The bugs followed us for a bit, and then presumably went back to Bogonia's vacated spot. Whew!
By the time we got to Eisenhower, our first lock of the pair, the wind was blowing between fifteen and twenty knots. The Pleasure Boat Waiting Dock at the lock has a very narrow dredged area that leads a dock that is only big enough for a single vessel, rather raggedy and shorter than about 18 meters. The dock is placed there as a safety measure to put a big wall of concrete between us and any ship that may be having control difficulties. It is common for less maneuverable ships to "slide the wall" to get into the locks, or while leaving, until they can get some steerageway.
Maryanne went to the phone box and found only cobwebs, the phone had been replaced by a note saying there was no phone, use the radio. I wish we had known that before we threaded the needle to get into the dock. I called the lock keeper who told us to standby, the wait will be about twenty minutes.
Exactly twenty minutes later, he called and told us to cast off and proceed into the lock. This is where the fun started.
There are many things I like about Begonia's stability and handling ability. Backing her up is most definitely not one of them. Even on a flat calm day with no wind whatsoever, she is almost impossible to back up in a straight line. After starting out okay, she'll start to curve off course. The only way to get her straightened out again is to take one engine out of gear or maybe put it in forward. Add a strong wind and a fairway that is not as wide as Begonia is long and you can get some really tense moments trying to avoid rusty bolts and rebar sticking out of the concrete. This is where Maryanne usually saves the day with a fender in one hand and a boat hook in the other. She didn't actually end up needing either today, but it was close enough that she did have to run back and forth a lot.
Back in forward, everything was just fine again. A Grackle joined us and did his best to pick us clean of the remaining bug carcasses along the way. I really like those birds. We maneuvered into the lock and Maryanne was able to drop our bow and stern line loops over the floating bollard nested in a groove in the lock wall without any drama. The lock keeper collected our ticket (we prepaid online and printed the receipt) with an envelope attached to a string. After verifying that we were legit, he returned to the control house to start emptying the lock.
Eisenhower Dock - we always feel a bit guilty with our little boat when the locks are clearly made for giants of the St. Lawrence.
As we were exiting, he told us there was no need for us to rush to the Snell lock because the ship three miles in front of us was just entering it now. Before we could go through, the ship would have to go down, exit, and then the lock would have to be refilled for us.
From a distance, we watched the much larger ship enter the lock, and then it's hull and half the bridge sank below our level. I figured it would take them ten minutes to clear the lock and another ten to refill it and adjusted our speed accordingly. In the end, we only needed to drift in idle for about three minutes before we were given the green lights.
We repeat the process at Snell Lock. Since we departed from a Canadian port/anchorage and will next stop at a Canadian port/anchorage, there is no need to clear customs to 'enter' the USA while using the locks - that saves a step or two!
When the doors opened, we emerged into Lake St. Francis at 48.5 meters above sea level, 25.3 meters below where we had started our morning.
The next leg to our anchorage went much faster than usual, thanks to a three to five knot current. I had originally thought we would have time for an hour or so of slow sailing, but by the time we had shut down the engines, we only had time enough for four minutes of quiet, engine-free sailing. We still did it. One and a half knots through the water, five over the bottom under bare poles.
We managed to duck out of the channel just before an oncoming ship and anchored in the little bay by the town of Glen Walter. Yep, it's so small, it was named after the guy who lives there.
Some relaxed time at Glen Walter
We seemed to be free of the insects, which allowed us to leave the cabin door open for the afternoon. The wind picked up through the evening, which seemed to keep any stragglers away. The next morning, I blasted the last of the dried dead off and we finally had a properly clean boat again.
As the wind finally started to die off the next afternoon, we couldn't help but notice a lot of fluttering specks were starting to surround us again. This time, they seem to be Caddis flies (I hate that I'm turning into an expert on flying insects). Caddis flies are more numerous than the Mayflies we had in the last anchorage, but at least they don't leave little green stains behind when their time with us is over.
