Honeoye and Canadice

 Honeoye, Don & Elaine’s house

North end of Honeoye

Barring accident, injury, weakness of spirit, equipment malfunction, or the sudden appearance of a really, really good malt shop, today will have been the shortest day of this trip. Up early for a 10-mile jaunt around Honeoye Lake, I loaded the boat back on the car for the short drive to Canadice and six more miles.

On Canadice I had the pleasure of rowing alongside Jim Kersting, a delightful guy who has spent a lot of time in service to the Finger Lakes Land Trust. Heroic work, so effective and lasting, especially in this go-go economy.

Anyway, Jim just took delivery of his own Adirondack guide boat … a real beauty, one that looks the way mine did 17 years and 5000 miles ago. Jim’s a biker – strong legs, great endurance - and he makes his boat fly. It was fun, and enlightening, to row with a wingman.

My host Don detoured me up to the ridge to the south of the lake (Honeoye) for a spectacular view; on a clear day, you can see Rochester, Lake Ontario, and, yes, forever.

This afternoon, Don gave me a master class in invasives, funding issues, public engagement, and more than a dollop of optimism. It’s hard to retain a sense of environmental optimism when one sees how much we are demanding of ecosystems, how negligent we are at prevention and how reluctant we are to fund remediation. Folks like Don and Jim and Ray are the reason I feel hope – these, and hundreds like them, are smart about the science, practiced at dealing with bureaucracy, and seasoned to know that environmental advocacy is a long game calling for collaboration, not stridency.

Back a couple of weeks ago, I had that coffee with Lake George Waterkeeper Chris Navasky. As I wrote then, he advised me to try to ‘read the lakes,’ that how people were interacting with the shore and water would tell the tale of trouble or of progress. Honeoye is a really nice lake, but as I rowed the shoreline I couldn’t help but begin to calculate the percentage of shoreline faced with seawalls, artificial barriers, or non-native rocks. Daunting. And tomorrow by all accounts I row the ‘rich man’s lake,’ and I worry that I’ll see the walls and lakeside transformations on a grander scale. It’ll be 32 miles through allegedly hellish Sunday boat traffic, but I’ll be wearing my brave yellow shirt, surrounded by my magic bubble of naiveté, elan, and pluck.

Sooo … much more to write, but the Land of Nod beckons, as does its capital city of Charmin and the spires of Crest.

More later, or tomorrow?

Love you guys –

Al

Granddaughters Rose and Sylvie are following Gramps' progress on their map