Cleverdale on Lake George

 “From Heaven, Lake George is a local call.” – Buzz Lamb

This is my third day back home but, in my head, I’m still out on the waters of the Finger Lakes. I’m still rowing into and out of people’s lakeside lives and asking myself why I often seemed to be in such a rush to move on. It’s nice to be back home resuming my own lakeside summer routine with loved ones, but I do wish now that I’d pulled up a bit more often during Eleven Laps Around to contemplate the beauty of the here and now, the wonder and privilege of the moment: the grandeur of Seneca Lake, the seemingly endless horizon of Cayuga, and the enchanting quiet of Hemlock and Canadice, for example. What was the rush? 

Seneca Lake

I can see how it could be easy-peasy to slide into the happy communities of Honeyoye, Keuka, or Otisco, all of which vie for the Team Spirit Award. To hang out for very long in these places is to be tempted to put down roots, to sign up for a summer rental, or to try to be adopted by some family. Is 71 too old? I use cutlery well and often a napkin, and there’s no need to put me though any more school. I’d work hard to fit in.   

If I could go back to the last two weeks, I’d pause longer to listen to a few more spirited debates about Canandaigua and Skaneateles, about which one is really “the best” and in what way, exactly, and at what point does a McMansion morph into an Estate and the difference between lovely and laughable.  

And then, on my last day, there was Owasco- the birthplace of Millard Fillmore and home to the Prison City Ramblers- a lake coping well with a huge watershed that bid me goodbye with fair weather but a bit of a headwind. Why did I rush?

If I could wave a Magic Wand and be back in the boat knowing and feeling then what I know and feel now, I might find the self-discipline to slow down, to pause, to take an extra day here and there to watch, to listen, and to learn more. But here I am this morning remembering it all, letting the memories and lessons percolate like my exhausted but capable pot in the kitchen, and wondering what to do with it all.

But if I had that Magic Wand in my hand this morning, I’d like to think that I’d do something more constructive with it than wish for a flashback, a do-over. I’d wave that wand over my own lake and wish for us to take on the experience and lessons of our brothers and sisters to the west. Above all, I’d wish for the urgency that these times and the overuse of a resource like Lake George demands….

When one has stood, as I did last week, in a major lakeside park on a lake larger than Lake George on one of the hottest days of the year - in a lovely town hosting thousands of music fans at a weekend festival- only to see the park virtually empty because of a persistent Harmful Algae Bloom…or when miles of a beautiful shoreline are inaccessible or unusable because of an HAB that sprang up suddenly and shows no sign of abating anytime soon…or when properties, docks, and boats are isolated from a main body of water because of the encroachment of impenetrable vegetation…   

I’d wave my Magic Wand and wish that every person, business, and politician in the Lake George watershed would agree to a specific near-term date for the establishment of an effective lake-wide septic/wastewater system mandate. One doesn’t have to row the eleven Finger Lakes and hear stories of environmental challenge (and success) in order to understand that our lake won’t wait for us to do it. Lake George will do what she’ll do based on how we treat her. She doesn’t know town or county boundaries, building codes, monitoring practices, or the line between private rights and the common good. But over time, she’s telling us whether WE know about these things. She’s giving us a report card every day. My teacherly sense is that she’s preparing a Final Exam of sorts for us, asking us show whether we understand that decisive, effective prevention is more effective than slow-drip remediation, even if remediation is possible. 

Rowing with the Chef

To be sure, and importantly, SOOOOOO much has been done here at Lake George! The Lake George Association, the former Fund for Lake George, The Lake George Land Conservancy, the LG Park Commission, and scores of alliances with others both on and off the lake…from monitoring water quality to dealing with challenges in tributaries and runoff to marshalling awareness and support and action “Bay by Bay.” The people and the work have been breathtaking, really, and awesome, and are cause for optimism. 

