Rituals (Mr. Frei)

 

Morning ritual - Coffee, Peaches and Breakfast Bars

Sociologists and anthropologists tell us that rituals convey a lot about the beliefs and values of a culture, and a culture of sorts does emerge over the course of eighteen days of rowing. Throughout a journey of significant physical effort and strain, Brian quickly established and observed daily rituals that served as a kind of glue for our shared enterprise, rituals embedded in the consonant-rich acronym “CPBBCCC”. Sure, it doesn’t roll off the tongue unless you work for the government or are of eastern European descent. How about shortened to a graphically catchy CPBBCx3…or perhaps an algebraic CPBB{(3)C}? In longhand, it would read:

CoffeePeachesBreakfastBarCleanlinessCompartmentsCare.

Coffee. Nothing happened in the morning without coffee, Starbucks Via served in shallow, wide-brimmed, heat-conducting, lip-scalding aluminum cups. Brian brought along a cute ‘lil burner (“The Pocket Rocket” was voted MVP of all of our gear by the end of Week One) which had us caffeinated in no time each morning. I came to wonder how I had embarked on my earlier rowing journeys without one. As we finished each morning’s coffee we’d save a bit in our tins, look at each other over furrowed brows, rakishly backhand the remaining coffee into an imaginary fire, and say, “We’re burnin’ daylight” as we headed to the boats. Yes, John Wayne made his mark on us as youngsters.

Peaches. Brian loves peaches. I’ve known him for fifty years or so, and I never knew of this affection until I caught a glimpse of his food stores and discovered a material proportion of Georgia’s peach harvest tucked away in many, many itty-bitty cans. The peaches went with the coffee. A day without peaches was a day without sunshine…but not as bad as a day without coffee might have been. We ran out of peaches now and then and felt the absence when we did; we never ran out of coffee.

Breakfast Bars. This was the last of the culinary rituals. Breakfast bars became a kind of currency on the trip, and Brian dominated the exchange rate: he had many….I brought but a few. He knew of this imbalance yet each morning (after Day Six; it took that long to prompt and train him) he would ask, “You want a breakfast bar?”

Cleanliness. My dad was a POW in Germany during WW2 and related that a reliable sign of self-control, mental health, and discipline in the prison camp was one’s consistent attendance to cleanliness and personal hygiene. By this account, Brian would have made a better POW than I. He scoured his tent each morning with a Sham Wow while I was content to just blithely roll mine up, encapsulating whatever crumbs, garments, or carcasses of the insect population that bunked in with me the night before. I kept clean, folks, but I was not ready to pass inspection in the way Brian could have at any moment of every day. Why, he’d even stake his tent down every night. I, on the other hand, counted on my prodigious bulk to be sufficient ballast. And it was.

Compartments (aka “Fastidiousness”). After the coffee, the peaches, the breakfast bars, and the sanitizing of the tent came the packing…packing stuff for the day’s row and loading the boats for proper weight and balance. Brian’s capacity for neatness and organization expressed itself in his luggage and the methodical ritual of his packing. He brought sea bags for everything. His tent, inflatable mattress, and sleeping bag shared sanctuary in a single impressive sea bag, and each article found a specific and consistent home in a zippered compartment or waterproof cubby. As a result, when we’d push off each morning, his boat would carry a few neat bags impeccably and consistently arranged for balance and convenience, ready for a photo-op as the preferred attraction for lock visitors. My boat, on the other hand, looked more like that of a refugee or fugitive, loose items wrapped in plastic bags and smaller sacks distributed from bow to stern. If Brian had been swamped, he’d use his luggage as buoyancy bags and not lose a thing. If I’d capsized, well, just revisit the last ten minutes of “Titanic” for a visual.

Compare the shelves!

Care. No matter how late in the day (or evening) we’d pull up…no matter how tranquil the waters or apparently safe the setting…no matter how tired he might be and how welcoming the prospect of rest, Brian always tended to his boat first. My Kevlar warhorse has long been accustomed to being ridden hard and put away wet, and it looks that way; if the line is secure and the gunwales and oarlocks are protected from wear, I’m ready for bed. Yet Brian’s end-of-day ritual with his beautiful cedar boat explains why it looks as new as it appeared ten years ago. The boat gets emptied of gear, gently pulled ashore, gingerly rotated to its inverted nesting position, and tied down ‘just in case’. To those of you who were a part of gifting this boat to Brian ten years ago, I can tell you that he’s taking care of it. Manic good care. Manic, I tell you.

