Days 88 thru 91
click all photos to enlarge
Runyak for Liberty Days 88, May 15, 2015
The drives to where the Runyak for Liberty leaves off is getting horribly long. St. Johnsville is where I left off last October. I arrived there in the dark of early evening and prepared Swiftee for the next morning's launch. Day 88 would be from that town to a marina in Canajoharie, NY.
No sooner had I got to Canajoharie in the van, I got pulled over by on of their finest. Apparently, I'd gone though what the officer said was a stoplight. If they call it that, it's the weirdest traffic light I'd ever seen. It looked like a wee lighthouse in center of a roundabout of the village square. I had no idea it was a traffic light. The officer said it was one of two like it in the U.S. Talk about a trap! He, himself even called it a "dummy light."
The officer wanted to know what I was doing in his town at night. Because of the long story behind runyaking to the Statue, I tried to be trite give standard answers to his questions. I wante to and avoid telling the scope of the trip. But, the more questions he asked about me, the more confused he got. Already under suspicion of being under the influence, he kept flashing his light in my eyes looking at my pupils (I'd only had one bottle of beer 4 hours earlier, and there was no alcohol was in the van, hard to believe I know).
He said, "As an officer of the law you understand how strange this is all sounding?"
In my defense I said, "You just happened to have pulled over, maybe the strangest person that lives in Michigan."
I proceeded telling him a few things that made me strange. He said, "so, if I went online I can verify everything you're saying?"
I told him yes.
He said, "Do it, use your phone right now." So, I then typed my name into Google. He then looked at several images of me. When he saw one of me standing next to Al Roker on the Today Show, I had him. No ticket.
I'd never heard of Canajoharie before arriving that night. I learned that the Beech-Nut Packing Company began there in the late nineteenth century. Their first product was canned ham, today it is mostly known for baby food, the other name brand alternative to Fremont, MI's Gerber. Interesting also, in 1844 Susan B. Anthony, at age 28, was a headmistress of Canajoharie Academy.
Up the next morning the following day, I had to run from Canajoharie back to St. Johnsville, about a 10 mile jog on the Canalway Trail. About half-way I came to a sign blocking the trail saying "Trail Closed." But there was no optional way to get to St. Johnsville without running the trail backward to a road, which would add several miles. So I went around the sign and continued.
A mile past the barricade I found the reason for the sign. There had been a landside.
For the next two hundred yards I jogged and climbed over some pretty rough terrain.
I must have been delirious by the time I reached St. Johnville for I missed the turn off the trail that led into town. Because of the missed road an extra mile was ran. Arrr! Retracing the trail back, I came to a sign stating "Village of St Johnville, Home of New York States Best Tasting Drinking Water 1998. After seventeen years, that's their claim to fame and they're sticking with it.
While uncabling Swiftee and getting ready to launch, a man, drawn to the kayak by the "Runyak for Liberty" sign on Swiftee, came over and began asking questions. His name was Richard Jonassen. He was partly interested because he was leaving later this year to compete in a canoe race in Norway. He'd challenged his teenage nephew who lives there to race him. I got the idea it truly was an excuse to travel to Norway and visit relatives. Only recently I found out I was 3% Scandinavian so I felt I'd found a long lost relative. When he gave me his card. I was surprised to see his name was of Danish origin and not Norwegian.
Cap'n & Richard Jonassen
During the nine mile paddle I passed by the landslide area that caused a bit of grief while running earlier and got different perspective. It would probably go unnoticed by most boaters passing by it.
I had to go through two locks during the paddle, Lock 15 and 14. 15 was about halfway and the other was only a quarter mile from the small marina where I finished. Both lowered me eight feet putting me 16 feet lower than where I began in St. Johnsville. Swiftee and I, are now 697 feet closer to sea level from where we began in 2009. Horseshoe Lake el. 991 ft \ Lock 14 el. 294 ft
The beer I enjoyed today was Goat Boy, a weizenbock from my favorite New York brewery Southern Tier.
