Whitehall, NY
36 miles. 6 locks
I walked into this tavern at a marina and saw it right away:
a preposterously over-proportional chicken parm and pasta – whatever physical advancement
that may have come from 9 hours / 36 miles of rowing is about to be obliterated
… or at least neutralized.
It’s a testament to Kate’s sharing at Three Amigos last
night that I got through the day on Nature Valley breakfast bars, fingers in
the peanut butter, and lots and lots of fluids. Kate, that meal did the job it
had to do … and possibly this Chicken Parm will step up as well.
Today’s rowing? After 8 more miles on the contrarian Hudson,
I left the river and spent the rest of the day on the neutral waters of the
Champlain Canal. Long stretches of perfectly straight waterway – four or five
miles at a stretch with nary a turn – were dotted with lovely farms, friendly
cows almost wading in to say hello, and narrower stretches bordered by 20’
granite walls. I had no fresh batteries for my radio, and the miles reeled by
in a kind of languorous haze – lovely, really. I can’t believe I’m a day or two
from a finish.
Well, between that last page and this page I dispatched a prodigious Chicken Parm. Don’t they
say that you shouldn’t eat anything larger than your head?
I’m taking my chances sleeping (illegally) in a park
tonight. I’m now out of the warm embrace of the lock system and will have to
live by cunning and guile. The tent won’t go up until after dark – if it will
go up at all – but it’s a lovely evening and if I’m under the stars, so be it.
Some industrial barges carrying stone and four or five
chatty boaters were the extent of my social interface today … I will have to
re-learn the art of conversation, perhaps? The discussions I have with myself on
the boat, frequent and topically unpredictable, often end in a spat or one of
us just leaving, but they do pass the time.
When I last rowed this stretch – three or four years ago –
sections of the canal hosted huge dredging barges and specialized equipment attending
to the GE chemical waste mess near Fort Edward. Today, not a sign of any
activity; all done, all clean? I saw a lot of people near the water and a lot
of water toys and ladders on docks … but no one in the water. Is it safe?
Oh!! The TV here in the restaurant features a beaming OJ; a
good day for him, too?
If I don’t get tossed into jail tonight, tomorrow I’ll head
up the 20 miles or so to Ticonderoga … but I’ll camp across the lake in Vermont,
at a boat ramp forever distinguished by Brian’s ‘Hasselhoff Moment’ as his
fatigue compelled him to eat a cheeseburger while on all fours. (See ‘Row, Canada!’)
Hasselhoff Point is a good starting point for the final push home on Saturday; Doug
Livingston has consented to be my ‘wheel man’ as he’ll deliver the cart I’ll
need to push my boat through Ticonderoga. Guys like Doug – unconditional and generous
friends – make things happen!
Peg, thanks again for transcribing my sloppy journal; maybe post
this page to remind the people of the magic of techno peasant and computer maven?
 |
| Sure thing, Al |
I’m going to pay my tab and go hang out in the park. Wish me
luck?
Peace, love, and happiness
 |
| And here's an adorable dog that wanted to join Al in the boat |
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