Cruising time was just under four hours after we departed
Little Falls which incorporated four lock chambers, the first of which was a
40’ drop. Like draining a bath tub, these are rather easy rides down; but I
hold the lifeline (lock rope) as if my life depended on it. That solitary lock
rope is the only thing securing us to the chamber wall to maintain position.
Clay keeps the engines idling as the diesel fumes escape and inevitably head my
way; he knows better than to shut the engines down, having experienced a rather
turbulent ride in a 93’ chamber on the Tennessee River and an even more
turbulent and emphatic string of sentences from his first mate in that process.
He’s also learned to occasionally assist my handling with a bow or stern thrust
(we are so very fortunate to have both thrusters)!
The second, third and fourth locks in succession measured
20’, 8’ and 8’ respectively to usher us into the town of Canajoharie at the
Canajoharie Riverfront Park with electric pedestals but no water hook-ups. Now
that I’ve learned to spell and pronounce “Canajoharie,” I find it’s just as
much fun to type. The town was named either after an Indian tribe or the river
gorge and pools nearby; take your pick – we were fed both stories. We
understood from our guide book that the Canajoharie Library and Art Gallery has
one of the finest small art galleries in the US. At the heart of its collection
of 350 paintings by American artists is Winslow Homer oils and watercolors. We
found the Gallery closed probably due to Memorial Weekend, but we noted the
significant influence around town of the primary benefactor Bartlett Arkell who
was the founder and first president of the Beech-Nut Packing Company. Arkell
built the original Canajoharie Gallery in 1927 based on galleries he had
experienced in his travels to Europe. Almost all of the paintings in the
permanent collection were purchased by Arkell for the people of Canajoharie.
The American painting collection includes 21 works by Winslow Homer, and
significant paintings by many distinguished artists including: George Inness,
William M. Chase, Childe Hassam, Mary Cassatt, Georgia O’Keeffe, Robert Henri,
and other members of The Eight. Permanent and changing exhibitions also feature
selections from the museum’s Mohawk Valley History collection as well as the
Beech-Nut archives of early twentieth-century advertising material.
In downtown Canajoharie, the historic bank clock, much like
the Bank of Louisiana clock, had charming permanent lettering on each of the
four facades of the base stating, “Honoring All Who Served”—quite appropriate
for Memorial Weekend. We took note of Canajoharie’s version of a road
roundabout which had placed “keep right” signs on the post of a stop light in
the middle of the main intersection of town.
Having secured a dinner recommendation from a random gal in
the park pavilion, we explored the menu at Mercato Café then trotted back to
the boat to freshen up before dining. Define as you wish the term “freshen up,”
but, after a day on the river, I knew a boater’s definition and planned to do
so.
“Oh What a Night!” Maybe we should have been a little bit
more selective in our restaurant choice this Saturday evening; we found the
Greek maître d’/waiter to be far more ‘hospitable’ than we wished. What
initially appeared to be charm (I use this term loosely) became an irritant
when our fella wouldn’t leave us alone! He wove tale after tale in his accented
English of his time served in the Greek Navy and in the US Navy as a Navy Seal,
even pulling out his wallet to show us his badge/insignia. I’m not one to be
rude intentionally, so I don’t know how. But he became more of a dining
companion than a waiter. I’m gullible so I was politely absorbed in his stories
until I realized his details didn’t quite add up. His stories became more fishy
as the evening wore on. The slit across his throat by the Chinese and the
resulting implanted steel plate in his jaw must have been a repair job by the
finest cosmetic surgeon available; I saw absolutely NO evidence of a scar nor
of any sign of this occurrence ever happening. His repeated reference to his
restaurants (he has four) became suspect when he referenced the gal in the
kitchen saying, “I’m just helping her out.” Who owned this restaurant anyway?
Clay and I began to doubt it was he. With a sigh of relief, we paid the bill,
adding a polite tip, and escaped into the night air. Note: Food was good, but I
wouldn’t repeat the experience. Further note: The pavilion gal must do
take-out!