You will note, Gentle Reader, that none of these rituals actually took place out on the water. The ritual of the campsite and of daily preparation was replaced each day by the individual effort of rowing. But the ritual of striking camp each day sated with coffee, peaches, breakfast bars, and well-packed gear set the tone for each day…and each day was good.

One guess as to who owns each boat!

Heroism (Mr. Frei)

Basin Harbor

The calluses are softening, the lobster is digested, and the boat is cleaned, oiled, and safely tucked away. But my gratitude to the acts of kindness – even heroism- that Brian and I received along the way is still fresh. Arriving at a dock or shoreline exhausted, short of supplies, and uncertain of where you’ll flake out that night can be daunting, and when a stranger steps up with no motive other than to help another in need…well, if you’re bushed, toasted, or if you’re Brian or Al, that’s kindness. And kindness ascends to the status of heroism when the help is offered in the face of skeptical “Others” or in opposition to a higher authority.

“Mo” of Rockland, on the Ottawa River, was our first true hero. After our first full day on the Ottawa, having been spoiled by the hospitality of the Rideau Canal system to journeymen like ourselves, we were now in the real world of for-profit marinas and private property; no more kindly civil-servant lock-keepers offering manicured lawns and spotless public restrooms. On 6/26 we pulled into a modest marina-condo setup at dusk and after explaining our plight to a gaggle of tenants gathered on the dock, I asked whether we might pitch a tent on their grounds that evening. A long pause ensued with some nervous glancing about (not a good initial response) and a self-appointed spokesman offered that perhaps we might find a place to camp “just around the corner” at a public park. (Parenthetically, Gentle Reader, let me explain that at dusk, after a full day of rowing, a “just around the corner” response is a killer. A real killer.) I demurely thanked them for their help and must have presented an “Oscar Clip” mien of abject vulnerability because then, from out of nowhere – Ta- Taaa!!- Mo stepped up. “You can tent at the jetty in front of the docks,” he said, “and here is the key to the rest room and shower.” Blessedly, Mo’s pronouncement held sway over The Others and after a suitable contribution to the marina coffee can (a few Canadian dollars to cement the deal; Mo has expenses, too), we were in.

Mo could have stood back. He knew us from nuttin’, and what upside could there be to saying “yes”? None. But he stepped up, added a key, and met us in the morning for encouragement and pictures.

Mo, if you’re reading this, thanks. You are a hero.

Brian has already well described our encounter with the Canadian Coast Guard three days later. Caught in a very nasty squall, they could have pulled us off the water with a warning. Instead, with the sage advice that “most people wear life jackets in weather like this,” they simply wished us well. When Authority allows consenting adults to take and accept risk, well, that’s heroic. Sad, but true. What have we come to?

A day after the Coast Guard courtesy, a Ma and Pa marina at Contracoeur on the St Lawrence was the site of the next kindness. Yes, money changed hands….but Ma and Pa did not have to say “yes” to the grizzled mariners looking to pitch tents right in their front yard. We were out of options after forty miles, and they said the most important words of our trip: “Yes” (or “Oui”, if I understood correctly). Kindness appears heroic when you are out of options… and when you need showers as badly as we did.

Three days later, on 7/3 at Lock 9 of the Chambly Canal, our next true hero emerged; she (Lockmistress Bonnie?) creatively navigated around the rule prohibiting camping at that particular lock by allowing us to camp on the adjacent floating dock…and, with a winsome wink, she threw in the Men’s Room key as well. On a late afternoon at closing time when “no” would have been easy, risk-free, and compliant with the rules, she said ‘yes’ and made a difference. (Hey, Kid Watchman on North Beach in Burlington….are you reading this? How easy would it have been for you to say “yes” and be feted in the blog?)

