On a foggy day in Oswego you can’t see diddly

TripAdviser lists 26 things to do in Oswego, N.Y.  Six of the top 11 are museums.  Number one is Ontario Orchards.  So we went there.  Ontario Orchards is a cross between Hadley’s off I-10 in Cabazon—a must-stop place on the way to softball tournaments in Southern California—and Dickens Fruit Stand.

It’s cool and all, but the top billing certainly doesn’t speak well of the lower-ranked museums.  We picked up some hard cider, a pie, and assorted boat snacks.  No offense to the good folks at Ontario Orchards, but don’t get the hard cider.  The pie, however, was delicious.


The number two Oswego attraction per TripAdvisor is Fort Ontario.  In some form or another there’s been a fort on the shore of Lake Ontario at Oswego since 1755.  It was closed on the nice day we arrived and we didn’t go back in the rain the next day, but the various signs documented significant history and we later did test out the drone–with a not insignificant pucker-factor given what history knows as the The St. Johnsville Miracle–to see what was inside the walls.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Fort Ontario is that next week it’s hosting an event to celebrate the Madeline books series.  You know, Miss Clavel (played by Fargo’s own Marge “Margie” Gunderson in the movie), the Spanish Ambassador, 11 little girls whose importance was limited to filling out two straight lines, and of course that dog-hiding scamp Madeline.  The connection to a nearly 300-year-old fort in Oswego isn’t exactly obvious, but we should be gone anyway.

We’d initially thought about leaving on Thursday.  Good thing we didn’t.  Until about mid-afternoon the fog on the lake was thick enough to eat with a spoon.

We have no radar until we step the mast after Chicago.  No fog for us please.  Fortunately the sun came out in time for us to visit the maritime museum, which is number three on the list.  Every small town in this part of the country has at least one small building called the “Maritime Museum”—as well as a plethora of monuments to local sons and daughters—which may explain why this one is ranked below the fruit place.

The museum part we saw was okay, although we probably could’ve done without the poster proclaiming Lake Ontario as “The Graveyard of the Great Lakes” and identifying all the huge ships that didn’t survive a crossing.

After that we contemplated just buying a house and staying here.  The museum did offer up some possibly-true trivia to use at cocktail parties, however, so all wasn’t lost.

The boat to the famous lighthouse was not operating and—at least in our personal rankings—a two mile walk, on the rocky breakwater, in the wind, to a closed-up building, was pretty low on the to-do list.  We did get the drone out there, but the shrill high-wind warning led to a fear-induced abortion.

Here’s a link to a cool story about the lighthouse.  After reading it last night we thought even more about just staying here forever, but the fact that the locals hear “the timeless screams of the six lost souls” at the haunted lighthouse scared us more than the storm.  We rode out there on Second Wave’s dinghy and heard nothing, however, so maybe there aren’t any ghosts after all.  The nice Coast Guard-ers who stopped to make sure we had the requisite life jackets (we did) confirmed the story.  The tragedy part, not the ghost part.

Wind direction willing—despite the documented deaths and despair—tomorrow we leave Oswego to start the Great Lakes/Canada leg of our Loop.  Roughly that will involve crossing Lake Ontario, cutting through the hopefully-not-too-shallow Trent-Severn Waterway to Georgian Bay, across the Northern Channel, nipping the corner of Lake Huron en route to Lake Michigan, and finally down to Chicago.

We don’t much care about Lake Erie, but missing Lake Superior—which according to the legend from the Chippewa on down is the big lake they call Gitche Gumee—is a real bummer.   Mostly because our use of applicable lines from “The Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald” is eliminated.  Superior they said never gives up her dead, but we don’t know any songs about tragedies on Lake Huron.  Hopefully nobody will write one about us.

Dana photographed a grizzly bear with her phone.

Doug photographed a sock puppet with his.

Nice sunset across Lake Ontario.


On a clear day in Oswego you almost can see Canada

Turns out Dana and Liz never learned the Erie Canal Song; a stronger indictment of the Texas public school system hardly is possible.  Regardless, today was a great day to enjoy the last ten miles of our piece of the Erie.

From Brewerton we shot through one last Erie lock, where Liz proved to be quite helpful.  Meaning that with two people to handle the lines Doug could sit on the flybridge without doing much of anything.  Too bad she leaves tomorrow.

A sharp right at the Oswego River/Canal put us on last the last stretch of ditch before meeting the Great Lakes.  We’ll be through several of them before it’s all over.

The Phoenix police presence on the Oswego was jarring and unexpected until we learned that there’s a Phoenix, N.Y.  Who knew?

Just on the other side of Phoenix was a cool single-span bascule bridge that stopped traffic to let us pass.

Time for a quick walk around the marina after safely docking.  We’ll be here for a few days until it’s safe to cross Lake Ontario.  Then off to dinner at the expensive but mediocre restaurant about two-hundred yards from the boat.  Jonathan Livingston Seagull concluded that a gull’s life is cut short by boredom, anger, and fear.  We think it more likely that mediocre but expensive Italian Wedding Soup is to blame.  This dude slurped down the entire cup in about three minutes.  

We never saw him fly after that.


