First Day in Saskatoon

I was going back to the homeland. The land of bunny hugs and beardos. Cow tipping and puddle jumping. Coulees and sloughs. Dust and wind and sunshine and living skies. My family. Saskatchewan.

After a short and hectic week at home after finally bringing SeaLight home from our epic adventure, I was back on the move and headed for Saskatoon. Sadly, it would be just me as Ana was back at work and unable to take any time off and the kids were both starting their summer jobs the following week. The plan was always for me to spend a decent chunk of time back in Saskatoon (my previous visit was an embarrasing eight years ago), but I was expecting to have a month at home in Paris between trips instead of a week.

Ana dropped me off at Pearson in Toronto and we had to say goodbye yet again. We are hardly ever apart, but we've been away from each other more in the last nine months than in the entire 25 years since we first met. This was never going to be a normal year for us so I guess it's okay and we'll have to trust in the old adage of absence making the heart grow fonder.

I arrived in Saskatoon to a cold and blustery day - very strange for this time of year. Fortunately, I did not come for the weather. My dad and mom and step-dad Rick were there to meet me, and after a tour of Circle Drive (where I was instantaneously transported back to my 11 year old self choking and gagging and complaining from the backseat after Mom sparked up a dart in the car), we arrived at Mom's for a tour of their recently constructed and spectacular new apartment complex - resort style living with a huge outdoor pool, gym, putting green, and a common lounge area with a pool table, comfy couches, and giant televisions. It is located in the Stonebridge neighbourhood, which barely existed the last time I was here but is now nearly a city on its own with every store you could imagine, cafes and restaurants, a wide variety of residential towers and houses, and commercial offices. I could not believe what I was seeing, as the typically stupid city zoning regulations seemed to have been ignored, which allowed a beautiful and efficient community to emerge where you can actually get to all the shops you need and even your workplace without the use of a car. And in a strange twist of fate, my dad and step-mom Loretta had just moved into an apartment complex that is directly across the street from Mom and Rick's! So if the beer and wine runs out at one place, it's a mere two-minute walk to fresh supply.

We had lunch and hung out for a long time visiting then hopped in the car and drove to my brother Curtis and sister-in-law Carrie's place for dinner. I also had not seen their house - a hundred year old groove-dome in the Nutana neighbourhood just steps from the riverfront - as they had moved fairly recently, so they gave me the grand tour then I had a lovely visit with my nephews Lukas and Eliot.

Dinner was spectacular, but speedy, as we had to be at the Cosmo Senior's Centre by 6:45 pm for the Prairie Pro Wrestling extravaganza, for which Curtis had fenangled four tickets. My cousin Jason (a legend of a man, historically known as "Skinnahhhhh!!") and my dad arrived for a quick beer then we drove to the venue.

I'm sure glad I wore my bunny hug (that's a "hooded sweatshirt with a pocket in the front" for those of you not familiar with the Saskatchewaneeze dialect) because that was the outfit of choice for those gathered. But I was missing the shaggy beard.

The wrestling was spectacular. We cheered for the good guys. We boo'd the bad ones. We joined the frenzy of the crown, yelling, shrieking, heckling, and watching the incredible dexterity of the athletes as they beat each other in the ring. It brought Skinnah, Curt, and me back to our childhood where all we did and all we cared about was wrestling and regularly delivered beatings to each other in the basement, the living room, but most frequently on the trampoline, where we sometimes squared off in sleeping bags. Prairie Pro Wrestling delievered it all - we saw a camel clutch, piledrivers, head kicks, heart punches, suplexes, body slams, and there were at least a dozen blows to the solar plexis. There were seven matches, both tag teams and individuals, and we were stunned when there was even a matchup between a girl and dude. She beat his ass for most of the match but he ended it by connecting a boot to her face and dropping her for three count.

