesting people. Patrick Ray is a local man whose family has been living in the area for three hundred years. Towns south and north of here are named after one of his great grandfathers. One side of his family - the Broncks - lent their name (with some stylistic changes) to the borough of the Bronx in New York City, as owners of large tracts of land there.

Patrick stopped by to introduce himself and we spent a very long time chatting. I expect I will be seeing more of Patrick as I can see his house from the boat.

Later in the morning sailboat Panacea arrived and I helped them to land and get tied to the dock. Perry and Cathy live in Buffalo but their home marina is Rochester and they similarily spent the winter in the Bahamas. I am quite sure we saw their boat somewhere along the way. I chatted with them for a while (lovely people), then Patrick appeared and told them his family history, which is how I was able to remember it. When came a natural break in the conversation, I slipped away, back to my shroud toothbrushing, but pointed Perry and Cathy in the direction of The Yellow Deli for lunch.

Sometime around 5pm a fishing family arrived and set up shop on the dock beside SeaLight. She was a skinny blonde, with dark sunglasses and ripped jeans, mainly preoccupied with controllling their barky and yanky Shelty dog who pulled her sideways off her lounge chair several times, landing her on the ground with a thud. The dad was a hulk of a man, bearded, and wore a jersey stamped on the back with SUGAR DADDY 69. He looked like he could drink a lot of Miller Lite. They had two young boys, ravenously excited about the fishing expedition and, surprisingly, it was their first time striper fishing with their dad.

I continued toothbrushing the shrouds but watched them with my peripheral. Sugar Daddy knew what he was doing, and was teaching his boys, with patience, the tecnique for catching stripers. He had the older boy hold a large dip net in the water on shore as he casted out a huge yellow rubber bait and reeled it in. This attracted herring fish and he would lead them across the net then signal the lad to pull it out. Every third attempt the boy would get the timing right and capture a herring, which he would run over to the dock as it flopped in the net, then drop it into the water to keep it alive. Sugar Daddy would then rig up another rod with a simple j-hook and weights, attach the live herring to it, then cast it far out into the river. He had two rods at a time set and the younger brother sat watching the lines as Sugar Daddy and the older boy returned to catch more herring.

With regularity, one of the rods would begin jerking and Sugar Daddy would holler at the boy to grab it and start reeling, keeping the rod tip up. Always keep the rod tip up, first rule of fishing. The first striper I saw them catch was a whopper, probably fifteen pounds. I put down my toothbrush to get a closer look and Sugar Daddy told me that was just a small one and he'd caught them up to fifty pounds off this dock.

I watched them catch three stripers, all of roughly the same size, and they returned each of them to the water. I considered asking them to give me a fish, but then realized I did not have enough available freezer space on the boat for a tray of breakfast sausages, never mind ten pounds of fresh fish fillets.

It was time to retire the toothbrushing for the day so I packed up my cleaning supplies, left the fisherman casting baits on the dock, and retired to the comfort of SeaLight's cabin, re-emerging only after dark, once all the fishermen had left, for the evening stroll.

The Yellow Deli

Coxsackie, New York - 10 kilometres walked

I woke up to find a large tree jammed beneath the dock and floating perilously close to SeaLight's rudder. After loosening the dock lines I used a boat hook to pull out the tree and guide it alongside the boat until it was free to continue its journey to New York City on the ebbing tide.

This part of the Hudson is almost entirely fresh water but the river still changes direction four times a day with the tides pushing in salty water further downstream, but not as far north as Coxsackie. I still have a hard time comprehending how a river can flow backwards; one would think this would simply flood the banks of the river and streams, but I suppose nature has this all figured out after doing it for millions of years.

After a leisurely morning on the boat I took a walk to the Coxsackie Yacht Club to check on the Hibiscus II. Our Quebecer friends Jonathan and Isabelle had left their boat here and gone home last weekend and I said I'd check on it for them. I walked through downtown then cut north onto a small paved roadway with some houses, but mostly forest on both sides. The Hibiscus II was the only boat in the marina and the yacht club was deserted except for one guy waxing his boat. I spoke to him for a while and asked why there were no other boats in yet.