I learned how Lake George is blessed not to share so many of the Finger Lakes’ biggest challenges. We don’t have to contend with the astoundingly huge and pervasive runoff created by a politically powerful (and vital) agricultural community. We haven’t opened our waters to invasive species from the Erie Canal, the Hudson River, and the Atlantic itself by building locks to the outside world. We haven’t created an internal conflict by enabling Bit Coin mining to take place along our shores. Instead, we have established long, beautiful tracts of forever-wild shoreline that enable our lake to breathe, to regenerate…or to buy time.

In my typically too-simple way, I’d wave my Magic Wand with boyish enthusiasm  this morning over what my gut tells me is the next and perhaps biggest challenge yet: to enlist every single lakeside and upstream homeowner to tend to his or her wastewater system in the most responsible way possible, and to do so with urgency. To enlist experts to advise us as to what is necessary and effective in repair and remediation of failed or antiquated systems. To fashion a supporting cast of qualified designers, contractors, and agents of finance to enable us to act on what needs to be done. To establish, as has Keuka Lake, for example, the mandatory frequent re-visitation and recertification of systems…because they age, and they need to be watched.

Lake George is a priceless gem. But as I think of what I’ve seen here of late and now in eleven beautiful lakes to the west, I’m convinced that our own HABs are coming. I feel it, and anyone who has lived on our shores for more than half a century and has paid attention and watched the changes and the activity probably feels it, too. I hope I’m wrong.  

Finally, I’d wave my Magic Wand and wish for each and every person living in the Lake George watershed to be informed of, grateful for, and supportive of the hard work that so many volunteers put into protecting and preserving our natural treasure. The Lake George Association, the Lake George Land Conservancy, and NYS agencies themselves are the leaders in all of this, but as I learned during my row, scores of smaller, local, even micro-entities augment the work of the biggies in myriad ways. When I met Polly and Matthew at Bell Station on the east shore of Cayuga Lake, for example (and purely by chance), and listened to them kibbutz with Chris Olney of the Finger Lakes Land Trust about details of trail conditions, erosion vulnerabilities, and access concerns, I was at that moment witnessing citizen activism at its best. These people love where they live, they understand the vulnerability of it all, and they’re on site to preserve and protect it for my granddaughters. 

If I could wave a Magic Wand this morning, everyone would know this…and there would be many, many more of “them”….and “they” would be us.     

With love and appreciation….

       

Owasco and Home

It felt good to be in my own bed last night. The familiar sweet sound of waves lapping outside, my toothbrush resting crossways on a glass in the bathroom like it always does, my C-Pap machine happily whirling away, keeping me oxygenated, and not a worry in the world about thunderstorms, bugs in the tent, or where I left my glasses. Today I can write on my laptop from my desk; the scrawl in the journal is over, too.

 

All is in order, comfort reigns, security has returned.

But oh, how I miss you all. I miss the ambiguity of what will come next: the unknowns of the lakes and people ahead and even the ability of this aging shell to take on another day on the water. Today I’m conflicted as I go about nesting in my place because the gift of the self-absorbed adventure that I’ve given myself over the last thirteen days has ended.

But before I get too cosmic, let’s finish this thing up, OK? 

Yesterday at 8-ish I left Buzz and Gretchen of Skaneateles and the groaning board of their breakfast tray for the municipal ramp at Owasco which leads to a long sea-walled channel to the lake; a rather extravagant affair for a modest body of water, it seems, but it pointed the way south and I enjoyed a rather calm circuit of the lake. 

I’d heard that Owasco takes the brunt of a lot of agricultural runoff and expected a brownish hue, but the water was delightfully clear, especially the water in the river running north - and my lap around Owasco was a final reminder to expect the unexpected here in the Finger Lakes. I took my time at first, getting a little wistful, knowing that Owasco was my last outing of this trip, but when I reached the south end a brisk wind began to build from the north (of course) and I pushed myself hard to get back before having to face another Skaneateles Upwind Marathon. 

By mid-afternoon I’d loaded the car up with reckless imprecision, knowing that I’d have the luxury of deconstructing and sorting through the detritus of thirteen days of Mini living in the privacy of my own yard, ….which I did this morning. Folks, I’ve taught eighth grade boys long enough to know what the end-of-the-year locker clean-out ritual is like: the discovery of food, clothes, books, and momentos long forgotten, all of it compressed like layers of sediment at the bottom, Cheese Curls stuck to bundled blue blazers like trilobite fossils and, in one case, a Thanksgiving Turkey leftover so disturbingly well preserved that the boy was tempted to…to…but urgently dissuaded from…..well, you get the idea.

