The Yoyage on "FriendShip"
Fairport Ohio to Delaware
City Delaware
July &
August 1997
The Yoyage on "FriendShip"
Fairport, OH
to Delaware City, DL
July
& August 1997
The
voyage on 'FriendShip'
I have been home for three weeks now .
Many people whom Brenda and I met along our journey through the States and Canada asked to
hear how we fared. I have been putting off the moment when I sit down to
write, knowing it is potentially a long saga. I decided to write a
collective letter to you all, which I hoped would not be too long and boring to
read. Well it's gone on and on ! I defy anybody to
read to the end !
There were no major disasters. The boat and I arrived in Delaware in relatively
good shape. At the end of the last long day's trip I think the boat might have
been in better shape than I was !
I enclose photographs for those of you whom we had the presence of mind
to photograph whilst we were with you.
Preparing for the journey
The seed that germinated the idea of sailing in North America was the
time spent with my friends Clark and Lori, two summers ago in Delaware, when we hired a small boat. The
owner took us out into the Delaware River for
half a day (and managed to get us stuck on a sandbank !)
Whilst I was running a teachers summer school in Vermont last year, one
of the teachers (a keen yachts man) told me that it was possible to pass from
the Great Lakes to Lake Champlain and then into to the Hudson River. That
information clinched the idea of this trip for me. Most of you know that
I found the yacht "FriendShip" through the
WWW. It was owned by Mike, who turned out to be another Brit,
I felt as though I got to know you quite well Mike, during the course of our
friendly and protracted negotiations via email and phone. I hope that it might
be possible to meet you now that you are also back in England.
What a stroke of good luck, when I learned that the boat was situated 30
minutes drive from the home of Anna who had completed her international
exchange teaching practice in a Nottingham school with me as her tutor. I
called to see them on my first visit to view the boat prior to buying it and
was immediately immersed in a wealth of kindness and hospitality, which
extended for many weeks later after I had bought the boat and come to work on
it prior to starting my trip. I will always be indebted to Anna's parents
Denny and Kathy, who transported me to the boat on numerous occasions from
their home and to many and varied places to buy equipment and food. I
recall Denny saying after he had taken me on yet another journey to return
inappropriate stuff to a store; "No problem, I am learning quite a
lot about boat equipment" Thank goodness there is the 30 day return
rule operating for goods bought in the States. Thanks to all your family
for your enduring patience and support. I doubt if I would have achieved
the success I did without your help. Needless to say I enjoyed my time at your
home, riding the grass mower and dodging Denny's bees and of course the clay
pigeon shooting. You and your club members were very generous in your
praise of my mediocre efforts.
Lake Eire
I eventually set sail around the 17th July from Fairport
Harbour on Lake Eire
destined for Astabula 30 miles eastwards along the
coast. The wind died mid afternoon and I relied on my Evinrude
6 hp twin cylinder two stroke outboard engine, for the rest of that day's
journey. The outboard was an unknown quantity at this stage, but it proved to
be a sturdy work horse capable of pushing "FriendShip"
along at a good 6.5 knots for over 50% of the 1500 miles journey. I became an
expert at cleaning spark plugs, sooted up with the
oil and petrol (sorry Gasoline !) mixture.
My arrival at Astabula was one of the most
memorable ones of the journey. I arrived up the river full of apprehension at
my first port of call, calling out to a group of people standing alongside a
whole row of yachts, if there were any over night berths. This group who
were Canadians, immediately sprang into action moved a boat along and made room
for me to come along side, grabbed my ropes and made me secure to the berth.
When I explained who I was, where I was from and the journey I was starting,
they were full of helpful information and advice. Eventually I was asked was
there anything else I required. It had been a very hot day and my immediate
response was "something to drink". I was offered a beer, and taken to
the tables where their respective families were about to eat a meal. They told
me that they were going to feed me as they had prepared too much for
themselves. I had a very pleasant evening with them. Larry
who was born in Ireland and
brought up in Berkshire and his Canadian wife
Kathy. They were on a 3 week sailing holiday from the Canadian side of
the Lake. They want to exchange their house in
St Thomas, Ontario
and their 30 foot yacht for a 3 week holiday with someone in the UK. The
group included Alex who lived and worked in the Thames
Valley area before moving to Canada and his
wife Colleen, a Canadian by berth. They had lived in the Toronto area before selling their house. Alex
has sold his building business and Colleen has sold her catering business. They
now have a beautiful yacht equipped with all the self sustaining energy and
navigation devices that one could want for their intended purpose of living on
board and sailing where their fancy takes them and eventually finding their way
to Florida and the Caribbean.
I hope you get this letter Alex and Colleen via your PO Box in Ontario and that your
journey is progressing well.
The following morning I bid them all farewell and set off down to the
breakwater at the mouth of the river. The previous day had been calm with no
wind and similar weather was forecast to continue for several days. When I
switched on the marine radio to check the forecast whilst travelling down
river, I was surprised to hear of winds gusting up to 30 knots
. I had the 150% jib tied to the rail ready for raising,
and decide that the 100% jib would be a better choice. I set about
motoring up and down behind the breakwater using the outboard and the auto helm
attached to the tiller, whilst I attempted to change the jib sails. I was
working in a relative tight situation alongside a sandy pleasure beach and had
about three quarters of a mile to motor up or down, before I had to abandon the
sail work and dash back to the tiller to turn the boat through 180
degrees. The wind was blowing so hard at one point that I had to put the
outboard on full throttle to turn the hull into the wind to complete the turn
around. After about 6 passes up and down behind the breakwater I had
completed the change of sail. However it was now 12.45pm; rather late in the
day to start a 35 mile journey to Eire. My
expensive bicycle ($12 for the 10 gear bike and $10 for the seat stem !) was not fastened down in the cabin and appeared to
be defying gravity whilst I was changing the sails. I decided that
discretion was the better part of valour and returned back up river to join my
new found friends for a cup tea and plan a fresh start the next day.
On my return I was received like a long lost friend. Two hours
later I was sat in a car on my way with the entire group having been invited
for a meal at the home of one of the Astabula yacht
club members. They were delightful people whose names I cannot remember.
Can you help me Larry and Kathy ? Perhaps you
could send them a copy of this message ? I
recall they had English connections, the lady a recently retired infant school
teacher was related to Julian Amourey, who was our
minister of state for home affairs until the last election. We had a
splendid meal and a great evening chatting away. I recall Larry saying
that my boat and ambitions for the journey at that time reminded him of Sir
Francis Chichester who also sailed across open seas in open boats. No
doubt you'll be pleased to hear Larry that I actually made the trip without
major mishap. I will try and find someone for you to do a house and boat
exchange. I seem to recall making several frantic phone calls from Astabula to Brenda at home in Nottingham and Les's wife
Marilyn in Toronto making last minute arrangements for Brenda to travel to
their house in Scarborough to await my arrival, because their didn't seem to be
any chance of me getting through to Kingston by the end of the week when Brenda
was due to arrive in Montreal from the UK. Thanks for your efforts on that day,
Kathy. I seem to remember you phoning all your relatives in an attempt to
find me a crew member so that I could travel through the Welland
canal. You even talked about taking a day off from work to crew for me
yourself if necessary ?
The next morning I travelled down river along side Alex and Colleen's boat , wished them a good journey and waved them good bye at
the mouth of the river as they turned west for Cleveland
and I turned East for Eire. What a great
day's sail that was with a following wind all day. The speedometer was
showing between 6.5 and 7 knots for most of the day. I arrived in good shape at
Eire at around 4.30pm. I must have averaged
around 6 knots for the whole day.
The following calm "no wind" day at Eire
was spent stocking up with food on the boat. I set out on the
subsequent morning full of hope for a good day's sail to Dunkirk. As I motored along the channel out
of Eire harbour into the open lake, several of
the power boats travelling along side turned back when they reached the bigger
waves riding on the lake. I was driven to carry on as Brenda was due to
arrive in Montreal
in 3 days time and I was still 200 miles away !
