Catching Up On Everything!!! and An Invitation and Request for Company!!!
- Ann Cognito
- Jul 25, 2021
- 10 min read
Waking up at Rocky Narrows Lock Station where we were docked for the night, continuing through the lock today and on to Rideau Ferry for gas, then Beveridges lock station for the night. We’ were planning on Smith’s Falls tonight but that’s quite a stretch. Beveridges seems a more reasonable expectation for today’s distance, and we’ll get moving as soon as the inetrnet and gandget let me post this.. It’s been crazy sometimes but also so beautiful, and there’s already stories.
I’m also looking for someone to come crew from Smith’s Falls to Ottawa! This is already an adventure, I’d love to share it, and I do need help. But stories first – then decide about coming and being part of more stories yourself.
I’ve tried telling the stories sooner and I’m sorry it took so long. Even last night, just as I was about to bring this gadget up to the lock station to post from under the roof and within the connection zone – this temperamental gadget thought it was time to refuse to charge or stay on. Also, there actually is a really big magnetic disturbance area around Kingston, and by the time we left that, there was more boating and troubleshooting than can fit into a day, and more typing/posting than fit into the available reception or connection or power (or combination thereof). It’s all a work in progress! So here’s what’s been progressing… I will probably have to add the photos tomorrow with better internet in Smith’s Falls.
The launch at Blue Heron Marine near Gananoque went swimmingly. Douglas and Blue MacTosh, who own Blue Heron, and their manager George, are awfully good people. I drove George a bit up a wall with too many questions and too little idea about how to launch a boat during the planning, but he’s remarkably patient. He’s also currently reading David Wallace-Wells’ Uninhabitable Earth, and I hope he’ll check this blog once in a while to help balance that very important but sometimes overwhelming book.
After tea, and getting a bit more idea what I’m up to, Douglas and Blue offered a night or two at the marina to get things working – things like the navigation app and fishfinder/depthfinder, which weren’t at all and are kind of crucial.
The whole next day was spent sorting those problems out. After a couple hours on the phone, the nav app ungltiched (though it’s glitched again; more later). After several more hours on the phone and emailing, Garmin decided to courier a replacement depthfinder kit to the first lock station ahead of us, and the lock station folks agreed to receive it and hold it. Hopefully I can send the old one back from Smith’s falls, but that might have to wait till Ottawa because Garmin pays the shipping if it’s UPS.
Meanwhile, my friend Sarah was coming by bus to meet Mr Myrtle and I in Kingston, but we couldn’t even leave the marina yet. She made her way out to the marina instead, and I managed to get the sailboat boom out of the cabin and stowed on deck, and other things put away, before she arrived. what with all the everything happening, we ordered pizza to the boat from a nearby place with delivery. It was totally worth it and was enough for lunch the next day too.
The outboard was next. It didn’t want to go. Maybe it forgot what water (and being an outboard) is all about, but Douglas got it going. From Blue Heron, we putt-putted east along the St Lawrence a short way to Peck’s Marina for gas, and to buy a chart to get us to the first lock station on the Rideau (the nav app is very helpful when it works but charts are always great).
The outboard conked out in the middle of the channel on the way towards Kingston. Twice. Floating dead as driftwood. Thank goodness it was the sort of day most folks didn’t want to be out on their boats. We were paddling, trying to find advice or help on the phone, and I was pretty frazzled. It finally restarted both times though, and got us to Kingston Mills Lock Station by about 7:00 that evening. We were the only boat docked for the night, and it was absolutely beautiful. Fish jumped up to watch the fireflies sparkling in the woods along the river, herons and hawks keeping watch.
Two days, one late Garmin delivery, and impromptu tool-shopping trip, and some outboard convincing, and we were finally off. Except we weren’t. The outboard wasn’t going anywhere. It wouldn’t start. Upon closer inspection by people who know more about such things, including Tony, Skoro’s former owner, who buzzed all the way from Wolfe island in Harriet his little Blue Bomber motorboat to help, it was determined that we needed a pair of fuel connectors that weren’t bent out of shape.
