So much for my promise to "get back soon." And…I left you in Amsterdam. Yikes!
I can offer no real excuse except the rigors of preparing for another school year. This year's run-up is exacerbated by the fact that this year, I and many of my colleagues will be teaching in "Learning Modules" (fairly swanky trailers, actually) while our school builds a new Middle School building. The teaching spaces are spacious, the numerous "modules" are interconnected by a summery boardwalk, and the whole place has the feel of quite a nice little campus. I'm especially grateful that the designers and construction crews made a point of working around and saving the numerous old trees sprinkled around the lot.
I offer this excuse because setting up for the year has entailed essentially starting over, unpacking the boxes I hastily filled in June and reconstructing furniture in a hapless simulation of the night before Christmas. But….egads…I left you in Amsterdam!
Let's get back to the row, shan't we? We're so close to home.
Saturday, 7/5, was the next-to-last day of my row. I bid adieu to Peg and Kathy who had to head back to Baltimore. One couldn't ask for a better support team; even while they were galavanting around the countryside sightseeing, they always knew when and where to appear with ice, Yoo Hoo, Gatorade, salty snacks, and egg salad sandwiches. Their psychic powers enabled them to appear on bridges, at docks, and even from seemingly inaccessible woods to deliver the goods, and of course our end-of-day meal and shared tales were among the highlights of each day. Peg & Kathy, thanks for traveling so many miles and especially for building your vacation around my own adventure. You guys rock!
As Peg & Kathy pushed off for Baltimore, they passed their logistics baton for the day to Peter and Karen, dear friends from Vermont. Peter, you may recall, peddled much of the Hudson while I rowed it two years ago on my way to Baltimore, offering logistical support and also tips on rowing, as Peter had rowed competitively at our shared alma mater. They had brought their bikes and made use of the excellent bikeways along the canal. Fifteen miles later were they were waiting for me at the famous Jumpin' Jacks in Scotia, right along the Mohawk River. I scarffed down two vanilla malts, a couple of cheeseburgers, and onion rings under their skeptical gazes (they're healthy and fit; I was hungry and unsupervised), and I later enjoyed a leisurely afternoon on this stretch of river. I had lived and worked in the Albany area for most of my life and yet had never seen this part of town from the water. The Mohawk serpentines back and forth under some impressive cliffs, and it is clear that the folks of the capital district know how to use the river: rowing clubs, environmental facilities, and beautiful homes line the banks.
A few miles further downstream, the Schenectady Yacht Club hosted me on my last night on the river. They asked only for "some good press" in the blog, and I herewith offer it now. They let me pitch my tent right by the dock, granted me access to a perfectly clean shower room and a delightful pool, and all of this enabled me to spruce up for the arrival in Waterford tomorrow, my final day.
Their hospitality on my last night prompted me to reflect on how such small acts of kindness can mean so much to a traveler, and how over the last two weeks the kindness of strangers made this row so much more than a traverse of New York state. There was Harold on my first night way back in Lockport, my middle-of-the-night visitor who braved the rain to bring me items he scoured from his home that he thought would be useful. His care was the best item of all. Days later, the Morehouse family adopted me in Cayuga. They and their friends shared their time and history, and they let me pitch in and make me feel a part of their gathering. Joe of Cross Lake introduced me to the impossible idea of using a Venetian gondola for my kind of traveling…and opened his home (and refrigerator!) for a much-needed respite. Fellow mariners, friendly lock-keepers, and the scores who waved and shouted encouragement from the banks all contributed to a special camaraderie on this trip. I came to see a canal as a continuous community, the shared waters connecting folks in a way more poignant than town boundaries or zip codes.
So, Schenectady Yacht Club, I am in your debt for your final act of kindness to a stranger. Tomorrow I will head for the dramatic final "flight" of locks leading to Waterford and the Hudson. That I will arrive shaved, showered, and quite well rested is due to you, and on behalf of those who will meet me and perhaps might be moved to give me a hug, I thank you.
Three hundred twenty five miles down…fifteen to go.
Sweet.
More soon…..very soon!
Hugs,
Mr. Frei
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