The Canadian Adventure Continues

. . . Ottawa, the Start of the Rideau Canal

After taking a left turn off the Ottawa River, we headed toward the Rideau Canal and the spectacular skyline of Ottawa. Parliament rose by the edge of the river near the stair-stepped series of eight locks that lift boaters up to the capitol of Canada.

We arrived as the locks closed for the day and rafted up overnight with Henri and Carole on Idylle, new friends from Montreal, and Mike and Cindy on Aurora, old friends (nearly two weeks!) from Minnesota. By the way, about 20 powerboats of all sizes were rafted three deep to the blue line dock, too. The blue line section is where boaters are to moor (dock) who want to lock through immediately. 

The next morning, after much pondering, the lock master sent Carina into the lock first. We may just be 34-foot long ordinarily, but the mast down makes us about 48-feet. 

About five more boats joined us in the first lock through of the morning, including Aurora. Then the gates were cranked shut. It took three waves of lock-throughs just to handle all the boats docked overnight. 

Hot, sweaty and tired, we went through all eight back-to-back locks from nine to noon. Luckily, two spaces were available downstream on the bulkhead wall downtown for Carina and Aurora, and we were able to relax, buy ice and explore Ottawa for a few hours before heading on our way further down the Rideau Canal.

Ottawa is a Disney-imagined city – or maybe Disney was inspired by Ottawa. Parts of Ottawa look like a fun ride. 

(The Fairmont Hotel is to the left of the eight locks that would take us up to the level of Ottawa.)

Parts look like Space Mountain. 

(We have no clue what this structure is. Google let us down.)

Parts look like Fantasyland. 

(The Canadian Parliament building rises above the Richelieu Canal.)

And other parts look like Epcot. 

(The Changing of the Guards at the huge war memorial across from Parliament was led by a piper.)

We didn't see as much of Ottawa as we would have liked. The parts we saw were gorgeous.

Next: Locks R Us

Why We Don't Leave on Fridays

. . . Other Superstitions We Follow and Some We Don't

Sailors are supposed to be a superstitious lot. While the two of us are not superstitious generally, why push our luck?  We've chosen to pick and choose the sailing superstitions we follow. For example . . 

Don't leave on a Friday -- The idea that Friday is an unlucky day to set sail has been around for centuries. It's said that in the 1700s the British Navy tried to dispell this idea by starting construction of a ship on a Friday and launching it on a Friday. The ship and crew were never seen again. 


However, Sunday sail, never fail -- On the other hand, the best day to set sail is on Sunday.

No bananas -- They are thought to be unlucky on board. Most recorded cases of disappearing ships in the 1700s had bananas on board. The superstition may have started because bananas are said to produce a deadly gas in the heat of a cargo hold. Another thought is that  deadly spiders hid in the bunches. Their bite caused sailors to die suddenly, resulting in the belief that bananas are an unlucky cargo.

No women, unless naked -- We ignore this superstition, but it explains why sailing ships of old had carved naked women on their bow. They were supposed to calm the seas. Clothed women on board were thought to distract seaman from their duties. Of course, naked women wouldn't distract anyone, would they? Wink. Wink.

Avoid red-headed people (also flat-footed people) when going to the boat to start a journey -- To neutralize the bad luck, speak to the red-head or flat-footed person first.before they speak to you. Or better yet, slug them before they can speak to you.

Bring a lucky black cat on board -- Unlike at Halloween on land, black cats are a sign of good luck on a boat. They protect the food by eating rats on board and are thought to have magical powers in their tails (?!). And yes, rats even get aboard modern vessels.

Watch your step -- Disaster will follow if you use your left foot to step aboard a boat.

Don't kill a seagull, especially an albatross, at sea -- It's unlucky because gulls are thought to contain souls of sailors lost at sea.

Be happy for dolphins -- Dolphins seen at sea are a sign of good luck.

Avoid green paint unless you have TowBoat US -- Never paint a boat green because it will run aground.

Don't whistle on board -- It's a long-held belief that whistling will cause the winds to rise, also known as whistling up a storm.

Make a tribute to Neptune -- Before starting a long voyage, pour wine on the deck for good luck. Box wine is fine. Neptune isn't picky.

Don't change the name of a boat -- It's believed that boats develop an identity of their own after being named and that changing a boat's name is bad luck. A de-naming ceremony is the only way to safely change a boat's name. (See John Vigor's blog to the right for de-naming methods.)

