May 8-9 Colbourg, ON

In the end, we were in Colbourg for two days. The gale did arrive with lots of wind and rain. It snowed away from the lake. The second day we took off early in the morning in near-freezing temperatures, but the forecasted 20 knots on the beam turned out to be a 25+ forward of the beam. I hugged the girls in the cockpit while Mark and Tom struggled to put out a reefed genoa. Some ropes got tangled, the sail flapped, and we were pounding straight into six foot seas. That was not the plan, and it was a long way. So we turned around. It was a great learning experience, though. Afterwards Mark set up the cutter headsail. He figured if we had had a pre-reefed main and the stay sail set, we might have been able to make it work.

Instead we spent a second day in Cobourg. We visited Victoria Hall, the original courthouse and now museum/entertainment center. A very nice keeper/tour guide let us in on Sunday and showed us all around. We also bought a few things—including long-sought after special headbands for the girls. Best of all, Steve and Vera (my sister) Dyck arrived in the afternoon!—Steve to join us for the leg across the lake. Our delay had made this possible. They were already friends with Tom (they’d been our connection to him) and the weather improved. Everyone was jovial and festive. They even brought some free range meat and other delicacies. After Vera left we sat down to beef stew (supplemented with navy beans—Tom has been commenting (mostly favorably) “You really do eat beans every meal!” Mark had warned him). Six people at the table, only two of them small, and there was plenty of room! In the evening, while Tom and the girls danced around the playgrounds, Mark and Steve were wrestling in the bowels of the engine. Mark lost no time in consulting Steve in all things mechanical, as Steve has never seen an engine he can’t fix, or at least poke around in for hours and test things. We considered leaving that evening but the waves were still pretty big and we were all exhausted, especially Steve who was “running on fumes,” having gotten up at 4:30 to drive his daughter Amber to her rowing meet down at Niagara.

May 10 to Port Dalhousie, ON

Instead we got up in the pre-dawn once again (Mark doesn’t even need an alarm anymore) and headed out. I got all dressed and then lay down next to the girls, just to see what would happen. I had considered Dramamine the night before but instead gave in to laziness and optimism. None of us had taken it for a long time.

Soon the motor was off and the sails were up and I could feel that we were moving along nicely. There were still swells from the gale coming up at us, and it was too bouncy for me to stay down. Soon I was in the cockpit and Mark took a turn down with Lamar, who was awake and miserable. I heard a gagging and peeked in; Mark had the bowl under Lamar’s chin. I hopped down and tried to be there for Lamar but I really needed to be in the cockpit myself. We couldn’t convince her to bundle up and come out; she was miserable but she was warm, and she could tell we weren’t! Eventually she dozed off, which was probably better anyway. She slept for a couple more hours and woke much better.

Cedar, meanwhile, woke up smiley. She must have felt al right because she sat up and started getting dressed. Halfway through she leapt out of her bunk and into my lap in the cockpit, where we were busy watching the sun rise and discussing the global economic situation. In about two seconds she started to throw up and all discussion was dropped. A bowl, towels, and clothes appeared, and soon she was comatose but bundled in my lap, where she stayed, recovering slowly.

Slowly, slowly, we were starting to slow down and bob more heavily into the waves. The wind was backing, and dying. By mid-morning we were all getting woozy and we turned on the engine. The autopilot malfunctioned again and Steve and Mark walked themselves through each possible problem. Finally, much to Mark’s delight, he found a loose connection and fixed it. Steve, meanwhile, was actually feeling seasick. He was also cold, partly because he had not put on his long underwear, he confessed. Disabled for probably the first time in his entire life, he nibbled tuna with us, lay down, and eventually settled down inside to warm up and sleep it off. He woke soon, refreshed and ready to go, but not before Mark got a picture of him snoozing away with a bowl beside him, just in case.

It was one of those days that contained many days. In the middle of the day everyone dozed off again, while Mark silently stayed at the helm. Then in the afternoon the wind totally died and soon the waves were down too. We ate and ate and ate. Lamar had a craving for fish cakes and Steve went downstairs to fry up a batch. We read in the cockpit. The girls got rambunctious. On a post-seasick high, they determined to learn to like cabbage and informed us all of their resolve. Lucky for them, there was no cabbage immediately available for them to test their determination.