It took a while, but we found one of the parts, figured that was better than neither, and Marine Outfitters rushed it over. Much later, we finally figured out the right part number for the other part, and sure enough, Marine Outfittters had that too, so they rushed that over – but accidentally repeated the first order. They’re pretty great people there, though, and despite being way too busy, they pulled a rabbit out of a hat again and soon we had both right parts.
One wouldn’t fit though. I was so frustrated I asked the last fisherman leaving the dock if he knew anything about outboards. He knows quite a lot about them, actually, and knows how to McGyver things wonderfully. While his very sweet little girls caught minnows and bugs, Chris figured out why it wouldn’t fit (old motor, new parts). He asked if he could take the parts home to McGyver them quick and come back in the morning. People are just downright amazing.
We found a monarch wing and gave it to his girls the next morning before finally making it through the lock. There was very little boat traffic, so we could soak up the day more than when totally focused on navigating. Swans graced bays thick with waterlilies, waterbirds dove for fish, and the channel markers led us through to the next locks.
I’ve learned I trust channel markers more than road signs, channels more than roads, boats more than cars. I’ve got a lot to learn about locking, and docking, and outboards, but I’d rather be doing that than navigating any city downtown area or transit system. And boat people are mostly really good people. This adventure’s barely begun and I’ve already talked to several about what I’m doing with Skoro, about my Walk and the Climate Emergency Camp, about continuing now to raise awareness and do what I can for the planet. So many of us care… if we only knew how many, maybe more of us could stand up and change together.
The locks at Lower and Upper Brewers went mostly fine, though a bit dramatic. We’d not yet made or realized the need for putting Mr Myrtle in the cabin while going through locks. He’s such a wonderful boat dog. But he wanted to help, and I couldn’t mind both of us, and missed one of the grab cables on the lock wall. I tried to keep hold of the one I had so we wouldn’t slide too far forward in the lock, while using the dinghy oar as a boat hook to fend off with, but lost my balance instead and sort of keeled over onto Skoro’s skinny little side deck. Those side decks are SO skinny that to everyone else, it looked like I was being crushed between the hull and the rockslab wall, but I’ve barely even got any bruising (and I bruise from bug bites, even).
Also though, I have a hard time trusting the outboard and I’m not very good with it. Besides being nearly incapable of getting along with anything that runs on gas, a slightly newer model would be less prone to the health foibles of mechanical age, and simpler to fix when it does have any trouble.
Therefore, I am looking for a new (to me) outboard, with an electric start… maybe even a few more horses in it.
I also have trouble managing the pull-start; my shoulders haven’t been able to do that kind of movement for a long time and aren’t cooperating (or happy) now. Needless to say, not being able to get one’s motor going isn’t convenient anywhere, especially in locks. Also not when your motor dies on the water. That happened again. We ran out of gas in the middle of a lake. Thankfully there was no boat traffic, and we were in a wide and deep area, so we were able to transfer gas from the spare can and get going, It lasted till quite literally the moment we touched the dock at Davis lock the next day.
There are actually a few marinas who will find someone to bring you gas when you’re stranded. Jeff even went over the motor, and gave us advice, and I wish I could have baked him a pie or something.
Anyways, we made it to Chaffey’s Lock, where we docked for the night.
Mostly, Sarah and I have been foraging greens each evening and – depending how much we find – having salad or ‘Rideau Ramen’. We also mix up breakfast drinks, and those Clif-type bars (gluten free organic protein etc) are as indispensable now as they were during my Walk. Black beans or chick peas dress up nice with very little help. Pancakes on a damp wood fire or a temperamental alcohol stove – not so successful. We named that disaster Smoked Rideau Bread Pudding and Mr Myrtle finished what we couldn’t. The fish loved the last scraps.