Let's knock on wood that we'll all be safer if we follow most of these ideas. By the way, knocking on wood for good luck is another superstition that started with seamen knocking on the sides of a boat to see how solid it was or if rot or worms had weakened the wood. Just thought you'd want to know.

Surprises About Canada

. . . Things We've Learned Along the Way

Because our plans were to be in Canada just a short time – and never in Quebec, we weren’t as prepared for or well read about this country as we should have been. Surprises along the way have been:

The gold-colored coin is a dollar, the silver coin with the gold
center is worth two dollars, and the twenties are examples
of the bills.

Hard currency in Canada is more advanced than in the States. Canada has done away with pennies and dollar bills. When an item or service costs an amount that does not end with “0” or “5,” the change received back is rounded up.  For example, if we give a clerk a $5 bill for a $1.98 candy bar, the clerk will give us $3.05 in change. We’ve found we have so many coins that it’s a relief not to have pennies to deal with.

To replace paper dollar bills, Canada introduced $1 coins and $2 coins. Men probably hate the idea because of the weight in their pockets.

Most merchants won’t accept large bills because of counterfeiting. When U.S. money is exchanged at a bank, it’s better to ask for $20 bills or smaller, not $100s.

Canada is a much more manicured country than expected. First, we didn’t expect Canada to be such an agricultural center. And then we didn’t expect the hundreds of well-groomed farms that line the rivers and canals of Canada. In the southern states that we’re most familiar with, hundreds of farms line the rivers, but they don’t seem as uniformly cared for or successful. Canadian cities are clean with no trash around. Flowers are planted and flourishing in every available space. The little window into Canada that we’ve seen is very impressive.

Laundry is expensive. As in the States, machines are coin operated. In fact, the machines look exactly like those in U.S. Laundromats. It’s just that they take $1 coins, not quarters. One extra large load of wash cost us $8, wash only.  A fellow traveler paid $22 for laundry.

Robert and Laurie-Anne were terrific help at the Sainte-
Anne-de-Bellevue Lock, especially Robert who locked us
through during the storm.

Parks Canada people are extremely friendly and helpful. In describing them, one of the Skipper Bob books said that the Erie Canal employees are striving to be like Parks Canada staff. We can’t speak to that, but do know the Parks Canada people are extraordinary.  They are required to be bilingual and trained to answer countless crazy questions of canal travelers, with a smile on their faces. They were especially helpful during our bout of bad weather at Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue Lock.

Twisted wires on the windex were from
a harsh, quick storm while at anchor.

The weather has been extreme. Granted, the weather has been extreme just about everywhere this year. First, we had about 10 days of sweltering, mid-90-degree heat. It brought to mind the words of our Looper friends, Stan and Annie, that they were never hotter than in Canada.

One late afternoon, thunderstorms moved through where we were anchored past the Sainte Ours Lock with Aurora, the 22-foot Hunter sailboat with Mike and Cindy aboard. Lightning and thunder hit very close, making us happy the mast was down. The next day we noticed that the windex wires at the top/now-the-end of Carina’s mast had been twisted by high storm winds. Aurora’s windex wires were twisted the same way. Kent described it as the worst thunderstorm he’d ever been in on a boat.

Two days later, we were moored (docked) at the Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue Lock waiting a few days for high winds and afternoon storm fronts to pass through before traveling on. The front that day moved head on at us with wind gusts of 50 or more, creating waves of three to four feet. Both boats were lucky not to have been damaged – the storm was that fierce. Both rocked like hobby horses against the lines, such as Aurora here.

The Parks Canada staff helped us by opening the lock for us, giving us the protection of the gates and walls, and by locking us through to the other side for the night. We gave them cookies and our heart-felt thanks the next day.

Credit cards may or may not work here.  Debit-credit cards may work, although ours haven’t yet. Part of the reason may be because Canadian bank ATMs are affiliated with either MasterCard or Visa. Are U.S. banks this way, too, with foreign credit cards? Maybe. We have a Visa debit-credit card and have only found MasterCard banks. So far, groceries, marinas, and convenience stores only take cash or a Visa or MasterCard credit card. A few also take American Express, but not everyone. . . just like the States.