"Becuase nobody helps!" he said, frustrated. "We're a working club here, but when the scheduled day to put in the docks arrived, only two people showed up. So we're way behind schedule."

"I'm in a working club too," I replied, "but fortunately we have a lot of enthusiastic volunteers who help. Yes, it's usually the same people, but we're making progress on getting everybody involved. Not easy though, people are busy," I said.

"Well, people around here are losing interest and it's getting more and more expensive to own a boat. There's only one mechanic left in the area and he's retiring next year and I don't even know where you'd go in the northern Hudson to get boat repairs done. No young people are getting into the business or even boating in general - it's all old geezers like me. Not sure what's going to happen."

It's a much different boating scene here in New York. In south-western Ontario, most marinas open around April 15th and start dropping in boats immediately. By this time of the year, the majority of the boats are in the water and the frenzy of boat preparation in the dry dock yards has typically been underway since late March and early April. Not so here - they seem to be at least a month behind us, which really surprises me.

I continued my walk, up and down the hilly streets of Coxsackie until I found myself in the library where I browsed some magazines and skimmed through their decent collection of books. I then went over to The Yellow Deli, which was the only eatery open in downtown, and sat down for a birthday lunch. When Ana and I passed through here on the way south we'd eyed this place up as it looked very interesting, but it had been closed for the month for owner vacation so we couldn't try it.

Well, The Yellow Deli is an intriguing place with a fascinating story. There are around forty of them in operation, mostly in the US, but also worlwide in nine other countries. I picked up a flyer which had their story and, to sum it up, the cafes are all run as a single business, by a self-described selfless religious hippie commune focused on love and "serving the fruit of the Spirit", spawned in the 70's as a revolt against organized religion and the fatal flaws of human life - selfishness, greed, jealousy, envy, strife, hostility, and bloodshed.

I don't know about all that, but they sure do make a killer chili, luscious sourdough bread, and a spectacular Reuben sandwich. And the interior of the cafe is beautiful, with rough cut lumber, custom leatherwork, custom ironwork, a pot bellied wood stove, and long-haired and gentle hippie-men serving and making food.

I dragged my abundantly nourished body back to SeaLight, relaxed in the cockpit with a book, and enjoyed the sunshine streaming in while I let my digestive system process the formidable lunch.

After this, I decided to be productive and grabbed my bottle of Barkeepers Friend (since 1882) cleaner and a toothbrush and started scrubbing the rust off the boat shrouds, which are the braided stainless steel lines that attach the mast and spreaders to the boat deck. The previously shiny and pristine wire had succumbed to the cruel salt of the Caribbean and were streaked with rust. It is a very slow process, but the magic paste and vigorous brushing does remove all of it. I managed to clean two sections of it but there is much more to do. Fortunately, I have plenty of time on my hands.

I had a lovely, long video chat with Ana, Magnus, and Stella then made myself a dinner of lamp chops, zucchini, Greek lemon potatoes, and fresh salad and ate it slowly in the cockpit to the changing colours of the setting sun and sounds of fishermen still casting lines from the shore.

Mother's Day and How I Have the Greatest Parents

Coxsackie, New York - 10 kilometres walked

I've learned that the opening of the Erie Canal, scheduled for this coming Friday, has been delayed due to the heavy rains which has slowed preparatory work on the canal. This is a special season for the Erie Canal as it celebrates its 200th birthday so I am sure they did not take this decision lightly as they had many public events planned for the opening day. And I can only assume it will be more than a few days of delays. This means, for now, I either wait patiently or dock the boat in a marina and go home then return when the canal opens. For now, I will wait and see if any new information becomes available between now and Friday.