Jacked with adreneline, we strutted over to Broadway after the final match, looking for a fight of our own, hoping to ruin some thugs with a clothesline or DDT or elbow smash off the top rope, but by the time we'd removed our clothing and were standing there in front of the Broadway Theatre in our tighty whities looking like clowns instead of fearsome Kings of the Ring, our jets had cooled and we instead re-robed and went for a pint at the Yard and Flagon pub. As we chatted over our beers I glanced around the bar, expecting to see high school buddies or ex co-workers or old neighbours. But everyone in there was at least twenty years younger than me and I didn't recognize anybody.

Curt received a text from a realtor buddy who was across the street at a cocktail bar called The Cocktail Bar so we strolled over there to have a boo. It was a groovy joint and on top of the fancy tables, fine glassware, sexy patrons, elaborate drink menu, whiffs of French perfumes and studly colognes, and coiffed bartenders, an infinite loop of Bob Ross painting videos manifested on a large screen mounted in the upper corner of the bar. While Curtis mingled with his chums, Jason and I were mesmerized by Bob Ross and we stood transfixed, sipping our drinks, watching the trees and mountains and clouds and grasses and ponds take shape from Bob's magical brushes.

It was a fine first day.

Analysis of the Journey and a Comprehensive Route Map

During our sailing journey I tracked and recorded not just the route and miles we sailed but many other data points so that I could do some analysis on the trip after our return. Since returning home, I've consolidated this data for one final post as a summary of the overall trip. I also created a detailed route map of the entire journey, and linked the daily journals to locations on the map. This is something I was hoping to do along the way but I found the writing and posting consumed all the time I was willing to commit being behind a screen.

Our 246 day journey took us through three countries, two provinces, ten US states, and 4,723 nautical miles (5,435 statute). On the days we sailed (which was 49% of the time), we averaged 39 nautical miles (45 statute). Our trusty dinghy zipped us across 359 nautical miles (413 statute) of water. We passed through 62 locks and so many bridges I stopped counting.

We also did a lot of walking, covering 1,106 kilometres or an average of 9 kilometers per day when we were on land. When we weren't walking, we were swimming (8 kilometres), driving (3,056 kilometres), taking busses (119 kilometres), biking (33 kilometres), or paddling (23.5 nautical miles).

In the Bahamas we caught 11 conch, 7 reef fish, and 5 lobsters but, sadly, were not able to catch any ocean game fish despite a lot of trying.

This trip of a lifetime cost us $35,898, averaging $4,378 per month or $146 per day. I tracked only a few categories, shown below:

    Boat maintenance - $2,563

    Dockage and moorings - $4,758

    Fuel - $3,766

    Locks - $358

    Water - $98

    Other - $24,354

The major trip segments, distances in nautical miles, and days were as follows:

    Erie Canal - 158 miles, 6 days

    Hudson River - 129 miles, 10 days

    New York City to ICW - 403 miles, 20 days

    ICW - 915 miles, 34 days

    Bahamas - 1023 miles, 76 days

    ICW Return - 892 miles, 25 days

    ICW to New York City - 266 miles, 4 days

    Hudson River Return - 186 miles, 29 days

    Champlain, Chambly Canals - 274 miles, 8 days

    St. Lawrence Seaway - 171 miles, 4 days

    Lake Ontario Return - 165 miles, 2 days

Finally, the map. This is a Google map which can be viewed and shared by anybody (although the link doesn’t seem to be working for everybody so there is also an embedded version below). The orange line represents the outbound track, the blue line is the Bahamas, and green line is the inbound track. Clicking any of the blue icons will bring up any of the 246 daily journals for that day. I have embedded the map below.

And that concludes our 2024/2025 Journey to the Sun!

SeaLight is Home

Middle of Lake Ontario to Newport Yacht Club  - 113 nautical miles sailed

My last sunrise on the boat. At least for a while.

I took over the helm at 4:30 am and relieved Magnus who had done his first solo night run and done it well. To the unititiated, the idea of piloting a bouncing and rolling sailboat across an ocean-sized lake with land a distant 20 miles away on either side of you could seem daunting. But Magnus has done these night passages many times, (although usually sound asleep in his cabin) so this was the first time for him alone at the helm, and he had been looking forward to it.

