After tying to the waiting-dock, Maryanne walked up to call the lock keeper on the phone provided there for the purpose, that turned out to be a cobweb filled empty box so she just used her mobile phone; returning to say we would be going through in about half an hour. We would be first!
When the time came, the lock doors opened and we were summoned on the radio and told to cast off. Inside the lock, as we approached the "line handler", he told us there was no need for us to take lines. Keep on moving. Just as he finished his sentence, the lower doors started to open. Wow. Hadn't felt a thing. From the waterline on the lock chamber walls, it looked like we had gone down all of about ten centimeters.
Iroquois Lock was so easy were wern't even required to secure to the wall for the tiny drop
Maryanne asked the line handler if any boats had gone through the previous, pre-opening, weekend. He said he hadn't been working those days, so he didn't know.
What is she doing!? This is one of those situations where more information is not better. We were first. That's all we need to know. Good Day, Sir!
Due to the specifics of our insurance policy, we now have three weeks to kill before we can leave Montreal and still be covered. That means the race is now over. We can feel free to wish every boat that overtakes us a "Bon Voyage" and feel happy for them as they disappear ahead of us.
Leaving the lock, we were now technically in Lake St Lawrence, which is a reservoir with dams at each end. We had a look back at the upstream dam, which has a "small boat passage" where vessels less than 3.6 meters high can bypass the Iroquois Lock if they have the power to handle the current and they are willing to assume the risk. The dam is basically a series of lifting doors along its entire width. The small boat passage is the last one, closest to the lock. This day, ALL of the doors were open and we could see no perceptible difference in height between sides. Once we left the bypass channel for the lock, we did find the one to two-knot current we had with us previously returning.
Our first stop in the lake was at the public dock in Morrisburg, Ontario. This was particularly fortunate since it is one of the few places along the seaway with a propane refilling station within walking distance. We had coincidentally emptied one of our propane tanks whilst cooking last night's dinner. Since we were already out on foot, we also made a grocery run, a run to a filling station for a jug of diesel, and then a second grocery run for stuff we hadn't had space for the first time.
When we were done with all of that, we had a walk around the tidy little town just to enjoy its gardens and architecture. Then, a little later on, we did it again, just because it was a lovely day for a walk. At the end of the day, our phones told us we had each clocked up about twenty kilometers. Honestly, it had been such a pleasant day and since we had spread it all out a bit, we had hardly felt any of them. Luckily, there is an ice-cream stand right at the parking lot adjoining the waterfront. With us there, I believe Begonia, only about fifty steps away, was the closest residence to it in the whole town.
Morrisburg was a nice stop over and we were able to top up fresh provisions and get some propane (no urgent need, but good to have)
All freshly provisioned and refueled, we left the next morning for Crysler Park Marina, a mere five miles down the lake. My main reason for doing this was so that we would have a chance to see nearby Upper Canada Village.
Maryanne wasn't so sure. While she loves museums and other such tourist attractions, she really resents having to fork over some of our limited budget to stay in marinas. This is especially true since transient rates at most marinas are basically what residents pay for half a month. That, plus we never need to hook up to their electricity, makes a stay seem like even less of a value. Then add to that the fact that the marina just opened for the season yesterday and few of their amenities were yet operational. The Ship's Store was closed (the ice cream freezers were empty!), the pool had no water in it, the barbecue areas had no tables or cooking gas, and the air-conditioned Captain's Lounge was in "coming soon" status. This situation was not helped when Maryanne, after finally gritting her teeth and calling to make a reservation, had to listen to voicemail menu options for a minute and forty seconds before the part about how to speak to the staff arrived. The woman was sweet, but new. Not understanding what exactly a catamaran is, she offered that the transient rate must be not per foot, but per square foot.
"That would be over fourteen hundred dollars per night!" Maryanne observed.
"Canadian!" I added, "After the exchange rate, we should come in under a thousand U.S." Maryanne shot me a look that indicated that she thought I was not being as helpful as I felt. On the other side of the phone was a long pause of dead air.
"That can't be correct," Maryanne continued, "The rates are generally per night or more commonly per foot."
"Try per meter" I whispered. It was Canada after all, but I was dismissed with a wave of her hand.
After some back-and-forth, Maryanne was finally able to convince the woman that the general convention for marinas was to charge per length of the vessel and sign us up accordingly. Even so, the rate was still a bit high. Maryanne was keen to try to stay for only one night, other than the two I had suggested. I wasn't going for it, because I knew she would still want to do the same amount of stuff, just in half the time. She finally relented when I reminded her that staying two nights included two tickets to Upper Canada Village, so it would really only cost us an extra third to stay twice as long.
Since we were here early, and since we now had an extra day, we could spend the rest of the afternoon doing the boat chores we had missed out on in Morrisburg. In this case, our two remaining items were laundry and giving Begonia a wash.
The laundry was not fun. Most of the machines were down. Washing the boat, however, had been gradually sneaking up my Need to Do list for a while. Recently, the situation had become so bad that it had jumped to the very top of my Want to Do list. I couldn't take it anymore.
There are many nice things about cruising in fresh water, but the springtime bug situation is definitely not one of them. Over time, they coat the boat, die, and get smeared all over everything, filling the scuppers with nests of their little carcasses. Several types of birds make morning visits to help clean up, but during the height of each insect species' two-week swarm season, the birds are outnumbered. While Maryanne dealt with the laundry, it was up to me to get rid of them.
It took me four hours, much of it on my hands and knees, to render Begonia completely clean and bug-free. Maryanne arrived shortly thereafter with a cartful of fresh laundry and after a couple of showers each, we were feeling quite civilized again.
The next morning, we were up early for the scenic four kilometer walk to Upper Canada Village.