The easterly wind was from the Buffalo
direction, which was exactly were I wanted to go. I eventually got the sails up
and calculated that if I tacked out into the middle of the lake I could make
good progress towards Dunkirk
on the opposite tack.
All went well on the tack towards the middle of the lake, I had the boat
being steered by the auto helm and it was going well, pushing 7 knots most of
the time. At 12 noon I changed tack and set a course for Dunkirk, a distance of 38 miles according to
my GPS reading. The boat went well for another 30 minutes when I realised the
sails were flapping. It was obvious that the wind had dropped, leaving me
still opposite Eire, but now I was out in the
middle of the lake !. I motored for the rest of
the day and decided that I wouldn't make it to Dunkirk were I had arranged to meet our
friend Mary Anne for an evening meal at 5.30pm. I had to make for Barcelona which was the
next nearest port. As soon as I arrived there I called the Dunkirk Yacht
Club in the hopes that they could find Mary Ann to give her message. As
soon as I started speaking the guy at the yacht club said "oh you're the
man with the English accent who I am told should be arriving here
to-night" Mary Anne had made contact before
me. Well Mary Anne, we eventually met up when you arrived at Barcelona for a meal. I
appreciated your efforts to travel over 100 miles for
a meal and a visit to the boat for just a couple of hours.
I had decided by this time that I could not spare the time to call in at
Sturgeon Point to call on Bill and his wife Joan, who had originally expressed
interest in spending a day or so on the boat, or
detour to Rochester
to see their daughter Lee.
I set sail across the North East end of Lake
Eire straight for the Welland
Canal. I had
learned by this time that I had to have a second crewmember before I would be
allowed to pass through the canal. I was told that it was possible to
find people who would come with you on payment of 50 or so Canadian
Dollars. Where will I find them on a quiet Sunday afternoon?
I left Barcelona
at 5.30am, alongside the local fishermen and set a course taken from my GPS
unit that would take me some 40 miles to Port Colbourne.
The weather was warm with clear skies and the water glassy calm with NO
WIND. I motored across the lake to Port Colbourne
with the tiller under the control of the auto-helm and spent the morning
stitching up the leatherette cover to one of four very serviceable seat
cushions I had found in the garbage bin at Fairport Harbour.
I made good time arriving at 1.45pm. The outboard was proving to be a reliable
workhorse.
The Welland Canal
I had just finished tying my boat to some pontoons when a larger yacht
arrived with 3 guys from Buffalo.
They asked if I was intending to go through the canal ?
I said I was but needed to find a crewmember before I could start. They
immediately offered for one of them to travel with me on my boat. This
was the start of a very enjoyable time with Mike a police detective, Neal who
was an optometrist and another Mike (?) who was a lawyer, all from the Buffalo area. They
were travelling through the canal for a 3-day yacht-racing regatta on Lake Ontario.
A great crew who kept feeding me with beers all the way
through the locks.
I had heard haunting stories of how long it would take to get through the
8 locks on the Welland
canal, anything from 14 hours to 36 hours depending on the commercial traffic
at any one time. We made the required call at telephone mounted on the
wall at the entrance of the canal and asked when we could pass through.
"We are fairly quiet at the moment so you can start now or wait until
to-morrow morning " So we started poste haste and to our surprise we found every lock open to
us on arrival. I tied up alongside Mike's boat who had
wooden scraperboards placed outside his normal plastic fenders to guard against
the rough concrete walls. This made my passage through the locks a relatively
easy time. All went well and we were through to the last lock entrance by
7.45pm. A record we thought. But out luck ran out as we had to wait and
watch three commercial boats come up through the last lock one at a time before
we were given the green light to enter the lock at 11.45pm !
Commercial boats paying anything up to 2 or 3 thousand Canadian Dollars to pass
through take precedence over small boats who only pay
80 Dollars.
We eventually reached the Ontario
exit from the canal at around midnight and had to find our way to Port
Dalhousie for the night. I had previously said I wouldn't plan to enter any
harbour at night especially on my own, after my experiences entering Dunkirk Island
in the Chesapeake Bay the previous year.
I find it impossible to gain any perception of depth when looking at navigation
lights in the black of night. However I had the Latitude and Longitude
for Port Dalhousie entered on my GPS and the combination of that and ship's
compass took me right to the entrance of the harbour, where I tied up two
berths away from Mike and company. We were all dog tired and VERY hungry.
I shall always remember the long detour walk we had to take along the riverbank
to cross the bridge, which gave access to the town, which was just across the
river from our mooring. We eventually collapsed in a Pizza place at
1.15am and I managed to eat enough Pizza to gain the energy to walk all the way
back to the boat... (Well I had been up since 4.30am the previous day ! ) Whilst I had my glasses on to read the menu (a
choice of Pizza, Pizza or Pizza, in that order !) Neal
took a professional but disdainful look at my battered spectacle case with it's
even grubbier cloth insert and gave me one of his firms new cloth
inserts. Thanks Neal, I still have it, but only just. More
of that later. I have some photographs guys, which are enclosed. Thanks,
it was a great time being with you.
Lake Ontario
I woke late the following morning and after breakfast cycled into town
several times to collect enough petrol to make the journey across Lake Ontario
directly for Scarborough Bluffs. Leaving at 11am with little or no
helpful winds I motored on a compass bearing taken from the GPS and arrived at
The Highland yacht Club at 6.45pm after a relatively uneventful passage.
I tied up at the end of a spine of finger berths and asked if I could stay the
night. The members there, many of who were originally from England were
all very interested to hear of my intended journey. I was an interesting
experience to have first one member and then another wander down to my end of
the berths to pass the time of day and to hear about our trip, and tell me
where they came from in England etc.
I called Les's house to tell him I had arrived. Brenda had just arrived
by train earlier that afternoon and came to the boat with Les that
evening. We had a pleasant two days at the Highland Yacht
Club. The members couldn't have been, more friendly and
helpful. I recall cycling to the local supermarket from the club up a
very steep hill and was just about to cycle back on my return when I was
"ambushed" by a guy with a station wagon who said "you're the
guy from England who is down
at the Highlands ? " "Yes I am" ,
"Well put your bag in the back I'll take it back for you, when I
return. I declined his offer as it was downhill on the way back and I had
just bought our lunch which we wanted to eat before Les returned with Joe
another mutual friend in education. When I returned, yet another member
came to talk to us. He commented on the fact that I had made the journey
to the shops on my bicycle as though it was quite a feat; and then said "I
bet you haven't been to the liquor store by bike, because that is in the
opposite direction and about twice as far, but I am willing to take you if you
want to go." I was very conscious of the fact that I didn't have any
beer on board whilst I was with the guys from Buffalo and felt it important to remedy that
state of affairs and in any case you you can't refuse
an offer of transport to buy some beer !. This man was
of German origin who had attended a private boarding school in Germany during
World War II. He told me an interesting story about his teacher of
English language, an Englishman, who for some reason had not returned to England at the
beginning of the war, but continued to live in the boarding school and teach
English to the students. He explained it by saying that the school, which had a
very high reputation, was set in the countryside and attended by children of
wealthy and conservative parents. The Nazi organisation left the school
alone to continue with its affairs and the English teacher continued to live at
the school and teach English to the end of the war. The school had a good
exchange program with Abbottsholme School
in Staffordshire, prior to the war. I know Abbottsholme
school, having taken hockey teams there when I used to work in Newcastle under Lyme.
What a coincidence to meet this man, who I guess is now in his 70's.
Les and Joe came to visit us on the boat after lunch. Joe was very
welcome as he was sporting a bottle of good wine. I am sorry we weren't
able to see you and the family again, Joe as you were going away for a two week
holiday in your own brand new power boat on the Trent-Severn waterway system.