As the sun peeked over the horizon it brought that early morning chill and stronger winds that strengthened to 20 knots from the north-east, giving us a substantial push and allowed me to put out the head sail and turn off the engine, which pulled us along at a respectable 7 knots.

While Magnus slept, I watched a movie on the tablet. It is called "The Way" and is a story about a father who loses his vagabond son to an accident while in the French Pyrenees on his first day of walking to the Camino de Santiago - an 800 kilometre ancient pilgrimage route that runs across the north of Spain and ends in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in the region of Galicia. This pilgrimage route is also called the "Way of St. James" as the Catholic apostle's remains are said to be interned in the cathedral. This Christian pilgrimage route was established in the 9th century and has been used consistently since then, now drawing hundreds of thousands per year, some walking, others on bicycles or horseback.

Ana and I have seen this movie once before, a long time ago. It is not a fantastic movie - the dialogue sometimes comes up flat and the characters are overdone. But the story penetrates, and today this movie hit me like a freight train and brought on a torrent of emotion I have not felt in a very long time. The movie is a custom made summary and reflection on our own adventure this year. It is about the enduring bond between parent and child. It is about setting out on an impossibly long journey, not knowing what you will find, and not finding what you expected. It is about facing challenges and not always winning. It is about friendship and tolerance and the differences between people. It is about the power of nature and the healing effects of movement. It is about serendipity and fate, love and loss. But for me, the primary message from the film is that it takes a great deal of time to change oneself, or to even know what needs changing, if anything. It doesn't happen in a day. It doesn't happen in a week. You need to suffer through your failings and acknowledge your flaws and intrinsic human weakness. It requires bravery. And it requires help from other people.

Watching this movie was time well spent and made me appreciate this journey of ours even more.

When Magnus awoke we had a hearty breakfast of soft boiled eggs on sourdough bread then I got to work cleaning the inside of the boat while he watched the helm. I needed the boat to be in top shape for the Admiral's return so I cleaned the bathrooms, vaccumed and washed the floors, wiped the walls, and made the beds with tight corners to army cadet level precision.

As we neared the west end of the lake, the waves built higher and higher. The Environment Canada marine forecast predicted wave heights of 0.5 metres building to 1, but we were rolled by many waves that had to be close to 2 metre monsters, providing for a very bouncy and rolly ride. Magnus has historically been prone to motion sickness so today he wore the electrical pulse watch we own and behind-the-ear tabs that our friend Kira left on board. He was pretty solid, and only had to lie down for an hour or so when the ride got exceptionally rolly.

We timed our arrival to Newport Yacht Club with Ana's, as she had to drive down after work through jammed traffic. As we pulled into the marina channel, nearly nine months after beginning our journey, she was standing at our slip, waiting for us, and waving us in.

Magnus and Ana secured the lines, SeaLight breathed a huge sign of relief, and we were officially home.

The Final Leg of the Journey

Holmes Manor, Bateau Chanel to the Middle of Lake Ontario  - 52 nautical miles sailed, 45 kilometres driven, 2 kilometres walked

We are so close now. So close that it's difficult for me to comprehend the enormity of this journey and how it will soon be ending. By tomorrow evening, SeaLight will be gliding into our slip at Newport Yacht Club (inshallah), my beautiful Ana will be there, we will be surrounded by friends, and the trip will become a memory, tossed on the pile of previous adventures, but taking up more space than average. These memories are sure to pop up in the coming months as I go about my regular business. While putting SeaLight away for the winter in September I will be thinking about our brutal first passage across Lake Ontario to Oswego with our buddy Mike then the excitement of our first day on the Erie Canal. As I'm sitting on the couch watching tv in October I'll be remembering that first beautiful ocean passage from New York City to Cape May. As we go out to a restaurant in Paris for Ana's birthday in November, we will talk about her last birthday - an incredible day in Hilton Head. We'll probably be at home for New Year's Eve, and there all four of us will recall welcoming in 2025, wearing party hats and blowing noisemakers at that small Italian restaurant in Fort Lauderdale. On some cold night in January I will remember our first swim in Allan's Cay with a shark and a ray as we experienced that impossibly clear Exuma water for the first time. Some work day in February an image will pop into my head - Ana and I walking the perfect beach in Long Island while Stella sleeps on the beach lounger. We will be sitting down for dinner at home in March when Ana will remember us sharing pizza with Ben, Kate, Kevin and Ana in Hopetown, Abaco. I'll be polishing SeaLight's hull in April cursing the boat whose anchor slipped in Oriental, North Carolina and scraped up her sides. Not sure where I will spend my birthday this year, but I'm sure to remember how I spent last year's birthday alone in Coxsackie waiting for the Erie Canal to open. And we might just be anchoring out with friends in Hamilton in June when I start thinking of that lovely anchorage in Lake Chesapeake and those final days fighting our way through the locks with my brother and with my son.