My car was little better than an eighth grader’s locker. I’d suffered a massive McDonald’s Vanilla Milkshake explosion in Auburn several days ago, and that needed special attention. The jacket I’d worn to the funeral on the 14^th had arrested most of the flow, thank God, and various discarded shirts, shorts, Nature’s Valley wrappers, and yes, an unfinished half of a sub (Italian) took care of the rest. 

I drove the whole menagerie down to the carwash to flush any remaining invasives from the nooks and crannies of my boat and gear and in doing so rediscovered the Joy of The Foaming Brush. Gentle Reader, if you want evidence of American Exceptionalism at its best, visit the Hoffman Car Wash in Queensbury, roll the selector dial to “Foaming Brush,” and prepare to forget- if temporarily- any worries you harbor of drought, fires, the Chinese, Putin’s obstinancy, or the Republican Party’s mystifying fealty to a fraud. 

 

I turned the Foaming Brush loose on everything: the hull, the interior, my rowing hardware, my life jacket. If Peg had been with me, I’d have taken off my shirt.

So here I am, thirteen days and 315 rowing miles later in deep gratitude and debt to a score of folks I didn’t know two weeks ago, and in deeper appreciation and better enlightened regarding the extraordinary work of stewardship, protection, and preservation of New York’s lakes. 

I think I have another essay or two in me before I wrap this thing up. Is anyone interested? 

Writing therapy being what it is for retired teachers, I’ll write it anyway, so look for at least one more post in the next day or so. And if anyone has any questions, post ‘em in ‘Comments’ and I promise that I’ll respond as best I can.

But to at least preempt the answer to The Elephant in the Room’s question about “favorite lake,” I’ll just say – emphatically - that every person I met on his trip lives on his or her favorite lake, and not one of them is wrong. Where you make your memories and with whom, where you learned to swim or had your first beer or raised your family, these memories fashion the chemistry of “best lakes” for each of us regardless of mussels or weeds or nitrogen. I rowed past thousands of people enjoying life on their favorite lakes, and who am I to argue? 

Now this Lucky Boy is going to take a late afternoon swim in his favorite lake. I wish you could all be here.

Love,

Al    

Skaneateles

 35.5 miles

Tim Creamer arranged for me to sleep in the Amber Community Center. Margaret had come down to her dock to call out encouragement while I was rowing past on Otisco, while Tim, President of the Otisco Lake Preservation Association and a board member of the Community Association, pulled some strings to enable me to dodge the fierce thunderstorms that swept through last night. It may sound odd to say it, but my car smells a little better today because of Tim and Margaret.

Richard and Chris Thomas bought me dinner, another brick in the wall of my unique 400 Mile Rowing Weight Gain Program. Richard had some excellent tips for me while rowing alongside in his sleek Alden shell, demonstrating what seemed to me to be perfect form. He detected numerous oddball quirks in my style. I tried to address these flaws today on Skaneateles, but a 28 inch inseam, tragically advanced duck-footedness, and German obstinacy foiled any improvement. I’ll keep trying, Richard, I promise!

Skaneateles today delivered on the promise of crystal clear water, fantastic homes, and magnificent cliffside geology. It was calm when I hit the water at 7 AM at the NYS boat launch. I rowed 3 miles north to the town waterfront, and a gentle north wind sprang up for an almost effortless 16 mile row down the east side to the southern end. I was passed by what I’m certain was the old ‘Roamer,’ a tour boat I remember from the 50’s and 60’s on Lake George, and I stopped twice along the way for refreshing dips. This water, an unfiltered water source for the city of Syracuse, is crystalline clear.

Of course, when I got to the south end, the wind had built up significantly, right on the nose of the boat all the way, and my 5-6 mph groundspeed dropped to 2.5 at best, with the added effect of riding a bucking horse. But putting the blades in the water is the only way to get to where you want to go, and after 9:20 hours in the seat, my next-to-last lake, #10, was behind me.

