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. 

The Greatest Pineapple Tool, Ice Creams in Athens, and Up The Mast Again

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

Our friends Kate and Ben on Waddington really like pineapples. They always seem to have pineapples on board, from the $1.99 Walmart varietals in the US to the $13.99 beauties in the Bahamas. I think they even paid something like forty bucks for a fancy pineapple drink in Bimini after successfully crossing the Gulf Stream from Florida. When joining us on SeaLight for sundowners they would often bring a container of pineapple, perfectly sliced.

"Ben," I asked one time as I was munching on a slice. "How do you get these cut so perfectly? My pineapple butchering never comes out like this - I usually I cut off too much and get hunks of core or skin plugs on my slices. What's the secret?"

Ben's eyes lit up. "The secret, my friend, is the amazing pineapple cutting machine. I bought it on Amazon for like six bucks. It's foolproof, perfect for fools like you and me."

After that, Ana and I were on the hunt for a pineapple cutting machine and looked in every retail store from Long Island, Bahamas to Charleston, South Carolina with no luck. So when we finally had a stop for a few days we threw in an Amazon order for a few things we needed and got our very own legendary pineapple cutter.

The pineapple we had picked up back in Haverstraw had finally achieved maturity and today I had the chance to show off the slicer to Dad. I cut the top off the fruit, then measured the height of it with the built-in ruler on the slicer. I then placed the cylindrical shaft over the top of the core and started turning the cutter. Dad watched in amazement as the tool disappeared into the pineapple then when I reached the desired depth, I pulled it out and produced a fabulous stack of perfectly sliced pineapple and a uranium core of pineapple root which I flung into the river for the striped bass to feast on. We cut the stack in half then each picked up a piece, admired the geometric perfection, then ate them down. I do not remember eating a more delicious piece of pineapple in my life.

But the finale was yet to come. The extraction had yielded not just finely sliced fruit, but also a ready-made, organic, tropical drinking vessel, which I immediately filled with Malibu rum, mango juice, and ice and we moved to the cockpit for Premium Happy Hour (at least for me).

Dad had a sip of his wine then looked at me enjoying a long pull on my pineapple drink, eyes rolling around in my head and ears wiggling. We placed our drinks on the table to take a breath.

"My wine looks like a real piece of crap next to that masterpiece," he said sadly as he eyed the unequal drinks. I offered him a sip, but he didn't want to permanently sour his wine habit with experiencing the perfect drink, so I just nodded in agreement then had another sip. At the end of happy hour, my drink container was chopped into small pieces and fed to the river creatures. Dad's went into the sink for washing. 'Nuff said on that.

Today was the first of two work days and we spent it removing the sails from the boat and folding them up on shore. It was a perfect day for this job as the winds and intermittent sun dried out the sails nicely and there was nobody around at the Athens waterfront park so we had the whole place to ourselves to spread out the sails.

Dad and I took a break from the work for a walk in Athens. The town's main street has a few shops but most were closed so we went to the library to enjoy an hour of free wifi and reading. From here we walked to Stewart's Shop, a high-end gas station that has a pretty good selection of food. I have a fond memory of Ana and I enjoying hot dogs and a container of Hagen Daz here on our trip south. Today, I tried a maple nut cone while Dad had a Columbian coffee milkshake. Both were delicious.

We returned to SeaLight for the second job of the day, which was to install a new deck light halfway up the mast. This idea came from Johnny-Boy Blue on our sister boat Hopes End and I'd ordered the same light he installed. After meticulously planning out the operation we got started by measuring the wire drop, selecting the right metal tap, and fishing out the required electrical wire at the mast step. We then did waterproof electrical connections from wire to light, then rigged up the bosun's chair and I monkey-climbed the mast with Dad providing support at the winch. After a couple false starts, one errant drill hole in the mast, a dropped tap which was saved from a watery grave by the paddleboard, and the tool bucket going up and down a few times, we got it installed to perfection.

We finished our successful work day with chili leftovers, boiled and salted spinach, garlic toast, a bunch of wine, then a nice long cockpit chat with my brother Marty.

Partying in Hudson

Kingston to Athens/Hudson, New York - 22 nautical miles sailes, 3 miles in dinghy, 7 kilometres walked

The Hudson River was full of debris from the heavy rains. We dodged the floating logs and sticks as best as we could but the keel pinged off many such objects completely submerged. Fortunately, the propellor survived unscathed.

After four hours we reached the town of Athens, but the free public dock which we had made use of in the fall was not yet installed for the season so we motored to the nearby anchorage and dropped the hook.

