Twenty thousand roads I've gone down, down, down,
And they all led me straight back home to you…….Gram Parsons,  Return of the Grievous Angel

Home

From the Captain

5/15/14 Wappinger Creek to Riverview Marina, Catskill, NY 40 nm.

We continued to ride the current up the Hudson, delaying our departure until the tide turned. We made the 40-mile trip to Riverview, where owner Mike and his crew will crane Luna's mast down onto her deck in the morning.

All up the river we have dodged fishermen out on their skiffs. I ask Mike what fish is running this time of year. "Striped bass," he tells me. "And there's big money out there. Someone pulled up a 40-pounder the other day." On the Chesapeake, they call these rockfish. With all the lines in the water, I don't see how these critters have a chance. The fishing derby explains why I saw someone throw back a fairly sizable fish earlier in the day.

The skies are threatening rain, and there is another large storm system approaching the coast, but there is work to do. We undo all the halyards and lines that lead from the mast onto the cabin top. Loosen the stays and shrouds. Remove the sails and the boom.

There is a huge pile of lumber behind the marina office, mast supports left by cruisers on their way down. "Anything without a boat name or date is fair game," says Mike. I find a couple of two-by-fours to make a cradle to support the mast when it comes down. Mike cuts them for me on his power saw. "We have some tools to lend, and screws if you need them, but I can't let you use the power saw," he offers.

5/16/14 Riverview Marina to Houghtaling Creek, New Baltimore, NY, 15.4 nm

The rain and wind are holding off, and all is in place. Mike starts the crane. His assistant, John, attaches a line to the mast. The spar rises out of the deck and tilts about 20 degrees. They know exactly where to attach the hook from the crane so the mast is weighted properly. John guides the mast into my cradle as Mike lowers it slowly. The whole thing is over fairly quickly. Luna, thus disfigured, is no longer a sailboat. I feel a twinge of guilt.

It takes us a while to tie everything down. The sky is threatening, and a south wind has come up. We look at possible anchorages and decide to continue onward. It is mid afternoon, and the current is flowing upstream, on the flood. We don't have far to go to a protected spot behind Houghtaling Island.

We are out of the river in a nice, quiet spot. A good place to wait out the coming storm. Maybe it will pass north or south of us.

Or maybe not. During the night, the rain comes like a river, cascading into the cockpit, drumming on the topsides. Naturally, it is finding its way in around the port lights. Out comes the plastic tarp to cover the settee cushions. Several pints too late, I'm afraid. In the morning, we will set the cushions out to dry, and I will pump about 2 inches of water out of the dinghy, calmly floating off Luna's stern.

5/17/14 Houghtaling Island to Schuyler Yacht Basin, Schuylerville, NY, 45.5 nm.

The storm passed, the sun is out. We're motoring north, toward Albany and the Champlain Canal. We weighed anchor early, before the tide turned, so we're fighting an ebb current, making about 4.5 kts. The alternative was to wait until nearly noon to leave.

We pass a couple of high bridges, then there is a low railroad swing bridge up ahead. The commander

Motoring under a low bridge on the Hudson

asks, "Can we clear 25 feet?" A creature of custom, I panic. I call the bridge on the radio. No answer. The guidebook says it opens on request, with a 24-hour notice. What I don't notice, of course, is the mast lying horizontal a few inches above my head. Of course we can clear 25 feet. We can probably clear half that much. I am relieved there is no bridge operator to answer the radio call. Like Gilda Radner as Rosanne Rosannadanna, the slightly misguided and inappropriately indignant news commentator on the old TV show, Laugh In, "Never mind."

Because of the heavy rains in the midwest and the east, much of the Erie Canal is closed. This joins the Hudson above the Federal Lock in Troy, NY, above Albany.  The Champlain Canal and the Federal Lock are both open so far. The storm has raised the water level in the river, and deposited all sorts of woody debris there.

The ingress of sea water into the Hudson stops at Poughkeepsie, and we are motoring in fresh water. I am imagining all the salt flushing out of Luna's engine and cooling system, out of her underwater fittings and hoses, away from her electrical connections.

The tide reaches up to Albany, but once through the lock into the upper reaches of the Hudson, we will not have to take into account tidal current. The river itself, however, is flowing downstream rather briskly. We slog north at about 4 kts for the rest of the day.

We pass through the first four locks of the Hudson River toward the Champlain Canal, which takes off above Lock 7. We have the locks to ourselves, and Luna feels small inside the giant chambers. This is to our advantage, however. The lock keepers seem glad to have something to do, and we never have to wait very long to pass. I have fun trying out my conch shell in the lock's echo chamber. I'm getting better.

We are locking up, rising around waterfalls and dams, as the river's elevation increases toward the north. We reach Schuylerville by dinner time. The Schuyler Yacht Basin is there, and friendly owners said they would watch for us and guide us in. Phil opens the gas pump and fills one of our diesel cans. It's my birthday, and we're thinking of the Mexican restaurant, Amigos' Cantina, mentioned on Active Captain.