These memories are so strong and fresh now. I can still smell the fishiness of Potter's Cay in Nassau. I can visualize the face of the Bahamian artist in Farmers Cay who sold us fruit. I can taste the lobster paella we made several times on the boat. I can feel the coarseness of the nurse shark's leathery brown skin in Staniel Cay and the warmth from the glowing pink fire radiating from the conch shell firepit we made on the beach in Egg Island. These memories will last a lifetime. And if those memories begin to fade, I will read these journals and they may feel like stories from somebody else's life, but I will know they are mine.

I am relishing these last few moments of the trip. The sense of freedom. The luxury of time. Relishing the mental space provided by the boredom of a long passage. Being at the mercy of the weather, SeaLight's mechanical systems, the gods. Being in control. Not being in control. Waking up thinking, I wonder what will happen today, knowing it could be anything. The excitement of possiblity. The agony of disappointment. A time where each new day is a blank canvas and is never like the last. Being so tuned into the boat I know her intimate squeaks and leaks, her curvature, how she moves in the water, when she's happy and when she's not. Over the months she has become the third partner in our marriage; it's Ana, Kris, and SeaLight. Always together. Taking care of each other. Relying on each other. Nurturing each other. Having fun.

Oh my. My reflections on the trip have already begun. Am I ready for it to be over? I certainly am anxious to get SeaLight home and moored safely in her slip, slightly bruised and batttered, but very much in one piece. I can't wait to see Ana and Stella. I'm excited for my upcoming trip to Saskatoon to see my family. But I will miss life at sea. I will miss everything about it.

Am I ready for it to be over? Regardless of the answer, it comes to an end tomorrow.

Today, Magnus and I had a morning of chores. We put the sails back on the boat. We sprayed off the thousands of tiny bugs which had collected on SeaLight overnight. We scrubbed the cockpit floor. We borrrowed Andrew's brand new kick ass truck and made a run into Kingston to pick up a few supplies and stopped for coffee downtown (one of the best downtowns in the country in my opinion). I noticed the K-Rock centre had been renamed Slush Puppie Place. I don't even know where to start with that one.

By 2 pm we had said goodbye to Victoria and Emma and were pushing off the dock, taking a full loaf of Victoria's sourdough bread with us and a really nice set of steak knives I found in a drawer. The wind was strong, gusting to over 25 knots, right in our face, so progress was slow. We stopped at Portsmouth marina west of Kingston's downtown to fill up with diesel, and did a fancy 360 in the harbour when I couldn't rember if the gas dock was a left turn or straight and I had maneouver to avoid hitting a dock. I told the gas dock staff I do a 360 every time I get to a new marina, as a sort of celebratory spectacle.

The open lake was choppier, with three foot waves and the odd four footer which sent SeaLight crashing. Magnus went down for a short nap at 4 pm and didn't wake up until 10:30! By that time I was tired and he was completely fresh so after a briefing he took over and I went to bed.

The clock tipped into midnight somewhere in the middle of Lake Ontario.

