Wednesday, June 29, 2011

just saying...

June 28 (Sara):
Every lock we go through, Dad has the same conversation with lazily contented boat-admirers or/and whoever’s helping us with the lines. It usually goes something like this:
“Hello!”
“Hey! Nice day, eh?”
“Yup. We’ve been lucky with the weather.”
“Where you from?”
“Boston.”
(grinning) “So how about those Bruins, eh?”
“Oh yeah, but the funny thing is—” (dramatic pause) “—there are more Canadians than Americans on the American team!”
(big, guttural chuckle) “Crazy, eh?”



June 29:
Nicest night yet. Steph and I sprinted off the dock and splashed into the cool relief of the lake. We shampooed each others’ hair, hoisting ourselves up by the lines that connect the boat to the swaying dock.
“Now, how are we gonna get out?” I asked Steph and myself, vainly attempting lazy acrobatics with the ropes and dock-sides as Steph scrubbed her face with slime-green soap.
“Da-ad!” I called.
No answer. Hmm. I looked around. Aha!
“We could just swim over there,” I realized aloud. And we did. (“Over there” being a serenely grassy spot we’d kneeled by earlier (before our run), admiring a tiny, exquisitely black-blue beetle perched on the fresh green petal of a weed.)
Our pink feet hoppingly hurried through pebbled grass and, once back by the Lucy III, stopped and stood exultingly, towards the ever-new wind, harmonizing, drying— solidifying from water to flesh.
Human again, we unzipped the Wendy Room and slipped into the homey aroma of spaghetti. Mmmmm.


June 30:
“Saraaaaa!”
“Wha…?” I look around groggily. “Oh!”
“Bye! Bye-bye!” Emily and Sydney sing, waving grinningly as their boat zooms by.
“Ahh!” Steph cries from downstairs where she’s doing her hair. “What’s going on?”
“Emily and Sydney!” I call back as their wake rocks our stomachs into churning roller-coaster glee.

We met those two sisters last night after Dad befriended their grandpa. Seeing Dad “making another friend” (he’s very social), Steph and I strolled over from where we’d been washing up in the lock’s fancy bathroom (As we were walking in, Steph pointed to the iconic male and female restroom figures and joked, “Who are those people?” In my exhausted exhilaration my mouth cried, “William and Kate!” Steph rolled her eyes as I sprinted in, calling “William!...Ew…William stinks…” “Kate smells better,” Steph noted, stepping into the girls’ bathroom.— and now the lavatory will forever be known as “William” (boys’) and “Kate” (girls’)…)to the dock where the two men stood by the darkening plum-hued water.



As we greeted the grandpa, shaking hands, a little, blonde-bobbed sprite skipped over, hugging the man’s arm and chortling, “Whenever Grandpa’s around women, I know I’ve gotta watch out.” Her voice was so beautifully, childishly musical, like an especially enthusiastic flute and her smile so large and joyfully façadeless that I asked her, “What’s your name?” “Sydney,” she replied, delighted by my plunge into conversation. After Steph and I introduced ourselves, Sydney pointed to a white power boat. “That’s our boat there,” she informed us proudly, “and,” she continued, indicating a taller girl in an aqua sweatshirt, wavy blonde hair, and red and white plaid pajama bottoms, “That’s my sister Emily.” “Hi,” Emily greeted us with a slightly hesitant smile. We introduced ourselves again, pointing to the far-off white sailboat with the green canvass and horizontal mast. And then they were telling us funny anecdotes about their crazy, rural lives; like the time Sydney fell on a beaver dam and the night Emily crawled through some sewage pipes with her cousins and Emily had thought a crocodile was snapping at her heels (Sydney announced self-contentedly that she had remained sanely behind on that particular adventure). When they asked me and Steph if we had any stories, we looked dumbfoundedly at each other and blamed our deteriorating adult brains for their failure to produce memories but really, in the city you don’t get into exciting conundrums like that. While they were climbing piles of logs and tumbling down ecstatically, we were propped up by pillows, staring dully at the TV. We are active for city-slickers (as my mom calls us), going to the gym, the skating rink, the art studio… but we’re always driving and any blunder is seen as an “inconvenience”, a “waste of time”. We’re constantly rushing, and so have no time to skip through mud puddles and go on twilight walks not for fitness but for no because at all. I’d like to live somewhere where there is no “why”, only the meandering thrill of living.