We spent our last evening in Scarborough with our friend and fellow Liverpudlian Alan and his wife Una
who took us to a little restaurant in the outskirts of Toronto. Alan is a keen
dinghy sailor. I think he was some what surprised to learn that I
had sailed directly to Scarborough across Lake Ontario
from Port Dalhuise. ( Did you sail directly across
the lake from Dalhousie ?" "Yes I
did" "Hmmm") There was a time when I couldn't see any
coast line, but I always had sight of the CN Tower in Toronto. The GPS bearing had been true to
form and right on target. We had an enjoyable meal with them. I
will always recall Una wishing us well for the
journey and saying that she thought Brenda was very brave to make the trip and
joking that I was foolhardy (I think it was a joke Una ? We made it OK anyway)
The following morning we spoke to another Highland Yacht Club member who
had just returned from a journey on the Hudson River.
He gave us lots of encouragement, telling us what an enjoyable experience he
had.
Brenda and I set off from the Highland
into a fresh breeze that was blowing directly against us. We had not
planned for Brenda to travel on the big lakes, but I hadn't made to Kingston in time. I
was very apprehensive as to how Brenda would be on Lake Ontario.
She was thinking what I am doing here I'm supposed to be on an enjoyable holiday ! In the event she took some seasick
tablets and managed not to be sick. (sorry.... anti
seasick tablets ! ) There were 2 to 3 foot waves on our quarter which rocked
and slowed us down slightly but we eventually made it that evening to Newcastle. We
berthed and made a brief acquaintance with Hans and Eva from Toronto moored next to our berth. They have
been living in Canada
for 20 years or more. Hans is Dutch and Eva came from Poland with her
parents when she was 11 years old.
We bid farewell to Hans and Eva telling them that we were aiming for Cobourg and casually said we might see you there. We
arrived at Cobourg at about 3.30 pm after motoring
all day as the wind was right on our nose all day. We very surprised to
see Hans and Eva arrive half an hour after us. They said that they had
left just 20 minutes after us and had been trying to catch up with us all day.
We couldn't understand why they hadn't caught us as they had a slightly bigger
and newer boat than ours with a much bigger inboard engine. Our outboard engine
is going up in my estimation. We spent the rest of the afternoon
shopping for supplies and walking around the town with Hans and Eva who were
intent on showing us a particular type of Canadian architecture. I don't think
we ever did see a complete road of the same type that Eva had remembered from a
previous visit, but it was an enjoyable walk and we had interesting
conversations. We enjoyed our joint barbecue that evening and planned to
travel together to the next port of call at the entrance to the Murray canal that would take us in from the open lake in
the general direction of Kingston
which was some days travel away.
Hans and Eva knew of a mooring on the government wharf at Presquile Point. A small stone quay which
is at the end of a shallow channel away from the main route to the Murray canal.
Both boats arrived safely and we had a joint meal in their boat. The quay was
quite remote with a couple of houses nearby and we were sat talking and
discussing whether anyone would come to collect a mooring fee from us. Just at
that moment a guy came shooting across the water from the opposite shore in a
small open boat with a high powered outboard. He tied up alongside the
wharf and said "good evening I am the harbour master and I've come to
collect the mooring fees" I said "we
have just been talking about you and whether you would turn up " I thought
I detected an English accent and said "you weren't born in Canada were
you?" He made an evading sort of joke answer pretending I thought to
put on a London
cockney accent. " I Reckon you were born within 50 miles of London " No" he
said "I come from Mansfield" Mansfield is five miles
from Ravenshead. He was as astonished as we were when
we told him that we came from Ravenshead. We
spent a good while chatting. He was interested to hear about local
activities and changes that were taking place in the Mansfield area. He signed our receipt
with his old Mansfield
address of 21 years ago and disappeared as quickly as he came back to the small
marina he owned on the opposite shore.
On our return to our boat an hour after dusk. I found that
I had left a cabin light on and the cabin covers open. The inside of the
boat had a haze of mosquitoes swarming around the light. I closed the
covers and blasted the cabin with 'Raid' several times during the next 15
minutes so that we could sleep in a mosquito free area. We eventually got to
bed after sweeping up dozens of dead insects that evening and more the
following morning. Why do I always have to be reminded of the obvious,
the hard way !
Our trip with Hans and Eva through the Murray canal was uneventful. We finished up
being the lead boat to some half dozen boats who trailed after us in single
file through this canal which is unimpeded by locks, but had several swing
bridges to negotiate. Payment to the bridges keepers was made by
depositing a couple of dollars into a small bag held out by the keepers on the
end of a long stick, as we passed through. Hans later admitted he was
quite amused to see me doing my washing in a bucket whilst we were passing
through the canal, leaving the tiller under the care of the Auto-helm. He took
it as an indication that I was capable and determined enough to complete the
journey ahead. What an intelligent chap you are Hans !
On leaving the canal. We both
raised our sails to take advantage of the light following wind and for part of
the day were able to proceed without the motor running. Hans took the lead at
the end of the day and I followed him into the Marina at Deseronto
were we docked for the night. We also refuelled and Hans attempted to get his
toilet holding tank sucked out. After 20 minutes we decided that the
antiquated pump mechanism wasn't achieving anything and gave up. The
general state of the Marina
facilities was unclean. Needless to say we didn't use their toilets.
The following morning we said goodbye to Hans and Eva who had to make the
return journey back to Toronto.
I am enclosing some photographs for you, Hans and Eva, of your Yacht under full
sail and others of you departing from Deseronto.
Brenda and I left half an hour later in a slight early morning mist,
which masked the true identity of the coastline 1 mile opposite. I set a course
in an easterly direction and followed the buoys marking the channel.
After half an hour I checked the GPS bearing with a point on the chart which
was at the head of the opening leading south towards Picton.
I couldn't reconcile the chart reading with the GPS reading, and the depth of
water seemed to be getting shallower ? In the mist
about 200 yards ahead we could see a small boat. I proceeded with caution and
found a guy sat in his boat in the middle of the channel fishing. I asked
if the bend in the coastline that revealed itself when we got to him, was the
way down to Picton. "No, this is the channel up
to Napanee ( dead end in
terms of a waterway) you should have come straight out of the Marina and headed
due south" What I hadn't realised with focusing on entering the
harbour the previous evening was that we had already reached the turning south
by the marina, and had just not seen it in the early morning mist. I was
amused by that little experience. I was almost like a story from
someone's dream of a guy lost and finding that people turned up at just the
right moment to offer advice as to were you should be.... and how did he knew
that we had come out of the marina ? Then I remembered the group of local
fishermen who had set off from the marina about an hour before whilst we were
still having breakfast. From then onwards I paid even more attention to
the GPS readings and the Lat. and Long on the Chart as we were in relatively
narrow waterways on a small scale chart, that lacked
detailed information. We eventually passed Picton
and sailed on to the new larger scale charts of the approaches to Kingston where we arrived
with the help of a favourable following wind at around 5pm.
Kingston was a busy
place with powerboats churning the water all day. Boats were arriving
from the Rideau waterway system, some from the Eire
canal entrance across Lake Ontario at Oswego and
others from the 1000 Island area between Kingston
and Montreal.
We spent an enjoyable evening and treated ourselves to eating out in the
town. The following morning I put the mast hinge that I had designed to
the test, on a not too calm waterfront. Everything went according to
plan, with lots of curious and interested looks from Power boaters whose offers
of help were politely refused. I wanted to prove that I could manage on my
own. Well I did, but it took me 3 hours to get all the wires
disconnected, and wrapped away, the mast, the mast down, lifted forward and
stowed between the bow rail and the "patent" roller type support I
had designed for the stern.
We spent the remainder of a very hot day walking around Kingston
and found our way to a museum about the history of the Great
Lakes development as transportation system. We got back in time to hear an excellent concert on the lawns by
the harbour front from the Kingston Scottish Bagpipe band. Most of the
restaurants were full that evening and we finished up sitting in a pavement
situation outside a restaurant. The meal started off OK but then the
temperature dropped dramatically and the wind got up. We beat a hasty path for
the boat and settled in for the night.
