#20 The Riff-Raff Boatyard

This is a continuation of the story begun in Post #19. For the full effect, try to read that one first before continuing.

Just to recap, we are on an extended stay in Kingston, NY waiting for a new starter motor. Allan secured the services of Dustin and Dave, two local CERTIFIED boat mechanics, self-proclaimed certified “riff-raff.” This is a misnomer because they're really good guys. It's just that their cutoffs, drippy T-shirts, and tattoos scream “riff-raff.” So despite their appearances, we gave them thumbs us. The starter motor was ordered and expected to arrive by mid-afternoon of the following day.

After lunch, we moved Sally W up Rondout Creek and tied up at the Certifieds' dock, home of The Riff-Raff Boatyard. Allan opened up all access to the engine to let it cool down. We're not sure how much that would help. Meteorologists have a label for this kind of weather: HHH; Hazy, Hot, and Humid.

Right on time, Dustin came aboard carrying a box. He got right to work but soon discovered that he didn't have the right wrench. Back to the workshop. Back to the boat. His phone rings. “I'm too busy to get him. I have more than I can handle right now. I'll get my mother to pick him up.” He says to us, “Sorry about that. Still don't have the right wrench.” And once more he heads up the dock.

Meanwhile the travel lift is holding one of them cheeseburger boats. It arrived by Sea-Tow earlier in the day, an all too frequent unexpected job to add to the day's overcrowded work schedule. Seems the Canadian captain cut inside a buoy and hit the rock jetty at the entry to the creek. “Not uncommon,” Dustin said. “When it arrived the two men on board were talking so fast I had to ask them to calm down and talk slower.”

By the time we arrived, the hull and prop had been repaired. The captain was waiting on the dock for the relaunch. His deep tan went well with his blue Hawaiian print swim trunks stretched around his 50-inch waist. Seems Dustin was the only one who could run the travel lift and relaunch the boat. He'd tried to teach Dave how to do it, but it didn't take.

Meanwhile on shore, Dave was trying to remove a boat engine with a backhoe. The dangling engine swung a bit too far. Dave panicked, hit the wrong pedal, and propelled the engine into his friend who was sitting on the now engine-less boat's gunwale. Oops. Change hats Dave, and employ your EMT skills. He thought he'd hit him in the chest, which would have been a real mess. But, his now ex-friend was complaining of pain around his knees. Still, it necessitated a call to the rescue truck, and a trip to the hospital.

Meanwhile, Dustin had gone off to buy a wrench. Soon, we can hear the high-pitched voice of a child zooming around the boatyard on his bike. Dustin returns, followed by his mother and 3-year old son Kasten. That's an unusual name. Seems Dustin's wife is a world champion BMX racer, and Kasten bikes was her sponsor. Cool.

Nanny and Kasten come aboard to supervise. Kasten's first task is to relieve the bubble lite packing material of all its air. His dad removes the old starting motor. It's not easily reached and he looks like he's milking a cow. Nanny goes ashore and Sally takes over. Kasten removes tools from Allan's tool box and sorts them by type and size.

Dave shows up, sensing the need for help on this mother of multitasking afternoons. “What's it need? Is it ready to launch?” he asks. Dustin replies in the affirmative. Dave goes ashore and fires up the engine on the travel lift holding the Canadian cheeseburger. Thankfully, he does nothing more, and returns to support Dustin.

After half an hour, Dustin and Dave leave our boat, trailed by Kasten. Father and son climb aboard the travel lift, drive it onto the dock and lower Moby Dick into the water. “Start it up while you're still in the sling,” Dustin says. The Hawaiian blue whale steps aboard and turns the key. One engine starts, the other does not. Dustin hops from the lift to the boat and removes the engine cover in record time. “Might be just a blown fuse.” Since he handles electrical matters, Dave takes over and Dustin and Kasten return to Sally W. “Sorry this is taking so long.”