A Thousand Islands and One RCMP Stop

Brockville to Holmes Manor, Bateau Chanel  - 38 nautical miles sailed, 2 kilometres walked

We left the anchorage at a leisurely 7 am to a glorious, clear morning. The thin layer of bugs all over the boat slowly blew off as we gained speed heading upstream. The current was getting progressively weaker the closer we got to Lake Ontario, but I knew there would be some narrow channels in the Thousand Islands with heavier currents.

As we motored I mapped out the route we'd take through the island chain, sticking to the ultra safe, but slightly longer one. Last time we were here we took the shorter, more scenic route and rammed full speed into an immovable rock, causing damage to our keel bolts and requiring significant and expensive repairs. Since SeaLight had a beautiful bottom and new bolts and fibreglass, I didn't want a repeat performance.

The scenery throughout the Thousand Islands is serene and mezmerizing. Cottages dot the waterfronts of the islands and narrow channels wind through these. The geographical area of the Thousand Islands is small, making it a great place to explore and anchor out...if one had ample time, which we did not, so we kept the motor running and simply enjoyed the scenery.

As Magnus was at the helm and I was sitting in the cockpit, a US Coast Guard boat approached us with their blue lights flashing. I told Magnus to put it in neutral to let them attach to us. I knew for damn sure we hadn't broken any speed limits and we'd dropped off all the guns and drugs and immigrants and high power weed killer back in Montreal, so I wasn't sure why they would be stopping us.

I was surprised to see two RCMP officers appear and tell us they were boarding the boat to do a safety check. They explained that they were trained in US procedures which is why the US and Canadian patrol boats were used interchangeably in this area with a winding border and the ability for boaters to cross back and forth without having to report in. We invited them on board and asked what they wanted to see.

"I need to see your boat registration, boater license cards, and lifejackets," one of the officers said, but in a very kind way.

"No problem," I replied and quickly gathered the requested items. "Anything else? I can also show you the flares, axe, signaling device - we have all the mandatory safety stuff on board."

"No need, I can see you are well set up here. Where are you coming from?"

"Bahamas. Spent the winter there, but had to come back up the Champlain due to the Erie Canal delays."

"Really?" he asked, looking around the boat. "Usually when we stop cruisers returning from winter trips their boat decks are a mess, full of diesel cans and water jugs, and all sorts of junk."

"I don't get it either. You can get diesel anywhere. We just carry 10 gallons of it and 5 gallons of gas and the jugs fit in the anchor hold. I hate having a messy deck. Maybe those boaters do longer offshore runs than we did or dip further into the Caribbean."

"Well, your boat looks great. Welcome back to Canada and have a safe remainder of your journey," he said then both of them stepped back onto their boat and took off.

In all the years we have been boating in Lake Erie, Lake Huron, and Lake Ontario that is the first time we've ever been boarded by officials.

We continued on our way, passing by Gananoque and into the Bateau Channel and were soon in front of the waterfront home and dock of our friends Andrew and Victoria. The wind had really built up and was blowing at over 20 knots, making the docking a little tricky, but on the second attempt we landed it and lashed all the fenders we had (plus a couple we filched from the dock) on the side to prevent her from getting mashed up on the dock.

SeaLight has docked here many times over the years so it felt like home. After securing the boat we walked up to the house to see Victoria and their golden retriever Emma. Andrew, sadly, was away on a work trip in Fort Myers but I'd promised him we would use copious volumes of the dock water and electricity, eat as much food as we could pack in, steal the wifi, do all of our laundry, dump our garbage, destroy his fancy toilet, drink his rum and beer, entertain his beautiful lady, siphon the gas out of his truck, and maybe steal a few tools from the shed. Good friends are hard to find.

After seeing Victoria and having a quick visit (she works from home and seemed to be in the middle of some boring conference call) we returned to the boat and gave her a sorely needed cleaning. Transiting locks completely filthifies a boat. Normally, I'm obsessive about keeping SeaLight clean, but this trip, and the scarcity of fresh water for cleaning, has dulled my compulsions and the dirt and stains and skids haven't bothered me as much. But today, we cleaned. We didn't quite get up her to normal standards, but she was looking pretty good by the time we were done.