I awakened with a migraine so was slow to rise this Sunday
morning. But we pressed onward with three locks and 23.2 miles to our next
stop, Amsterdam, NY. I had just applauded Clay’s regaining his boating skills
when he came ‘crashing’ into Lock 12; I felt need to apologize to the
lockmaster, though it could have been far worse (and I’m sure the lockmaster
had seen such). In anticipation of a large number of boats and boaters this
holiday weekend, we were amazed at so few; but we were equally amazed at the
ignorance (or disrespect?) of many of those boaters we did encounter. Their
failure to slow down in passing gives us larger boats turbulence and imbalance
we neither cherish nor welcome. Having boated with Loopers who are conditioned
to give a ‘slow pass,’ our expectations are such; need to teach these
northerners a thing or two.
We arrived at Amsterdam shortly before 2 p.m. and snugged in
at Riverlink Park in stiff winds. We experienced lots of huge lightning bolts,
loud thunder and big fat raindrops as we zipped up the fly bridge canopy and
hooked up to water and electric. Once we were secure, Dan in a “Dan’s Backyard
BBQ” tee shirt arrived to collect our docking fee. I kiddingly told him he was
late to catch our lines but punctual in catching our $1/ft overnight fee. (I
really wasn’t kidding; you think he coulda given us some assistance for the
$1/ft!) He indicated the storm brewing and said the Riverlink Park Café was
closing early and staff was outta there.
The storm really wasn’t bad, but we did get a lot of heavy
rain overnight to create flash flood conditions early Monday morning. We
awakened to find our fenders riding high—too high to be effective in their
purpose. SaSea Sally’s hull was totally unprotected from potential damage from
the dock wall. Thus, we found ourselves relocating at 7 a.m. Fellow boaters
readjusted lines and fenders based on their positions along the dock wall as
well; we were in good company. Everyone had travel plans for the day, but the
Erie Canal was closed. Too much water and too much debris. Big trees floated by
as did tree branches and big wads of vegetation of one sort or another.
Expecting another overnight here, Clay and I set off on a
morning walk to find activity; I can guarantee you there’s nothing in
Amsterdam, NY – at least not in a radius surrounding the Riverlink Park. We
found evidence of a LOT of federal grant money being spent on a dedicated
pedestrian bridge over the river; we found evidence of an attempt to establish
a decent mall adjacent to the Park, but it seemed to be having trouble catching
on. We passed many derelict buildings and even poked our head in a bar where
some elderly gents were drinking coffee and welcomed us to a cup; Clay noted he
and Bob had stopped here for a beer months ago.
Back to the boat, we, being the sole eastbound boaters,
unexpectedly got the all clear sign from the lock master just before noon;
westbound boaters, just after noon. We had a planned travel day of three locks
and 37+ miles rescheduled for tomorrow which delightfully became today’s
agenda. We knew it would be slow going with debris to dodge, but we were quite
pleased to be moving on. We were unaware as to the perils ahead, especially
those at Lock 9. As we passed through Lock 10, the lockmaster gave his
explanation for the high water and excessive debris saying the Catskills Dam
released water (to feed the electricity needs of NYC over the Memorial Day
Weekend) and failed to alert the Erie Canal powers-that-be. Thus, all of this
mess and treachery was avoidable…but not now.
Our Cruising the New York Canal System, Skipper Bob
Publications, is a hugely valuable resource, giving information on such things
as locks, marinas, lock walls and free docks, guard gates, cautions and
historical notes to name a few. Mile 28.3 along the Erie Canal is Lock 9. Mile
28.2 is a ‘Caution – may be strong current from adjacent dam; watch as you
approach Lock 9 (from the east).’ Translation: We would be facing this strong
current as we exited Lock 9. UNDERSTATEMENT. Sally’s translation: Traversing
the waters in and around Lock 9 was like whitewater rafting with downed trees
in a trawler (not advisable!) Oh my! Clay first sought the advice of the
lockmaster as we entered the chamber. With such a massive amount of debris
approaching and in the lock chamber, all we could do was take it slow—very
slow.
After water emptied from the chamber and now with the lock
gate open, we saw what lay ahead. Huge trees swirled in the fierce eddy set up
by the dam waters and accompanying current. No words can explain the sight. I
was shaking like a leaf with a racing heartbeat and looking at Clay as if he
had all the answers. He again solicited the advice of the lockmaster who drew
our attention to the bull nose (short cement wall protrusion) as an obstacle to
avoid; further advice was to pick your moment and gun it. With all the huge
trees, timing was everything and ‘gunning it’ wasn’t particularly desirable
(bent props a huge probability). With Clay’s strategy defined, my strategy was
to pray – and pray I did. End result: Clay’s timing was spot-on; turbulence was
wild but manageable; God and Clay did good! I wish never to repeat that
experience! As I said, it was like whitewater rafting in a trawler…with
obstacles!