A short time later Dave appears. “The starter motor is dead.” IS THIS A COMMUNICABLE DISEASE? “Well, I just can't do anything about it right now,” Dustin says. “I know,” Dave replies. Kasten is now counting the tools. Allan asks him for the hammer and hands it to Dave. Dave leaves. Nanny appears and says that Aunt Laura is going to play with Kasten on shore while she goes to a town board meeting (which she hates). They toddle off. Dave returns. “No go.”

The blue Hawaiian saunters down the dock to feel out the timing of our project completion. He and a friend had planned to buddy boat to New York today. Not happenin'. They were also at the Kingston dock last night, a few slips from Sally W. If that boat had been parked near a nuclear power plant it could have been mistaken for emitting Cherenkov radiation. That's the blue glow seen from spent fuel bundles sitting underwater in spent fuel pools.

Finally, the ADD afternoon is over. Dave has received a call from his maybe friend at the hospital saying that there is nothing broken. Dustin finishes our installation at 7 PM. But his day is not over. We thank them as they move off to fumigate for the starter motor epidemic. Job well done. We'll hire certified riff-raff everytime.

We chug back to the town dock, shower, and celebrate ashore at our new favorite restaurant, Ship to Shore.

Oh yes. The repair bill was very reasonable. Thanks again guys, and Nanny Sharon.

Lessons learned: 

Never judge a book by its cover and be on the lookout for Certified Riff-Raff boatyards.

#19 Expect the Unexpected

We had planned to leave Waterford on Sunday morning, but a glimpse at the radar showed that a strong front with heavy winds and rain would pass through in a few hours. So, we decided to delay the departure. It was a good thing. Waterford was holding their 
Cultural Heritage Festival.

Meanwhile, back in Vermont, our daughter decided it was high time for her son to witness another of the many diverse cultural forms that makes our country great!

                        

 We started south on the Hudson River the next morning, and locked through the Federal Lock in Troy, our final lock on this voyage. The protocol here called for a single line looped around a fat pole.

 It demonstrated to us how our tug's walk-around deck is so well-suited for locking maneuvers.

  Without this design, some boats require a person to squat on a slippery cabin top. Victory in design for the Victory Tug!

Troy Waterfront

 We admit that we were somewhat deflated to be heading down the Hudson, retracing our steps. The excitement of discovery was gone. But experience had taught us that encounters with people are the reality of adventure.

 Below Albany we spotted a familiar figure. It was Chase, our paddleboarder. Once again, a reunion. He too had waited out the dicey weather and enjoyed a steak and soft bed at a friend's home in Albany. Back on the water today, he was elated, paddling with the current with the wind to his back.

 He and Allan discussed tides and currents through an app on Allan's iPhone.

We were anxious to learn how he managed on the Champlain Canal. He did not have to portage around the eleven locks. The lock tenders allowed him into the chamber. And when he shared a lock with a barge, he hopped aboard.

 He said he felt great and was looking forward to experiencing the historical aspects of the Hudson. Once again, we wondered if we would ever see him again.

The rest of the day was pleasant, logging 60 nautical miles, and we spent the night in Kingston.

SHORT STORY LONG - Part 1

After four years of boating on Sally W, it finally happened. Preparing to leave the dock the next morning, the trusty Cummins 4BT engine would not start. We were dead in the water. After an hour of troubleshooting, Allan concluded that the starter motor was dead. This was not surprising, after 27 years, including 101 locks just this year, each requiring engine start up. He called the nearest Cummins service company 60 miles to the north in Albany. Fortunately, we were already customers and “in the system.” Unfortunately, it would be two days before they could send a mechanic, charging mileage, driving time, and of course, service time. To add to the misery, they didn't stock a starting motor for our 27 year old engine. But … they would hunt one down.

Okay. What to do? Start looking for a local mechanic to verify, at the least, Allan's diagnosis. On the second call, he reached Certified Marine Service, a local outfit. They agreed to come over and take a look.

By now it was lunch time. So to mollify our severely defated balloons, Sally cooked up our favorite comfort food lunch fare – BLTs. As we were finishing, Allan spied two guys at the gate to the dock. “Well, there's some local riff-raff,” he chuckled. Sure enough, it was the mechanics, coming straight to our boat, all lathered up with tattoos. What next?! Allan poked his head out to confirm his suspicions and said, “Certified?” “Certified,” they chimed in. “We just look like riff-raff.” How did they know?