Day 88 - 9.5 run, 8.9 yaked
Runyak for Liberty Days 89, May 16, 2015
Today's run was going to be a half-marathon in length. There were no boat launches from Canajoharie to the town of Fultonville. There was a lock, number 13, midway. I thought to break the day into two runyaking segments, that is until I saw the only way motor vehicles could access the lock was from I-90, the NY Thruway. But, only official NYS Thruway vehicles (which NYS Canal System is a part of) were allowed to use it. Running the thirteen miles was my only choice. And I won't complain... if not for tolls from the Thruway, the Canal System would not be funded. I have to pay tolls to drive to runyak destinations but never do I pay to go through the locks.
It was halfway into the run when I realize I had not carried water with me, plus I hadn't even finished my daily 16 oz. of coffee. At 9 miles, four cyclist going the opposite direction were passing and I asked the lead bike, "Would you happen to have any spare water, I didn't think to bring any and I'm doing a 13 mile run."
"Sure," he said, stopping, getting off his bike, and giving me a bottle from a saddle bag, "just take the whole bottle."
The foursome asked where I was from, and we spoke a bit about my adventure. Thanking them so many times, I forgot to mention what was ahead of them in the next mile. I hope they didn't miss it, for it, to me, was the most gorgeous natural sites of my time on the canal. The trail was following alongside a steep mountain (Little Nose). In the steep woods and rock, was a massive growth of moss. Midst the bryophyte were springs of water trickling its way down to the trail.
When I arrived on foot at the marina in Canajoharie, a 37-foot yacht was docking. As I prepared Swiftee for launch, I saw one of its crew. I was going to speak to him but when time came to launch he wasn't around.
So, I launched but hadn't paddled a hundred yards when the captain waved me down. He saw my sign and asked questions. His name was Alex. He and his life partner, Andre had been traveling for some time. They, and their boat, the Allison Leigh, built by Nordic Tug of Burlington WA, started in the state of Tennessee on the Tennesee - Tombigbee Waterway. Which meant they went down to the Gulf of Mexico, around Florida, used the Atlantic Intercoastal Waterway, to the Hudson River, all before finding the Erie Canal near Albany.
After hearing where I'd come from, Alex's main interest was how fast was the current of the Detroit River. I said I had more current in the St. Clair River than the Detroit. I can't imagine the Nordic Tug having any problem in the current, but it had him thinking ahead. That's probably because not yet, in thousands of miles traveled, had they gone against current as strong as St Clair and Detroit. One might think the Hudson is against current, but from what I've learned, Albany is at sea level, from there to NYC the Hudson is basically a fjord.
The run was actually 12.75 mi not a marathon, so I was off in premeasuring by a 0.45 mile. Whoopee! The paddle would end up being 12.5 with one stop on the way, Lock 13. On my way there, a half-dozen Canada Geese were sitting in the river honking up a storm, and would not shut up. All of a sudden they took to winging, still blowing there horns. From out of the trees nearby, they were in hot pursuit by a bald eagle. Bald eagles do prey upon Canada geese, as seen by this link, but my guess is the eagle was looking for the their goslings. They'd be much less work. The adult honking was probably to tell their babies not to move from there hiding place. The eagle, tired of waiting, pissed, decided to chase the parents away, then circle back and find the goslings looking for their parents. I had to keep paddling so never got to see if my thoughts were right on.
Before Lock 13 I passed by massive rock formations, Little Nose (el. 414-ft) (where I saw the moss) on my right then Big Nose (el. 654-ft)on my left.
This is the view I would have seen looking back over my shoulder after paddling by the ridges, had I taken the picture. This photo was copied from another paddlers blog Velogeur: Glenn's Paddle and Pedal Adventure. . Velogeur like Runyak is a portmanteau (Velocepe + Voyageur) both fabrications of the inventors.
While running to Canajoharie this morning I passed signage telling of the importance of the squeezing of the river between the two ridges. But Glenn's blog basically says what I want to say and saves me time.
"This part of the Mohawk River valley between
Canajoharie and Amsterdam cuts a notch through the foothills of the Adirondack
mountains. Without this natural gap, building the Erie canal would not have
been possible. With the glacier-gouged Hudson Valley (actually a fjord) already
slicing through the Catskills, this route formed the easiest way though the
Appalachians and into the vast American interior. The tightest part of the
Mohawk valley is defined by two protrusions aptly named Little Nose and Big
Nose. Everything is crammed between the Noses: The Mohawk River/Erie Canal, the
NY Central railway, the Interstate/Thruway, two state highways and the bike
path (an old railway bed)." Glenn G.
