A Day of Locks and Arrival at Lake Champlain

Lock 4 to Orchard Point, Lake Champlain - 75 nautical miles sailed, 7 locks

Despite pulling anchor and leaving at 6am, the Frenchies got the jump on us and were nowhere to be seen. It was a beautiful morning and I could tell that it was going to be a hot day once the sun burned off the morning chill.

When we reached lock 5 we found our Quebecer friends at the front of the queue, followed by Bobcat, then two other sailboats. The lock opened shortly after 8 am and the boats entered one by one and got tied up. We managed to sqeeuze SeaLight's wide arse into the remaining space and the lock lift was smooth and fast. 

The remaining locks were similarly fast and trouble free and time passed rapidly. Halfway through the locks we reached the highest elevation and began the downhill portion, which we found easier, but the crew on the sailboat behind us had a hell of a time snagging the lock ropes with their boat hooks so their boat was drifting out of control frequently. We kept a good distance from them.

We passed one amazing property that fronted on a lock and a gorgeous bay. But when we got closer we realized it was beautiful from afar, but far from beautiful. On the lawn was a rusted snowmobile surrounded by dandelions. Curtis called it Polaris Yard Art. Beside the house was a beaten-up tractor that hadn't moved in years and other rusted out trucks up on cinder blocks, one of which, ironically, had a load full of old tires. At the shoreline was a busted up kayak, cords of driftwood lying haphazardly, the ripped up remains of a greenhouse, a scary shed no doubt harbouring legions of rats, and other piles of random junk. Towards the back of the property was a boat and trailer graveyard with hulking vessels lying in severe states of disrepair and neglact. The house itself probably started out nice, but was now leaning strangely, had a curling roof, and bedsheets hung across the windows. The only thing I couldn't spot was a pitbull chained to an engine block but that was probably on the other side of the house.

We completed the last lock at around 3:30 and pulled up to the fuel dock at the nearby marina and had the fastest fuel stop we've ever experienced. We were in and out of there in twelve minutes. In that time we pumped in 20 gallons of diesel, 30 gallons of water, used the john, and had a tour of of the bar and restaurant by the shirtless, leather-hided gentleman working there who was fast, efficient, and friendly. He looked a bit like Iggy Pop, but had better hair.

From here we motored north through the ever widening channel until we reached the south end of Lake Champlain shortly after 8 pm and there found a gorgeous anchorage with a backdrop of a classy lighthouse, a state park, and a sun glowing deep red from what seemed to be smoke in the air.

It had been a long day so we had a quiet dinner, glass of vino from the goon bag, then called it a night in preparation for tomorrow's 5 am start.

The Champlain Canal

Troy, New York to Lock 4 of the Champlain Canal - 13 miles sailed, 5 locks

7 am. I was clobbered by the sting of a headache as I opened my eyes, ending my anasthetic sleep. Last night's sea of Carlsburg continued to ruminate in my gut and that final glass of tequila we poured on top of the beer now seemed like a bad move. I checked the New York Canal Corporation's website for notices on the lock situation. Nothing yet. We were going to be stuck here for another day.

I contemplated getting up to do some writing. But the warmth of the bed would not release me and I instantly fell back asleep.

8:30 am. My phone is buzzing. It's Ana. I clear my throat and try for an awake voice.

"Hello?" I croak.

"Hi. What are you doing? Why does your voice sound like that?" Ana says.

"Late night."

"Why aren't you guys on the water?"

"The locks aren't open."

"They sure are, they posted a notice at 7:30."

"Shit! I checked at 7 and there was nothing," I said as I leaped out of bed and threw on yesterday's clothes.

"You never sleep in."

"I made an exception for Curt's visit. Hey, I gotta go, will call you later."

"OK, bye. Good luck with the locks!"

After some rapid boat prep we pushed off the dock and headed upstream to the Federal Lock, first of the journey. I was hoping we could make the 10am opening for the start of the Champlain locks, which was four or five miles away, but we arrived at the Federal lock just as the doors were closing so there was no way that was going to be possible.