Late in the afternoon we arrived at St. Catherine’s marina, which turned out to be too shallow so we moved on to Port Dalhousie 3 miles past. Coming in to the wall with three of us standing there, we must have each been in our own personal daze because Mark had to start shouting out directions from the helm: “Hop out! Push off the bow!” and other basic things. We hopped to and narrowly avoided crunching the bowsprit. We jumped out and ran and ran and ran, back in the warmth of May. Tom went to find his grandparents, who lived less than a mile away. After dinner they came over and invited us over for evening tea. They were very spritely and fun; we sat and chatted in their home until late. Lamar chortled as she sipped her cambric tea and cookie, “I just love being invited out to tea!” Tom’s father Stan was driving Amber (and the key to Steve’s van which was waiting for him in Port Dalhousie) down that evening, and they all stayed with the grandparents for the night.

May 11-the Welland Canal

They showed up at 5:45 the next morning, having already eaten a big breakfast of eggs and sausage prepared by the grandparents. The rest of us had to make do with oatmeal, though we gave Tom plenty of grief for refusing to bring the leftovers, despite his grandparents’ urging.

We met Tom’s dad briefly, and happily loaded up on food from his mom (homemade chicken soup, apples still falling from the tree, homemade cheese…) and felt very blessed to have become friends with Tom and his remarkable family. Amber stayed with us for the day, bringing the number of adults on board to five. Surely we were ready for the Welland canal. Mark, having done all the research, was very glad to have the extra numbers. I, ever the optimist, assumed it would be easy in the end but was glad for the company. Right before entering the canal a guy came over and offered advice. He thought we should have more than one boat hook. I shrugged my shoulders, but Steve with his typical down-to-earth approach went into the nearby brush and came out with a stout branch. The guy also thought our bumpers were a little thin, and suggested putting rags on the ends of the spreaders in case they scraped the walls. Mark got out his harness to go up the mast but just then the green light went on and we all took our places and headed into the first lock. Tom grabbed the ropes and took the bow line, Steve took the stern line, Mark was at the wheel, and Amber and I had the boat hooks to fend off the wall. We were in there with one other boat—a powercruiser—and went way up to the front where the water was pouring out of the lock, looking like it was ready to burst. Once we were ready we gave the all-clear and soon water started to rush in –from the sides, from below, from the middle. Whoa! This was no joke. Mark sweated at the wheel (once pulling out the stick altogether by accident) while Steve beside him tried various levels of slack on his line. Pretty soon the stern was being pushed in and the bow was going out and all our fending off seemed to have little effect. Anxiously we watched the bumpers squeeze and groan. The spreaders came within a few inches of the wall and I desperately strained to keep it off. We went up terribly slowly—probably because it would have been worse if it was fast—Mark says it was 12 minutes. It seemed an eternity. Finally we were up, and motored out. While motoring up to the next one we de-briefed. Steve was convinced there was a way to make it easier, to go with the flow. Soon we were into the second lock, which proved one of the worst. Even Mark jumped off the wheel, the engine at 15 rpms in reverse to stem the current rushing past us, to strain against the wall which was crushing the stern. This one was on the port side, where the blades of the wind generator stuck out dangerously. It was turned as flat as could be, and still it was only inches from the wall for the entire ordeal. Tom tried pulling in at the bow to make the stern swing out, but that only brought the whole boat in closer in the end.