Buzz and Gretchen Roberts are my hosts here and newest bestest friends. They are a part of a network that performs periodic water testing at specific sites in the lake, but they had to abandon today’s sampling because of the exceedingly rough weather. Nonetheless, they came out in their salty Boston Whaler to check on me and, tonight, along with their wonderful neighbors Matt and Wendy, fed me like the little prince I pretend to be when I’m home.  Buzz’s leadership of the Skaneateles Lake Association’s Watercraft Steward Program keeps him in intimate contact with his lake. A fantastic volunteer!

Buzz shares the opinion that a large part of Skaneateles’s enviable position as the cleanest of the Finger Lakes has to do with its relatively high elevation and small watershed. Most of the troublesome agricultural runoff nearby drops down into adjacent watersheds, and Buzz spoke glowingly of the progress that farmers and agricultural businesses have made in adopting best practices. It was nice to hear accolades for parties that are almost inevitably opponents in environmental matters, and his praise reminded me that people working with people will be the only way to pay it forward.

A row that pushed me to my limit on an exquisite lake, the best possible company, a sound night’s sleep on a picturesque sleeping porch, and running water. Am I one lucky dude, or what?

Tomorrow is Owasco, the last lake in my travelogue, and then home. I told Buzz and Gretchen that I could be available to like, ummm, you know, hang out on their sleeping porch for three or four more days … but there’s something to that old Broadway maxim of ‘leave ‘em wanting more.’

Love, Al        

   

Otisco Lake

 

28.3 yesterday on Cayuga

10.5 today on Otisco

Paul and Barbara Nearpass have been my home port on Cayuga for two days, and they were kind enough to share time and meals with me, a total stranger, even amidst their own family reunion. I came away with stories of travel, entrepreneurship, the lake, and life, and their hospitality through the hubbub of reunion was extraordinary. Last night we all went out to the middle of the lake, tubed the kids, and then floated on our backs in 200 feet of water like it was all our own private preserve.

I thought I wanted to be adopted by the Olneys, and that dream is still alive, but the Nearpass crew look to be contenders too. I’m on a roll with fantastic hosts that I want to bring home with me.

Today was Otisco with Richard Thomas, who rowed alongside in a slow lope in his Alden shell. He showed me more Finger Lakes Land Trust sites, a fantastic example of the Marcellus Shale that’s driving the fracking in Pennsylvania, and a preserve that had moved from private ownership to FLLT ownership to, finally, county stewardship … forever. A fantastic example of land conservancy at its best, and a monarch butterfly posing shamelessly on its milkweed. Richard and his wife Chris bought me dinner after a nice discussion of my row with a dozen or so people at the Amber Inn. Tim and Marge Creamer organized the gathering, and it’s heartening to see evident pride in and love for a place translate into committed action in ways great and small. These Otisco folks love their lake, and it’s easy to see why – clear water (it supplies much of Syracuse), a southern view of rolling mountains, high ridges and craggy cliffs, and much still-natural shoreline.

I swam twice, but only before I saw this picture of the kinds of Tiger Muskies they pull out of this lake. I didn’t hear any recounting of attacks, but I only know I’ll be the one when it happens. Happily, I’ll see no Tiger Muskies in Skaneateles tomorrow. I hope.

Looking south on Otisco

I want to start writing more about the lakes, but tonight, with only two lakes to go, my mind is wrapped up in gratitude to the many hosts and kindnesses I have received on this journey. Don and Elaine Cook, who were the first to get the word out and from which the hospitality flower bloomed, to Ray Case on Conesus, Don and Elaine on Honeoye, Alan Locey and Trish on Keuka, Maura O’Toole and Jake and Karen Stark on Seneca, and Paul and Barbara Nearpass on Cayuga. Thee people will soon populate my Christmas card list and will then regret their largess.

Tomorrow, the Gold Coast? Everyone talks of the wealth along the shores of Skaneateles, the clarity of the water (source for Syracuse), the majesty of the cliffs … and tomorrow it will host a vagabond-looking wayfarer pulling for home.

