Back then, most of the boats we encountered in our eastbound transit of the Erie Canal seemed to be monohull sailboats in the thirtyish-foot range (ours was thirty, just slightly on the small side). Cruising sailboats have since gradually pushed into the forty and even fifty-foot range. I expected to see a lot of that, but our thirty-eight-foot catamaran would still be a little on the large side for Great Lakes sailing. That's pretty much what we got; monohulls that are longer, but also narrower than we are.
What I hadn't expected was the change in the power boats. On our original trip in 2003, we only saw a couple small trawlers about the same size we were. Now, in addition to the five of us who were carrying our masts on deck, there were two single-screw trawlers of the type we saw back then, and six giant, every-comfort-of-home mini-mansions.
Begonia was tied to a floating dock that was further secured to the seawall. There was no obvious reason for this as there are no tides to worry about, but it did give us something at a convenient height for climbing on and off the boat. The big wall was high enough that had the dock not been there, we would have needed a stepstool on deck to get us high enough to make a graceless flop ashore.
Later, as more big yachts and super yachts filled in the overflow wall space behind the floating dock, I noticed that all they had to do to deal with the problem of the high wall was step off from one of their higher decks. Looking up at people's feet from Begonia's cabin and thinking of the big yachts, I was reminded of the first time I ever got to sit in the Captain's seat of a 747 (at the gate, of course). The unexpected thing that struck me then was that instead of being slightly below eye-level as the passengers lined up at the gate, which was my usual view, all that I could see of the terminal was a vast expanse of roofing tar interspersed with industrial air conditioner units. Begonia was looking at footwear, the yachts were counting bald spots.
After all of our racing across the Indian and Atlantic Oceans (mostly because of the seasons, but still...) I intended to slow down a bit and enjoy gliding through beautiful upstate New York on the Erie Canal. As such, for once I wasn't trying to make use of every photon of daylight to clock miles.
Day 1 - ending just before lock E-08
Credit:Official Opening Photo from NY State Canal Corp
My plan for Opening Day was therefore NOT to be in the very first group in the locks. Instead, we were going to wake up in daylight like civilized people. Then I was going to go for a run along the old Champlain Canal. After that, we would start to get ready for what was intended to be basically a half-day.
The more I thought about it, though, the earlier I wanted to get up. I still didn't want to go through first, but I did want to be there on deck eating one of Maryanne's delicious breakfast sandwiches when the show began, as lock E2 opened for the first time in the 2023 season.
What a show it was. When I arrived home on the inbound leg of my run, I was surprised to come around the corner and find the channel ahead of the lock already full of waiting boats, of which the entire population was over-sized power yachts. It was still forty-five minutes to the opening time of eight o'clock. They were all hovering, using judicious blasts of bow thruster or engine power, which knocked around the docked boats.
What was also surprising was that the Waterford wall was still fully occupied with the original cohort. The vessels in line for the lock, which stretched into the Hudson and around the corner, were all new arrivals. When a boat from Waterford left the dock and tried to join the queue, there were a few angry words exchanged on the radio for "cutting the line". Uh, no. They have actually been ahead of you for five whole days while you were way down the Hudson. Lighten up.
It was a relief when the Lock E-2 doors opened and eight of them disappeared for the inaugural lift. I took a walk to the lock just as the water was reaching the top (a lock walk, if you will). The giant, fancy, super-yacht who ended being second, untied early and managed to piss everyone else off as they blasted the other boats with their bow thruster, pushing their way to the front. The next lock, E-3, was half a mile ahead. Good job being the first to that one... I assume they were really invested in getting drone footage of them being the first to exit Lock E-6 at the top of the flight.
When things had finally calmed down a bit, Begonia untied from our dock at ten o'clock and entered Lock E-2 as the third of eight boats. We were still a bit early, as there were a few boats left who seemed to view the whole exercise as a race. Since we took up half the lock width (the locks are 45 feet wide by 300 feet long) and since our fifty-two-foot mast was on the inside, center edge of our now twenty-two-foot beam, we heard a lot of complaints on the radio about how were too hard to squeeze by in the locks. Yeah, we know. So would any other wide boat. We've got four more locks after this. Maybe everybody else can just chill for a bit until we're all at the top of the flight of five, then you can go charging past us in the open Mohawk River.
After the next lock, E-3, we all had to delay exiting because one of the super yachts had somehow run aground by turning and going into the only tiny space outside the channel. They had managed to do an impressive amount of damage as if they had somehow not just run aground, but plowed full power into a concrete wall (we saw them a few times later with a very rough looking repair of fiberglass tape keeping the water out of large portions of the port side of their hull). One of their "buddies" had come back to help without saying anything, causing the rest of the traffic behind to crash-stop.