The morning took on a surreal quality. Time was standing still. We did three locks in a row. In between, we nibbled snacks and felt our sore muscles. Even Steve was sore. Cedar and Lamar figured out that they were essentially on their own and found a new game that had been given to us (thanks Julie!) to play. The lockmasters were so friendly it was hard to believe they would inflict such pain on us. “Ready? Here we go!” they shouted cheerfully. The whole things started to feel familiar—like childbirth, I realized, and the lockmasters were the midwives. Each lock was like a contraction—an enormous, unstoppable force bearing down on us against which all our efforts were helpless. The spreaders did scrape the wall once, despite our best efforts, but miraculously the wind generator escaped harm and the bumpers didn’t burst. (“I’m not sure they have another Welland in them,” Mark commented. Then, an afterthought, “I’m not sure I have another Welland in me either.”) The weather, which was also supposed to start bearing down on us, held off until afternoon. We were through the worst of it by noon, and Steve took off on his bike to go find his van. We ate lunch (homemade soup—thank you Leanne!) and waited at the final lock (an easy one, we were assured) while it started to drizzle. We were exhausted. Steve arrived in his van across the canal. “Swim across!” he shouted cheerfully to Amber. Then he drove around to our side and we said good-bye to the two of them. It was very hard to see them go. They are so beloved to us, not to mention strong and capable in every way. Their energy is so special. Alas, they have their own lives to lead. Amber forewent her rowing practice to come with us, and we needed every bit of that muscle.

The rest of the day was hard. The girls had their own meltdowns—Lamar sobbed because her cardboard cell phone was no fun at all to text on (like Amber’s); Cedar despaired because she couldn’t find her black pants. Mark was quiet and exhausted, though happy to be through. Even Tom was quiet. I was ready to have my own meltdown of bereft sadness, but that wasn’t really an option because it was starting to rain and we needed to find our marina. It was in a most unfriendly spot—right beside a huge plant of some kind with smokestacks—and the workers there committed the classic error that always irks me and confounds me at the same time—how can they be so ignorant?—of grabbing our bow line and pulling it in, which promptly pulls the bowsprit crashing into the dock and leaves the stern dangling far away. It was expensive too—no discount for not needed electricity—and the wireless serviced didn’t work. We are having problems with our laptop, which means you may not get this update for awhile. Tom, Mark and I pulled the boat onto the other side of the dock and nearly sent her drifting away with the girls in it, much to my terror. So many lessons still to be learned! Our dock lines are too short. The wind and rain came up good and strong, completing my sense of forlornness. The saving grace was that I met a couple really nice men who were heading to Scotland, of all places (one of our dream trips) from Houghton, MI. Also, we did get showers.

May 12—Port Colbourne to Erie, PA

Woke up on our 9th wedding anniversary with gloomy skies but a cheery Captain and a favorable forecast. I was scared to leave the dock, but knew that the best solution to this feeling was to leave the dock and experience a manageable situation again. We took Dramamine and did a lot of sleeping in the morning in some mellow conditions. Again by mid-morning the wind died and we motored the rest of the way. I slept and slept, grateful that things were easy. By the end of the day it was starting to clear and we reached Erie, PA coming back into our stride. We pulled into the lagoon surrounded by a state park and filled up with water and diesel. The friendly diesel guy gave us the combination to the showers. Tom and the girls disappeared for awhile to search for dead swallows, which were in abundance. How eerie is Erie!

With all the extra snoozing, Cedar had trouble sleeping at night and woke up very out of sorts. The day started out okay with some dinghying around and our first egg breakfast in awhile. Both Mark and I recalled a fabulous playground which turned out not to exist. Cedar’s survival skills were apparently used up, and Lamar’s cheeriness only made it worse. Soon she was in tears on the beach, desperately homesick, missing Mahalia (her best friend in Two Harbors—Tom calls her “Queen Mahalia” he’s heard so much about her), and hating life in general. I escaped this situation with a backpack and the computer to walk to the nearest coffeeshop, which was two miles away through the park. A large old man stopped to help but said “Oh, I’m not going that far, honey.” He then pulled into the ranger station to alert the ranger that a strange girl who didn’t know where she was was heading towards town. I showed up two minutes later and he said “Oh I was just about to come out looking for you.” Maybe I should leave the hitchhiking up to Mark. I assured him I knew where I was and I was just looking for a phone and Wi-Fi. He let me go, reluctantly. Soon it started to rain and I did get a ride with a nice woman who was doing some research in the park. Strong rains are predicted today; tomorrow afternoon Ethan is coming out to join the crew.