Our plan for today was to explore Hudson, the much larger town across the river and save Athens for tomorrow when we had some work to do to prepare the boat for the upcoming mast removal. So Dad and I had a quick lunch then hopped in the dinghy and motored across.

As Ana and I discovered on the way down, Hudson has a magnificent main street and is possibly the most woke mile in New York State with so many galleries, museums, lefty bookstores, boutiques, pride flags, and all the other things that make amazing towns amazing. Dad loved it immediately.

We stopped at a record shop and spent what felt like hours there browsing through the thousands of records, cd's, books, clothing, and magazines, to the sounds of the hundred-year-old blues music the grizzled and inifinitely cool owner was spinning on his ancient record player.

Next stop was the classic hardware store, right out of a movie set, where we met the owner Dennis McAvoy who talked our ears off about the long history of the store (going on four generations), American politics, the town of Hudson, and a dozen other topics. He reminded me of my dad's dad, who also ran a hardware store so many years ago and probably talked ears off many customers..

I felt compelled to take Dad to the pupuseria Ana and I visited in October, a groovy little joint with three tables, an entire Salvadorian family working, and a huge portrait of Frida Kalho on the wall. We devoured a bowl of nachos and two pupusas then said "Adios amigos!" and moved onto the wine shop where we picked up two fresh boxes of plonk.

We were about to crack open our wine boxes in the public park and doing some daytime spigot sucking when Dad's pub radar started pinging off the Governor's Tavern right around the corner. There we went, and there we stayed, until we had sampled most of the delectable brews on tap, struck up a friendship with the bartender, and watched as the place filled up with people, great crowd for a Tuesday. It's been a long time since I've sat in a bar for hours, and even longer since it was with my dad. We had so much fun.

We sloshed our way back to the dinghy, but not before spotting one more bar - the Half Moon, and thought we better stop in for a beer, just to keep things fair. It was good, but not as good as Governor's, and I was pretty sure the bartender was also the town drug dealer. Or maybe my inebriated brain was just making me paranoid. In any case, we had one beer, said farewell to Hudson and cruised back to SeaLight in the darkness of earth and mind.

It was late when we got back but not too late to make an amazing chili and drink a bunch more wine. It's nice being able to party on a Tuesday.

Dodging McDonalds Wrappers and Hubcaps

Kingston, New York - 3 miles in dinghy, 17 kilometres walked

Seeing strangers walking along highway ditches brings out strange behavior in people.

For our big day in Kingston, Dad and I decided to take in a movie at the local cinema. Problem was, there was no public transport here and cheap sailors don't pay for taxis so we had to walk. And it was raining like hell. We first rode the dinghy into town from the anchorage, dodging the debris field of floating sticks, weeds, and logs flushed down the Rondout Creek from the heavy rains, and after scoping out a few potential docking locations and ranking them for risk of theft, quality of dock, likelihood of having to pay, and accessiblity to downtown, we chose the empty dock at a waterfront restaurant that was not yet open for the day.

I punched our destination into Google Maps and it recommended a walking route. I don't know what criteria the AI uses for choosing these, but I heard it snicker a bit after we started our way along the proposed route, so I suspect it gives you the worst possible track for enjoyability and ease of walking, then it brags to its AI buddies about how it got humans to do yet another extraordinarily daft thing.

At first it was lovely - a quiet, wooded trail that ran parallel to a highway. But after a kilometer or two the trail ended, and we were stuck with no forward route other than the highway. Becuase we're way too manly to admit a mistake and backtrack, we forged ahead, choosing the right-hand shoulder of the highway, which was littered with all sorts of junk - candy wrappers, iron hooks, glass, mufflers, lug nuts, and we even saw a ninja turtle stuffed animal, now covered with muck and leaves. As we walked, it would rain for a while, then stop and get warm so we're remove our rainjackets. Then the rain would return. After one such wardrobe change we saw something whiz by us and land in the ditch. It was a hubcap, definitely an accident. We continued walking. Soon, a half can of Miller Light appeared in flight and pinged off the top of my head, followed by some down-pitching Doppler laughter. Fortunately I was wearing my Moosehead toque, saving me from a scalping, but we did start to wonder if we were being purposely targetted. We turned, and walked backwards to see where all these items were coming from. A half-eaten chocolate bar was tossed at us from the window of a scratched up Toyota Corolla. These highway scumbags were trying to hit us on purpose!