Most locks have a spillway or a dam alongside, where the untamed water flows, it is the lock that allows us to transit the waterway safely
The next three locks were not so much the fun beginning of a great adventure as a depressing loss of faith in humanity caused by watching lots of disgraceful, self-centered behavior by some very impatient people. Some of the powerboat people really do make it hard to like them sometimes.
Once we all finally exited Lock E-6, we had ten level miles of the Mohawk River ahead of us. We pulled to the side, let everyone pass us, and soon had the whole waterway/canal to ourselves. Upstate New York is really very pretty. Without a bunch of giant boats breathing down our necks, we were able to enjoy the lush, green banks and the Bald Eagles circling overhead. We did have a few logs, and kayakers to avoid, but otherwise it was a nice easy day in the canal.
We had intended to stop after going up Lock E-7, but the space there was filled with work boats, so we continued another ten miles to Lock E-8 to stay for the night. That turned our civilized half-day plan into an all-day affair that ended just as the lock keeper finished his day. Even worse than that was that we were kind of in the way for anyone exiting the lock once it opened in the morning. Plus, it was supposed to rain tomorrow afternoon. That meant we couldn't get a whole night's sleep, because we would need to leave at first light.
Day 2 - ending just before lock E-10
Despite our early scheduled departure from Lock E-08, I was determined to have a morning run along the canal towpath before we went (when I was running a LOT more, I did almost the whole thing in 2003). After not nearly enough sleep, I got up in the dark to get it done before we left. The path mainly runs along Interstate 90 on this stretch, which is a bit boring, but at that hour, traffic was almost non-existent and all of the birds were waking up. As I felt the first half of my way through the run, in decreasing darkness, I was surrounded by the songs of more different bird varieties than I could count. It was like listening to an orchestra warm up, except that it was all chatty birds.
Canada Geese are EVERYWHERE, easily seen from the boat, and Kyle's exploring has him finding another chipmunk
Our second day on the canal was much less stressful than our first. We only had two locks to go through, each with half the average lift of the first eight. Better still, we arrived at each during lulls in activity, so Begonia was able to be the only boat in the whole lock.
After only three hours, we were done for the day. We were tied up at the upstream side of Lock 10 by ten a.m. There isn't much there in the way of diversions. There is a lightly-used concrete factory there and not much else. The main entertainment is watching boats lock through and trains go by on the opposite bank. It really was the perfect, no distraction setting for a catch-up-on-the-jobs, rainy day.
Day 3 - ending at Riverfront Park, Canjaharie
Even though we had an alarm set, the daylight coming through the hatch woke us before it went off. Without any desire to stall the inevitable a bit, I got up and started my morning routine. I was looking forward to my pre-departure run on the path along the canal. Maryanne had been joining me until Waterford. She had overdone it at some point and hurt her knees, leaving me to my own while she recuperates.
Like at Lock 8, the path mostly ran along the highway, but it was through a tunnel of greenery that was interspersed with fragrant flowers that gave the air a lovely scent. The disheartening thing about it was that it was arrow-straight. When I turned to head for home, I had the whole long slog laid out before me. The shed where the access road to the lock crosses looked like a single pixel.
The run was rough. I was sore the whole time and never felt like I got warmed up as the run progressed. Afterward, I would end up joining Maryanne in her convalescence for a few days at least.
We 'rescued' a frog (Northern Green Frog) in one of the locks today, or at least he was keen to jump onto my boat hook and be lifted up to the dry lockside path
Underway, we had another easy day of having all three locks to ourselves. We eventually stopped just short of Lock 14 at the village of Canajoharie. It looked like a lovely town, but by then, three out of four of our knees were throbbing, so we cancelled any plans we had to see more of the canal trail.
Instead, I had a brief reconnaissance limp. I soon discovered a gas station across the canal that sold diesel. The prices are only three-quarters of what the marinas along the canal charge, but the best thing was that it was completely uphill from the boat to the pump, without even one step of downhill. Empty fuel jugs are easy to carry uphill. The heavy full ones practically roll themselves home secured to our hand-cart. It was such a good deal that I made five trips and got enough jugs to get us the rest of the way through the canal.
Also staying with us at Canajoharie for the night were our new friends from Turtle Dust, who we met in Kingston, and another really nice pair of guys on exactly the same model of boat I had before I met Maryanne (a Hunter Legend 35.5). At the time, it was such a palatial upgrade from the boat I had before (Which Maryanne and I lived on. I had both. I got to keep the little one) Now it looks like it would be a bit of a struggle to move our current compliment of stuff aboard. How easy it is to get used to what you have.
Day 4 - ending at Little Falls
A misty morning soon cleared up to a glorious day
A cold front had passed through on our night in Canajoharie. When we awoke, steam from the canal had created a nice, atmospheric fog for our departure. By the time we untied Begonias lines, both of our neighbors had already left to make the most of the day.