Emily at Ladd’s Landing Marina on Lake Champlain’s Grand Isle earned our heartfelt gratitude late in the afternoon of 7/5 when, desperate for supplies, we stumbled onto her dock after a tough crosswind row to the Vermont side. Emily had little in the store but, after a moment of seasoned assessment and creative reflection, she offered us unsupervised access to the leftovers from last weekend’s Marina Cookout. Chicken-Apple Sausage, Freihofer rolls, a robust potato salad, a gas grill, wonderfully clean facilities…Emily, thank you. You could have sold us Gatorade and Slim Jims with no extra effort or fuss, but you went above and beyond in offering the expanded menu and Charm City hospitality.

Two days later, David and Steve of Adirondack Guide Boat arranged to meet us at the Basin Harbor Club as we sprinted down the south end of Champlain under a glorious north wind and gentle rollers. These guys are the patriarchs of our particular boats- in fact, there was a pilgrimage-like quality about cruising so close to our crafts’ birthplace- and Dave arrived with a gallon of the most extraordinary Fruit Smoothie ever concocted. At the risk of creating an incestuous metaphor, it was the Adirondack Guide Boat of Smoothies. These guys not only know how to build great boats, they know how to fuel the motors that make them go. Kindness? I should say so.

Dave pours his magic smoothie

Heroes emerged on our final day as well. In Ticonderoga on 7/8, eight hours from our lobster and glory, Mike and his family (wife Linda, brother John, and sister-in-law Kitty, I think I recall) acted as tour-guides, logisticians, and home ports as we carted out boats through Ti to get to the north end of Lake George. They gave us a ride to survey the route of our portage in advance, offered their back yard to launch our boats on Lake George one hundred feet from the dam, and the intrepid Kitty even cleaned out and refilled a particularly skanky thermos…all starting from a casual introduction in the Park. I ask you, Gentle Reader: how many of us would interrupt a perfectly pleasant walk to go to all that trouble for heavily bearded strangers? How many of us would volunteer to sanitize and refill a stranger’s particularly skanky thermos? I’d like to think that we all would…but all I can tell you is that Mike and his family did.

Portage through Ticonderoga

Behind the scenes but squarely and vitally in the middle of this adventure, of course, were Kathy, Peg, Matt, my mom, Doug, Susie, and the delightful but unnamed lady who twice ventured out onto Lake George to act as our “entourage” as we made the final pull towards home. You guys made this trip possible, as did Cecile, Brian’s lovely bride, who heroically consented to share her hubby with me for seventeen days. Seventeen days. Seventeen days.

And finally, “Oscar-Felix” jousting aside, I saw more than a dollop of heroism in my partner as well. Brian rowed through pain, storms, darkness, cramps, and hands gnarled by cherry oars, and he rowed upstream for six hours after literally falling asleep at a counter over a lunch of bread and water. There’s no heroism in rowing 500 miles, but there’s an awful lot to admire about someone who perseveres with pluck, spirit, and good humor, getting it done while way outside of his comfort zone.

Brian, you’re my hero. Really.

Just out of the boata at the Lake George Club

July 13, Pilot Knob, NY (Brian)

 My brain and my fingers are just beginning to work again. It’s a funny thing about the human body. If Al and I needed to get up and row on Saturday morning we could have done it. But once the message went from the brain to the body that we wouldn’t have to, everything fell apart.

My hands went numb and became unable to grip. I couldn’t hold a pen or button my pants. At night my hips and legs were screaming in pain. My mind went into a fog, incapable of holding a thought or completing a task. I slipped into a deep fatigue I have rarely had in my life.

Rowing 500 miles had been an all-consuming effort. I never lay in my tent reading a book at night, and never had need for a corkscrew. We rowed until we ate and camped, then got up, rowed, ate and camped again. Al would say goodnight, and I’d hear snoring within ten seconds.

Our expedition went from near-cancellation to completion in a dramatic 24 hours. Wednesday afternoon we were on the public beach in Burlington with Al’s back in spasms and he was sucking down a pharmacy of painkillers. We waited for sundown then raised camp on the beach. We had barely lay down when a security guard came bumbling along and made us move our tents off public property. I told him my friend was hurt and needed rest. He offered to call an ambulance or the police, whichever we preferred. Then in an uncharacteristic transaction with a security guard I said, “OK”, and we moved far enough to please him, which was 20 feet.