I’m betting it will live up to its billing, as has everything else I’ve embraced on this trip …

Love ya!       

 

Finger Lakes Event

 The Otisco Lake Preservation Society is hosting an event featuring Al tonight

Cayuga Lake

Long Point State Park

East shore, Cayuga Lake

Chris Olney of the Finger Lakes Land Trust just kayaked with me for 14 miles. He’s heading back now, a speck on the wide lake, having given me a Master Class in land conservation, stewardship, collaboration, and yes, family.

He rescued me from the park last night and we quenched our thirst at Garretts in Trumansburg and chatted it up with Mayor Rordan Hart, who looks 17 but clearly has it down cold. I told him my Erastus Corning story and he seemed amused.

Anyway, Chris is a remarkable young man and he and his wife Amy are raising terrific kids. We had a great dinner at Little Venice in Trumansburg, and I heard stories of family trips, foibles, idiosyncrasies, adventures, and hopes. All delivered with zest, heart, and love. I hope to be adopted by the Olneys one day.

This morning’s highlight was stopping at Bell Station, a private tract just north of the Milliken Station coal plant. The Finger Lakes Land Trust protects over 4000 feet of forever wild shoreline along this stretch, one of scores of parcels and properties Chris helps to manage and preserve.    

While walking along a path to a (now dry) falls, we met John Smith and Polly McClure of the Cayuga Trails Club. Folks, you can learn a lot about people by the way they greet each other – about respect, appreciation, and friendship – and listening to these three talk about their observations, work, and projects made me wish that all politics was local. Chris, John, and Polly are the best of what we can be when we put our minds and hearts to it.

The shorelines of the hilly Finger Lakes are bisected with ravines. From the water they are identified by slight depressions and undulations in the treeline. Going ashore at Bell Station and following a stream bed gave me a close-up look at how grand these stone conduits can be. If we were in the rainy season, the rush would have been awesome. As quiet as it is today, it’s a cathedral.

Woah. A C—130 just flew over the park at 200 feet. Am I in heaven, or what?

Chris is out of sight now, having crossed to the west side as I will, too. I’m just ruminating, filled with admiration for a guy whose ‘beat’ includes so much beautiful land and whose mission is to pay it forward. A great guy, a delightful family … a page in my Finger Lakes memory book I’ll want to go back to now and then. Thanks, Chris and Amy, and to Clare and Eloise, too, for sharing your dad on a Saturday.

And that coal plant? It looks like it could start up tomorrow, and the rumor is that monied interest would have it powering a Bitcoin mining operation, as there is on Seneca Lake. That would be a crime if it were to happen … but as the 1/6 hearings and the last administration has taught us, money and power and obfuscation have a way of abetting crimes that occur in plain sight.

Oops, sorry. I promised no politics. I’ll try harder.

So in a few minutes I’ll be back in the boat to try to find Paul’s house. I’ll camp in their magnificent yard tonight and head off to Otisco Lake very early in the AM. It’ll be a relatively short row (12-15 miles) but apparently there’s an interested constituency waiting for me, which is more interesting in itself than anything I can say to them. But if I can just try to describe how much I’ve come to admire the people I’ve met along the way, well, that will at least be something.

I’ll do a short day-end blog tonight, if I can find Paul’s!

Love, Al

A 25+ mile day on Cayuga Lake

Apologies to everyone who has tried to leave a comment and couldn't - you should be able to now. Peg

Taughannock Falls State Park

25.2 miles – and I’m toasted

My mom wanted me to go to Cornell, and if she was here today she’d be saying, ‘Al, for God’s sake, you’re only eight miles away – two to three hours at the most. Get back in the boat and row to Cornell.’

She’s right, of course. But she didn’t just put 25 miles under her keel in fiendishly hot weather after 5 hours of sleep.

‘But Al,’ she’d say, ‘they have a hotel and hospitality school at Cornell. Row there, and you’ll surely find relief.’

Mom … let it go. I’m done for the day, I really am.