In the early 19th Centuary there was a race to find a shipping route to and from the Midwest. The Erie Canal's main competition was the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. Had there been similar gap through the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Washington-Baltimore megopolis today could likely be called the capital of the world, a recognition today sometimes bestowed upon NYC. In summation New York would not be called the Empire State.
By the time I landed at Fultonville's newly looking dock I was very, very tired physically.
One sign had a photo of what I describe as, "a pretty long blond-haired girl in a derby hat." I truly had to Google and find out who she was.
"She" turned out to be a "he," who'd recently made the final four in the 8th season of NBC's The Voice. (Here is a hometown interview) (Driving home on the Thruway, May 18, I listened to him on You Tube. He blew me away. click here to hear The Voice audition. The finals aired that night as I drove home, and it wasn't until later that I learned he took first place and won it all!)
And so, I left Fultonville not knowing who this Sawyer was, and headed to Schenectedy where I heard there was a brewery.
Day 89 –12.75 run, 9.5 yaked
Runyak for Liberty Day 90, May 17, 2015
Can’t think of a better way
to start the RFL Day 90 than with a Mohawk on the Mohawk.
Sorry couldn’t help it. Just
me being me.
It would be a 10-mile run
from Amsterdam back to Swiftee in Fultonville, home of Sawyer Fredericks. There
was a shorter way that would have taken off 0.5 mile but it would mean over 4
miles on roads and not trail. Not worth it. Road traffic, and no shade to speak
of, makes the longer distance preferable.
About halfway into the run
somewhere in the “census-designated place” of Tribes Hill (name is based on it
being a gathering spot for the Mohawk nation) I came across a black cat trying
to cross my path.
I couldn’t see any homes
nearby, yet there by the trail, was a shelter built for the black cat. There
were bowls of water and food near the shelter. Seems some evil witch was trying
to ruin the day of those trying to travel down the path. Before giving
Witchipoo a chance to cross, I paused and put my hand out. The cat took a swipe
at my welcoming hand. I said “to hell with you” and beat it down the trail.
A couple miles further into
the run, the Canalway Trail was parallel to NY State route 5S. Across the
highway I viewed what first looked like a cemetery.
Photo taken 15 days earier of Ss. Baraga, Kateri, Damien, and Rose
Unknown to me at the time, but when I launched from the dock Fultonville, I had 1998.9 runyaking miles under my belt since I began the expedition in 2009. Just over a mile later, obliviously, I passed the 2000 mile mark!
It was 10:45 am when I launched for what would be a 3.5 hour paddle. I’d be going through two locks, 12 and 11. Lock 12 marked the halfway, the other lock would be in Amsterdam, just up canal from where I’d land. Arriving at Lock 12 there seemed to be construction work going on. I asked the lockmaster if they were working on the bridge. He said that it wasn’t a bridge, it was a dam. Well I could see there was a dam but thought it served as a bridge also. I looked like all the iron bridges I’d seen in my life, but both ends needed extending.
This is the same sort of “dam” that has been adjacent to all the locks since Lock 15, on my first day back this trip. The river is much wider now, and I suppose that is why a truss dam is needed? I imagine I will be seeing the ‘iron bridge” dam/lock combination the rest of the way to the Hudson.
As Swiftee and I descended
the 11 feet in the lock I heard a “splat” on the kayak’s stern. Looking above
me I saw a raven and it’s nest. She missed her target (me I’m sure) when dropping her excrement. Despite having to wash Swiftee off I enjoyed seeing the raven, for
where I live in Michigan we don’t have them. Only when UpNorth do we ever spot
them. So, Amsterdam, NY must be further north than Flint? No, Amsterdam is exactly the same as Grand Blanc in latitude.
Paddling on, and going
through the second lock of the day (Lock 11) then exiting it was about a
ten-minute paddle before landing a boat launch named Port Jackson. The name for
the launch remains even though the village of Port Jackson was annexed by the
bigger town across the river, Amsterdam back in 1885.