In the morning, we filled both gas cans up at Brown’s Marina, right beside the lock. Chris was awfully helpful even though he was also awfully busy. As per Jeff’s advice and his own assessment, he got better valves on the cans. We also got a thing of oil, so that just in case, it’ll be possible to make the right mix of fuel when a marina isn’t close enough to help.
Honestly, we were bloody lucky to run out when and where we did. Ditto about the motor. Much of this canal system is lakes – much is winding waterways so narrow it’s nervewracking. Forty foot power cruisers suddenly jump out from around tiny bends, and yes it most definitely is possible to “suddenly jump out” at 10km/h, when the space and turns are that small! We tie a bright pink rain poncho to the top of the boathook, which the person navigating on the deck holds as a flag, so maybe the oncoming boats can spot us sooner. If it’s a particularly blind bend or tight twist, a quick hoot on the airhorn seems like a good idea..
One party boat passed us and laughed at us in our lifejackets with flag and airhorn, asking is we’d discovered the North Pole yet. But they were drinking, and going too fast, and we’re being safe, so I don’t care. I just hope they got off the water soon.
Most other boats are really patient, and nice… even when I completely lost the way into a narrow waterway and went right around in a circle to find it. Thank you, other boat people, very much.
The lock people are the cats pajamas too. They are so helpful, and awfully patient, and mostly just really nice people. It must be a fascinating job,. Minding and operating a functional piece of history (and arguably one of the few somewhat less dysfunctional pieces) must be an interesting feeling.
Going through locks is a whole ‘nother kind of interesting, though I suppose old hat to most folks doing it. They’re incredibly interesting all on their own, as a thing. Water stairs made of giant bathtubs, defying tons and tons of water, just with a few cranks of a gatechain.
The history they tell, of colonialism and of forcing a planet to facilitate colonialism and capitalism, is a running discussion in my head throughout this trip.
The people and the places and the peace, though, are so very good. And I’m so blessed to have Sarah’s company and help – this has been such a perfect way to start this journey.
Sarah’s leaving by Tuesday though… back to work and home, in Toronto. We’ll reach Smith’s Falls today and work out her itinerary, and she’ll leave from there.
I’ll stay docked at the lock a couple days while I find someone to come with me the rest of the way to Ottawa. Navigating this system really does require two bodies on this sort of boat… one to drive, at the stern where you can’t see while using the outboard (the sailboat’s own tiller allows standing), one to watch from the deck and signal to maintain course as well as avoid other boats and obstacles, and guide docking and locking, as well as manage the bow end of the boat while locking and while docking. Someone out there has a piece of time and would love an adventure!
Sarah says the quarterberth is really comfortable (though I’d be happy to trade if you’d like to try the V berth!). This really is an incredibly beautiful piece of the world, and a beautiful way to come through it. The sun and wind and water make the days clear and full, and at night you can dream while floating between the stars and the seaweed. We’ll go on foraging walks with Mr Myrtle and cook Rideau Ramen on the dock. I promise not to make Smoked Rideau Pudding, and I promise this trip will be something you can add to your reverse bucket list – not the list of things you wish you’d do… the list of remarkable things you HAVE done with your life.
Give it a think get in touch! We can meet in Smith’s Falls. It’s a great town – I visited the town, and and camped at the lock station, during my walk.
You can reach me here or by email or messenger, through facebook (the Climate Emergency Sailboat page or my own), or call me. Let me know if you can just come part of the way — maybe someone else is really wanting to come for the other part and hoping you’ll make that possible! We’ll sort out meeting and whatever else, I can give you some ideas about what to pack, if you like.
Honestly… I’m exhausted, I’m covered in bug bites and bruises and scrapes, I probably stink (but there’s showers at Smith’s falls lock station, and maybe even a laundromat), and things hurt all over and sometimes my nerves are scrambled like eggs… but I haven’t been happier or more myself since I’m not sure when… a very long time. Needing help is almost secondary to wanting to share this. Do come.
With hope and determination,
Ann
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