As I sit here in springtime Baltimore with the buds emerging, the idea sounds simple enough: strap my trusty Adirondack guide boat to the car, drive to Conesus Lake, the western-most of the eleven Finger Lakes, drop the boat in the water, row the shoreline while taking in the beauty of the place and appreciating my blessings to be able to do this, finish what I anticipate to be a lovely leisurely lap, then put the boat back on the car, proceed east to Hemlock Lake, the next lake to the east… and repeat ten more times. 

Eleven lakes, eleven laps around. Badda-bing, badda-boom. Easy-peasy.

Or maybe not so easy. But definitely worth the effort.  

Over the course of the two weeks or so that this sojourn may take, I expect to learn a lot about environmental stewardship. I hope to stimulate conversation and raise awareness about what we are all doing to protect, sustain, and pay forward the priceless gift of our lakes, rivers, and streams. I hope to meet and thank the unsung heroes who take on the tides of development, special interests, or antiquated laws, those who assume unpopular positions in order to preserve what we have for the future. I hope to stimulate interest and support for people and organizations doing the vital work of environmental protection.

In his essay An Argument for Diversity, Kentucky farmer and environmental thought-leader extraordinaire Wendell Berry writes, 

The question of what a beloved country is to be used for quickly becomes inseparable from the question of who is to use it or who is to prescribe its uses, and what will be the ways of using it.   

As a septuagenarian and newly retired teacher, rowing a boat at a stately 4 mph for 8-10 hours each day gives me a lot of time to think about voices like Wendell Berry’s. As the water drifts by, I get to think about how Wendell Berry’s message lands here in 2022, about how we use the land and about who sets the rules, about the pull and tug between short-term expediency (think election cycles, profit, and ‘me first’) and a long-term commitment to the common good.

Since 2006 I’ve put at least 4,000 miles under my keel on rows from Lake Huron to the Chesapeake Bay in a summer ritual that has become a kind of migratory impulse. I need to keep doing it while I can, before the music stops. For music it is. And over these many miles I’ve seen both the best and worst of what we do to ourselves… and to our grandchildren’s future. 

If my upcoming adventure and this blog can become even a temporary watering hole for environmental advocates, armchair adventurers, yet-to-take-the-plunge activists or, frankly, anyone inclined to contribute to the common good of environmental stewardship, then it’ll have done something.

Last year I rowed north on Lake George to Ticonderoga, portaged to Champlain, coasted down the flooded waters of the Hudson, and then labored west through the Erie Canal, against a high-flung Mohawk, to Keuka Lake. I had to end-run the Mohawk locks that were closed due to big-time flooding, but along the way I learned a great deal from folks whose lives are dedicated to the water: The Lake George Association, the Friends of the Outlet in Dresden, and the Keuka Lake Association, among others. You can read all about it at lakertolaker.blogspot.com and perhaps get a sense of what is to come here in Eleven Laps Around. 

Even The Finger Lakes Times put me above the fold. It was a slow news day.     

Anyway, as of this moment, from my street-facing writing nook on a third-floor in Baltimore, here’s the float-plan:

7/13: Conesus Lake                                                         

           Hemlock Lake

7/14: Canadice Lake

           Honeyoe Lake

7/15: Canandaguia Lake

7/16: Keuka Lake

7/17: Keuka Lake

7/18: Seneca Lake

7/19: Seneca lake

7/20: Seneca Lake (Seneca is a Big Lake!)

7/21: Cayuga Lake

7/22: Cayuga Lake

7/23: Cayuga (so is Cayuga), Owasco Lake

7/24: Owasco Lake, Skaneateles Lake

7/25: Skaneateles Lake 

7/26: Otisco Lake

I’m not yet at a point of planning where I’ll put in, pull out, or camp along the way, but the un-choreographed nature of these trips is part of their appeal to me. I’ll figure it out along the way. Those who know me best know that I love stuff that can’t be Googled or choreographed. 

So if you’re with me on this, plan on looking for a new post to this blog every week or so before I push off. 

Once I push off, I’ll be writing daily from the water. And, above all, if you know of an organization along the way that might be interested in joining this platform, or if you are inclined to weigh in as a volunteer for a non-profit with your time, treasure, or talent, as many did last year, well, then you rock! Maybe some will join me on the water as well? 

It snowed up north yesterday. I guess I still have time to get ready. 

Stay well,

Al