I gave the lads a briefing on lock protocol while we waited, and we waited a long time. When the ancient steel doors finally opened we proceeded into the lock, secured the boat, then waited patiently for the other five boats behind us to get into the lock. The lift went well, but the full process was painfully slow. On this trip we've learned lock staff are chosen specifically for their slow pace of walking, and candidates with leg deformities, missing limbs, or severe back injuries are especially sought after. The gentleman tending this lock had all limbs intact and seemed to walk without pain, but moved with a general hokey-pokiness, stopping to chit chat with the captains of all six boats in the lock. We were the first boat out but were soon passed in sequence by the three cabin cruiser power boats that had been in the lock with us. The first two passed gently but the third threw a giant wake that rocked SeaLight and rolled her from side to side. He then passed the other two boats and waked one of them so hard he nearly did a 360. Curt reckoned the boat was loaded with drugs.

We arrived to lock 1 of the Champlain canal shortly before 11, tied up to the concrete wall, then waited. The captain of a 42' Nordic Tug named Bobcat was out for a walk and passed by our boat.

"Morning!" I said. "How are you?"

"Old and ugly," he muttered, then kept walking. You hardly ever get an honest response to that question.

The four locks went fairly well, but they do lay a beating on boats. Each of the other five boats who locked with us all of the way through took some bruising - masts scraping along the concrete wall as the crew stuggle to straighten the boat being blown sideways, hulls grinding along the canal edges, cleats being strained, bows smashing into floating logs. As we approached lock 3 a giant tree blocked the path, but then began to slowly rotate, opening a small gap for us. I gunned it to make it past the tree, but then a heavy gust and current pushed us into the concrete wall as we passed. It felt like we had scraped the entire side off the boat and destroyed the solar panel, but a subsequent damage assessment revealed only a few bruises on the already beaten up aluminum gunnel guard rails. And the solar panel somehow survived unscathed.

By the time we exited the final lock it was nearly 6 pm so we tied up to the wall on the other side for the night, along with a Quebecer boat we'd met along the way. Magnus found a fishing rod on the boat so began throwing casts while Curt and I enjoyed revitalizing Carlsburgs which wiped away the stubborn lingering headaches. We were enjoying some fine tunes when Magnus, who had walked back to the lock to try his luck, called to us. His previous cast had been too aggressive and half the rod had separated and launched into the air along with the lure. Both had sunk to the bottom and become snagged on something. Curt deployed the dinghy and set out paddling a rescue mission while I finished up a call with Ana, giving her an update on the day's events, then had to cut it short when another boat, southbound, arrived and needed some help with their lines.

The rescue mission was a total bust and they returned with half a fishing rod and full embarrassment. The three of us went for a dinghy ride to see the nearby town then returned to SeaLight and spent half an hour cleaning up the mess of liquified caulking from the disastrous reattachment job I had attempted a couple of weeks before on the stern flooring panels.

Dinner was simple pesto pasta with a fantastic Magnus twist - layering in a bag of spinach on the nearly cooked pasta which gave it a nutritious green zing and paired perfectly with the pesto sauce and pleasant plonk drained from the five litre Cardbordeaux sack, which we had started calling the "Goon Bag" - an excellent hunk of Aussie slang Magnus had picked up from his flatmates in Edinburgh.

Our post dinner drinks and chatter was going so well, then we heard the blast of a vessel horn and popped out of the boat to see a giant barge had arrived and was looking for his parking spot. With headlamps and spotlights, the crews of the three boats flew into action and we squeaked between the mighty steel barge and the twisted tree branches that hung from the shore like witch fingers. We motored slowly through the channel and into the bay, navigating with the help of the spotlight and the chart, but otherwise blind in the darkness of the evening. We dropped anchor, set it, then retired to the cozy cabin where we finished off the night with a few more pumps from the goon bag and some beautiful music.

