The "Eerie" Canal

I scowled at the slightly darker mass of cloud off the port beam. To the untrained eye it would have blended in with the rest of the sky, but I knew we were in for another round of rain. I had just gotten the nerve to peel my arms out of my jacket (stained brown by the muck on the lock walls), and I sighed as I gazed out from underneath my damp hat brim at the mess around me: The VHF handheld, a book I had been keeping dry on the blue cushion I’m usually sitting on, my phone, the iPad I had been trying to charge all day between rain showers, a granola bar wrapper, coffee mug, gloves for the grimy lines in the locks, guidebook, and a sharpie. There had been just enough time between rain clouds to make me think that maybe we could be dry for the rest of the day, but no such luck. I started gathering the collection, one eye on the approaching downpour and the other on the center of the canal. I knew the next lock was somewhere nearby; of course we would arrive just in time for the rain and both end up soaked. Sigh.

We were half way through the canal system at this point, and much of our passage of the Erie Canal was spent like this; collecting entertainment on deck like a squirrel hoards acorns while invariably getting caught in some sort of rain at every lockage. At Castleton Boat Club we had successfully dropped the mast into a sturdy garbage-picked cradle that was now strapped to the deck, which meant that we were now armed with a 35-foot javelin secured with a spider web of lines to limbo under and around every day. Reaching the helm from the companionway was now a series of yoga moves. Every time I started to think I needed something from down below, I realized it probably wasn’t that important…

Our route took us through the eastern half of the Erie Canal, and then a turn north down the Oswego Canal to Oswego, NY and Lake Ontario. Thirty one locks and 595 feet of elevation change stood between us and our destination, and we settled into a rhythm of motor, stop, lock, and motor. If you’re not familiar with locks, they are basically giant cement boxes with massive swinging doors at either end. The walls are covered with a furry slime and smell like mold and dead fish, and equally disgusting lines hang from the top of the walls to secure the boat while water floods in. Floating next to the wall while the water rose, Elpis would inevitably get covered in slime chunks and the deck resembled a muddy parking lot by the end of each day. The locks all looked similar and were only differentiated by numbers, so we had started drawing on the mast cradle with sharpies in a bored attempt to keep track of which lock was next. The stretches in between were dotted with sleepy old towns, once bustling hubs of shipping and commerce that were now possibly trying to attract visitors with the super bizarre names they boasted. The upside was that most the lockmasters were wonderful to chat with during the process, and they made sure we knew the good places to stop along the way.

Turned out I was right, and the next lock appeared around the bend as drops started to fall from the sky. After talking with the lockmaster on the VHF, I took a few deep breaths and mentally prepared for the process. At this point, we had been through nearly 30 locks on the inland rivers without incident, but locking requires focus and anything can happen. My mind flashed back to our first two alarming lock experiences on the canals. During the first one, the lockmaster had placed us in the chamber right behind a barge. The captain used his engines to hold his position and the prop wash ended up blasting us off the wall and tossing us like a rubber ducky in a whirlpool. Throughout a full minute of panic and focus, I managed some of the best driving of my life and somehow kept the boat pointed straight ahead as we ended up sliding into the wall on the other side. Then only a few days later, we had a similar harrowing experience. I had entered the chamber just right and nice and slow, but I couldn’t keep the bow exactly where I was putting it. Seconds later we realized that the lockmaster was filling the chamber before we had any lines secured. A continuous stream of swear words exploded in my head as Elpis immediately was taken for an uncontrollable and terrifying ride, and we were spun completely around. To this day, I still cannot figure out how we turned so quickly and tightly and managed to not hit the wall or destroy the mast. Arriving at the top of the lock facing the wrong direction, I had barely managed to be nice while the lockmaster helped turn us back around. Thanks a lot, lockmaster. The shadow of the lock doors looming overhead brought me out of my memories and back to the present as the sprinkle increased to a steady rain. I tucked the radio in my damp pocket and got ready to grab the slimy hanging lines for our ride up.