Apparently, Lock 8 has notable current and eddy potential
just as Lock 9, but conditions aren’t notable enough to make Skipper Bob. We
cruised uneventfully the remaining miles to Schenectady Yacht Club where we had
another high-stress moment docking in cross current; the memories of
Wilmington, NC were far too fresh to take this docking lightly (even though
that experience was many months ago). But we made it with the assistance of
many able-bodied souls on shore (I think there were at least 4-5 fellas
handling our lines which speaks for the force of the current).
Calling this location a ‘yacht’ club is a stretch of the
imagination. More appropriately called Schenectady Boat Club, the facility did
have a small pool, showers, a large pavilion, and a club house in addition to
the very small and very rustic dock master’s office. Clay insisted we make the
uphill trek to the pool (kinda like walking up ski slopes the incline was so
steep) where we parked ourselves poolside with a deep sigh that we had
successfully managed this Memorial Day Monday. Too, we’d avoided the forecasted
storms – oops, no we hadn’t. I felt the storm almost before I saw it; my
alert sent us scurrying back down the slope to the boat but not before huge
splops of rain doused us. Because Clay had been in the pool and me not, I
graciously conceded the first shower position to him. Aren’t I nice? Tho wet, I
truly wasn’t soaking; so it was an easy call. He was both soaked and
shivering.
Tuesday morn, we found a small residential neighborhood
nearby for our morning walk after which we disconnected, stowed lines and
fenders and departed with an easy backing out of the slip. We had a beautiful
sun with a brisk breeze and the feel of low humidity. Gorgeous Tuesday. But
cottonwood has been showering us the past few days, even to the extent of our
morning walking route looking like it had recently snowed. So the resulting
allergens had my eyes itching and Clay’s nose sneezing. So be it. Thank goodness
for allergy eye drops and Benadryl aboard.
We had six locks and 16.4 miles to travel today to arrive in
Waterford, NY, the junction of the Mohawk River (Erie Canal) and the Hudson
River (Champlain Canal). This is the point at which I had exited to MO last
August, and a crew change resulted in friend Bob Mustell helping Clay move the
SaSea Sally westward on the Erie to storage at Winter Harbor, Brewerton, NY. I
was looking forward to something familiar! Locks 2 through 6 lie within a
1.5-mile stretch of waterway just west of Waterford; the quick repetition of
five lockings left me pretty pooped as we arrived at the crowded Waterford
Harbor Visitors Center dock. We jockeyed for position and found ourselves at
the west end of the line-up where power petered out (faulty wiring was the
reported problem). We had power enough (30 amp) to charge batteries and handle
lights and pumps, but no 50 amp so no ac, no hot water heater, no stove. But I
was glad to be tied to shore and finished with the locking procedure for a few
days!
We were immediately invited to join the Loopers bunch
heading to McGrievey’s for drinks/early dinner. I insisted on a shower before
accepting and suggested the same for Clay. Once joining the jovial group, Clay
and I both opted for wine/beer and some boat stories. Having just completed 22
locks of the Erie, we were a good source of recent knowledge for those headed
westward. One glass of wine did me in which was readily apparent to Clay. He
knew coming back at a later hour (it was only 5 p.m.) for dinner at McGrievey’s
wasn’t gonna happen and was wise to stop mid-block and pick up orders of
Chinese take-out. Back at the Waterford Harbor, Clay dock-hopped while I
snoozed. I did manage to rally for a quick bite, but left the clean-up to Clay
which I seldom do. Putting it in perspective, Clay sits at the helm and drives
the boat (and does a fine job, I might add), while I chase around
handling everything else (pretty much literally here). No wonder this little
first mate was plum tuckered out!
We’re overnight here a couple nights while we do a bit of
re-provisioning and have our folding bikes fixed. After salt water exposure
even though relatively new, the bikes are in need of repair and a once-over.
So, as we hopefully put in some down time, I bid you a fond farewell until I
can once again get the keyboard humming with another update.
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