I began the day with a call to Ana to wish her a happy Mother's Day then a call to my own mom to wish her the same. Thank god for the moms....otherwise none of us would be here! I was happy to hear that my mom was going over to my brother's place for brunch and that Stella and Ana were going to a brunch at our yacht club. I was just sad I couldn't join them.

My first full day on my own was rather dull. I spent several hours cleaning the boat - unloading and reloading the composting toilet, scrubbing the bathrooms, cleaning the floors and surfaces, stripping the beds, and gathering laundry. I did not get to cleaning the cockpit or exterior of the boat, but I have plenty of time for that in the coming days.

In the afternoon I walked to the far west side of Coxsackie and Google sent me in the wrong direction on the busy highway as the location it had for the laundromat was completely wrong. Once again, I heard the AI snickering in the background. I am going to need to solicit second opinions from humans from now on.

I packed my laundry load back to the boat, dodging cars and people along the way as the town was alive with Mother's Day gatherings in homes, cafes, parks, and restaurants.

During my peaceful evening on the boat I made a grand discovery. Ana's USB to USB-C converter we use for the Mac laptop she took home with her was still attached to the external hard drive, and when I plugged it into our Samsung tablet it was able to read all the fine media content I have saved on the drive. This opens up a opportunity for evening entertainment beyond reading and writing.

After speaking with my mom today and spending time on the boat with my dad, I've been thinking a lot about my parents. I am very fortunate to still have both of them as many people my age do not. Yes, they did start young, as I was born when my mom was in her teens (it's a prairie thing...) and somehow they managed to raise three boys when they were barely adults themselves, with no money, still going to school, working at low paying jobs, with little family support (as they had moved away), but this is exactly the same as what most of their friends were doing at the time so maybe it didn't seem as bad - I've heard misery loves company.      

Their decision to have kids at that age has paid great dividends though, for all of us. They are young enough to fully enjoy and relate to their grandchildren, and probably their great-grandchildren some day (but not too soon...). And their grandchildren have all gotten to know them well - both Magnus and Stella call them once in a while just to catch up. They are able to travel to see all of us and have joined us on vacations many times. They have few, if any, health issues so are sure to have many more years ahead.

My parents aren't just young in age, they are young in spirit and always have been. They are two of the most optimistic people I know. They are joyful and full of life and fun to be around. I can't even think of a time when either of them was in a bad mood. When I imagine their faces in my mind's eye, they are always either smiling or laughing. And they always seem to be able to bring out the best in people. When either of them does have something negative to say about somebody or something, they say it reluctantly, begrudgingly, and I can tell you it doesn't happen very often. They are both optimists. Neither of them complains about anything. My mom finds joy in simple things - gardening, decorating, cooking - and she is constantly learning new things and picking up new interests. My dad likes to be on the move and is always up for anything, especially if there are elements of risk or danger or surprise, or if he has the feeling he'll be missing out on the fun. He is always the last one to leave the party. They are both incredibly hard workers and continue to work in various jobs and projects into their 70's and I don't see that stopping anytime soon.

I consider myself lucky beyond comprehension having the parents I do. I want to grow up to be like both of them...and I'm still working on it. I call both of them frequently for advice on things I'm trying to do - usually Mom for cooking or baking and Dad for electrical issues, that tend to follow me and my assets, but other things too. Whenever I do find myself in a pissy mood or turning into Mr. Complainypants, I just think about my folks and how they would handle the situation. That always helps to get me back on track.

So, thanks Mom and Dad. You are the greatest.

Albanian Tulips, Bert and Ernie, and Saying Goodbye to Dad

Castleton to Albany to Coxsackie, New York - 1 mile in dinghy, 9 kilometres walked

After yesterday's food extravaganza we were happy with a modest breakfast of toast and cereal to start the day, which would include a long Uber ride and a three-leg flight for Dad to get back to Saskatoon. Dad's adventuree on SeaLight had come to a finish, at least for now. It had been a very fun two weeks and we'd seen so much, had so many laughs, and I was glad Dad got to experience the full gamut of sailing experiences, from long and boring days on the water to moments of chaos and confusion. It's all part of the package.