Victoria called us up for happy hour at 5 and we had a couple drinks on their gorgeous deck while we chatted and enjoyed the scenery. It had been over a year since we'd seen her so we had plenty to catch up on. Happy hour led to dinner and she had crafted two magnificent loaves of sourdough bread and a lasagna so we ate well and continued our visiting into the darkness. It was a real drag that Andrew couldn't be here, but we made sure to antagonize him with texts to make sure he knew we were having fun and hadn't forgotten about him.

We hauled our finished laundry back to the boat sometime after ten under the glow of a fiery red strawberry moon and discovered the previously clean SeaLight was covered with a blanket of little purposeless lake bugs.

She might need another rinse tomorrow.

The War Hammer and End of the Locks

Ile du Grenadier to Skelton Island, Brockville - 75 nautical miles sailed, 3 locks

Today, we had great ambitions. Like our friends on Hibiscus, our other friends Cathy and Perry on Panacea (who have consistently been a few days ahead of us since Troy) have been feeding me information on the route which has helped immensely, reinforcing the fact that this adventure of ours has truly been a team effort. I call it the Cruising Class of 2025 as it feels as if all the cruisers are working together to help each other, like a family, like a gang, like a community, but a short term one for a specific purpose. There will be a new cruiser class next year, but many of the friendships we have developed will endure.

There were three locks remaining and we hoped to complete all of them and make it to Brockville. But that would require traveling more than 75 miles against a strong current, not hitting delays at any of the locks, and doing it all through forecasted rainstorms and heavy winds. But we are nothing if not ambitious.

When I pulled anchor at 5 am it was pouring rain outside and there was limited visibility. Fortunately there were no other boats on the water so I sailed to the chart and stuck my head out the enclosure once in a while to look for boats. I let Magnus sleep in as there was no need for both of us to be up. One thing I'd been noticing is the increasing populations of bugs. It seems the closer to home we travel, the worse the bugs get, and I do remember them being quite nasty in the Thousand Islands area from previous trips. But, you take the bad with the good.

Magnus and I had breakfast together and talked for hours. One major topic was what to do with the custom war hammer Curtis had brought out with him and given to me for my birthday. In recent years he has become an expert wood craftsman and decided to make mallets for both me and my brother Marty for his recent 50th. It is an incredible piece of work and my inclination was to hang it in our home kitchen as an artwork, maybe next to the magnificent guitar-shaped burger flipper which has never been used. But Curt would have none of it - it was a gift meant to be used. So, the next question was, what to do with it. Magnus and I decided there were two options. First, it could be a carpentry mallet, which would be very useful in our upcoming deck rebuilding project. Second, it could be a meat hammer, also very useful for upcoming pork schnitzel projects. A third option, and one which we fiercely debated, was using it for both. A multi-purpose tool would be good, but the downside could manifest itself in long cedar splinters poking out of the layer of sauerkraut on your pork cutlet (or worse, your guest's) or splatters of pork meat scattered on and between the new deck boards. In the end, we decided to use the war hammer as a carpentry mallet and continue to use the rolling pin to smash meat. We also agreed that the war hammer could be used as an actual war hammer in the case of attack or burglary.

We arrived at the Snell lock at 10:15 and had to wait just over an hour to get in. I had found a website showing the schedule of boats at this lock for today and it was spot on - we got in right where I'd seen the gap in freighter traffic. While waiting at the lock we tied up to the one powerboat there, who was a captain doing a boat delivery for a 50 Sundancer from Marco Island in Florida to Midland in Georgian Bay. While we were chatting he mentioned the boat’s twin 1200 horsepower diesel engines burned 600 gallons of fuel in a full day. This is why it's great to have friends with powerboats.

Both lifts went perfectly and the locks were far better than the Canadian ones as they had designated and numbered positions on the wall where you tied your midship line to a huge cleat inside the wall that rose up and down with the water level, making awkward tossing of ropes unnecessary. They also answered the radio when we called, and accepted cash at the lock (Canadian at par!) or you could pay online. It was a much smoother operation than what we'd seen in the previous Seaway locks.