So I’m here at Taughannock Falls State Park. Chris Olney is on his way over with his truck. I can’t leave my stuff here, and he’s not on the water, but it’s all good. Chris is with the Finger Lakes Land Trust, so this will be educational. Sooo hospitable.

Sadly, there’s no swimming here today. A harmful algae bloom has rendered this otherwise clean looking water unsafe (on this, one of the hottest days of the year.) Happily no such prohibition is posted at the beach-side concession stand. Two vanilla shakes have parted my teeth, but such is the burden a rower must carry.

A thunderstorm is coming in five minutes – gotta batten down the gear …

  

Ready at Cayuga

22.5 miles

After a thunder and lightning show on Seneca last night, I was ready to launch early under cloudy skies and rode a building wind north along the shore. I was at a place where the lake widens to 5+ miles, and I was concerned that I could get pinned to the east side by weather, so I took a gulp and pushed across … at a spot where Seneca is over 600 feet deep. At 5’9”, I could just as well cash it in in 6’ of water, but there’s something about 600 …

Anyway, I passed the Naval Undersea Warfare test rig out in the middle and yelled ‘one ping … one ping only!!’ just for the hell of it. I bet I’m on file?

Jake taking a spin in the guide boat - he's a natural!

I finished ‘early’ today … just 22 or so, not a full lap, but the winds would have put me into a third day and, more importantly, on this row I find that the slower I go, the more I see, the more I learn. I spent a couple more hours with Jake, floating in the water, talking about vegetation and HABs and politics and the environment. I could have been racking up a few more miles, but access to wisdom and experience like his, and Maura’s, seems so much more meaningful.

So I’ve repositioned on the north end of another big one – Cayuga – and I’ll try to make it to Ithaca, where I’ll meet up with Chris Olney of the Finger Lakes Land Trust. He wants to paddle his kayak north with me on Saturday, which would be really educational, so I’m highly incented to drive against these prevailing south winds to meet him.

I’ve asked Paul, my gracious host here on Cayuga, if I can sequester myself with my little transistor radio tonight at 8:00 to listen to the 1/6 hearings. He said he’ll be up late and we can talk later, and I’m grateful for his hospitality.

Folks, it’s surreal to be sitting in this perfect place listening to a narrative of our grossly imperfect elected officials and their minions, but meeting and listening to the local heroes who are taking care of these lakes gives me hope. Bottom up hope.

Big row tomorrow. I’ll give it my best shot!

Who’s reading this, for goodness sake?

Love, Al  

Seneca Lake

Lodi, at Maura’s

38 mile day

Well, it may be easy for some people to find things at 4 mph, but apparently I’m not one of them. I’d targeted the address with my phone’s map, Maura had provided a detailed description, and I even slowed down (from 4 mph) to ensure my arrival … and I blew past it by a mile or two, necessitating a final upwind slog. Having to buck the winds for the last half hour simply reminded me how lucky I’d been for the last five hours of downhill running.

I’ve got a precarious but picturesque campsite right by the water, and I just took a most refreshing swim before wine. On a day when so much of the country/world is suffering from oppressive heat, I’m simply blessed to be able to step into 72 degree water at will.

In a few minutes I’ll be joining Maura, my hostess, for a glass of wine and, I hope, more good conversation about the lake, the environment, and her present focus, climate change. She runs a delightful inn here – several charming cabins high above the lake – and last night Jake sang her praises as a volunteer and communicator extraordinaire. I’m looking forward to learning more … and to getting her advice on my best route north tomorrow. I know I want to scope out that Bitcoin operation …

Mo’ latah!     

No other boats in sight

Lakeside agriculture 

A rare mid-day blog!

Watkins Glen, Seneca Lake

A day off?? What a slacker, what with country breakfasts and gourmet dinners and curling up in a downy blankie in geo-cooled comfort at Jake and Karen’s.

Go easy, Gentle Reader, go easy. I’m paying my dues today on this monster lake, 20 miles in by noon and now chilling with a coupla Cokes, prepping for 20 more. It’ll be a 40 miler, and when I start crowding into other septuagenarians doing this, then I’ll blush for my temporary sloth. But for now, I’m loving it.