Brian and their tents


We woke the next morning with a North wind blowing over our backs and we were in the boats by 7:10. Al quickly discovered that his injury the day before had been caused by rowing all day in the stationary seat. He moved to the roller and he was good.

Meeting up with Steve Kaulback and Dave Rosen at Basin Harbor

Except for a lunch visit with Steve Kaulback and Dave Rosen, the builders of our boats in Vermont, we took that wind and rowed as long and as far as it would take us. We rowed until dark and beyond until our support squad of Peg and Kathy found us a boat ramp for camping at 10 pm, where they met us with the fattest killer hamburgers you ever saw. And beer. We had rowed 45 miles that day. I couldn’t stand and I couldn’t sit either.

Peg awaits the guys in the pitch black on July 7

Brian arrives exhausted (no sitting or standing for him!)

The next morning Al went ahead to find a spot to begin our portage. He rowed up the La Chute River, which goes through downtown Ticonderoga, but a half hour behind him, I missed the mouth of the river and rowed three or four extra miles making my mistake and correcting it. It probably cost two hours.

Al’s mother and friend Doug Livingston met us with our two-wheeled portage carts, and we rolled our boats out of the public park, across a covered bridge and right through downtown Ticonderoga, past the waterfalls, the Aubuchon Hardware, and a mile uphill to the outlet of Lake George.

Portage begins in Ticonderoga

Portage starts at a covered bridge

I think I finished the day on adrenalin. I was so excited to be on home waters, and looking forward to ending the pain and sleeping in a real bed that night. We rowed past Rogers Rock, to the 400-foot stone slope that Maj. Robert Rogers in legend slid down in winter to escape the French and Indians. We passed Hague, Silver Bay and Sabbath Day Point. We stopped twice to go swimming.

We were running a little late for dinner. But people were coming out to us in their boats asking, “Are you the guys?” and we said, “yes, we’re the guys.”

Al was expressing doubts about the merits of even trying to get the Lake George Club for dinner. I said maybe it was my fault, but we had built an expectation and people were going to be waiting for us. “We have to be the guys”.

At the mouth of The Narrows, where the lake widens to the south, we were met with a headwind. It was like being at the base of Heartbreak Hill. Eighteen days of rowing would have to end with one last supreme effort. It was 6pm.

At first we picked a line straight off Dome Island, which would take us to the end, but the wind was beating us. We veered west to go behind Clay Island in Bolton Bay, then up behind Three Brothers Island, and straight up the West shore into the wind. People came to their porches recognizing us, and giving encouragement. I was deep into grim determination.

When we pulled into the beach at the Lake George Club I felt relief, and some disbelief that we had done what we’d just done. It was 8:30 and that last row from the Narrows took the last of what we had.

During our interview Sunday with Buzz Lamb from the Lake George Mirror, he asked whether we’d had any revelations along the way, and we couldn’t answer. I said I was glad to find out that I was still as tough as I had hoped, but that’s not a revelation. People had asked why we did it, and we couldn’t answer that either. We joked that we were going to keep rowing until we had an answer.

Along the way I thought a lot about history and the development of civilization. The Rideau Canal, the result of a monumental effort to built a supply route to defend Canada from attack by the United States, was never used for that. Now it is an historic artifact preserved for the use of pleasure boaters. All that expense and lives lost building it, for nothing. We passed the churches along the Ottawa River, the St. Lawrence and the Richelieu. A couple of hundred years ago people arrived dirt poor and the first thing they did was put their money together and build magnificent churches.

We rowed past the ruins of Fort Montgomery, known as “Fort Blunder” at the Canadian border built to defend the US from the British, with its gun ports oddly facing South. It was never used and now it is North of the border. We rowed under the walls of Fort Ticonderoga, high on a ill an impregnable fortress that was captured with a knock on the door. You look back on these things and it makes you think what we are wasting time and money on now, the ruins of the future.

I thought about the loons that popped up next to our boats making the trilling call. They must have done the same thing to the French, the Indians, and the British and the Americans. They’ve seen the foolishness of man and they’re laughing.

At the end of it, my revelations are small. If you go on an adventure, make sure you have a way to make hot coffee in the morning. Kill all the mosquitoes in your tent before you go to sleep and sweep out the sand in the morning.