The stop in Schuylerville convinces us that this adventurous trip is not over. The little waterfront town is one of those unanticipated delightful hidden spots we'd not see traveling overland. Here the definitive Revolutionary War Battle of Saratoga was fought and lost by the British, right after their defeat at the the Battle of Bennington across the Hudson in Vermont. You can trace the British advance through Lake Champlain, delayed at Valcour by the newly minted American Navy under command of Benedict Arnold. When the British warships overpowered the smaller American gunboats, the Royalists advanced southward and captured Ft. Ticonderoga. They continued on, planning to take New York and split the colonies. They were stopped in Schuylerville. Here General Bourgoyne surrendered to General Gates on October 16, 1777, turning the tide toward the ultimate Colonial victory.

Old buildings line the streets. Amigos' is a couple of blocks from the marina, and it is packed on this Saturday night. The owner, Rob, meets us at the door and says there will be no tables available, but if we wait just a bit, a couple of spots will open up at the bar. He is enthusiastic about his restaurant and tells us it will be worth it to stay.

We do. We have a great meal at the bar, watching the friendly bartender, Cassie, zipping around among the glasses and bottles. "I make a mean mojito," she advises. And she does. For dessert, after the shrimp enchiladas, the pork tamale, the chile rellenos, there is chocolate espresso creme brûlée. Rob is right to be enthusiastic.

5/18/18 Schuylerville, NY, to Benson Landing, VT 43.5 nm.

Seven more locks go go. There are three on the Hudson above Schuylerville before the Champlain
Canal branches off to the east. There are four more on the canal before we reach Vermont, right above Whitehall, NY.

We're in the north country, and we see intimations of home. Green hills in the distance clothed with
the the light greens of early spring, the darker greens of later foliage, and the still darker greens of the evergreens among the hardwoods. At places there are farms with red barns, silos, and holstein cows.
The hills are higher now. And, on the concrete walls of the locks, we see as we descend one of the scourges of Lake Champlain, zebra mussels, spitting streams of water as they are left high and dry.

Lock 12 opens into Vermont

We're in Lock 12, the last one. The old buildings of Whitehall rise beyond the canal's wall. On a cliff to the east, a huge ancient cannon points outward toward the south end of Lake Champlain. The huge doors of the lock close behind us. As we hold the ropes on the wall to keep us in place. the lock keeper opens the valves to drain water, and Luna descends slowly, about 12 feet. The metal doors ahead of us open slowly, slowly. Beyond the gradually enlarging slit, we can see Vermont.


It's late afternoon, but we decide to travel another hour or two up the lake to shorten our trip tomorrow. We anchor just off the channel near the Vermont town of Benson. There are a few camps down at lake level to the east of us. Past them, the land rises in a wooded hill. On the New York side is a longer view across the railroad tracks at water's edge to green fields beyond and the higher hills of the southern Adirondack Mountains.

Neither the commander nor I was prepared for the emotional impact of seeing Vermont again for the first time in more than eight months. The unique beauty of her hills, fields, lake, sky, woods, and ledges. If we had traveled thousands of miles to some exotic location and saw a view like this, we would think it could be the most beautiful place in the world. We have seen pretty spots that have left us breathless and stirred our souls, but there has been nothing like this in our travels. The landscape is unique, and the experience brings us joy. Nancy, our friend who made the journey last year in Emerald Sunset, tells the commander, "It's worth the long trip just for the experience of seeing Vermont again."

Sunset over Lake Champlain

5/19/19 Benson Landing to Point Bay Marina, Charlotte, VT 36.5 nm

The day is sunny. We have a relatively short voyage ahead, the last leg of our journey. We weigh anchor and are off. A little to the north, when the cell phone signal is better, the commander calls friends to give them our estimated time of arrival.

A few clouds appear. A breeze comes up, blowing from the north. As we pass Fort Ticonderoga, the choppy waves start and build steadily as the wind increases to 15 kts. We'll spend the last few hours bouncing into 2-3 foot waves against a biting north wind funneling down the lake. Vermont, after all, will be Vermont.

Crown Point bridge in the distance

It's OK. We pass under the Crown Point Bridge, up past the palisades on the New York side, waving toward our friend, Lee, who is watching us through his binoculars. As we near Kingsland Bay, the marina is in sight. Todd, the director, has a slip for us to use while we unload Luna. Later he will say that we are the first boat back from the south, including the trawlers that usually stop for fuel on their way toward Canada.

Welcome home at Point Bay Marina

Two hands are waving to us from the dock. It's Susan and Lynne, who have come to welcome us. David and Vince are there, too. Lynne produces a bottle of champagne. The six of us have a toast, they to welcome us back, we to express our appreciation for the friends we've missed. We'll continue the celebration over dinner at Susan and Vince's home later.

First, they bring us and a small load of clothes and food home, to our house. The family who has been living there in our absence has left it spotless. It is bright and open. We marvel at the wealth of space. Of course! Even the garage, where I go to start the car (it does!), seems oddly spacious and uncluttered. Last fall, it seemed rather cramped and close with all its contents pushed toward the back to make room for the car. Close and cramped compared to what?

Nancy and Phil stop by to welcome us. They've been back for a couple of weeks already. Our friends are certainly glad to see us. It's as if a wrinkle in the force has been repaired now that we are back. We feel the same, of course. It's our community and family we have missed the most.

There is another community, out there on the waterway. As we start to settle in, a flurry of emails comes from the Royal Canadian Navy, the B to B (Biscayne to Bimini) Fleet, just checking in to see where everyone is and how everyone is doing.

I tell our friends, and I really believe it, that this marvelous adventure has been both much easier and much better than we had imagined.

Crew of Luna, back in home port