When we got a break in the traffic flow we ran across the highway, jumped the dividers, then continued walking alongside the oncoming lane, hoping we'd have a better chance of avoiding the trash missiles. We saw a Cybertruck approaching. As it neared we saw the driver's window lower then a hand appear, holding a bag of McDonald's garbage. I picked up a rotten banana and Dad grabbed a stick. The driver hurled the bag as the truck passed and I simultaneously chucked the banana, which went right in the window and splattered on his face and the Musky interior of the ferociously ugly vehicle. Dad grimaced at the driver then used the stick to bat away the bag and it exploded in a puff of Big Mac wrappers, abandoned fries, and the remnants of a strawberry shake.

The next vehicle was a Cadillac, driven by a sweet granny and grandpa. But even the oldies can be vicious. Granny leaned out the passenger side and first threw a grapefruit, then a loaded Depends underpants diaper at us. Gross! Dad clubbed the grapefruit with the stick bat and it exploded all over the both of us, but we like grapefruit so no biggie, especially since we happened to be wearing our rain gear in the on-again off-again showers. We wisely dodged the diaper and it bounced a couple of times then rolled into the opposite lane where a big truck drove over it, making a whopping squishing sound.

This sick game went on for a while and we were happy to finally make it to the exit and get the hell off this highway of unpleasantness.

We arrived at the cinema, which was inside a mall that was otherwise completely deserted except for one hairdresser and a whole bunch of mall walkers. Besides this, there were no stores left in the mall and every space was vacant. It was creepy and strange.

Since there was nothing to eat there and we had a bit of time before the movie we walked to the nearby Five Guys burger joint, but had to parkour through a small forest path and rock retaining wall to get there quickly. We ordered and were surprised to see the burgers were doubles and exceptionally greasy and the medium fries were enough for a hockey team. We ate as fast as we could then got back to the cinema just in time for the movie Sinners.

We didn't love it, but didn't hate it, and the movie seemed to either lack focus or was the first in the emerging Musical/Horror/Western/Romance/Historical Drama genre.

The rain was still falling so we checked Uber and got a price of over forty US bucks to get back to the docks. Stuff that. We walked back, through a busy commerical corridor, and along the way Dad picked up a shirt at the Salvation Army Thrift Store (which earned a wink from Mini-Ana who was still sitting on my shoulder) and I picked up a nice tap and die set and some drill bits from Harbour Freight (which earned a sad frown from Mini-Ana, but then I explained to her it was required for the SeaLight deck light which would make our boat even more fabulous, and she was okay with that).

After our very long walk we made it back to the dinghy, returned to SeaLight, hung our clothing on every available surface of the boat, turned on the fans and heater, had jalapeno chips and wine for supper as we were still full from the burgers, played cards, then crashed out.

An Exciting End to a Tragic Anchor Loss in Poughkeepsie

Poughkeepsie to Kingston, New York - 13 nautical miles sailed

It was a disappointing result, yet breathtaking finish to a heroic effort.

Our two anchor system worked to perfection as it kept the boat stationary in the thin anchorage and provided for an uninterrupted, restful sleep. Today would be the first of several rainy days, so we began with a lesiurely Sunday breakfast of blueberry pancakes topped with strawberries and maple syrup, then a bowl of fried Jimmy Dean cholesterol pork pucks to help keep our salt levels up.

It was time to pull anchor and proceed to our next destination. There are a few ways to retrieve anchors and in our situation we decided the best method would be to take the dinghy out to the stern anchor and remove it first, as I had dropped it in less than five feet of water and we were halfway to low tide so there was no way to get SeaLight in close enough to retrieve it. I pulled myself in the dinghy with the anchor rope to the anchor and tried to pull it up.

Impossible. The anchor was welded to the bottom, stuck into the heavy clay mud that came up on the boat hook when I poked around in the bottom. I tried pulling with my hands, then attached the rope to the dinghy's steel towing loop and used the full force of the dinghy engine to unstick it. Nothing worked. I'd had to remove the anchor line from the boat so I used a floating yellow ball to attach to the rope close to the anchor and mark its location, while the rest of the the anchor line sank to the gooey bottom. I returned to SeaLight and we anchored her in deeper water to keep her out of the shallows and give us time to formulate a plan.

We decided to wait until low tide then we'd both return and try to wrestle it out, and if that didn't work I'd get in the water and try to dig it out. Well, none of that worked, and I didn't even bother getting in the frigid water after digging thoroughly into the bottom muck with a paddle and not getting it to budge one bit. It was clearly hung up on something, maybe a big rock, maybe something else.

I was ready to abandon the anchor, but then we discussed it more and decided to hang on until 5 pm when the rising tide would give us space to get SeaLight in and try to haul it up with her much more powerful engine. So, we waited. We had grilled cheese and ham for lunch. We chatted. Dad had a nap. I did some writing. The time went quickly, and shortly before 5 pm we pulled up our primary anchor and began the retrieval operation. After four five attempts and as many temporary groundings, I finally snagged the anchor line from the bow and cleated it down to the boat then Dad gave it full power in reverse. The boat lurched sideways. The anchor would not come free. I used my sailing knife to cut the line from the boat as it was pulling us into the shallows. It was hopeless.