When rowing upstream, stick to shore and the lower end of the bends. But avoid rowing upstream if you can.

Point your small boat right at the highest waves and raise your middle finger to French Canadians in cigarette boats.

Dry bags are in fact superior to Hefty Steelsaks.

A good hat makes the sun bearable and a plate of spaghetti will restore you.

And if you do something this grueling with a friend, do it with a friend who is such a good friend that after the misery, the spoken tension, unspoken tension, the frustration and near disasters he is still a friend who laughs at himself, laughs at you, and will be your friend forever.

Still best of friends!

Some reflections from Mr Frei 4 days after the row ended

A much needed dip at the Lake George Club upon arrival

Greetings, Gentle Reader, July 12, 2011      

We’ve been home for four days, and I apologize for being late in getting to the keyboard for some post-row commentary, analysis, and perhaps some cosmic thoughts. Frankly, it’s been difficult to focus on the here-and-now. A persistent fatigue has dogged me since Friday and while it evokes the kind of feel-good drowsiness which follows a nice Sunday nap, it’s been four days- it’s time to wake up! I can report that Brian has been feeling this same malaise, but he counters it with periodic dips in the lake. I labor – and nap – here in steamy Baltimore.

Conk has done a great job keeping the blog going during the row, and I earnestly hope that Brian will continue to write in; his contributions have raised both the quality and readership of the blog, and I’ll be more inclined to stick to the facts and verifiable events if I know that I’ll be audited by his continued participation.

How do I start? Most Exciting Day? Biggest Lesson Learned? Greatest Surprise? Most Memorable Moment? Classic Felix and Oscar Exchanges? I suspect that I’ll get to all of these and more over the next few weeks, but let’s recap the drama of the finish:

Friday is “Lobster Night” at the Lake George Club. I know this through distant memory, my parents having taken me there as a kid and having celebrated Brian’s 50th birthday on the Club’s scenic veranda ten years ago. Drawn butter was involved, and so was a new tie, so I suspect that it was Lobster Night.

Anyway, Brian had proffered the idea of finishing at the Club – and at Lobster Night on July 8th – even before we took our first stroke on June 21st. In fact, his good friend and Lake George Mirror writer Buzz Lamb, in a pre-row article, published “our” alleged intention to make it to the Club in time to don our bibs on 7/8. The word was out and the clock was to be subliminally ticking throughout this row: two guys touching sixty who have a hard time touching – or seeing- their toes are about to row 502 miles through five major bodies of water and sixty-three locks TO GET TO LOBSTER NIGHT AT THE LAKE GEORGE CLUB AT 7 PM ON 7/8. (Q: Would you take that bet if you were the procurement manager at the Club?)


So, Gentle Reader, you no doubt saw the improbability of our arrival at the north end of Lake George on 7/8, twenty-five miles from glory. Our gnarled, callused hands would scarcely need tools to crack open the shells…and, frankly, eighteen days of living in the wild would have dulled our sensitivity to use them. After a portage through Ticonderoga, we put in and rowed on. It was noon. We had seven hours to row twenty five miles. A south wind was building against us. It would be close. Do-able with grit, but close.


Truth be told- and it must, because Brian will call me on it- as we rowed against a rising wind and cresting waves, I was ready to bail on the Lobster Night Objective. We’d be hours late for our own party. Others would be inconvenienced. It seemed too grandiose for Oscar. Besides, what would we do with the boats and our gear after the party was over? I had no intention of sabotaging the possibility of our arrival but, so close to the finish line, my crustacean commitment was flagging and I honestly just wanted to work my way home. It had been eighteen days…maybe Lobster Night at 7PM on 7/8 was a just a claw too far?


Gentle Reader, two images restored my resolve. First, Brian was hauling on his oars like a man possessed. At mile twenty, with five to go and darkness approaching, fighting a nasty chop and bucking a sustained headwind, Brian was plowing ahead, singing. He was singing, I tell you. I offered him the last of my beef jerky, my last breakfast bar, and my last Gatorade to fuel the machine, but he cheerily dismissed these treasures. (Those of you who know Brian will know that the phrase “Brian cheerily dismissed (food)” suggests a much, much higher purpose, such as lobster.)