I want to feel like Iggy Pop does when he sings “I gotta lust for LIFE!”

Monday, June 27, 2011

Departure Canada Cruise 2011






Clayton, NY: June 25, 2011

Marc- We arrived from Boston with our car fully loaded at 3 p.m. The boat loading and preparation took two hours. Our first stop was the Fuel dock at RJ Marine and they over to Grindstone Island for a wonderful night at the Holt family's Long Point. It was a bit bouncy at the outside pier at the Holt's boathouse but docking was easy enough. Tea was served soon after arrival and we enjoyed a great evening and morning of socializing with good friends. The overnight was spent at the white boathouse dock in the background of the photo below since the winds never calmed down in the evening. It did require some careful docking by hand, under the guidance of Emily Holt, to fit the Lucy III in a quiet spot for the night protected from the southwest wind and waves entering Aunt Jane's bay.

Steph- Today was a long day, but for the most part very pleasant. We departed from our friends Shep and Emily Holt’s cottage on Grindstone Island in the Thousand Islands, and ended up here in Kingston, ON at a marina we’ve stayed at before, just a five minute walk from the downtown. After a delicious, and I might add probably the best one on this trip, breakfast, cooked by my parents and my sister, (what was I doing?) we said our goodbyes and returned to the wonderful little village of Clayton, NY for the last time. Sara and I had gone swimming the night before, but as we were on a boat, woke up with that disgusting sticky feeling all fellow boaters know about during the summer. We were therefore glad to return to the mainland to take showers, now a new form of heaven, and wash up, even though we had to live with the possibility of it being our last in awhile. By this time it was already somehow noon, I guess since we had spent so much time talking to the Holts, a lovely couple. As I took the longest to get ready, as usual, my Dad went to look for parts to fix the milky brown oil in our engine – oh yeah, I forgot to mention our engine trouble – and my Mon and sister went to get sandwiches at a nearby deli for lunch. Hair not so straightened but makeup ready, I said bye to my mom since she only stayed for the first night of our trip and is coming back for the second week (Ottawa to Montreal). I guess now would be a good time to mention, rather belatedly, that my parents and my sister and I have just set out for our annual three week boat trip. This year, we plan to travel from Clayton, New York, where we have kept the boat for two years, up through Canada (using the Rideau waterway, the Ottawa River, the Lachine Canal, The St. Lawrence River, and the Richelieu River to return to Lake Champlain and the Point Bay Marina in Charlotte.