The Rideau
Waterway
We knew from reading the tourist guide that the road lifting bridge that
allowed access to the Start of the Rideau Waterway
lifted on the hour. We scrambled to get there and arrived 1 minute after
9 am. The bridge failed to rise despite me sounding the required blasts
on an air horn. After waiting what seemed like an eternity, I spied the
bridge operator walking down the side of the bridge. "You can get under
the approach bridge on the other side of the island" Sure enough we got
through with out any trouble. Why didn't the guidebook tell us about that
route? Brenda's original concept of the Rideau Canal was based on the English canals
built for the industrial narrow boats of the 19th century. We were both
surprised when we got the charts to find that the "canal" was in fact
a series of lakes and rivers that had been linked to form a commercial route
for trade between Ottawa and Kingston. Some of the lakes were a mile
across and several miles long. In 1826 Colonel John By
of Royal Engineers was sent out from London
to design and build the water way system. It was built in the aftermath of the
1812 war to provide a safe supply route, which avoided passage near American
territory.
The waterway is 120 miles long with 45 locks. 14 locks up from Kingston
rising a total of 50 metres to Newboro and 31 locks
down lowering boats a total of 83 metres to the Ottawa River. The whole system
was surveyed, designed and built in an astonishingly short period, being
completed by 1832 with the labour of thousands of Irish immigrants and French
Canadians who worked in very rough bush and rocky swamp conditions, which were
infected by malaria mosquitoes. John By was called back to London after he had
completed the system where he was tried on allegations of misappropriation of
funds. He was acquitted and found not guilty on all counts, but it ruined
his career in the Army.
We passed through some beautiful countryside and enjoyed brilliant
sunshine throughout our journey through the Rideau,
which lasted approximately 6 days. We learned that because I was later passing
through the Richelieu river canal system the cheapest fee payment method, was
to buy a seasons ticket for about 180 Canadian Dollars (£90 ?)
which would have given us access to all the canals and water ways in the
Trent-Severn system, (as opposed to the Severn-Trent waterway in the UK) which
would have given access into Lake Superior.
We found ourselves in the first lock with Paul and Jo from Portsmouth England
who were travelling in their large Prout Catamaran.
Paul had retired a couple of years ago from British Airways where he was an
airline pilot. His wife Jo had also worked for the airline as a
stewardess. They were travelling with their friends Bob and Hilda from Florida who were on their 38(?) foot cutter. We met them from time
to time on our way through the waterway.
On our second day on the waterway we needed to get food supplies in and
on the strength of instructions from a local lady at one of the locks we aimed
for Portland,
where we had our main mishap. The approaches to Portland were shown on an enlarged insert on
the chart. The change of scale caused us to misjudge the relative
positions of the town harbour and a series of commercial buildings nearby. We
aimed for the commercial building only to find that we had aimed for a ledge 4
feet under the water. The boat came to a sudden halt accompanied by a subdued
grating sound from the keel. Fortunately I had kept a long plank of 6 x 2
timber on the deck from when I lowered the mast before
the hinge was constructed. I untied this and tied it to a long line in case I
lost it over side. Fortunately the water was very clear and I was able to
see the rock ledge that we had hit. I put the outboard motor into reverse
with the tiller fixed in line with the keel and gave the rock a good
push. Success, the boat backed off immediately, and we arrived in Portland none the worse
for the experience. It was there that we met a very pleasant man in his
mid eighties, who was still acting as the harbour master collecting fees.
After talking to him for some time we soon realised that he was doing the job
to help keep his interest in life going. He had at one time owned most of
the harbour front and was well known in the town. I think it was the mayor who
said to him a few years back that they couldn't find anybody to take on the job
of harbour master and would he be interested in
helping out... and he is still doing it. "It's a summertime job you
know. I go to Florida now as I can't stand the frozen winters up here since I
had my heart operation " He told us several interesting tales of
winter time activities; cutting holes through the ice on the lake for fishing
and driving a 2 ton fuel truck out over the ice to the smaller islands.
We met a variety of boats on the journey including some very high-speed
two person water scooters powered by 100 hp water pump jets. These seemed
capable of speeds in excess of 40 miles an hour. There were also double decker holiday caravan type constructions floating on two
large pontoons. These were available on hire and all seemed to be filled to
capacity with between 10 and 12 people, many of whom demonstrated little
navigational ability. One of them came out of a lock between 6 boats
waiting to enter. The guy was heading straight for 3 of them. People started
shouting warnings to him. This produced a panic reaction in which he went on to
full throttle and turned even nearer to the boats. I think he had meant
to go into reverse to back off. Too late. The
fenders were already rubbing against the boats and he lost steering control.
Fortunately there were sufficient people on each boat to fend the vessel off as
it careered by, saving thousands of potential damage.
Our journey to Smiths
Falls was through very
shallow twisting channels passing through swampy areas. We managed to touch
bottom a couple of times (4 feet draft) despite being in the buoyed channel. At
one point the three bladed propeller on the side of the keel which drove the speedo cable of the mileometer in
the cockpit, got fouled up with weed and stopped
the unit working. Before I put the boat in the water in Lake Eire,
I had spent a whole day forming a new blade on the propeller in fibreglass and
getting the clock to work. I wanted to record the mileage for the whole
journey, so decided to clear the weed off. Slipping into the water feet
first up to my armpits I was just able to reach down to the propeller with my
feet and clear the weeds away.
At the end of the following day we reached Smiths Falls
and moored alongside Paul and Jo and Bob and Hilda, who had arrived earlier in
the day.
We were surprised and pleased to see alongside the canal in the middle of
Smiths Falls,
that a group of teenage boys and girls from the Officer Training Corps attached
to Belfast University
in Northern Ireland
were working on a project associated with the drugs awareness programme in town.
They were busy repainting an original Royal Canadian Air Force World War II
fighter plane, which was mounted as a memorial, and were also digging out an
area alongside that was to be a children's playground. I had a short chat
with some of the them and their army sergeant leader
who told me that the following week they would be joined by groups from other UK university
based OTC's, to take part in a canoe race from one
end of the Rideau waterway to the other. Many
years ago I spent some time as a swimmer canoeist in the Royal Marines and I
said that I thought that was a very tough assignment for 17 year olds. It
was then explained that each OTC would enter a team of 10 of boys and girls who
would paddle their team canoe as one relay team non-stop from one end to the
other. Who said the youngsters of to-day lack drive and
determination? At the end of the race, prizes would be awarded at Smiths Falls;
the completed recreation area would be formally handed over to the towns people of Smiths
Falls. The event
would include a commemorative fly past by Royal Canadian Air Force planes.
I felt the need to let people know that we were British and had decided
to fly the only flag I had which was the Union flag alongside the Canadian flag
which had been given to us by Hans and Eva. Paul very politely and kindly
explained that strictly I couldn't be allowed to fly the Union flag unless I
had the Queen on board, and even if she was, it should be mounted on a Jack
Staff at the bow of the boat. (Hence the term Union Jack) He didn't even
bother to look to see if the Queen was on board our boat, but kindly offered to
give me his old reserve "Red Duster" as substitute. Thanks Paul
that flag generated several curious enquiries and enjoyable conversations with
American boaters during the remainder of the journey. The majority of Americans
mistook us for Canadians and were most surprised to find that a Brit. had got a
boat in American waters...
We all had a good meal together that evening in a local Chinese buffet where
we ate as much as we wanted for a fixed price.
We had originally passed Paul and Jo in their Catamaran near Kingston whilst they were completing a repair to a sheered
part of their steering gear, with the help of a local marine engineering
company in Kingston.
A linkage bar measuring one and a half inches wide had a one inch diameter hole
drilled through it for a pivot, leaving a only a quarter of an inch of material
either side of the pivot hole.... who would design something like that, to
withstand a pounding from the sea ?! Whilst completing the repair to the
steering mechanism, Paul had inspected the gear transmission oil level and was
concerned to find small bits of metal in the oil. By the time he had
reached Smiths Falls he decided that the gears and
bearings would have to be dismantled and inspected with a view to cleaning and
replacement before he completed his journey. He had hoped to get a lift
out in Montreal, and ask friends who were due to
join him from England
to bring the appropriate parts with them for fitting. We all learned
after Paul had spoken to his friends in London
that British Airways was in dispute with staff over a change in catering
arrangements. Travel agents were transferring holiday bookings to alternative
airlines to avoid disappointment for their customers. His friends had
tried over 30 travel agents, none of whom could secure return flights to Canada in the
August period. We subsequently heard from you Jo, when we returned home
that a drive shaft bearing had sheared and you had it repaired in Montreal.