Let’s Go, Let’s Go! Let’s Stop.

Coxsackie to Troy, New York - 23 miles sailed, 4 kilometres walked

By 7:15 am we had prepped the boat, ate breakfast, kissed Ana goodbye, and were pushing off from the Coxsackie Yacht Club dock headed north up the Hudson to the Champlain Canal. We were excited and energized as Magnus and Curtis got their first taste of the Hudson, dodging partially submerged trees and other debris. The heavy rain yesterday had again flushed a bunch of junk into the river creating hazardous conditions which, as I learned from the Mariner's Alert on the New York Canal Corporation's website, also forced them to close the first four locks of the damn Champlain canal! Sometimes it feels like the world is plotting against you. I try not to take it personally, but crikey, are we ever going to get this boat home?

I called the Waterford dock master, which is the town nearest to the start of the Champlain canal to see if they had any space left on their docks. They did not. So we pulled the boat into the free public dock in the city of Troy, which is just north of Albany, ten miles from the Champlain canal, and a hundred and fifty steps from Dinosaur BBQ where Ana, Sina, and I had gorged ourselves on food just two weekends before. We hung at the boat for a while and after a brief disappearance in the cabin, Curtis returned to the cockpit.

"Hey, how do you transfer a dump from that hatch thing on the composting toilet to the chamber," Curt asked.

"What? Wait, did you read the SeaLight Visitor's Manual, page 3?" I said, voice teetering on the edge of alarm.

"I skimmed it," he admitted.

"You're supposed to open the hatch before you drop the load. So what you got there now is an inspection platter."

"Ah yes, I understand. I'll be right back..." he said as he took a few deep breaths then disappeared back into the cabin.

After the cleanup, the boys and I headed into town to see what we could find, and what we found was a food festival. But not just any festival. We stopped at two or three vendor stalls and I was perplexed, as the food that looked so delicious radiated no recognizable buttery or cheesy or porky aromas, and we were aghast to find ourselves in the epicentre of a Vegan Food Festival. The food did look good, but we had just scarfed Wonder bun hot dogs with jalapeno ketchup and cheese strips at the boat so weren't too hungry.

We explored a few of the shops, walked the streets admiring the beautiful architecture of the classic buildings, and stood for a very long time watching a local percussion troup banging drums, snares, triangles, and shakers to a large crowd of swaying onlookers. When we got tired of all that we returned to the boat and started working on the case of Carlsburgs we'd picked up at Duty Free. That went on for a very long time and fueled some magnificent conversations on music, travel, and the art of living dangerously. In fact, the beer drinking went on for so long that pouring ourselves tumblers of tequila took on the illusion of a stupendous idea.

I have no idea when we went to bed. But I do know my stomach was slightly irritated from laughing so much.

New Crew. Same Mission.

Paris, Ontario to Coxsackie, New York - 650 kilometres driven

Shore leave was fantastic. After arriving home nearly two weeks ago, I immediately assembled a "Things To Do" list to give my life on land meaning and purpose. I cut the grass. I planted the garden. I cleaned the shed. I replaced the water heater. I did the banking. Ana and I painted the outdoor canopy ceiling and posts. We decided on a plan for our crumbling deck. I helped my friend Dave with his triplex construction project and a small art project (including creating a poo emoji using PL construction adhesive). I discovered more and more things to fix around the house (jobs I'd diligently procrastinated for years, but no longer had the convenient excuse of a full time job), then added them to the list after they were complete and scratched triumphant pen strokes through them.

Then, the kids arrived. Stella first, then Magnus eighteen hours later. Ana and I were overjoyed to have our ninos back with us. They both seemed older to my eyes, even though it had only been a few months since I'd seen them. We enjoyed family dinners together and heard about their shared trip to Europe, and Magnus's time in Scotland, and Stella's busy life at home. I had missed the kids so much.