The Uber dropped me off in central Albany, Dad and I said our goodbyes, then they left for the airport and I started walking. Albany is the capital of New York State (which may surprise some) and home to a great many government workers. In 1978, the construction of the Empire State Plaza was completed, making it a worthy complement to the existing Capital building.

It is a magnificent area. I began by visiting the cultural centre which has a massive and free museum that focuses on the history of New York state and specifically on New York City, from its early history to colonization to Manhattan's "iron grid" to the development of the world's largest subway system to the tragedy of 911. I spent over an hour and a half there and only covered part of it. I enjoyed the displays on Harlem, the tenement housing and poverty of the Lower East Side, the original wildlife in Manhattan which included wolves, bears, and deer, the collection of antique fire trucks, and the full sized original NYC subway car.

My favourite display, though, was the reproduction of Sesame Street. A television played classic scenes from the show. The Pointer Sisters' Pinball Number Count:

one  two three

four-five-six

seven eight

nine-ten

eleven twellllve

do do do do do doot

And what about the Ladybug Picnic:

One, two, three

Four, five, six

Seven, eight, nine

Ten, eleven, twelve

Ladybugs came... to the ladybug picnic! 

And Bert and Ernie:

"Ernie, did you know you have a banana in your ear?"

"WHAT'S THAT YOU SAID BERT?"

"I said you have a banana in your ear."

"CAN'T HEAR YOU BERT, I HAVE A BANANA IN MY EAR."

What I didn't know was that Sesame Street has always been filmed in New York City, beginning in 1969 and still ongoing, making it one of the longest running shows in the world with 55 seasons and 4731 episodes. 

I took the elevator to the top floor to see the large, functioning carousel and dozens of people riding it then continued onto the rest of the complex, which included the Concourse, the Plaza memorials, the many artpieces, the Egg performance centre, and the Capital building itself. There were few people around so I felt like I had the whole place myself.

I wandered west into a grittier area and kept going until my Spidey sense began firing then I backtracked to a Jamaican eatery and sat down for a two extra spicy patty lunch.

One thing I always do when I find myself alone in a new city is look for a tulip festival. And I found one here, the 77th annual Albany Tulip Festival, which was free and taking place in Washington Park. I watched a rock band for a while playing on the huge stage, then wandered and maybe even tiptoe'd through the tulips. But I was careful to avoid the vendor strip which was packed with people and Shamwows and scented candles and other knick-knackery.

I moved onto the grocery store where I loaded up on provisions as Dad and I had successfully wiped out our food supply. I was going to try to hitchhike the 14 kilometres to Castleton (you know, to start my one-man effort to bring hitchhiking back into vogue) then had to call an Uber when I found out that hitchhiking in New York is forbidden, one of the few states in the US that restricts it. Spoilsports.

Once I had the groceries packed away in the boat and had a long and wonderful conversation with Magnus (now just one exam away from finishing his semester in Edinborough), I dropped the mooring lines and rode the swift current south to Coxsackie. Most may not know that SeaLight is a real-life transformer and can magically transfigure herself from sailboat to powerboat and back to sailboat, though not as rapidly as the ones you've seen in the movies. I've renamed her to Optimus Slime after seeing all the disgusting growth on her undersides, provided by the icky ICW and Hudson waterways.

I was a little worried about docking single-handed with the three knot current but was fortunate to get help from two Quebecers, named Guy and Guy, who had their sailboat in one of the two available free spots on the public dock and were waiting to grab my lines.

Coxsackie was alive with activity. A lush wedding happening in the garden and patio of the James Newbury hotel. Fishermen lining the shores and pulling in striped bass. Couples hand-in-hand walking the park. Kids riding bikes along the pathway. Despite it being Saturday, the partiest day of the week, I remained in the comfort of Optimus Slime, enjoying leftovers for dinner, some light reading, and an early bedtime.