We left Paul and Bob who were going to spend more time in Smiths Falls
and "sped" on our way at 5 knots, towards Ottawa. We stopped at Merrickville, which was the garrison town, and
administration centre set up by John By when the waterway was
constructed. It still has several original stone blockhouse type
buildings which now serve as museum display centres depicting the period of
construction.
Throughout the whole of our journey along the Rideau
waterway, we were met by smartly uniformed lock keepers who were most pleasant
and helpful in minimising what could have been very traumatic experiences when
passing through each lock alongside a host of other travellers and the usual
host of holiday-makers. At Jones
Falls the French speaking
lock keeper even entertained us all by singing a French song to his own
accompaniment on an accordion as we slowly rose up out of the depths of the
lock basin. He received a spontaneous round of applause from the boaters and
onlookers. I was grateful for the way in which they organised our passage
through sections. When the locks were within a mile or two of each other, they
would ask us all whether we were intending to travel directly to the next lock.
They always phoned to the next lock keeper to give him numbers in the current
group passing through. The power boaters always sped away from us after a
lock was opened often exceeding the speed limit, only to find that the next
lock keeper would keep his lock gate open for us to arrive at our sedately
speed of 6 knots. Shades of the hare and the tortoise!
As we approached Ottawa
the countryside became less dramatic in its beauty. The last days travel took
us past many modern and spacious houses with manicured lawns sweeping down to
the waterside, most of which had a power boat moored adjacent to the property
and the occasional seaplane. As English folk we did notice the absence of
colour that we normal expect to see in an English garden. Either there is
no interest in cultivating borders of flowering
plants and shrubs, or such plants would not survive the severe winters of the
region. Most people had the Canadian flag flying on their property. You will
rarely find the English flag flying from gardens in the UK.
Along the immediate approaches to Ottawa
we were accompanied by holidaymakers taking rides in 60-seater type launches,
all of who seemed intent on waving to us as they passed by. The mooring
facilities were sited very conveniently in the middle of Ottawa. We took the opportunity of traversing
down the 8 lock staircase into the Ottawa River opposite the Canadian House of
Parliament prior to visiting the many attractions of Canada's
Capital City. I manage to open my
spectacle case upside down whilst stepping back onto the boat from the lock and
out fell my reading glasses straight through a 3 inches gap into 12 feet of
water. I had two strong magnets... perhaps I could get them out? Well as
my reserve pair proved to be non-magnetic, we spent the afternoon sightseeing
around the Ottawa.
Neal, you will be interested to know that I still have the soft cloth
insert... and I'm saving up to replace the battered case!
On the morning before we set off down the Ottawa
River I wanted to buy some replacement spark plugs for the
outboard engine as I was down to my last pair of unused ones. I didn't
want to get stuck in the middle of the flowing Ottawa with an outboard that refused to start
because all my plugs were sooted up. The
chances of getting a marine type of spark plug in a large city were pretty slim
and as luck would have it that this particular day was the first time they had
decided to have a public holiday named after Col. John By (over two hundred
years after he built the waterway). Despite lots of useful suggestions
from the lock keepers in Ottawa,
which sent me cycling all around the city, getting caught up in the bagpipe
band parade that was making a ceremonial march to the Parliament House; all the
shops and stores were closed. I gave up the search and hoped that our
existing plugs that I had cleaned would last a little longer. Needless to say
we could have spent more time in Ottawa, but
this was our second visit there and Brenda's return flight date from Montreal made us move on,
on the second day.
The Ottawa
River
Navigation from Cleveland
to the end of the Rideau waterway had been quite
positive in that we had been able to identify all the buoys shown on our charts
that we chose to use as markers along our voyage. Travelling down the Ottawa river soon made us
realise that the Canadian authorities don't maintain all the buoys shown on the
charts issued by the Canadian Hydrographic
Service. There was one particular section that I recall when we wanted to
enter Hudson
for a night's mooring. The approach showed a stone tower about a mile up
stream on the opposite side of the river to Hudson. This we couldn't fail to miss,
but our chart showed that between the tower and a natural approach line to Hudson on the opposite
bank, there was an underwater mound covered by only 3 feet of water, marked by
a buoy. Despite careful searching in good light, we couldn't find this
buoy. I made good use of my GPS at this point and made absolutely sure
that we had passed the underwater mound before crossing towards the harbour at Hudson.
We entered the local yacht club harbour and asked if we could stay the
night, only to be greeted by an Essex man who had lived in Canada since
the 50's. We were made to feel very welcome and spent a pleasant evening
sheltered from the turbulence of the river. He confirmed that several
buoys in this immediate area had been removed by the navigation authorities and
marked our charts accordingly.
The following day found us approaching the Carrillon
lock alongside the hydroelectric power station. This single lock lowered us 67
feet down to the lower section of the Ottawa River
on the lower side of the power station turbines. It is the second biggest
lock fall in the world. Our experience to date from passing through the Rideau locks was to hold a loop of our bow and stern ropes
around a vertical plastic covered hawser and slide them up or down the 6 to 10
feet change in the height of water in the lock. The idea of doing this
for a drop of 67 feet whilst coping with any movement of the boat caused by the
swirl of water leaving the lock was daunting. In the event the passage
through was made very easy for us in that we were able to tie up to a floating
platform inside the lock which moved up and down with the water in a very sedate
manner.
We eventually arrived at Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue two days before Brenda
was due to fly home. (Sigh of relief!) We hired a car for a couple of
days and spent a day in Montreal sightseeing, bought a spare pair of reading
glasses for $20 (Canadian) (can you beat that price Neal?) and listening to the
jazz bands playing around the city centre as part of an annual concert. I
eventually tracked down the navigation publications stockists store in the old
dock area of Montreal and bought charts for the St Lawrence Seaway for the next days
journey I was to make on my own. The man working there was a Scot who had
originally come over to open this publication store as a branch of Kelvin
Hughes of London. The company was bought by Smiths Industries is now separate
from the London
company. He was pleased to talk to some British folk. I asked if he would
like to live back in the UK.
He said he was torn in that he missed 'the old country", but now had
children who were married, one to girl whose family had Scottish connections
and the other to girl from a family originating from another European
country. They had all been born and grown up in Canada, so he felt he couldn't return to live
back in Scotland,
but enjoyed returning for visits to his relatives. We visited several of the
many historic attractions, including the old harbour which had a visiting
Italian battleship moored alongside.
On the morning of Brenda's departure we visited an old stone building
alongside the Lachine canal which was the original
trading post building for the Montreal
fur Trading company. This building had a most
interesting exhibition which showed how the original trading and hunting routes
right across Canada all lead back to Montreal, where the fur were dispatched to
Europe to meet the very attractive market for ladies clothing during the late
1800's and early 1900's. It also showed the trapping routes of hunters working
for the Hudson Bay Company. Declining trade and the reduction in the
number of beavers etc being trapped, lead to the eventual amalgamation of the
two companies.
We travelled to Mirabel Airport and Brenda left on her Flight back to London.
That evening I studied the newly acquired Charts for the St Lawrence
Seaway passed the La Chine Rapids to Montreal
Harbour and on to the mouth of the Richelieu River
which flows from Lake Champlain in Vermont.