Again, we ended up with all four of the day's locks to ourselves. Faster boats that didn't quite make it in behind us would pass us and beat us to the next lock, leaving us as the lone straggler.
Our last lock, Lock 17, was the one we had been worrying about for days. It has the highest lift of any on the canal at 40.5 feet (12.3 meters). That wasn't the worrying part. The worrying part was that all boats were required to tie up on the south wall during locking, because the currents from the fill will push you there anyway. For us, as a westbound boat, that meant a port tie-up. Port is not going to work for us, since that's the side the mast is on. We thought of moving fenders over to that side and having Maryanne crawl through the jungle-gym of rigging to get over there, but the forces are so strong that we thought our fenders would be sufficiently squashed to have the spreaders (on the mast) banging into the wall, which would be bad.
The only way we could safely go through the lock would be to turn around and back through, so we could tie to our usual, starboard side. The scary thing about that is that Begonia is only about twenty percent as maneuverable in reverse as when going forward. There tends to be a lot of turbulence both entering and leaving locks, which only gave me about a five percent confidence that I could keep her straight enough to not hit either end of the mast at some point.
At Little Falls we reversed into the lock, but then caught 'something' in the rudders as we left - so Kyle had to take a dip to free it up (It turned out to be a tiny twig in each rudder!).
Lucky for us, it was a dead-calm day and we got to the lock with plenty of room between the boats ahead and the ones behind, so it would definitely be only us. Unlucky for us, when we called Alex, the lock master, he explained there was a big log blocking the entire width of the entrance.
After unsuccessfully doing what he could from his end to flush it away, we offered to try to back up to it, somehow attach ourselves to it, and tow it away. We almost had it, but the outlet current from the sluice kept knocking us sideways toward the opposite concrete wall. Twice I had to gun it to keep the mast from contacting the opposite wall. Alex finally closed the door on the log, let the lock chamber fill a bit and then opened it to try to flush the log out.
That worked, somewhat. With limited control of Begonia, I was able to nudge up against it with the port hull and push it out of the way as we entered the chamber. Once it was alongside us, it probably helped us from being swept too far to the side by the current from the sluice. It was a huge relief for both of us to finally get hold of the long ropes hanging down the lock wall.
It took forty minutes and five million gallons of water to raise us to the level of the water at the top. Getting out was only half as scary as entering. The trick was to have a fair bit of way on, which also meant that if I misjudged our exit, we would crunch instead of bump. We were doing great until I went to turn Begonia around to face forward again. Just as I was doing the turn, the steering jammed. Well, the rudders aren't much use at low speeds anyway. With asymmetric power, we tied to the wall above the lock.
After our usual arrival routine, I knew I could stall the inevitable no longer. I had to go for a swim in the cold, dirty water to see what was going on with our steering. In a way, I got lucky. Both rudders had branches about the diameter of my middle finger (coincidence?) jammed between the rudder blade and the hull. I was able to clear both and be back out of the frigid (17C/63F) water before the first minute was up. One passerby asked what I was doing. I said I was just going for some exercise. I prefer rock climbing, but I didn't know of anywhere around to do that. My great joke unfortunately fell flat, even though all of the local climbers were using the very rock face behind their heads for practice.
The cliffs with their climbers kept us entertained while we were tied up at Little Falls
That was enough drama for one day. I went for an interesting chat with Alex, and to thank him for all of his help, and then we called it a day right where we already were.
Trimarans are rarer than catamarans in the locks so this was cool to see - for the lock tender Alex and for us
Day 5 - ending at Marcy/Westboro Lock E-20
Despite being an easy, two-lock day, the canal was surprisingly busy. Our streak of being between groups seems to have ended. We ended up with all available space taken in each lock.
More glorious weather for the boaters along the canal
After the second lock (E-20), all the boaters apparently had the same idea and pulled over for the night. Lock 20 is also where much of the movable canal corporation fleet is based, so most of the available space on the south side was taken with barges and tugs. Begonia ended up squeezing into the one space in the cheap seats at the northern end.
We did turn out to be close enough to a town (Marcy) that we could splurge and have dinner delivered from a local pizzeria.
We continue to enjoy the birds along the way
Marcy turned out to be busy with work boats in the distinctive blue and yellow livery of the NY State Canals
Day 6- ending just before lock E-22 (Sylvan Beach)
After we docked by Lock 20 the previous night, I'd taken a walk to go talk to the lock tender. Everything was going great until he mentioned the tug and barge guys were planning to install floating docks in Begonia's location starting first thing in the morning - 6am!. I had hoped for a nice, leisurely mid-morning departure, but now it looked like we would need to be already underway about the time we were planning to be going through our usual morning routine of denying the need to soon be getting out of our warm, cozy bed.