From there it was a long haul to the final lock, on the Canadian side, called Iroquois, scheduled to close at 6 pm. The instructions for this lock on the Seaway website were again extremely confusing. I radio'd them at 5:15 pm and was shocked when they answered. They told us there would be plenty of time to get us through, and when we arrived I understood. The doors opened. We went in. The exit doors opened at the same time so we just motored through the lock and didn't have to tie up or even see anybody - both sides were at the same water level. I wasn't sure to be thrilled or pissed that we had to pay $25 for the experience.

With that, the locks for the trip were complete and it was a straight run to our anchorage in Brockville. Along the way I assembled a decent pork gumbo for dinner then Magnus and I each assembled our dream super bands, identifying musicians, producers, album themes, and features. My band was called 8 Track - a single album trip metal prog project between Les Claypool from Primus on bass and vocals, Danny Carey from Tool on drums, Joe Duplantier from Gojira on guitar and vocals, and whoever it was in Portishead that played keyboards and made all those deliciously creepy sounds. Magnus went through about ten iterations of what he wanted, excited as hell, but changing people, moving them from instrument to instrument, identifying featured artists, taking them out, putting them back in, then realizing many of the artists he'd chosen don't play much for instruments and are just expert producers, so in the end he couldn't nail down his dream band...but I think he'll keep working on it.

So after 75 miles, 3 locks, and 16 hours on the water, we dropped the anchor at Skelton Island at 9:45 just minutes before the remaining pale light of day was completely extinguished.

Locks, Logs, and Traitorous Powerboaters

Montreal to Ile du Grenadier, 48 nautical miles sailed, 4 locks

Last night's Colt 45's did a number on Magnus and I had a hell of a time waking him up for the first lock, which we reached shortly before it opened to receive the pleasure boaters assembled there - us and five powerboats. The St. Lawrence Seaway is a major shipping route from North America and there is an endless stream of freighter traffic. Pleasure boats are permitted to use the locks, but are considered a nuisance like houseflies, earwigs, or roaches as the scant fees we pay to use the locks ($25 per lift) is bus fare compared to the thousands laid down by the monster tankers. Thus, when using the St Lawrence Seaway it is best to brace oneself for delays.

Today we hoped to get through four locks, all of which are on the Canadian side of the border, which generally cuts through the middle of the river system. Next would be two locks on the American side then one final one on the Canadian side which would then put us at the level of Lake Ontario - 243 feet higher than where we began.

The lock was massive. We were last in and snuggled up to the rafted powerboats ahead of us then caught the two long ropes the staff far overhead hurled down. It was very much the same, if not identical, to the locks in the Welland Canal, which we have transited in the past. The fill went well and we managed to keep SeaLight off the wall and unscuffed. The powerboaters took a long time to get themselves untied then crawled out of the lock at a freshwater snail's pace.

By the time we reached lock 2 it was clear the scheduled 11 am opening for pleasure boats was not going to happen, as a huge freighter was on his way in from upstream. The powerboats had taken up all the space on the courtesy dock so Magnus and I floated around in the bay while we waited. When the ship finally exited it was already looking very tight for us to be able to make it to lock 3 for the 3 pm opening, and it didn't help that the powerboaters were again taking their time and goofing around. They didn't even start untying their lines until the freighter had completely cleared the channel so it likely took twenty minutes for them to dawdle into the lock and get secured to the wall. After the lift they waddled their way out and proceeded to hang on the right side of the channel after being told by the lock staff to stick to the left to avoid another incoming ship. Well, the incoming freighter let loose with a volley of angry horn blasts which threw them into disarray; one started doing 360's, one headed straight back towards the last lock, one just floated there stunned, and the other two idled every so slowly out of the way. More wasted time. When they were all finally pointed in the right direction they started moving then really hit the gas leaving us behind in the watery dust going at sailboat speed. Fortunately, when we had reached the top of lock 2 and were handing the ropes back to the lock master, she asked if we were going through the next lock.