After a crew meeting, some serious discussion, a spark of an idea, a few mathematical calculations, and a review of some online clips from Western movies, we came up with an audacious, but foolproof plan to free the anchor. We re-anchored SeaLight in deeper water then Dad and I put on balaclavas, our camo rainsuits, cowboy hats, strapped on utility belts, and dinghy'd back to the stuck anchor where we retrieved the anchor line and dragged it into shore, which was only about fifty feet and we had at least a hundred feet of rope.

I fashioned a lassoo noose in the bitter end of the rope as Dad kneeled down, put his ear to the adjacent railway tracks, and listened. "1 mile out," he said as he pointed in the direction of the oncoming train. "Are you ready?"

I swung the lassoo, testing the rigidity of the loop and estimated throwing distance. "I'm ready, Dad."

The train approached, wheezing steam, coughing noises, screeching steel. I began twirling the rope above my head as Dad held out his hand. Steady.....steady.....steady.

The engine reached us and roared past, but I held my focus and watched both Dad and the cars speeding past behind him.

"Okay, now!" he yelled, snapping down his hand. I hurled the lassoo towards the approaching car with the thick steel rods protruding from the connection assembly, throwing it as Hercules would. The coiled rope at my feet rapidly disappeared as the lassoo flew towards the train then caught one of the rods, tightened, then ripped the anchor line into the air. Both of us fell to the ground and covered our heads. There was a nuclear explosion of mud, clay, and water as the rope tightened and ripped the anchor from the bottom. Attached to it was a six inch thick electrical cable that pulled free from the botttom then in an instant ripped across the surface of the water, decapitating the tower from a passing fishing boat, reducing a low flying cormorant to a puff of feathers, snapping a green marker buoy in half, then electrocuting every living river creature as the cable ripped away, producing an awesome display of sparks, fire, and vaporized water. The lights from Poughkeepsie went dim.

As the liberated anchor and three hundred feet of fiery, smoking electrical cable whizzed over my head I realized we hadn't entirely thought through the retrieval part of the plan.

The anchor ripped through the vegetation canopy alongside the tracks, uprooting trees and bushes, sending mud and dust and roots and berries rocketing into the air as the electrical cable trailed behind like a whip, snapping and popping. I felt a little twinge of regret when I saw two river hobos abandon their fire and run like mad down the shoreline, trying to avoid the oncoming chaos, and the anchor did miss them but the cable whacked them squarely and send them plummetting into the cold waters. But then I figured they were probably overdue for a bath anyway so I didn't feel so bad.

Dad and I thought it would probably be best to skeedaddle out of Poughkeepsie before the authorities put two and two together and came around asking uncomfortable questions. We returned to SeaLight, hoisted the dinghy and anchor, and were on our way to our next stop, which we hoped would be as exciting at this one had been.

Advanced Anchoring and Woodchuck Hunting in Poughkeepsie

Haverstraw to Poughkeepsie, New York - 33 nautical miles sailed, 2 miles in dinghy, 6 kilometres walked

The water was flat, sky was clear, current was mild, and winds were slight as we coasted out the anchorage channel entrance on an ebbing tide and into the Hudson River. We weren't sure of our destination today so just started motoring north.

Dad was again at the helm as I took advantage of the down time to do some writing. It was a truly lovely morning as we passed through the most scenic part of the Hudson with the towering cliffs on both sides, blanketed with forest and sporadic mansions, rail tracks on the waterfront with toy trains passing frequently, small boats with fisherman catching striped bass, tugs pushing barges decorated with piles of gravel and sand, swans in flight, and Canada geese patrolling the shallows. We averaged 4.8 knots, despite traveling against the tide, which became weaker the further north we travelled.