Upper Canada Village was created in 1959 as a living museum depicting life in the 1860s for early pioneers. Almost all of the period buildings were moved to the site from various nearby valley villages - all of which would otherwise have been demolished in preparation for the scheduled flooding of this area, required for the 'new' St. Lawrence Seaway.
I have only been to a few living museums before, most notably Colonial Williamsburg in the USA. Upper Canada Village is much more extensive and very well done. It took us no time at all to realize there was no way we could have squeezed in a visit AND done all of the stuff we had done yesterday in a single day. There is so much to see and it is all genuinely fascinating.
The thing that kept occurring to me over and over is that we as a society could really stand to relearn so many of the 19th Century skills being presented. Looking, as a member of a culture where almost all of our stuff is mass-produced far away, as cheaply as possible, with the intent that we're going to toss it out in a year or two and buy another, and we're going to do it over and over and over again for the rest of our lives, to the era of our Great Great Grandparent's generation was eye-opening. Stuff the artisan/presenters in the village produce takes a lot longer for them to make, but quite frankly, it's nicer stuff. Back then, people built things to last, or at least be regularly repairable, for the rest of your life, with the expectation that you wold eventually pass them on to your kids. There is no need to devise a machine that will churn out four hundred crappy buckets an hour when a tinsmith can make enough good ones for the whole village in a few days and then be done with it, apart from replacing the occasional lost or broken one. And all of this was being done with hand tools or power from flowing water, using almost no extra energy at all, apart from the blacksmith, who had a coal fire. It seems that this ethic we have created where enough isn't really enough and we will fail if we don't constantly grow market share and expand into new territory and push and push and push for more and more and more isn't going to be sustainable forever. The knowledge and skills being preserved in places like Upper canada Village could someday end up being our salvation.
The marina and the Upper Canada Village at opposite ends of the same park (mostly campsites for RVs, all empty for now) and we were not the only ones walking that day. A narrow-guage train line used to connect the two, but had buckled back in 2022 (due to extreme summer heat) and there is no expecation of repairs any time soon - so the old steam train the "Grand Turk" stands alone behind fencing, unvisted by most
Upper Canada Village transports us back to the homes and businesses of the 1860's. I especially loved the tinsmith shop. We had a lunch that included cheese and bread made within the complex. We both enjoyed it and were glad we had an early start on the day (the marina had suggested we'd only need a couple of hours). There was even a narrow guage train to keep the kids (and Kyle) entertained
Apart from that, it is a very entertaining place and we can't recommend it enough if you happen to be in the area. Plus, if you come by boat, it's a jolly nice walk from the marina.
From Crysler Park Marina, we had another lovely spinnaker run to Long Sault Provincial Park, where we anchored as the only boat in the big bay between Moulinette, Mille Roches and MacDonnell Islands.
Weather is still at that variable state of the year - you are never quite sure what temperatures and weather to expect each day
My time for stalling was now at an end. I had no more good excuses for not going to the trouble to dig our kayak out of its deep, deep hidey hole and inflate it for at least the next couple of weeks.
We managed not to fall in on our first excursion and, if I do say so myself, managed to look like a pretty well-drilled team as we passed by the holiday makers on their rental kayaks at the adjacent beach.
We were able to get out and about on the Kayak whenever the weather cooperated
The next morning, despite having not the best forecast for it, we were looking forward to a good, long paddle around the park. That all ended when I emerged from bed to find the entire boat was completely covered in dead and dying freshwater flies and the green, smelly goo that seems to be their last gasp. There was no way we could go outside and even make it to where we had stowed the kayak without ending up slipping and sliding on layers of bug goo.
Change of plan: Before we went anywhere, I had to get rid of all the new bugs on my previously clean boat. Now, the Upper Canada solution would be to use load after load of water from a high-quality metal bucket. We only had the low-quality, extruded plastic buckets on board, but we also have something that I must admit I like even better: A pressure washer that uses rechargeable power tool batteries. The stream it produces is not very high in volume, but I can put the pick-up tube in the lake and blast away for half an hour before the battery dies. We have four and they charge faster than that from our solar. Blasting the bugs mostly makes them fly around a lot, but it's still very satisfying. After a while, I was at least able to rid Begonia of the dead and the little pools of green each had left behind.
By the time I was done, really ugly rain clouds were coming over the horizon, so we postponed the kayaking for the day. With luck, the hope was that the rain would keep the new bug numbers down until morning.
That is not how it worked out. In the morning, the bugs were even worse than the day before. We were determined to have a day out, though, so I dug the pressure washer out again and started blasting.
Once I had shooed them off and cleared a clean path to the stern so we could get in the kayak, we pulled our head nets on and dove for the kayak.
We hadn't made it half a boat length from Begonia when the air promptly cleared. We then proceeded on a six-mile, seven-island circumnavigation of a pretty good portion of Long Sault Provincial Park. Along the way, we also passed by the mooring field at Long Sault Yacht Club, where we managed a brief chat with a couple of the boats there.
It was not a good day for sailing, but was perfect for kayaking, with not a breath of wind over the mirror-flat water. We were out for about three hours and not one time did we get harassed by more than a single fly. It was marvelous. Even the boats at the yacht club were all free of a fur of dead flies. I dared hope that their short breeding season had already ended.
It may have everywhere else, but not on Begonia. As soon as we arrived, our motion disturbed thousands of insects that took flight and started swirling around in undulating clouds that followed us as we hurriedly stowed the kayak on deck. This is so unfair. I can't believe I'm saying it, but we could sure use some cold, heavy rain…
And the bugs are doing their best to make hanging out in the cockpit impossible, they seem to especially love the boat and Kyle cleans them off each morning with our mini-pressure washer (otherwise we end up with green bug-slime everywhere and no place to sit)
Anchorage location >> On google maps