As I prepared Swiftee with
supplies for the following morning, two young local men from Amsterdam were
landing in their kayaks. I asked if they’d gone through the lock.
“No, it cost money.” They
replied.
“That’s funny,” I told them, “I’ve went through every lock since Buffalo and I haven’t paid a dime.” Hmmm, I had to teach these locals something they did not know.
“That’s funny,” I told them, “I’ve went through every lock since Buffalo and I haven’t paid a dime.” Hmmm, I had to teach these locals something they did not know.
Day 90 – Run 9.5 mi,
Yak 10 mi.
Runyak for Liberty Day 91, May 18, 2015
34 days on the Erie Canal, and this day of runyaking was the most disturbing day of all of them.
My smart phone eats up a lot of battery from the time I unplug it from the charger until I arrive back at the van, sometimes, eight hours later. Mostly because I keep Maps app open for navigation whether running or kayaking. So, I have a second charge battery ready when the first goes dead. Also I have an external battery as backup in my life vest, just in case.
My smart phone eats up a lot of battery from the time I unplug it from the charger until I arrive back at the van, sometimes, eight hours later. Mostly because I keep Maps app open for navigation whether running or kayaking. So, I have a second charge battery ready when the first goes dead. Also I have an external battery as backup in my life vest, just in case.
It was well into the run today when I realized I’d forgotten the second battery. Fine, I still have the
external battery once I get to Swiftee where the life vest was. Screwed again,
for besides forgetting the second battery I forgot the cord needed to connect
the external battery to the phone.
To conserve battery I turned
on the phone only when needed, therefore I took only couple photos the entire runyak
segment.
As usual when finishing the
run and arriving at the kayak, I tear off the kayak’s cover skirt, pull out the
cooler for some water… always needed after a long run, this one being 9.75 mi.
This time NO COOLER!
My thoughts were that I'd
left it in the van and never packed it in Swiftee the day before.
I called Hope as I always do
before launching, and told her my problems and added, “My phone will be off, you probably
won’t be able to follow me on your phone's g.p.s. app.”
There happened to a elderly
man at the launch park with his dog doing it’s doody. He spoke to me saying,
“You got a long way to go.” when seeing the sign on Swiftee.
I told him, “Not that far
considering how far I’ve come.”
He seemed to want more
information, but I had find some way to hydrate before launching.
I explained my cooler
situation and said, “I’m going to have to walk the party store,” which was over
a half-mile away. I began walking, got about 300 yards and the man drove up and
said he’d drive me to the store and back.
At the store I did not by
water, but instead two Cokes and a 24-oz beer. I was disappointed when not
finding any craft beer in the store, but expected as much. Labatt Ice was my lame choice.
I thanked my driver on the way
to the store, and again on the return to the “the playground. “That’s what we
called Port Jackson Launch Park when we were kids.” The man said.
The man’s name was, “Joe
Pacino, like the actor.” I believe he was of no relation to Al, or he would
have said so.
As I stated in yesterday's post, Port Jackson was a town
across the Mohawk from Amsterdam, NY up until 1885. It was then annexed by
Amsterdam. Aside from the launch park nobody would even know that it ever was
Port Jackson.
“Lots of Italians names in
this town I noticed.” I mentioned to Joe.
“And Eastern Europeans. They
came here to work in the mills.” He told me.
Because Joe mentioned
“mills” what later popped into my mind was… Mohawk Carpet mill? I looked it up later and yes
Mohawk Carpet, now located in Dalton, GA,
Carpet Capital of the World, began here in Amsterdam, NY, as did Sanford-Bigelow.
Issur Danielovitch is THE most famous person ever to grow up in Amsterdam, NY. Everybody knows who he is but not by that name.
As an adult the son of Jewish Russian immigrants legally changed his name to
Kirk Douglas..
I thanked Joe Pacino one
last time, and he drove away, and I uncapped a Coke and chugged it before
launching.
I no sooner launched and
began feeling wind in my face and seeing waves coming at me on the river. The
rivers current, should've been in my favor, but it never was today. The river
is very wide now, and will likely increase in width all the way to the Hudson.
In the center of the river I was seeing whitecaps, so I remained close to the
river’s bank. It helped, but not much.