The rain diminished to a drizzle and stopped as we pulled free of the lock chamber (of course). With another few miles to the next lock, I settled into one of my favorite driving activities: letting my brain wander. I guided Elpis along the runway of muddy water between a hallway of trees as memories of our time in the canals flooded my mind. The (probably bored) lockmaster who offered to order delivery pizza with us- we mistakenly decided to be financially responsible instead. Tying up at a maintenance station and considering stealing a channel marker (way too big and heavy for Elpis, totally impractical). The nicest lady at the near empty marina in Little Falls, who gave us tea and told us stories of how crowded it had been with loopers only two weeks ago. Questing for Subway sandwiches. The random corvette show in Sylvan Beach. Also the kind of creepy 1950’s amusement park in Sylvan Beach. Locking through with two kids in a canoe. The major influx of spiders onto the boat. Wishing we could anchor out somewhere. Spending a day in Herkimer to fix the packing gland (AGAIN). Emily’s Aunt Claudia and Uncle Howard randomly stopping by on their drive to Michigan to say hi, conveniently along the way. Going to a McDonald’s and splurging on breakfast so that we wouldn’t buy anything unnecessary when we went to Walmart. Immediately going to Walmart and splurging on cookies. Passing through locks with tourists taking photos of how a lock operates, maybe feeling like we were in a parade. Stopping in Phoenix and being served breakfast on the dock by kids in the community summer program. Reading Liz Clark’s book “Swell.” And still, yes it’s just us two on the boat.

At our final stop for the day Emily and I poked our heads out in the gathering dusk and eyed the open expanse of bright green lawn and large trees split by a cement path. The park looked inviting, and our legs needed a stretch. Motivated by the wide open space we ran around like kids, jumping on benches, running between trees, and playing tag (yes we played tag, it is still up for debate as to who won). After sitting all day, it felt good to get our hearts pumping and move more than 20 feet away from each other (another favorite game of ours: “look how far away I am from you!”).

The canals weren’t our favorite section of the trip. We prefer sailing to motoring and locking all day, but we were doing our best to make the most of it. This was Emily’s last week on the boat. She had committed to grad school and her impending departure that hadn’t felt real for months was now a rapidly approaching reality. As the miles ticked away to our arrival in Oswego, we found ourselves constantly reminiscing and trying to enjoy every last moment doing “Emily and Grace” things. Movie nights, our favorite boat meals (i.e. eggs and hash browns, and quinoa with triple succotash), listening to Taylor Swift, The Lumineers, and Jimmy Buffet (not at the same time), and generally reading each other’s minds in most of our conversations. It was a bittersweet time. That evening, we settled into the worn out settee as our favorite movie, “13 Going on 30,” started playing. I should have felt sad knowing it was one of our last times to watch it together. However, even though we wouldn’t finish the Loop together, I was glad. I was so happy that I had my best friend there, through the good and the bad and the “unsure” moments to figure it all out. There was no one else in the world I would have rather shared this experience with, and a little bit of distance isn’t going to stop us from planning the next adventure.

P.S. We've changed the dates on all the blog posts to reflect when we were where the post is about, so the timeline is now accurate!

Ready for the guillotine (dropping the mast)

Making sure the cradle fit

SUCCESS- probably one of my most stressed out days of the trip. We dropped the mast ourselves (no adult supervision) and did it correctly!

Look at all these new lines to trip over! Which apparently I'm really angry about?

Docked under a spider deployment facilitator (tree)

Little Falls, NY. We stayed at a town dock / marina with a lounge, and listened to the pouring rain while sitting on couches and watching TV. Sometimes we miss the conveniences of land. I also considered sleeping in the lounge because the boat was excessively hot and humid from being closed up and damp.

Emily hates this picture

Biggest teapot ever

Corvette show in Sylvan Beach

Somewhere in Detroit a J120 crew is missing their car...

Phoenix, NY. The reviews on Active Captain told us that "the kids" would bring us food... we were confused, speculating about who "the kids" could be until we realized that a city-run summer program organizes the town's youth to handle dock lines and serve breakfast!

Success in our mission to locate "Driving Miss Norma" in every bookstore we find