The Saint
Lawrence Seaway
I was very much aware that the river current would be a factor to
consider in this stage of the journey. The route I was to take passed
through the commercial canal that by-passed the Lachine Rapids and re-entered
the St Lawrence river half a mile down stream from Montreal Harbour. The current flowing passed the
harbour was shown as 5 knots. Too fast for me to contemplate
a journey up stream to try and enter the harbour. I would have to find
an alternative, preferably on the right-hand bank of the river downstream from Montreal, but
where? Perhaps I can ask other boaters or the lock keepers on the way
through. I saw a note on the chart adjacent to the seaway above Montreal that said see
note 3 regarding speeds. Note 3 was at the foot
of the chart I read quickly only to find that it was warning regarding the
speed (of the current?). It said that between one particular buoy and another
buoy the speed was 12 knots and from the second buoy to the entrance of the
canal the speed was 5 knots. I could only achieve 6 knots and I was most
concerned that if I missed the turning for the canal entrance I hadn't got a
second chance of getting back up stream. Why hadn't any of the people I
spoke to mentioned this potential danger? I was very tired and decided to
turn in and worry think more about it to-morrow.
I woke up early at around 5.30am took a second look at the chart in day light
and re-read the notice which actually said that the maximum speed of boats
between the said buoys were 12 and 5 knots respectively.. I breathed a sigh of
relief!
Back to navigating on my own. I had
spent an hour the previous evening entering some 20 odd waypoints into my GPS
to help with direction, speed and progress throughout the day.
I left Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue around 8 am and made a cautious but safe
approach to a narrow channel formed out of two artificial revetment walls built
up to just above water level that gave a clear passage way through a shallow
section, to the main Seaway. Once I joined the Seaway I was soon
travelling at speed in the current. The speedometer on the boat showed
the speed through the water to be the usual 6.5 knots, whilst the GPS recorded
speed over the ground as something in excess of 10 knots. I took the
turning into the channel leading to the canal and was soon at the receiving bay
where several boats were moored awaiting the green light that indicated the
lock was open. I approached the mooring pontoon under power with a
following wind. Stopping was going to be tricky. In the event the owners
of a larger yacht who had overtaken me half an hour before were already tied up
and they came to help, taking ropes whilst I concentrated on reversing the
outboard to stop the boat just at the right time. You always have to
concentrate more in these moments. If you stop the boat too early you lose way,
can't steer the boat and run the risk of drifting to where you don't want to
go. If you leave it too late you finish up with collisions and repair bills to
pay.
I asked my helpers if they knew where I could moor for the night. I had asked the right person and found that I had met Jacques and
Monique, who were on the last day of their return journey from a 4 week sailing
holiday. Jacques was the commodore of the Montreal yacht club and offered a berth at
his club, which was just downstream from the exit from the canal. He called the
club on his mobile phone and booked a berth for me. I was very grateful.
On this occasion I was able to offer some beers to them as we travelled through
the canal locks. Navigating into their club berths was straightforward.
I had a pleasant evening at the club berth and prepared for the journey down
the main section of the Seaway to Sorel.
The passage down to Sorel was interesting, with
several wharf-side activities around sea going container ships etc. on the
Montreal bank.
The Richelieu River
I entered the narrow mouth of the Richelieu
to find that the water was rougher than the main seaway. I was met head
on by a four high powered boats racing towards me at between 30 and 40 miles an
hour. The wake from these and other power boats proved to a
be a real nuisance throughout most of the journey to the Cannbaly basin which is the start of the canalised section
of the Richellieu. Power boaters all seem to be
one type of character; arrogant, under 40 years old
and have no consideration of others around them. All except you of course Joe !
I eventually arrived late in the evening at the Saint Ours Lock and
moored alongside the lock wall after passing up through the lock. I had a
pleasant evening talking to a young couple who were starting out from Montreal on a 3 weeks holiday on Lake
Champlain. They also had a hinged mast, the owner was very
interested in my roller type mast support at the stern and went on his way
determined to make one himself for the next season, which would save him having
to lift the whole mast forward after detaching it from the hinge.
During the following day it rained continually all morning. I had to stop
for petrol and was searching for a marina shown to be on the right bank.
I came across a marina on the left bank and tied alongside the fuel jetty.
There was only one pump in sight for Diesel fuel. At that moment a woman
came along the 50 yards long jetty and said that they didn't have any gas as
the Oil Company had taken the pump away. I only had 2 gallons left
(enough for 2 hours plus) and was loathed to move any further as marinas and
landing points were few and far between on this river. I explained that I
couldn't go any further because I had insufficient fuel. We were both
getting soaked through by the very heavy rain. The woman offered to take me to
a gas station in her car. I took 3 cans (5 gallons capacity) and we drove
3 miles to a nearby gas station. She explained that her husband (a German) had
sold the marina through a mortgage arrangement to another man a year ago. This
man had ceased paying the mortgage and hadn't paid his fuel bill for 2 months,
hence the removal of the pump. They had returned from a retirement sailing trip
in the Caribbean to re-possess the Marina
and hoped to re-sell it as soon as possible. I had the impression
their chances weren't too high as the season was drawing to an end and they
thought the local economy was weak. I got back to the boat
thoroughly soaked. It was still raining hard. My hair was dripping water
on to my glasses making it almost impossible to read the chart. Condensation
had got into my binoculars blurring my vision of the buoying arrangements for a
mid river island ahead which carried a rail bridge. The auto helm got
condensation under the liquid crystal display lens and eventually packed up.
This was a major inconvenience in that I couldn't do anything that involved
letting go of the tiller. The next 15 minutes were rather dramatic as I
couldn't see or use my navigation aids effectively. I eventually found that I
could counteract the side thrust effect of the outboard prop on the boat by
swinging the motor slightly out of line with the keel. This gave me
periods of about one or two minutes when I could dive into the cabin for food
and drink without the boat aiming towards one of the river banks. I took the
unit apart (well what good is a guarantee when your in the middle of nowhere
with the nearest agent about 1000 miles away and you need it fixing NOW.)
The lens had not been sealed properly in the casing, which allowed water to
leak in and wet the LCD unit which no doubt shorted the whole circuit. I
sealed the lens with bathroom sealant and let the warm sun of the next day
thoroughly dry out the LCD before assembling it again. It worked again! A big blessing. The remainder of the trip along the Richelieu was uneventful.
Lake Champalin
I arrived at the US
border marina at Rouses Point on Lake Champlain.
I moored alongside just before it started to rain and rain and RAIN at 45
degrees. The second day of really bad weather I had experienced in 10 weeks of
sailing. I contacted Bob and his wife Sue who lived about one and
half-hours away to let them know I was in Vermont. The weather was so uncertain
I didn't know whether to take up his offer to come and collect me or get the
mast raised ready for sailing on the lake. The following morning it was raining
very heavily with a southerly wind blowing in the opposite direction to what I
needed to travel to Burlington.
I called Bob and he kindly collected me and I enjoyed the rest of that day and
night with his family. The following morning was bright and sunny with a
northerly wind blowing. Just what I wanted.
Bob and I set out for the yacht and he volunteered to stay and help me raise
the mast, which we achieved by 1pm. Bob left me at that point so that he
could attend an education in-service training course.
It was 3pm by the time I had finally rigged the boat out with both sails
attached. Too late to make any significant progress
that day.
The following morning I set out at 8.15am for Burlington some 40 miles distance. The
weather was cloudy but dry. The wind was against me and the waves between 2 and
3 feet high. There were buoyed channels, too many islands and rocky reefs in
this northern section of the lake to allow any significant tacking so I had yet
another non sailing day and motored down to Burlington ploughing into the waves for most
of the way and arrived around 5.30pm. I spent some time chatting to a
retired New York Police detective and his wife who was making his first long
trip up from Tarrytown in a motor
launch. He had just bought the boat complete with a GPS system which he
wasn't quite sure how to use.... Once a teacher always
a teacher. It wasn't long before I was trying to show him the
intricacies of Lat. and Long., Waypoints and planned routes.
The next day was a Saturday; the weather was fine with a good breeze
blowing. As Bob was keen to go sailing, I called him as arranged and he and Sue
came down to Burlington,
arriving around 10.30am. We set off in good style towards the centre of
the lake with a southerly wind blowing and lots of other yachts out
sailing. Bob had taken the helm and was obviously enjoying the surge of
power coming from the sails........ and then we lost
the wind, out in the middle of the lake! That was the end of the days
sailing. Back to the motor and into Burlington,
where fortunately Bob and Sue had their bicycles. We enjoyed the rest of
the day cycling along the lakeside cycle path and swimming in the lake.