The second image, self-induced, was that of Buzz Lamb’s follow-up article should we come up short after being so close. Follow-up headlines scrolled across my stern as I, too, pulled against the waves: “Lobsters Have Last Laugh”…. “Who Roasted Whom on 7/8?”…. “Rowers’ Late Arrival Predictable”…. “Crustaceans In No Danger Tonight!”


So we were an hour late – or stylishly on time – and enjoyed the companionship of family, friends, and excellent lobsters.

Eighteen days, five hundred miles…and right on time for dinner. Go figure.

Hitting the beach at the Lake George Club

Brian's father and friend Beryl excited to see the guys



Buzz Lamb interviews them for the Lake George Mirror



The Day After

Mr. Frei cleaning his tent



Mr. Frei has been cleaning up his gear this morning, and there was such a nice wind blowing that he was able to clean his tent while wearing it!

At 4 PM today Buzz Lamb of the Lake George Mirror will be interviewing Mr. Frei and Brian over at Brian's place on Lake George.  I will be over there to observe!

Kathy

Brody helps Mr. Frei clean his tent

Buzz Lamb, from the Lake George Mirror , interviewed Mr. Frei and Brian this afternoon over at Brian's place. It was fascinating to hear them recounting their journey.  I took this photo afterwards.



Mr. Frei and Brian after the newspaper interview



A few photos from the end of the trip

The bow of Mr. Frei's boat

 

Day 18 - Beadle's Cove, VT to Cleverdale, NY

"No Christian has ever visited this land and we had all the misery of the world trying to paddle the river upstream."
~Samuel de Champlain (about the Richelieu River in Quebec.  Mr. Frei and Brian concur!)

"I've seen nothing here that I like or want any part of..."
~Brian Rooney (July 2011 as he began rowing the Richelieu River in Quebec)

 They made a short row from Beadle's Cove, VT to Ticonderoga, NY where Mrs. Frei and friend Doug were awaing with pairs of wheels for them to make the 1.5 mile portage to the top of Lake George.   The sight of these two guys pulling Adirondack Guide Boats through the streets of Ticonderoga was pretty amusing ( will try to get some photos posted).

The ex-town supervisor was nice enough to let them put in at his brother's house, which saved about a mile of the portage.    Peg and I brought the requested egg salad sandwiches to Mossy Point, about a mile away.   Last leg of the trip was started at noon, with about 25 miles to go!

5:30 PM - We received a call that they just passed Paradise Bay and Mother Bunch Island.

5:45 PM - Doug is out in his motorboat and says that the guys are expected to reach the Lake George Club at about 7PM (see map). It is just a stone's throw from there to Cleverdale, which is the finish.

Kathy



6:15 PM - Now there is a headwind, and they have just passed Glen Island (The island to the right of where it says Northwest Bay).  It looks like there are about six more miles to the Club, and it may be 9 PM  before they arrive there.    Mr. Frei's son Matt may go out in the motor boat to escort them when the light goes.

11:19 PM - They reached the Lake George Club at 8:30 PM to cheers from us, Mr. Frei's Mother, friend Kathy, son Matt,  Brian's Dad Andy and his friend Beryl.    After beaching their boats they both dove into the water to cool down and then had a quick shower before joining us for a great lobster dinner.  A nice celebratory end to a long journey.  Mr. Frei will be doing some writing here as soon as he gets some rest.  A few photos will be below.

Kathy

Preparing for the portage in Ticonderoga, NY



Brian arriving in Ticonderoga

The portage begins

Portage begins at a covered bridge





Mr. Frei hitchin' a ride in Ticonderoga

 

Putting in on the La Chute around 11 AM










Mr. Frei starts the last leg - Lake George

 



First sighting of the guys from the club at 8:30 PM



Arriving for the lobster dinner

Day 17 - Burlington, VT to Beadle's Cove, VT

Burlington to Beadles Cove

Today was an amazing row for Brian and Mr. Frei, after such a difficult day and an injured back!  They set out at 7 AM this morning, and arrived at Beadle's Cove at 9:30 PM!  Mr. Frei switched to his sliding seat, which seemed to help and he was medicated on a combination (don't do this at home!) of Motrin and Aleve (he was calling it Moleve).