Jake and Karen are Lake People Extraordinaire. Jake leads the Seneca Lake Association, and an evening with him is a primer on the environmental, political, philanthropical, and administrative labyrinth of such an organization. Seneca Lake is a huge gem of a lake that faces big challenges, particularly agricultural runoff, the thermal loading of a huge Bitcoin mining operation in Dresden, as well as intensified recreational and residential uses. Karen is up on all this, too, and to listen to them talk is to witness responsible, informed, and engaged citizenship at its best. You guys rock!!

And Louie, their new King Charles Cavalier pup, patrols the shore like a lake steward in training, all eyes and ears and nose.  

I just rowed the west side of the lake from Himrod/Dresden, a shoreline very sparsely populated compared to Canandaigua and Conesus and Keuka. Lots of vertical shale cliffs plunge into 100-200 feet of water, and where the bottom precludes aquatic vegetation, the water is as clear as a bell. Jake speculates that the Bitcoin operation is leading to increased and undesirable plant growth, but the DEC has yet to follow through on the obligated research to find the facts. The Bitcoin mining facility here has spawned a bit of a divide … environmental vs tax revenue, a sad contest not uncommon across the country. But here in this beautiful place, a gorgeous lake and ecosystem is at stake, and the ‘issue’ being Bitcoin makes it, to me, especially tragic .. .even criminal.

Well, I’m burnin’ daylight and will soon be back in the boat, headed north to Maura’s house, which I’ve of course never seen but hope I can find. The thing is, it’s easy to find stuff at 4 mph.

Maybe another blog tonight if I get ashore early enough … and if my hands can grip a pencil.

US Salt - in operation since 1893

 The refinery sits atop a rich underground supply of salt. 

wine tour boat

Taking a break on Seneca Lake

 Jake's house - by the shore of Seneca Lake

First view of Seneca

Al took a day off - from both rowing and blogging - as he prepares to face the challenge of Seneca Lake. He'll be well fortified when he gets back on the water:

Breakfast with Alan and Trish

Dinner at Jake's

Tonight Seneca looks like a mill pond - hopefully it will tomorrow too

And here's the big event of today - Jake taking Louie for his first swim

Keuka Lake

 

Keuka Lake – 35 miles

Tonight again with Alan and Trish in Hammondsport

Off early in the mist, then rain, then very strong southerly winds which pushed me to the north end of West Branch of Keuka Lake … then  a tough slog back to Penn Yan and the outlet to Seneca Falls, where I called it a day. 35 miles, almost 10 hours in the seat.

Kids, I’m re-thinking this ‘laps around’ pledge, if pledge it was, because if the winds blow on Seneca and Cayuga the way they did today, I could well become a casualty. A naturalist and gatekeeper at a park on Keuka today told me that she lives on Seneca Lake and that, ‘Anybody rowing a boat like yours on a day like today would have to be nuts.’   

I’m going to check it out tomorrow, talk to the locals, and reconsider my options. I hope I don’t disappoint you if septuagenarian sensibility trumps boyish enthusiasm.

Sorry for that verb.

Keuka College

Even after heavy rains, Keuka Lake looked terrific today – lots of clear bottom through very clear water in most places. Their septic system oversight should become a model, a goal boldly stated, for Lake George. Each residence receiving an inspection at least every five years is the least we should do; prevention is always less expensive – and usually more effective – than remediation. It would be tragic if it takes two or three or four harmful algae blooms (HAB’s) to score support for doing the right thing.

Tonight Alan and Trish treated me to a ride on mom’s old pontoon boat (‘The Princess’), dinner lakeside, and a brisk sprint home through the rain. Mom would have loved it. Her kid sure did.

So tomorrow I scope out Seneca Lake and consider what is possible. Keuka Lake has been a joy.

Water steward Stephanie gave my boat a good going over after my row today, and Alan opined that I was the invasive she should be looking for. ‘I’ve seen worse,’ she might have said under her breath, and we were free to go.

Six lakes behind me now, but two monsters ahead … it’s going to get interesting.