They came aboard. The younger one put out his hand. “I'm Dustin.” The other guy followed suit. “I'm Dave. We're certified riff-raff.” Dustin was all business and went right to the engine, while Dave stood by and chatted. He wore a bandanna on his head and an alligator T-shirt bearing Florida's underground marketing slogan: Send us more tourists. The last ones were delicious. Beyond his mechanical skills, actually electrical, Dave was also a certified paramedic. He added that Dustin ran the marina with his mother, and was really sharp. He had his 100-ton captain's license at 19. He's now 30, and doesn't look a day over 22.

It didn't take long for Dustin to diagnose our problem: a frozen starter. He asked for a hammer. What?!?! “Don't worry,” he said to Sally, and proceeded to tap tap tap. “Now, try to start it up, Cap.” Allan obeyed and the engine turned over as usual.

Dustin said, “Yup. This motor's been in a lot of salt water, right? Those brushes get sticky and develop a dead spot. You gotta know where to tap it. But I recommend it needs replacing. You can go on, but sooner or later ...”

Yes, we agreed. We weighed the wheels already set in motion with the Cummins folks versus “the certified dynamic duo.” They had proven their worth. Dustin quickly picked up his tools. “I gotta get back; lotta things to do, but I'm including you. I'll make some calls and see if I can find a motor.”

Later that afternoon, he called to say that he had located one and that it would be there by mid-afternoon the next day. And so we wait.

          To be continued in the next post. Don't miss the trip to the Riff Raff Boatyard.

#18 Locking Through in a Subaru

Another amazing few days, and an interesting thing has happened. The people, history, and beautiful sights are no longer single points on the loop. The encounters are starting to relate, and multiply. Paths are crossing, and the loop is becoming a web.

It began with a meeting on Lake Champlain. Our cruise south was proving peaceful. A warm breeze from the south meant for us a course straight into the wind through a bit of chop.

Sailors going north had two choices: either a lot of tacking …

                  … or flying wing-on-wing.

 Lake Champlain is sometimes called the sixth great lake. And it certainly qualifies in terms of depth. Note the lower left reading on the chart plotter and the proximity to shore.

 There was not a lot of boat traffic, but we spotted something odd ahead. When we realized it was a man on a paddle board, Allan slowed the engine and inched to within shouting distance. “What are you trying to do, get into the Guiness Book of World Records?” The man smiled and paddled over. We cut the engine and he grabbed onto our gunwale. “No,” he said. “I'm paddling from Burlington to New York City!”

His name is Chase Rosenberg. This was his third day out, and because it was rough, kneeling was more efficient than standing. He figured the trip would take 19 days, averaging 15 miles per day.

Chase has the adventure gene, so we weren't surprised to learn that 13 years ago, upon graduation from high school in Columbus, OH, he hiked the entire Appalachian Trial in four months; 2184 miles from Georgia to Maine. Hiking the entire AT is an accomplishment in itself. To do it in one season – even more remarkable. www.nps.gov/appa/

Also read Bill Bryson's hilarious account of his AT attempt: A Walk in the Woods.

 We wished Chase well and continued down the lake to Chipman Point for the night. This marina is a little gem, with buildings dated 1812.

Really?

Allan mentioned to the owner about seeing the paddle boarder. He said he'd seen just about everything, even a person attempting to SWIM up from New York City to Canada.

 Just after breakfast the next morning, we spotted Chase paddling up to our dock. We invited him aboard for coffee, etc. We noticed that his toes were looking a bit worse for the wear and brought out antibiotic ointment and band aids.

 Once again, we said good byes, and he paddled off. He carries a tent and therma rest mattress and spends nights in parks along the shore. We wondered if we'd spot him again.

Sure enough, we spied him on a far shore by a small dock, chatting to two bikers. We tooted our horn and he gave us a vigorous wave. This would probably be the last siting, though. But it is not the end of the story. Think web and stand by.