It has since occurred to me that, many years ago, when I would fly over the St. Lawrence Seaway and think to myself, "We've got to take the boat there someday", from way up there, I could not see any of the swarms and swarms of bugs floating through the area.
Speaking of bugs, we moved anchorage again to get us a little closer to Montreal. This time, we chose a spot to drop the hook that was deliberately far from shore, and particularly any large areas of foliage upwind. The plan worked great…is not the thing I was about to say next. I am really starting to grow weary of having my life dominated by the constant need to blast away piles and piles of tiny freeloaders.
Regardless, we had two days of heavy rain and strong wind in the forecast, to which I was very much looking forward. In the meantime, though, we had another afternoon of calm we could use to do some exploring in the kayak.
With our kayak, we took the too-shallow-for-Begonia route along the mainland Ontario shore as a way of avoiding most of the adverse current. We saw the whole range of homes, docks, and boathouses, from condemned ruins to posh estates that to my eye looked like someone was trying just a little too hard to impress the rest of us.
Passing by a little marina with chairs and tables set up outside, we stopped in to give our backsides a break and to see if they had a little cafe, or at least some snacks for sale.
Alas, they did not. They had a cooler full of every type of live bait you could want, but their ice cream freezer was completely empty and full of room-temperature air, indicating that it had been so for a while. This made no sense. The big, season-opening weekend was last week, which was a hot one. Even if they had ice cream then, there should have at least been the dregs leftover of flavors nobody wants, like candy corn or salt and vinegar. They could have at least filled it with bags of ice. Fishoes are always buying bags of ice.
Well, it's probably for the best, anyway. We resumed our paddle without having arteries full of fat and cholesterol.
After a few more minutes, we reached the bridge connecting the mainland to Hamilton Island. There, it was clear the current was churning through, and we had to both paddle hard to keep moving forward through the gap. We rounded adjacent Renshaw Island and turned into the deep water channel. Now, when we weren't even paddling, we slid by the scenery at three-and-a-half to four knots on the way back to Begonia. We have both been impressed by how fast the springtime has progressed. Only a few weeks ago, when we were anchored in Pennsylvania, we were the only boat there amongst forests of bare, dormant trees. Now, everything is bursting with green.
Also noticeable is that it is the height of gosling season. The little fluffballs seem to outnumber the adults. We saw one pair that still had fourteen following them around. In another spot, a dozen adults seem to have left thirty or forty of the group's goslings under the care of one 'Auntie'.
We had another chance to potter about in the kayak at Cameron's point and the islands just off it
We had a couple of really windy, rainy days. The weather kept the files away from every part of the boat except the cockpit, where they were able to frolic in the dry in the lee of the cabin. Overnight, most of them would die and we would wake to find the cockpit covered in a stubble that was actually millions of little wings. Yeesh! I had no choice but to step on them on the way to the stern to get the many buckets of water I would need to rinse them away. My last step was to power wash the soles of my shoes before going back inside.
After the rain cleared, we set off for the anchorage at Valleyfield, which is just upstream of the Beauharnois Locks. This time, the wind was a bit too far forward to use the spinnaker, but still enough to the side that we could sail on various reaching angles without having to tack at all. The new sails are working out great. The only problem was when we hoisted them. Tens of thousands of little bug carcasses fluttered down like so many snowflakes, covering our just-rinsed decks. Ugh…Rinse, repeat.
When we got to Valleyfield, a police boat approached us and told us the harbor was closed for the next five hours,come back then, as if we lived just around the corner. Maryanne asked if it would be okay to tie to the adjacent public dock. The two officers conferred for a minute and then told us that would be perfect, as long as we were out of the way there and not in the bay. Baie St. Francois has a big fountain in the middle and we just happened to arrive on the day they send divers down to hook it up and turn it on for the season.