A New Hamster and Nothin' But Rain

Castleton-On-Hudson, New York - no movement

We have a new family member. Her name is Winnie. She is a Roborovski hamster. Ana and Stella are so happy and I am excited to meet her. It's taken a year for both of them to heal from the emotional trauma of losing Lenny, our last hamster, and the empty cage sitting in our home living room has been a terrible burden for all of us. It was time to bring on a new team member. I've been told that Winnie is not only half the size of Lenny and moves twice as fast, but is a relentless burrower so the girls have barely seen her, let alone been able to pick her up. She will adjust in time and soon she'll be sitting on Ana's chest in bed watching her play Brick Breaker on her phone and being sung sweet lullabies during insomnia nights while I'm fast asleep. Hamsters receive royal treatment in the Olson household.

Today, Dad and I did nothing. The rain started late the night before and continued all day without a break. I made Dad his farewell breakfast and it was substantial - guacamole, fried mini-potatoes, a Mexican-inspired egg skillet, toast, coffee, and mango juice. Then we just hung around the boat like mould until it was time to eat again and we enjoyed marinated Portuguese pork chops, mashed potatoes, cheesy mini asparagus sticks, salad, and freshly baked bread.

As darkness fell and the rain kept pouring down we played cards and dice and listened to music. That's it. It was the downest day of Dad's visit, but it was peaceful, enjoyable, quiet, and even appreciated after two days of work jobs.

Tomorrow, he leaves for home and SeaLight goes down to a crew of one.

The Mast Comes Down in Castleton

Athens to Castleton-On-Hudson, New York - 18 nautical miles sailed

We were on the clock to get SeaLight's mast off as the weather forecast for tomorrow was solid rain and Dad was schedule to leave the day after that. Today was the day.

We were back on the water by 6:15 am and arrived at the Castleton Boat Club shortly after 10 after a river run dodging floating trees and bumping through several sunken ones. There was nobody at the club yet so Dad and I helped ourselves to the water hose and filled up the tanks and jugs. Ken, one of the members, arrived shortly thereafter and filled SeaLight up with diesel fuel then checked us in. I paid for one self-service mast removal and two nights on a mooring ball then Dad and I got to work.

I went to the scrap pile behind the clubhouse and was happy to find that the mast supports that Mike and I had built in Oswego last fall and left here when we put the mast back up were still here so Dad and I carried those back to the boat and saved ourselves a couple hours of work building new ones. We were hoping there would be other sailboats here today taking down their masts as all the cruisers help each other out, but unfortunately is was just us. I was a little worried about this as last time we had five people helping and everybody seemed to have a job.

In the end, we got it done. It took longer than expected and there were a few tense moments, but we got it. After the mast was down and secured on the boat I needed to build something to protect the aft solar panels from scraping against the walls of locks, which happened on our first Erie Canal transit. My idea was to simply put one long board across the arch that would extend out past the panels and hit the slimy lock walls before they did.

My uncle Don is an expert cabinet maker and millworker. I asked him once how precise you needed to be with measuring when building the sorts of things he builds. He told me within thirty-secondths of an inch. My level of precision when woodworking is to the nearest inch or so. This is why I did not become a cabinet maker.

I found two boards in the scrap pile that were already bolted together but a bit short so all I had to do was remove the bolt, redrill a new hole, refasten it, then shove the board into the space and mark where I needed to make slots in it so it would simply drop into the aluminum supports that it sat on. This would have taken uncle Don ten minutes. I struggled for an hour and a half. But in the end, it was a magnificent piece of wooden butchery. Uncle Don would be proud...it wasn't his boat.

We gave SeaLight a pump-out from the handy machine on the dock then motored across the river and picked up a mooring ball. We were exhausted from the day's work but managed to put together a pretty decent shrimp pasta, then had a long call with Ana. She's rapidly readjusted to regular life on land and admitted our incredible sailboat journey already feels like a dream from long ago.