 Meanwhile, another strand was developing. Our friend and fellow tug owner Wes Eldred in South Burlington had emailed his friend Fred Wehner who lives on the Champlain Canal. Wes said that we would be passing through, and recommended we connect. Fred is an interesting guy with a chronic case of tugboat disease. His American tug sits at his dock in Fort Edward, and he has an extensive knowledge of working and pleasure boats. He is an avid historian of the canals in New York State. His website is excellent. www.tug44.org

We emailed Fred to say we'd stop by, but that Fort Edward was too far on this day, and we were stopping in Whitehall for the night. Whitehall marks the northern end of the Champlain Canal. 

We tied up here below lock 12 as fast as possible in order to watch the canal tug Governor Cleveland at work.

 We might be catching the working tug disease.

Are we crazy? This is a tug pushing a scow full of rocks!

 Tearing ourselves away, we walked along the waterfront back to the boat. All of a sudden a man leaned out of his car and said, “Are you Allan?” It was Fred! Since he lives just 20 miles south, he decided to come find us. “Hop in. I want to show you something. See that house up there?” 

We rode up to the home of Captain Philip Skenes, the man who founded the town of Skenesborough (now Whitehall) around 1765. This town is the southern entry to Lake Champlain. 

Believe it or not, it is the birthplace of the US Navy, where ships were built in 1776 for the American Revolution. When the War of 1812 started, ships for the Lake Champlain fleet were built here too. We thanked Fred for the history lesson and promised to stop by on our way through.

The next morning, a voice on the dock said, “Nice boat. Are you the ones who helped the paddleboarder?” It turned out that this couple was the two bikers on the dock yesterday talking to Chase. We chatted for a long time, and discovered that he runs a cross-country ski program for kids in his town in Pennsylvania. We encouraged him to come to Vermont to learn about the Bill Koch Program. Hope he does. Nice people. (To date, that ends the Chase story.)

Onto Fort Edward. Fred was waiting at the dock, took us to lunch, and then gave a tour of the old canals in the area. This is the Five Combines Lock, locks 6-10 of the Glens Falls Feeder Canal, using the waters of the upper Hudson River to create a canal connecting Fort Edward to Glens Falls with 14 locks. Imagine lock doors sitting at the top of each waterfall. This group is called a flight. No trick photography here. The waterway really is very very narrow.

 It was here that Fred asked us if we'd ever locked through in a Subaru. Huh? And he proudly drove us to the Fort Edward Junction Lock, and sure enough, the Subaru gave us a trip through.

And finally, yet another connection. This is a canal wall of the original Champlain Canal in Fort Edward, which connected to the eastern end of the Erie Canal. We had already seen the other end in Waterford in mid-June.

 As we said goodbyes, Fred reminded us that we would be passing through the famous area of the canal where extensive dredging operations were underway to remove PCBs deposited by General Electric decades earlier. At lock 8, the tender told us to call Vessel Traffic to request passage through the area.  

 We talked with the female dispatcher (who was great!!!) She gave us instructions to switch to Channel 18A and to notify tugs Eagle and Champlain. Tug Eagle indicated a two whistle pass (starboard to starboard).

A two-whistle pass

Tug Champlain said we wouldn't be a factor for them. 

We proceeded cautiously, weaving past tugs, hopper scows full of bottom dredgings, and barges loaded with cranes enormous backhoes.

 The waves by many workers were a pleasant surprise. 

 We even spotted Fred's friend Linda at the helm of her tug.

It was a front row seat which not many get for viewing this lengthy and controversial situation.

Friday, August 3 marked the final day of our loop. It was a very hot day as we locked through the last four locks.

Testing the water pump before installation

Allan's brother John joined us for this final day of our loop. He was a great help in troubleshooting yet another malfunctioning NEW pump, this time one for the forward cabin AC.

 We crossed our wake in Waterford, 54 days after starting west from here on the Erie. We passed through 101 locks, 5 canals, and 4 rivers; logged 862 nautical miles and 141 engine hours. But those totals only reflect the loop. We logged 282 nautical miles to get to Waterford. In all – 1144 miles. And we're not done.