Peg and I met up with them at 1:10 PM at the Basin Harbor Resort near Vergennes, VT. It is a beautiful spot and they let you bring your dog!     We arrived at the Resort at 11 AM and found Steve and Dave from Adirondack Guide-Boat waiting there with delicious watermelon-strawberry smoothies, so we had lots of time to hear their stories before the guys arrived. Steve and Dave made a guide-boat for Martha Stewart, so she did a segment on them a while ago, which I happened to see. Here is a photo of them with Martha. Great guys!



Steve - Martha - Dave

A short but sweet reunion ensued when Mr. Frei and Brian came gliding in, having had one of the best rows of their trip.  Al glided into the beach standing and doing a little dance move in his boat, which Dave made him repeat for a photo.  The guys had their smoothies, and were extremely appreciative (amazing how appreciative this two are when you bring them little treats at meetups!).

Bob Beach, the owner of the Resort came down to meet the intrepid rowers, so it was a nice little break.  After a few sandwiches, Mr. Frei and Brian took off again with the plan to get to the Larrabee's Point, where the ferry is that travels between VT and NY.

Meanwhile, Peg and I toured Middlebury, checked in at the Shoreham B&B, had some dinner and ordered burgers for the guys, who thought that they would be at point around 8:30. 

Peg and I arrived at the ferry station, and some guy leaned out of the second floor window of the stone house there, and yelled that we were trespassing, and no explanation seemed to soften him, so we drove a little further to a nice cove.  Then the wait began, the darkness crept in and the mosquitos started attaching.   The guys finally came into sight around 10PM (we saw Mr. Frei's headlamp), and we were flashing the iPhone and camera at them so that they could see where to land.  They were extremely tired, but very happy with their burgers and Blanche de Chambly beers.  We left them as they were settling in for a good sleep.

Tomorrow morning Mr. Frei's mother will meet them on the NY side of Lake Champlain and take their luggage while they portage the two or so miles over to Lake George.  It seems that lobster night will be on for tomorrow night at Lake George!


Mr. Frei arrives at Basin Harbor Resort




Brian arrives at Basin Harbor, VT



Day 16 - Message from Mr. Frei

Greetings, gentle reader,




Brian has been doing a great job in describing our passage so far; I apologize for not being as prolific but when it's all been said so well, why say it again? I will certainly add some commentary when we are home and I have access to my own machine...which may be sooner than i would like. You see, this afternoon I experienced severe back spasms...akin, frankly, to the feeling of a broken rib. I'm feeling great pain in the boat, and we pulled off early today so that I could rest and medicate. We're in Burlington, a literal stone's throw from the finish (80 miles or so), and I will feel terrible if I cannot finish this journey. We'll sleep on the beach tonight and I hope that when the morning arrives, I'll be good to go.



In the meantime, back spasms aside, it's been a great few days. The clear waters of Champlain are a refreshing change from the yoo-hoo patina of the richelieu river and as we proceed south, the mountains around the southern Champlain valley- the green on the east and the Adirondacks to the west - rise around us. Sweet.



So, gentle reader, I go to sleep a grateful but somewhat worried man....grateful for the chance to make and share this trip with Brian and, vicariously, with you, but i'm worried that I may not hit the finish line with him. It won't be for lack of trying. We'll keep you posted.



Big ups,



Mr frei

Brian shows Al how to use the iPad

Day 16 - South Hero, VT to North Beach, Burlington, VT (Brian)

Rooney
Blogpost 10


July 6, Burlington, Vt.

The air is clearing here at the public beach after a dramatic storm.

We started this morning with such a tough headwind that we almost called a day off. It took three hours to cross a bay to the protection of high ground. The waves were high enough that the front third of our boats were coming out of the water. It took another hour to row to a break in an old railroad causeway and cross under.

 We made about 15 miles before Al started having back spasms and we landed at the public beach. A few minutes later the beach was cleared as the storm brought lightening and horizontal rain. Then it hailed as a ferry boat rode it out, head into the storm.

The jury is out on Al's back ... Could be out for the day, could be a season ender.