Bob and Sue left that evening around 8pm. At 9 PM there was the most
violent thunder and lightening storm and high wind I have experienced for some
years. The marina people were running around all the boat moorings to check
that all boats were really secure. The rain was coming down so fast that a
two-inch high channel on the deck filled with water and overflowed into the
cabin because the water couldn't run out of the open ends quickly enough.
Fortunately the rain eased off after 20 minutes.
Thanks for your hospitality Bob and Sue I enclose a photograph, taken of
you sat in the boat at Burlington.
The following morning I prepared to travel south down the lake thinking I
would make about a 30-mile passage.
First I needed fuel. Whilst I was paying for fuel with my credit card the
owner asked me what the initial A stood for. "Alan".
"Really" he said, starting to look excited. "Hey Alan, come over
and meet your English name sake" A guy aged about 35 came over and I had a
chat with him. He is one of a family group of Paul's who live
in the Burlington
area. His great grandfather moved to Burlington
about 1900 from Philadelphia.
Apparently he was an entrepreneurial designer who had started up several
successful manufacturing businesses in the area during the 1930's
. Alan Paul lives just out of Burlington on an old farm where he has 7
wooden boats which are either awaiting or are already in the course of
renovation.
I finally set sail with a 30-mph southerly wind behind me and waves
between 3 and 4 feet high. I set the jib and mainsail out "wing on
wing" and had the most exciting sail of the journey. The speedometer was
reading 8 knots ! for long
periods. We had proved that it was reading slow
at speeds up to 5 knots. This was amazing. I had the constant
threat that the 3 feet high waves of water might enter rear of the cockpit
through the lower section of the outboard mounting, but they never actually
did.
I left Burlington at around 10.45am and
arrived at Crown Point
at the southern end of the lake around 4.pm having travelled approximately 40
miles in 5 hours. (8 Knots?).
Unfortunately I had to take the mast down again the next morning in
preparation for the next stage of the journey through the Champlain canal and
the upper reaches of the Hudson River to a point below Albany.
I had an early morning start before the heat of the day came up, in which
I changed the gear drive shaft oil. The maintenance instructions said
change once a season or after 100 hours of use. I was well over that limit by
now, but I was pleased to see that there was no deposit in the oil and the
magnetic drain plug had no whiskers of metal attached to it.
I was in the middle of coiling wires and tying ropes around the mast,
when a lady bid me good morning and said, " I hear you're English"
she wanted to chat forever and I politely excused myself to get on with work.
"Oh my husband was teacher I'm sure he would like to talk to you later"
The husband, who was restoring his boat, did come over and offered to lend a
hand, which I declined, because I hate to have people who have offered to help
standing around with me unable to offer any real task for them. I agreed
to chat with him when I had tied everything away. He was a retired
Industrial Arts teacher from Massachusetts.
He showed me where there were several marinas and safe anchorages along the
upper reaches of the Hudson.
I had a sandwich and a Coke with them and prepared to leave.
I set off at 2pm with the mast and shrouds stowed away and the intention
of getting as far as possible that evening towards the first lock of the
Champlain canal leading to the Hudson river.
At 7.30pm I moored at marina in a valley section and made myself a meal. Adjacent
to me were a couple who had bought a 15 berth double decked cruise boat, on
which they offered 6 day return cruises from Albany, either up to Lake
Champlain, along the Eire Canal to Oswego or down the Hudson to New York.
This was their 3rd year of operation and they were pleased with how it was
going. There was a railway track on the opposite bank and you could hear
the train coming throughout the night from miles away as they sounded their
whistles en-route. This is the sound of the American mid west.
The Champlain Canal
I set off the next morning at 7am through an early morning mist and made
it to the first lock of the Champlain canal. I paid for a two-day passage and
motored through unexciting country rarely seeing anyone except for two or three
boats through out the whole day. At the end of two days I arrived at Fort Edward
where I joined the canalised section of the Hudson River.
The mooring at Fort
Edward was a pleasant
spot opposite a grassed area of town behind some buildings along the high Street.
I was preparing a meal and heard the distant sound of a lone set of bagpipes.
It reminded me of similar experience outside Oban
several years ago. Soon there was a complete bagpipe band with side and
big bass drum and a rehearsal in full swing about 50 yards away from the
boat. Very pleasant whilst eating my meal.
I talked to another boater who knew the New York
section of the Hudson
and he showed me where there is a marina right in the City centre opposite the
Twin Trade buildings.
The Hudson
River
I finally got four new spark plugs, which would be in reserve for the
journey along the New Jersey Atlantic coast.
I made it to Waterford
the next day and passed through the Federal Lock before mooring for the evening
at a free berth provided by the town council. The Hudson is tidal below this point. It
was planned that I call Mike when I arrived near to him. I eventually contacted
him late on the evening I arrived and he arranged to pick me up from where ever
I was going to be the following evening, probably somewhere down stream of the
last low bridge that prevented me from raising the mast again.
The following morning was very wet and I didn't relish the idea of
travelling down stream to find perhaps an expensive berth, where I would not
raise the mast if it were still raining. I stayed put at the free
mooring, shopped for food and had my first haircut for 9 weeks. It was
possible to remove the top washboard at the entrance to the cabin without
undoing the padlock. The hasp and staple was sited across the top corner
of the entrance and not very satisfactory. I decide to fix it centrally
to the hatch cover and fix the lifting hatch cover with two bolts into the deck
combing. A more secure arrangement, but if people are really intent on entering
a boat they will break what ever is necessary to get in. Whilst I was working
on the padlock fixing I was suddenly aware of someone shouting
"hello". It was the couple with the double decked hire cruise boat, I had been with 3 days previously. They had
finished their own private holiday and were heading into the Eire Canal
lock, which also joins the Hudson at Waterford. They
were taking a small group on a 4-day cruise. There was no time to talk. The
lock gate had just opened for them to enter the Eire
canal.
Mike came to collect me and insisted that I stay the night with his
family. I hadn't left the boat over night before and the berth was
isolated and appeared to be a favourite play area for the local youngsters who
had nothing else to do. There was no other boat moored there at the time I was
leaving. I managed to use the substantial bicycle chain that came with
the $12 bicycle to secure the boat to the pontoon and the bicycle to the
boat. If the local youth decide to untie the mooring ropes, the boat
wouldn't float away.
It was good talking to Mike and hearing about his new 5-year education
project. I met his family and soon realise how much he was enjoying his
3-year-old boy Chi (?) Chi came down from a sleep with his Mum just as I
arrived and was slightly shy and wouldn't speak to me at first. Ten minutes
later he had recovered and Chi and I had lots of conversations about his toys
and I was asked questions to explain the why and the what
of most of what I said and did. He is obviously a bright and sensitive
little guy. It was a delight to see that the family was so happy with
their new family member. Thanks to you Mike and your family for the
hospitality. I greatly enjoyed my overnight stay.
The next day was fine and sunny so I travelled down stream to the Albany
Yacht Club arriving around 2pm. I spent the afternoon erecting the mast.
Before raising the mast I was determined to stop the noise from the mast. The
VHF radio aerial included two sections, which were joined two-thirds the way
down the inside of the mast by relatively large screwed fittings. Every
time the boat rocked this fitting rattled like a bell clapper inside the
mast. I started to pull the aerial out of the mast only to find that the
lower section was stuffed with dried grass and twigs. I reckoned that
during one winter lay up sometime the mast had been home to a squirrel as the
stuffing's include a significant number of nuts !
I retrieved about three shopping bags full of twigs and straw from the
mast. I tried an idea given to me by Hans and Eva of tying electrical tie
wraps at intervals along the length of the aerial before threading it
back. The idea being that the loose ends of the tie wrap would stop the
aerial from slapping the inside of the mast. I also wrapped a large piece of
sponge around the screwed joint to soften its contact with the mast. The sponge
worked but the only tie wraps I could buy were so small as to be ineffective.