Seems like yesterday


Looking back through the fuzzy tunnel of time, our first official Looping month is in the books.  We haven’t regretted it for a second.  768.8 nautical miles.  Five states and one district.  Two bays and one ocean.  Twenty-three canal locks.  One Statue of Liberty.  Only one major docking embarrassment.  Only four or five overflowing junk drawers.  Zero lost drones.  Zero dogs overboard.  Dozens of new friends.  Those are darn good numbers.

As surreal as we find thinking about what we’ve done so far, we find it surreal-er to see how little we’ve done compared to what’s left.  We have a wall map in the pilothouse on which we place a numbered red dot at every stop.  It puts things into sharp perspective.

What we have regretted, however, is the WiFi situation.  One of the many things we took for granted in Arizona was fast and consistent internet access.  Marina WiFi as a general rule is not good, bless their hearts, and internet access is quite important for resolving arguments and watching videos of baby animals.  We bought a Redport WiFi booster well before we started but until now hadn’t found anybody competent to set it up on the boat.  We haven’t configured it yet but at least it’s installed.

The first night in Brewerton we settled in at dusk to watch an episode of Downton Abby we downloaded before we left Washington.  Almost immediately the volume was drowned by what sounded like an army of digeradoos in the boat.  Fifty thousand digeradoos.  (That’s the last quote from Walk Hard you’ll read on this blog.  Promise.)  Turns out the Brewerton Speedway—1/3 mile of banked clay—is just across the Oneida River from where we were docked.

Ample sunlight remained to allow a short drone flight over to film some action, but in a democratic vote the idea soundly rejected by a landslide margin of 1 to 1.

Dana’s sister Liz arrived on Sunday from Texas.  Given the shockingly high number of Texans on the Loop, hopefully she feels right at home.  Except her home in Austin is much bigger, of course.  The Stagg sisters took the Hobies for their maiden voyage while the rest of us cheered from the deck.  Actually the boys were sleeping but Doug cheered from the deck.

Loop or no Loop, this is the time of every year when we find ourselves woefully behind on the Continuing Legal Education credits we need to make the State Bar of Arizona happy.  That meant a couple of days watching videos of lawyers rather than exploring central upstate New York.  The clouds and scattered showers at least provided the proper dreary ambience.  We did walk to the local Mexican food restaurant.  Not a Chuy’s but passable, even with the Spanish version of Achy Breaky Heart on the soundtrack.

On the way back from our next dinner at the seafood place that unreasonably charges for seasonings we stopped by the car show/local band/ice cream stand.

All small towns are pretty much the same, although this one was cold.  In late June.

It’s customary for boats traveling in foreign waters to fly a small courtesy flag to honor the host country.  We aren’t much for customs, but we also figure Customs might be less likely to hassle us if we show proper respect.  Kind of like putting a sticker supporting police on your car in an effort to avoid tickets.  We picked up our Maple Leaf and will install it when we reach Canada.

Tomorrow we head to Oswego to wait for a good window to cross Lake Ontario.  We have no interest in the 14-foot waves that blow up when the storms roll in from the west.


No news is good news

img_4006-1In anticipation of a 7:30 departure from Utica, we took Oscar and Benny over to the bagel shop, just in time to catch a Misty Pearl reflection in the morning sun.  We’d have written another poem but it was too early for beer, plus we had about 9 hours and 50 nm ahead of us.

Three locks, a big lake (Oneida), and nothing much else noteworthy before we reached Brewerton.  Unless almost getting sniped by Second Wave’s flying cleat is noteworthy.

We plan to hang here for a couple of days until Dana’s sister joins us.  Maybe some cool stuff will happen.

Because this was an easy day, now is a good time to ask that nobody judge our grammar, spelling, syntax, or punctuation.   Just know we have plenty of valid excuses.

In conclusion, here’s a picture of the boys in travel mode.


Taming the Beast

Because we don’t get much news anymore, we only learned today of the world’s tragic loss.  So wherever you may be, a moment of silence as we mourn the passing of the great John Ward, without whom it never would have been “Football time, in Tennessee.”

On to Looping.  Little Falls, N.Y. is a picturesque village along the Erie Canal.  It’s apparently quite popular.  We planned to give it a pass on our way to Utica, however, because there are too many other picturesque villages along the Erie Canal.  We can’t stop at all of them.

From our perspective, the most significant thing about Little Falls was the giant protective maw that confronts travelers heading west.  Erie Canal Lock No. 17 is the highest lock in New York, and is one of only two guillotine-style entries in the universe unless there are some on other planets.

(The quality of the photo is crappy because it’s a frame from the time-lapse video that occupied one phone, while the person who owns the other phone and the camera was busy worrying.)  Here’s  one taken just before we started the worrying.

003a1181The guy in charge must get perverse pleasure from watching unsuspecting boaters confront unexpected current, because he didn’t bother warning either of the two boats to be ready.  Turns out the front boat gets the worst of it.  Thankfully for us that was Second Wave.  Thankfully for Second Wave they’re experienced enough to wrangle things safely.  For a moment, however, we feared for everyone in the lock.

Things calmed down the rest of the way.  Dana bagged a great Great Blue Heron.

The Canal straightened out for several miles.

The restaurant at the wall in Utica was delicious.

Yup, things’d be perfect if not for the whole John Ward thing.