 Lake Champlain has great geology where you can see the evidence of turbulence overtime. Some of the islands and peninsulas have vertical sedimentary layers where the land has been heaved.
We have also seen a lot of damage from the spring floods. A marina near the Canadian border was heavily damaged as are many waterfront homes. We passed a string of 18 beach front homes that had all been damaged, one destroyed. The high water mark is about four feet above where we have been rowing.

On the Richelieu, the high water was six feet higher, but we hated that river and screw 'em.
Tuesday we set out from Chazy's Landing and also were dodging winds from the start. That's when we crossed to the Vermont side looking for protection from the east. We  went many miles looking for a marina to buy supplies and water up. Finally we came to a bay between two islands known as "the gut" and the Ladd's Landing Marina. There Emily Clark took care of us, digging some chicken sausage out of the refrigerator, along with potato salad, and directed us to the barbecue on the lawn, where we cooked up a great lunch.

We rowed another 10 mies or more after that. Finally pitching tents just at dusk in a park at South Hero.
Now we are wang to see whether they will kick halibut this beach park.




Rainbow after the storm at North Beach, VT



Day 16 - Hero, VT to Colchester Pt., VT to ??

The weather is quite bad today!  By 9:30 they had gone from Hero to Colchester Pt, VT, which took 2 hours and is 3 miles. (Normal pace in calm weather could average 4 MPH)

The winds are at 40 MPH and good chance of thunderstorms, so they are staying ashore.  There is a good chance they will be unable to go further today.  A good day to take a break.

Will let you know later!

Kathy

Day 15 - Chazy Landing, NY to Hero, VT

9 AM - Mr. Frei called in to say that they had been rowing for an hour, and expected to get to Plattsburgh, NY today. The wind is coming out of the Southeast, which is slowing them down a bit.

8 PM - Mr. Frei and Brian had to cross 27 miles from the NY side of Lake Champlain to the VT side due to the strong winds, and are now in Hero, VT.  They called around 8 PM to say that they were in a marina and in the process of buying sandwiches for dinner.



Kathy

Brian's boat on the Chambly Canal

Day 14 - St-Jean-sur-Richelieu - Chazy Landing, NY

Mr. Frei and Brian rowed 27 miles today, and crossed back into the USA for the 4th of July.  They rowed 20 miles on the Richelieu, and then 7 on Lake Champlain.  Passing through customs was easy.

Also, they said that it was nice to be in clear water again.

They are staying at a boat launch by the Chazy River and there is no place to eat, so they are making do with remaining provisions.

Internet problems again tonight!

Kathy

Peg taking notes in a Montreal restaurant on the row

Day 13 - St-Hillaire, QC to St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, QC



They did the entire Chambly Canal today



We met up with the guys at lock 5 on the Chambly Canal, which is a very peaceful place, but there area 8 locks in pretty quick succession, and then an 8 mile or so gap to lock 9.  We had a nice lunch on a picnic table just after they exited lock 5.  They took off pretty quickly because they wanted to finish the rest of the canal before the locks closed at 6:30PM.

I took a little video, and not sure what the clicking is, but you will get a little flavor of the canal here.  Al entertained us a little with his harmonica, and gave a quick science lesson, which prompted Brian to say, "See what it's like traveling with a school teacher!"  (Note: Link will be posted in the morning as video is still uploading)

They managed to complete the Chambly Canal today (9 locks), and it wasn't as easy as predicted since there was some current and a headwind.  After spending time with them at a few of the locks we met up with them again just after lock 9.  They took the mini back to our hotel to get a nice hot shower, and put on their new ROW CANADA! t-shirts for dinner at a local Italian restaurant. While at dinner there was an incredible thunderstorm outside, so we stretched out the meal so that they could return to set their tents up on the dock in relative calm.   They have  a very narrow spot, so getting in the tents is going to be tricky.  We were tempted to hang around and watch, but were a little too tired.

They plan to get to Lake Champlain by tomorrow night, but will be working against some strong currents.  Peg and I will be heading to Montreal tomorrow for the night, and will meet up with them again on Tuesday.

Mr. Frei holding up his new supply of Rice Crispie Treats

Resting at Lock 8

 





Coming to dinner in their new shirts