Given the lack of Lock 20's options for entertainment, other than pizza delivery. we expected the rest of the crowd of boaters to be leaving at about the same time. I even exchanged greetings with one of them on my twilight walk.
As we slid past them and the tugboat base of workers making their plans for the day over steaming mugs of coffee, we saw no obvious signs of any imminent departures. This stretch of the canal is made up of three very long straight sections. I kept checking over my shoulder expecting to see the crowd overtaking us. We cruise at about four-and-a-half knots on one engine. Most other sailboats go six to seven and the powerboats seem to like the eight-knot range. Even at the end of each long straightaway, we could see no one behind.
The morning was glorious. There was not a hint of wind, which made the canal such a perfect mirror that you could see every individual leaf in the reflection of the trees. Birds and birdsong filled the air.
A taste of the scenery
Lock 21 and 22 are the first two of the only trio of locks that lower westbound vessels instead of raising them. Descending is much more sedate with no turbulence at all as the walls slowly rise to block out the sky. Once we had gone through Lock 22, we spun Begonia around and tied up to the south wall.
What a peaceful spot. The green grass leading up to the lock was peppered with birds digging for worms. A deer popped out of the woods, looked at us for a moment and then wandered back in. The lock itself is at the very end of its access road, so there isn't any of the usual through traffic of people stopping by to watch the process. Rain was forecast for later in the afternoon, which probably caused the other boat traffic to call it a day early like we did. That made our little spot feel like the very far corner of a remote lake.
Before the rain started, we took a walk up to the lock, where we met Bill and Bob, the lockkeepers. Bill used to be a farmer and still loves to grow things. He happily pointed out each tree and flower bed he added to the grounds. I approached one of them to try to identify the fruit and found it laden with Mandarin oranges, which I had not expected. That one turned out to be a joke the other lockkeepers had played on Bill one day by tying the fruit to a peach tree
I hung out with the lock tenders enjoying the birds they know so well - I spotted at least 3 different types of woodpecker and didn't even realize it until I checked out the pictures later
Bill also told us how he happily spends a small fortune keeping the Lock 22 bird feeders stocked. While I got some exercise walking to Lock 21 and back, Bill talked Maryanne through the whole cast of characters coming to the feeders as she snapped away with her telephoto. He seemed to know each individual and would talk about how many chicks they had each year, where they like to nest and all sorts of other interesting trivia.
When we all felt a sudden chill on the air, we bid the guys a good afternoon and returned to Begonia. We were just sitting down when we heard the first pattering of rain on the cabin top. Time to fire up the heater and have a cozy evening aboard.
Day 7- ending just after Lock E-23 (Brewerton)
In the morning at Lock 22, I emerged from our cozy berth to find our section of the canal shrouded in steam fog rising from the water. I went on the deck and walked to the bow to take a photo, not looking forward to the feeling the cold dew on my nice warm feet.
When I stepped out of the cockpit, I found the deck to be really slippery. The dew had frozen into clear ice and my feet were warming it just enough to melt a lubricating layer of water between them and the it. The skies above were blue and it should only be a matter of time before the sun clears the trees and burns it all off.
A frosty morning soon turned again to a bright day
The temperature did eventually get up to about 15C (59F). That took care of the frost and dew, but with the wind induced by our forward motion, it was still a little chilly to be just sitting out in it. The rule became whoever comes in from the helm gives all their warm coats to the one going out to take over.
This was the day we crossed Oneida Lake, the largest body of water used by the Erie Canal. It's a nice, long, seventeen-mile stretch that allowed time for a few opportunities to step away from arm's reach of the wheel and come in from the cold for a sandwich.
We are loving the birds, especially the bald eagles
After the opposite side of the lake gradually filled in the gap on the horizon and then eventually swallowed us up again in a lane of green, we went through our last down lock and tied up on the other side behind a big trawler. It was a lovely spot in the shade of a line of big pine trees along the wall.
The couple on the trawler, Tina and Tony, are Canadians who are stuck for the moment. The Oswego Canal, which connects the Erie Canal to Lake Ontario, is having issues with the first drawbridge along the route. It won't open, so all vessels that need more than ten feet of clearance are being told to wait a few weeks for repairs to take place. They invited us over later.
As we were waiting, a couple of guys from Ohio arrived for the night in what we will call the other catamaran for the time being. They bought it in Florida and are delivering it home. They were hoping to be at Wardell's Boat Yard, two hundred miles further on, to re-step their mast in three days.
In the meantime, it was nice to pause and spend the evening with everyone before we part ways again. It may only be temporary. Tim and Tina are pretty much planning the same itinerary as we are next year once we make it to the eastern end of Lake Ontario, so we may see a lot of them then.
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