It wasn’t halfway into the
9.3 mile paddle that I hit the roughest stretch of waves. Watching the
riverbanks on my right I noticed I WAS MOVING BACKWARD. I was feeling like
throwing in the towel. I had to give myself a pep talk, then began paddling as hard as I
could until finally exhausted. It, was all that was needed to get over the
hump: the worst waves of the day.
One time, midst today’s
waves, a yacht came into view going with the waves. I waited for it to slow to
a 'no wake' speed. It never did. I began waving my paddle trying to get it’s
attention but it wouldn’t have mattered, it was too late. Not sure if he was
blind, ignorant of boating rules, or just an arrogant bastard. I assumed the worst of the three.
When his WAVES hit me,
my paddle was flailing. Without my experience of paddling the Great Lakes I would
have capsized. Even with my thousand plus miles of paddling, I don't think of myself as a skilled kayaker, but had I still been a novice paddler I'd have biffed it.
A couple miles from my
finish point, which would be Lock 9 in Rotterdam Junction, I saw a yellow object tangling in the riverbank debris. It looked like something I'd found and pulled out of the Flint River 10 years ago, a Little Tykes toy chair.
As I did a decade before, I
paddled over and pulled it out of the river, and sat it on Swiftee’s bow. Sure
enough it was an identical chair. A deja vu moment. How many chairs of this modal could have made it into rivers? Could’ve been the same one but what are
the chances?
May 18, 2005
June 29, 2005
During the 4:45 hours of
paddling, my mind, when not thinking about the waves, kept returning to the
missing cooler. As more time passed, I was more convinced I had put the cooler
in the kayak. If true, it meant someone had stolen it. But, I’d never know for sure
until reaching the van at Lock 9.
So, as soon as I arrived
Lock 9 and pulled Swiftee onto the pier, I went directly to the van to see for sure.
It wasn’t there. Biggest
bummer of the day. I didn’t want to believe it. STOLEN COOLER and BEER!
After packing the van to go
home, and still disturbed, instead of getting on the turnpike I drove back to the Port Jackson
launch to look for it. I was thinking, maybe I was losing it in the head, that
I’d hid it or left it out somewhere at the launch?
After looking there and not
finding it, I cleaned myself up and put clean clothes on to drive home.
While doing this I saw some shady looking characters loitering about.
The day before, when cabling
and covering Swiftee for the night, I saw people fishing, and the they also had
an untrustworthy look about them.
Finally, I went back to the
nearby party store to buy ice for the trip home, I told the Pakistani grocer
what had happened. He was not surprised.
“No good peopo hang aroun
dere,” He told me. I was thinking the same thing, so where was my head?
So, the long drive home was
even worse because of the day’s events. This many bad things had not occurred
since Day 17 on Saginaw Bay. In my journal that day after every upsetting event
I commented, “Just great!”
Today, despite the:
- Forgotten secondary battery. "Just Great!"
- Forgotten external battery cord, “Just Great!”
- Forgotten cooler, “Just Great!”
- Battle of the wind and waves, “Just great!”
- Yacht jerk, “Just Great!
- And the stolen cooler and beer, “Just great!”
Still, I don’t believe I’d
trade all of today’s disappointments for what I incurred on Day 17. That day was a total disaster. Because of waves, I aborted 5 miles into the paddle when someone offered me a ride to my van.
This is the second time
someone has stolen my cooler, the other was on Day 13, AND the third time my
beer was stolen (Day 13, 82, and 91).
The crappy beer I bought to
drink to replace that which was stolen, I could not finish. I poured what could
not be stomached into the Mohawk. Yeah, I admit, I am a beer snob. I have no problem
saying that. I paid $12 dollars for one of the bottles of stolen beer. The
thief, surely a Budlike drinker, for over 90% of beer drinkers are, probably saw the price sticker on the
bottle, drank it, thinking it was going to be awesome stuff. He probably
said, “Ugh, that’s awful stuff, what kind of fool would pay $12 for that. Well,
least I got a fairly nice cooler.”
I will say no more, for I’m
feeling quite foolish now for leaving good beer in such a seedy place.
Day 91 - 9.75 run,
9.30 yak