It was obvious that from now onwards progress was going to depend on
which way the tide was flowing at any one time of the day. The
trick being to time my journey to go with the ebb tide. I secured
a copy of the monthly issue of Boating on the Hudson which gave the daily high
and low tide times for 10 significant places along the Hudson from Battery Park
in New York city to Albany about 100 mile upstream. The marina attendant
had changed the days on his copy. The publication had the days and dates one
day out of sync. He reckoned that the days of the week were wrong and
that the dates were correct. It made a difference in the tide times of an hour
each day.
I set out at around 9am the following morning aiming for the Town of Hudson some 40 miles down
river. High tide at Hudson
according to the chart duly amended for the day error was at 9pm. I
reckoned that I could be at Hudson
by 6pm so that I would beat most of the current flow upstream.
I was surprised to find that even the river was 60 feet deep in parts
even this far away from the Atlantic. All went
well until about 4pm when it started to rain heavily. The tide had turned an
hour previously and seemed to be flowing against me much more strongly than I
had expected. I remember passing through a narrow section of the river
when I still had 12 miles to go. The speed of the tidal flow was strong
through this section that my GPS gave a speed over the ground of only 3 Miles
per hour. The speedometer still showed 6.5 hours. The outboard struggled
against a strong current all the way to Hudson.
The last 12 miles had taken 3 hours. I tied up and talked to the members
of the Hudson
power and boating club (not many yacht owners on this stretch of the river.. no wonder with these sort of currents) I had been told to
amend the tide table in the opposite way to what it should have been. I
was over an hour late with my estimation of high tide. I took advantage
of the tide clock in the club house and worked out that high tide at Hudson was 8am the
following morning. How convenient. I could get up at a reasonable hour and go
down with the tide. These clocks tell the time of day and have an
additional disc, which rotates, around the periphery of the normal clock face.
The disc is divided off into sectors showing High tide, half ebb, Low Tide,
half flow, etc and it rotates in sync with the tidal change. Each high Tide is
six and a quarter hours after the previous one. On a
twelve-hour clock the disc will rotate one complete turn in 12 and a half hours.
I was determined not to be caught out again the next morning and set off
half an hour before high tide and made good progress that day in clear sunny
weather, through interesting hilly scenery. I passed through Saugerties and the
narrow twisting gorge by the military training school at West
Point. As I approached the twisting gorge at West
Point I moved from the inside of the bend towards the centre of
the river to take a few photographs of the Buildings. A powerboat was
approaching from down stream and I gave the customary wave. I was then aware
that they were all waving and gesticulating to me to come nearer to the inside
of the bend. I was in 36 feet of water at the time. Perhaps they thought that I
was intent on motoring to the outside of the bend in the river where the
current would have been faster and possibly swirling. The chart showed that it
was shallower on that side. I dutifully altered course and passed by with out
any problems. On passing Hyde Park I caught sight of Roosevelt's
House and the Vanderbilt House which I had visited on a previous holiday.
There were rail tracks on both sides of the river for many miles. I was
impressed by the length of the freight trains; some pulled by four traction
units appeared to be over a mile long.
I moored alongside a pontoon at the riverside marina just upstream from Poughkeepsie. It
was a Sunday and the river was very busy with high-powered boats speeding up,
raising big wakes. This caused considerable rocking to boats tied at the
marina. The marina operator was continually shouting across to boats to keep
their speed down... all to no avail. Surging waves continued to rock my
boat until a good two hours after the river traffic subsided for the
night. I was obviously moving nearer to New York
with New York
prices... $35(?£23) for one night's mooring. I
had been paying $25 Canadian (?£11 ) on Lake Ontario.
The waves subsided by 10.30pm and the river was glassy calm the following
morning when I started at 6.45am for Tarrytown and the Tapenzee Bridge. This part of the journey
was relatively straightforward and I made good progress with the ebb
tide. I was coming through Haverstraw
Bay, where the river must
be about 3 to 4 miles wide, when I was aware of
a motor launch coming up behind me and appeared to be making straight for me.
Eventually the people on board started calling out and waving their arms and
smiling. It was a couple of moments before I realised it was the ex New York
Police detective and his wife who I had last seen over a week ago and 200 miles
away in Burlington on Lake Champlain. They were on the last day of their trip,
returning to Nyak at the opposite end of the Tapenzee Bridge from Tarrytown.
We had a brief conversation mid river in which they told me they had had a good
first trip in their boat and asked if I was still on schedule to catch my plane
back to England.
They wished me well and slowly pulled away down river.
I was surprised to find I was passing Sing Sing
Prison situated on the riverbank, just north of Tarrytown.
I had always thought it was an island location similar to Alcatraz.
I was also aware that my progress was slowing down as the tide had turned and
was starting to flow against me. I could see the Tappenzee Bridge
for about 3 hours before I actually got within 100 yards of it to turn into the
Tarrytown marina. This was a smart
marina with good security ... and it cost $35 night! Well "you only come
this once"
I did some shopping and called Marshal and Lucy on Long Island and
arranged that they came up to Tarrytown for a
day on the boat. That evening I asked a guy in a tugboat moored in the
marina about tide times for the next morning.
He was Eddie Layton who had been the Hammond Organ professional concert
player for over 24 years. He had toured worldwide and knew most of the cities
in England.
He had made lots of record albums and was currently the resident organist for
the New York Yankees. His riverboat tug was one he had designed himself
with help from a marine architect 22 years ago. He was proud of the exact
replica features he had incorporated into what was a scaled down river tug.
"This is where I relax" He was also
smoking like a chimney and wheezing like an old steam engine.
Marshall and Lucy arrived in good time and we had a good sunny day
motoring down to the George
Washington Bridge
and back with the tide. Lucy I enclose a photo of you eating the
strawberries and cream and wearing the life jacket your daughter insisted that
you wear when she heard you were going on the Hudson in a small boat. We got back to
Tarrytown and had a good meal at a nearby restaurant before Marshall
and Lucy returned Long Island. Thanks for coming, we had a most enjoyable day.
New York City
I had a long journey planned for the morning, through New York harbour
and out into New York Lower Harbour and across to Sandy Hook (about 40 miles),
in readiness for a journey the following day out into the Atlantic.
People had warned me that it was the Hurricane season and that I could get
holed up in a port for several days. I was anxious to keep going every day that
I could so that I had some days in reserve to complete the trip "on
time" in Delaware.
I left Tarrytown at 5.30am with the tide
ebbing in my favour. The river was glassy calm and I was the only vessel
on the river for 3 hours until I met a tug coming in the opposite direction
pushing six empty barges all fastened tightly together in one block. I
passed alongside the approach road into New York at around 7.30am to 8-30am There was quite a contrast between my boat cruising
along in splendid isolation at about 5.5 knots plus the current flow making a
total of about 8 knots; and on elevated roads alongside there were long queues
of commuter cars going into New York at about the same speed!
I arrived at the marina that I had been told about by the guy I met back
in Waterford.
He had assured me that I would be able to buy a tide table publication here for
the New Jersey
coast. This was to be my reserve overnight stay if I made slow progress,
but as it was still only 11.30am I planned to push on for Sandy
Hook. I filled up with gas and asked about the tide tables.
The pump attendant didn't know where I could by any and suggested I spoke to
the Marina
office. After a long wait I was told that I would get them at the bait
and tackle shop a few yards away. No Luck...... "
But if you go to the boat building shop next door they will tell you
where you can get them." I went into the boat building yard where
they were laying up 20-foot fibreglass hulls. I guessed it was lunchtime
and knocked on the door and opened it. The room was full of either Taiwanese or
Indonesian workers, none of whom could speak English. I was eventually
pointed towards another office across the yard where I waited a good 10 minutes
whilst a guy finished his phone conversation in some language other than
English. I explained my need and after searching the