We settled on an anchorage at the town of Poughkeepsie (Poh-kipsy), but it was a difficult anchorage as the deep water of the Hudson shallowed rapidly, leaving only a small strip of anchorable water and a current that reversed four times per day. We first dropped the anchor in 12 feet of water and let out 50 feet of chain, then waited to see how the boat reacted. Well, the boat reacted by swinging into shore and sticking the rudder in mud. We put the boat in reverse to unstick it, then as we moved into deeper water the anchor pulled free. We were going to need two anchors for this one. We again set the anchor (this is where you pull on it until it sinks into the bottom and holds the boat) in about 12 feet of water then I got in the dinghy and Dad passed me the secondary Danforth anchor, cleated it to the stern of the boat, then fed out rode as I motored backwards. I dropped the anchor in 10 feet of water then returned to the boat, but the Danforth pulled free as we tried to set it. So I went back out, pulled it up by hand, then had to pry out all the thick, grey mud that had accumulated on the flukes, which was mostly transfered to beneath my fingernails. I dropped the anchor in four feet of water then returned to the boat and we set the stern anchor then we snugged up the front anchor so that both lines were taut and the boat would remain stationary throughout the current changes and not swing into the shallows. Advanced Anchoring Techniques were complete for the day.

The radar showed some large storm cells approaching and we didn't have to wait long until we were hit with a grey sheet of furious rain, enough to evacuate the cushions and pillows from the cockpit as drips started to fall from the canvas in known weak points. We got out the cards and played games for a least an hour as the rain battered the boat, giving her a nice washdown. As quickly as the rains had arrived, they departed and the sun reappeared, drying out the landscape.

We dinghy'd across the river to the Poughkeepsie waterfront and locked up to the free dock, which was located directly in front of a lovely restaurant with an outdoor patio, dotted with locals enjoying an afternoon brew. We walked north along a scenic waterfront trail, full of families out enjoying the Saturday afternoon, and it led to a large structure pumping out 80's dance tunes and wafting food smells. I first thought it was a bar, but when we approached we saw it was an event organized for a local marathon, full of runners loading up on carbs in the form of pasta and beer.

The trail led us to an old house where we spotted a big fat woodchuck mosying around. Dad hustled up there, anxious to poke it in the face with a stick or something, but as he approached the little beast wisely disappeared into a hole beneath the concrete steps. Dad jumped up and down trying to scare him out but he did reappear. We moved on.

Nearby was a massive pedestrian bridge that spanned the Hudson and an elevator which ascended to the walking surface, but the elevator was closed so we took the long route back south, up into the town, past the classy train station, then through a slightly skiddish-looking neighbourhood, until we finally reached the bridge and scrambled up a dirt hill to get to it instead of walking round the other side and using the stairs like all the regular people.

The Walkway Bridge Over The Hudson was amazing. It had been converted from an old railway bridge and repurposed as a pedestrian-only walkway. It was at least thirty feet across and had marked walking and bike lanes with plenty of people moving in both directions on foot, bike, hoverboard, roller skate, and scooter. Every hundred metres was a poster board explaining some historical curiosity about the bridge, or a viewpoint map, or a dedication, or historical images. We stopped to read most of these as we were in no hurry.

After reaching the other side then turning around and walking back across, stopping to take a few photos of the magnificent vista, we reached the elevator and it was now operational. It had been closed earlier for the passing storms. We rode it down and it deposited us back to the venue with the marathon party where we tried to sneak in to get free food and beer and swag bag, but the lady had one look at me in my stained Carhartt dungarees, flip-flops, and tie-dyed Sailorman t-shirt and said, "No sailors allowed." It was worth a try.

Back at the boat we got ourselves settled into the cockpit with happy hour drinks and watched the world go by. A small fish, close to death, floated to the surface and skimmed and flopped around, inviting a fast finish. We watched, hoping for a chunky bass to gobble it up, or maybe an eagle to swoop down and grab it, but the poor guy continued to jerk around until he was carried into the current and swept away. I presume the predators thought it was too good to be true and suspected a trap.

A train approached, blasting its horn. From the colours and shapes of the cars we guessed the contents. First were fifteen cars full of red gummy bears. Then fifteen cars of green gummy bears. Then fifteen cars of yellow gummy bears. Then a dozen full of patio furniture. Then twenty or so with iPhone cases. Then came a hundred laden with fuel oil. Then another forty jammed with fertilizer. Then there were three at the end loaded with cases of Jim Beam bourbon. We could play this game all night.

My mom called from Saskatoon. All of her brothers and sisters were gathered there for a surprise birthday for my uncle Blaine, who hit the 65 milestone. I got to talk to all of them and it was awesome. It reminded me that I need to get Magnus and Stella to take a side trip to Alberta next time they are out west to get to know all the aunts, uncles, and cousins who live there.

Around 8 pm we decided it was time for Taco Tuesday, on Saturday, and we put together a marvellous spread with hard and soft taco shells, a delightful beef and corn mixture, cilantro, onion, cucumber, tomato, lettuce, and Special Sauce. We dined in the cockpit as we admired the spectacular view of the pedestrian and traffic bridges, now both lighted in vibrant colours, as the fine folk of Poughkeepsie partied hard into the night.