The public dock has gone through some management changes lately. Once, it was free. Then it was free for three hours, with a $2/ft charge to stay overnight. When we arrived, the notice board said it was free from 0800-2200, with a $1.70/ft charge to stay overnight. We liked the free option, but we wanted to explore the town and do a really big provision, so we decided to stay at the dock the first night.
It was a good thing we did. We were heading to the convenient and very local medium grocery store when a local told us about a much more comprehensive store just a little farther away that hadn't popped up on google maps.
Two things happened when we arrived there: First was that we saw that it was huge, with an especially good produce section. Second, we noticed there seemed to be no anti-theft devices on their carts.
Knowing we could wheel the carts beyond the boundry of the parking lot caused Maryanne to go a little nuts. While all of the other patrons were using little mini-carts that were basically elevated hand baskets with wheels, Maryanne and I each grabbed the biggest version that the store had and headed inside. We then spent the next few HOURS filing them until we could get no more on top of each pile without new items sliding off.
At the checkout, there was only one lane open, including the Express Line. The patrons who joined the queue after us with their tiny carts containing only a dinner's worth of wine, a baguette, and a wheel of cheese made no effort to hide their displeasure when they saw Maryanne shoving armloads of food onto the belt and me at the other end furiously stuffing the growing pile into bags.
Ordinarily, this is when we would have to repack everything into our own carts and backpacks, but Maryanne had another plan: We were taking the shopping carts home with us.
To get there, we had to cross through a traveling carnival (fun fair) that was being set up. The zigzagging through wasn't a problem, but all of the big power cables crisscrossing the place kept slamming the carts to an abrupt halt when the front wheels hit. Then, we would have to help each other lift the carts over the obstruction. At the worst spot, a few carnies saw us and came over to help lift. It was heart-warming and terrifying in equal amounts.
It was nice to have something to carry the weight, but a four hundred pound shopping cart does not want to roll straight on uneven surfaces, requiring quite a lot of wrestling to keep them on the sidewalk. By the time we had made it back to Begonia, we were tired from both the hours in the store and the workout we got getting our booty home. Then, of course, everything needed to be lifted aboard, sorted, and stowed. Maryanne started digging through the pile while I took the now featherlight carts back to the store. Then I walked back without carrying anything! I felt so decadent.
Afterward, we looked at each other and agreed that we were in no mood to do any more walking today and that it was good we had decided to stay the night at the dock.
The town of Salaberry-de-Valleyfield was pleasant with numerious parks and shaded waterfront paths along the old canals and current waterways. We were able to enjoy some lovely long walks
The next day, rejuvenated, we enjoyed a nice, hours-long walk along the rivers and canals in the area. At the end, we went to see the adjacent marina about paying, as they are now handling the billing for the public docks. Maryanne had been unable to use the online system the information board at the dock had directed, and despite sending an email asking them to call us so we could pay, we had yet to see any reply, so Maryanne wanted to just divert to the end of the point to pay at the office.
After a bit of confusion, we were told the reason she had no luck was because we needed to call and make a reservation before making the same reservation again online. Also, there's no way in the system to make a reservation for yesterday, so they would have to make one for today instead.
"What if I show up at 9:30pm, when you are closed, and want to make a reservation using the instructions on the sign at the dock?" Maryanne asked.
"Oh, you should call and make a reservation first."
"But what if we didn't know we were coming?"
"Why would you not know you're coming?"
"Never mind."
After a bit more back and forth, it was agreed that since we made a reservation and paid for tonight, we could stay until tomorrow now. Honestly, I doubt anybody checks, particularly this early in the season. We probably could have stayed a week without them knowing there was anybody at the public dock to charge. That is unless of course you call and make a reservation first.
{Maryanne:We are now definately in the French part of Canada. While most people do seem to speak English, all the signs are in French only, and we are making good use of our basic French and (even more so) the Google Translate app which allows us to point the camera at anything and have it convert the text to English before our eyes!}
Anchorage location >> On google maps
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