My brother Curtis arrived yesterday and had a late night with Ana and I visiting and tippling, while the kids and a few of their friends visited and tippled and played poker in the dining room. It was a 2am finish and a 7am start to get ourselves to the Newport Yacht Club open house this morning, as a stop on our way back to SeaLight in Coxsackie.

I was so happy to see all of our Newport friends again. Dear friends. And Lydia and Daryl's little baby Zach, whose beautiful face we've been tortured with for months through digital images instead of in person. Once Ana got hold of him she refused to give him back and I thought she might try and smuggle him to the boat with us. The visit to Newport felt like a homecoming, and everybody welcomed us back, even though we weren't quite back yet. I will admit, I was shocked at how many of our friends had been following our trip through these journals. I thought it was only my mom and aunts reading them. It was all fun and games until a couple of Newporters physically assaulted me in retribution for the little literary trick I pulled on them a few weeks ago. I took it like a man. And started planning my next big bullshit journal.

Shortly after 1 pm we left Newport and headed south for New York state. Seven hours later, we were back in Coxsackie, sitting in SeaLight, having drinks and eating custom naan pizzas. Once again, we stayed up way too late.

The boat trip was back on.

A Pause in the Trip

Coxsackie to Paris, Ontario - 650 kilometres driven

Monday morning arrived and there was no notice of the Champlain Canal opening date so Sina and I threw in the towel and decided to return with Ana. After breakfast we unloaded the months of accumulated gear in SeaLight's aft starboard cabin (known affectionately as "The Garage"), transfered it into the back of the Odyssey, said farewell to the boat, and were on the road by 10 am with me behind the wheel, becoming quickly accustomed to the art of driving, though still approaching each overhead bridge carefully, judging for the 65 feet of clearance required for the van's mast.

The hours melted away as we roared along the I90, with little to see besides vehicles ahead, beside, and behind us rallying for position and the frequent Applegreen roadside rest stops. We stopped at Duty Free and picked up a bottle of Empress 1908 Indigo Gin, a purple marvel, introduced to us originally by our friends Kira and Dave during their visit to Bahamas. Sina and I made a solemn pact to assemble again as soon as possible for a fancy gin cocktail night.

We breezed through the border and though we had to battle a bit of traffic on the Canadian side, we made it back to Brantford in good time. We dropped off Sina then went straight to Ana's parents' house where they had a beatiful pot of beef stew and fresh Portuguese bread waiting for us. It had been a long time since I'd seen them and we had a lovely visit.

Pulling into our driveway in Paris was something I'd been imagining for a while. How would I feel? Would things look different? I'd only been gone less than eight months, but change is constant and coming in with fresh eyes enables one to see things that may have gone unnoticed for years.

I stepped out of the van slowly and deliberately, looking at the ground, the grass, the trees, then at the house. I walked in the front door and inhaled the familiar smell of home, then after unloading the gear from the van, stepped inside and walked around. The house seemed huge. There were spaces you could cartwheel in, swing your arms, swing your partner, swing a golf club or bat. Everything seemed very white or light with few dark spaces. Despite the orderly state of the house, I felt like there was stuff everywhere. Massive loads of stuff. After living in the confines of a boat where space is precious and every object on board must justify its inclusion, being back in the luxurious space of our home felt indulgent, royal, decadent. I saw things I wanted to remove. Not junk, mind you, just things I don't remember needing or using for years. I imagined shoveling all these items into a pile on the front lawn, like a raving lunatic, leaving our home barren and empty, with strictly what was necessary to live. But on reflection, I wasn't sure what problem I was trying to solve, as everybody else in the family seems quite happy with the level of possessions therein, jusifiable or not.

Ana introduced me to our new hamster Winnie. It took her a while to locate the little runt as she had burrowed into a pile of shavings, and even when Ana did find her, she blitzed at light speed and disappeared beneath shavings in a different corner of the cage. She is a fast one. I did finally get a good look at her and she's a beauty. Welcome to the family, little one.

With that, comes a pause in the trip and these journals.

We have just over 600 nautical miles to go. The adventure will continue soon.

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.