"Yes!" I said. "Are we going to miss it? There's not enough time for us to get there for the 3 pm opening."

"No problem," she said. "We've already contacted lock 3 and told them of the delay. They will hold the lock for you."

"Thank god, we were worried we were going to miss it and be stuck there until tomorrow."

"You'll be fine."

We reached lock 3 at 3:15. Our powerboat buddies were nowhere to be seen and the lock doors were shut tight. The bastards left without us! We pulled SeaLight up to the courtesy dock and tried to figure out what to do. I called the lockmaster repeatedly on the radio, several different channels, but no response. We waved our arms at the control booth far in the distance. I tried calling the powerboats on the radio, no response there either, not that they'd do anything about it considering they knew damn well we were behind them and trying to make the lock. I tried calling the St. Lawrence Seaway general number, but each menu option led me to either robotic recordings, voicemail, or more menu options. Finally, in desperation I chose the option for Marine Emergencies.

"Hello, this is lock 3," a human voice answered.

I was flabbergasted. "Lock 3? Really?"

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"We're SeaLight. We arrived at 3:15, we're at your courtesy dock and were scheduled for this opening. The lady at lock 2 said you'd wait for us. What happened? Didn't our powerboat friends mention us?" I blurted out in a panicked string of words.

"Nobody told me. I waited until just after 3 but didn't see anybody. Sorry."

"What are we supposed to do? I don't understand. Lock 3 promised. And a promise is a promise. Right? Right?"

"Hmph," he grunted. I'd played the promise card. I never play the promise card, but it was the only card I had left. "Well, I supposed I could have the summer students open it for you."

"Oh thank you! Thank you blessed lockmaster. Your mamma raised a good boy."

"Stand by on channel 68. I'll let you know when to come in."

And with that, we got a lock opening all to ourselves. And because lock 4 was only half a mile away and staffed by the same team, we got our own fill for that one too. I just love it when tragedy turns to victory.

With that, we were back in the St. Lawrence and had only two more obstacles - lift bridges. The information on the Seaway website on protocol for these two bridges was extremely confusing; it said they opened just twice per day on a schedule, but it also opened on demand, but it also did not open on demand. As we were trying to figure this out I received a cryptic message from our buds Jonathan and Marcel in Hibiscus saying they were at lock 4 and something about bridges and meeting them at the second one. I had no idea what Jonathan was talking about nor how Hibiscus could be here....unless he stole our spot in the lock?

Well, despite a dozen calls on the radio to the first bridge, they would not respond, but they did open it after a while. After a bunch of miles and hitting three submerged trees (if we'd hit a submerged tree back in Lake Ontario we would have lost our minds; now, it's a series of crashes on the underside of the boat, a bored glance to the stern to see what object pops up, then a simple sigh), we came within view of the second bridge and we could see Hibiscus in the distance. Again, I could not figure out how the hell they got here. As we watched Hibiscus we saw the second bridge opening to let a freighter pass. Hibiscus was going for it to catch the opening. As the freighter passed through, Hibiscus came up the inside looking to squeak through. But no, the lift bridge operator must had seen him and wanted to have a laugh so dropped the bridge at double speed and blocked his access. The cruelty of it!

We finally reached the bridge and eased up to Hibiscus for a visit. Well, it turns out they had been with a group of powerboaters yesterday and the exact same thing happened to them, except they arrived at lock 3 at 3:05 just in time to watch the doors closing, then were unable to contact the lockmaster and had to wait an entire day. That's how they slipped into our spot. We felt terrible for them but it did allow us to catch up and have a little visit on the water.

The bridge was receiving calls from both of us, on all channels, as we tried to contact them to ask when we would get an opening, but it sat there closed with very little traffic as we floated around in front of it. At about 6:45 it finally opened and we were able to pass. They sailed onto the nearby town of Valleyfield and we were thinking of joining them for a final round of beers, but realized we'd have to backtrack then make up the miles tomorrow, which was already going to be a very long day. So we pushed on another hour or so and found an anchorage in the still shadow of Grenadier Island