We had initially intended to sail last year all the way to Toronto but were impeded by, what else? – Engine troubles. So instead we ventured west towards Toronto on the Trent Severn Waterway on or friends Jay and Joan Gehrig’s catamaran: Windsong. I still can’t believe the engine completely died though, since we were using the original Atomic 4 from 1974 and my dad had repaired it an innumerable amount of times. He has revived our engine so many times before but this time a broken connecting rod finished it off. If you know my father, you know that he can fix anything. Seriously. Anything. From lawsuits to plumbing, to boats to lives (of engines). So you can see how awestruck my sister and I were when he told us that he couldn’t bring it back from the dead. I think that we, out of all boaters, have had the worst luck when it comes to engines. Every year there is a new quirk, and my Dad works tirelessly to fix the problem, as my sister, my mom, and I attempt to aid, but most times only end up playing a another round of UNO or checking out a new town. We can try to help but my dad’s the one who always fixes everything in the end. Wow, okay, way off track. So… where was I? Right, so my mom left and I ate lunch in front of the T.V. in the Islander marina lodge (which is now owned by French Bay, the marina we stayed at for two winters). Shep and his granddaughter Anna came down at around one o’clock to help my dad diagnose the engine malfunction. Although our departure for Kingston was initially questionable since it would have been easier to find a mechanic in Clayton, we finally decided to leave. After a nice three and a half hour motor trip with only a few light rain showers, we arrived in Kingston at 6:30 P.M. The Doc Master let us stay at the gas dock for the night. Dad, Sara, and I then set out on foot for one of our most beloved Canadian cities. It was rather quiet since it was a Sunday night, and we first walked to the old train station, now an information center, for postcards. Sara and I found one that was particularly hilarious, and that we resultantly laughed at for a full five minutes, while Dad talked to the two ladies at the desk, students at Queens, the university in Kingston that believes they are a better school than McGill. Leaving the building with seventeen postcards-no joke- we crossed the street to get Gelatos. They even had sorbetto (sorbet) for Vegan Sara. As we walked along the waterfront, Gelatos in hand, some Canadian geese, my brethren, as my friends call them, approached us, and Sara ran after one, screaming, “I’m you’re friend, I’m you’re friend!” I’m exaggerating, but it was pretty funny when she was admiring them and one flew away. Sara was in that weird mood she gets in, I guess because of the chocolate soy milk she practically inhaled. So when we returned to the boat, Sara made us work out, which is good for those of us who are inherently lazy, so Dad and I biked while she ran. Man is that girl fast!! I still say she should compete in cross-country, but she claims to dislike competition. We then took showers in the freezing cold water of the marina, and returned to a very cozy boat for a very cozy sleep.

Grindstone Island, NY: June 26, 2011

Marc- Return this morning to Clayton to drop Sue off and to check out a few problems with the boat. I put my mechanic's hat on once again since none was available for our engine oil issues. We left at 3 p.m. after an oil change. It was a easy but wet trip to Kingston, Ontario. On arrival we noticed a Boston Fire Department boat at the shipyard nearby. This boat was ready for delivery and did make us feel rather close to home. After our check in with Canadian customs by phone we went on foot to visit beautiful downtown Kingston. The Gelato shop was excellent. After dinner aboard Lucy III we continued to explore the area on our bikes. The paths were nice with many families out along the park areas near the Cataraqui River.

Kingston, Ontario: June 26, 2011

Deaprture at 09:00 after a good coffee and baked goods treat in town. The first locks came soon at Kingston Mills. We continued North stopping at Jones Falls for the night. Steffie and I went right to the ice cream shop below the locks. We all enjoyed a refreshing swim after going up the four locks here.

Jones Falls, Ontario: June 27, 2011

Sara- This morning we left Kingston with the lofty prospect of “Joan’s Falls” to fuel our imaginations. Soon Dad was exclaiming, “Woah! Look how skinny this river is!” and adventure bloomed in our hearts. I grinned and gazed with happy awe at the surrounding forest. “Canada isn’t as built up as back home,” my dad explained. I nodded, and wondered aloud, (thinking of all the happy-go-lucky “eh”-ing folks up here), “Why is everyone in Boston so…unhappy?” because truly, Canadians have every right to gloominess— look at their frostbitten winters! And yet everyone we meet here greets us with a “Nice day, eh?” or a nod and a smiling “Hello”— but actually, I should consider that we aren’t in Montreal. We’re in Nature; scuttling, swooping, slugging Nature! In big cities I suppose everyone keeps his head bent and pushes dully through the crowd, that great phalanx of “quiet desperation”. So maybe Bostonian city-slickers aren’t any grumpier than Canadian ones.

Merrickville, Ontario: June 28, 2011

Marc- We made it a long travel day today and arrived before the worst thunderstorm that I've seen in years. We were having dinner at the local family restaurant when it hit but luckily the boat was well secured and wrapped up for the evening. Sara and Steffie found a candy / ice cream shop in town and we also found an RBC bank ATM.
We have hydro tonight so we will be cool and dry.


Thursday, June 9, 2011

Boat Launch, June 9, 2011, French Bay Marina, Clayton, NY


Marc- Today is the big day for the Lucy III although she is not quite ready for cruising yet. French Bay launched the boat this morning and placed it at a slip at the adjoining Islander Marina that they also own.