The boat traffic has been fierce.  Timing is everything. Skipper Bob books recommend getting to the Trent-Severn Waterway by July 1. Yes, we’re late. The reason for the advice is because many, many Canadians take two to four weeks off at that time. It seems that most of them own a boat and are racing around for dear life. We can’t blame them. Their boating season is so short. We’d probably we racing around like fools, too, if we lived here.

What’s next? The Rideau Canal (to the left) that will take us to Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Today, we tackled the first eight back-to-back Rideau Canal locks lifting us up to the beautiful city of Ottawa, the capitol of Canada. We’ll take a quick break to see parts of the city, then continue on through the amazing canals and countryside of Canada.

Carina at the blue line mooring with Idylle from Montreal and Aurora from Minnesota. The blue line indicates that boats are ready to lock through immediately. The three sailboats were there with over 20 power boats.

Goodbye, Quebec. Hello, Ontario.

Well, not just yet. We'll leave the French-Canadian province of Quebec in about 36-hours, after a weather front moves on. Right now Carina is moored past the lock at the beautiful village of Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue. (That's Quebec's provincial flag flown by many instead of the national flag.)






You may have wondered if we ever learned the French word for restrooms. Yes, it's toilette. Ice is glace. Market is marche. 





We've even eaten one of the national dishes of Canada -- twice! Poutine (pronounced like the last name of Vladimir Putin), was created in Quebec, so we thought we'd come to the right place to try the dish. It's French fries with cheese curd (think of small, tasty mozzarella balls) on top, all covered with thin beef or chicken-based gravy. It's an acquired taste, we think. Two tries were enough. Our arteries couldn't take more.

Our Chambly Canal Adventure

After clearing Canadian Customs, we continued north. Aubrey, who works for Parks Canada in the warm months and for a ski lodge in the cold, sold us a seasonal lock pass and seasonal mooring pass at Saint-Jean-de-Richelieu, the start of the Richelieu/Chambly Canal. Our new route takes us through so many Canadian locks that it was cheaper to buy the seasonal pass. The same holds true for the mooring pass. The pass allows us to tie up to a bulkhead at the locks, what Parks Canada calls mooring. 

Saint-Jean was the start of the Richelieu Canal. The canal is on the Richelieu River with nine locks in a 12-mile section near the village of Chambly. It's often called the Chambly Canal in Canada.


The locks are unique because they are totally hand-cranked by Parks Canada employees. They crank the gates closed, crank a valve to release water or let water in, and crank the other gate open for us. All locks used to work this way. Going through these locks is one of the most incredible experiences we've had.






The four locks on the right were almost back to back, with just a little space between. Parks Canada workers leapfrogged from one gate to another to open and close them for us -- by hand.







The last three locks were actually stair-stepped. When the front gates opened for the first lock, they turned out to be the back gates for the second lock. It was an awesome view from the top. Look closely to see the tops of the gates and the 50-plus-foot sailboat in the basin beyond.

As the Song Goes, It's a Small World After All

At Chambly we stopped for the night "mooring" on the bulkhead wall before going through the last three stairstepped locks. An hour later, Aurora, a 22-foot Hunter, with Mike and Cindy from Minnesota, came along to tie up for the night, too. They call their boat a gypsy boat, too, now that the mast is down and "stuff" stored on deck.

We had a lot in common discussing small sailboats, since we still own two Catalina 22s. We asked how long they'd been on the Loop. Ten months was the answer -- about the same time we've been on it. When asked about the Gulf crossing, Mike and Cindy talked about the horrible weather, the horrible seas and how the weathermen had gotten it all wrong. Funny, we said. That was our experience, too. 

It turns out that both boats had been at Captain's Quarters Marina in Carrabelle at the same time, not meeting each other, and we'd both started our Gulf crossing the same day. The wind and waves were too much for them, so they went inland to Steinhatchee long after dark. We had heard other boaters mention the "sailors on the 22-foot boat" on the radio, never hearing their names. Boaters making the crossing were relieved to hear they'd gone inland and were safe. Now, nine months later, we meet up.

Why There's a Rooster Atop Church Crosses

Along the Richelieu River and the St. Lawrence Seaway around Montreal, we saw many glorious silver churches with tall steeples. What was mystifying was that they often had a rooster wind vane mounted above the cross on those steeples. 










We've read that there's a French Catholic tradition of putting roosters on crosses. And Quebec is the most French Catholic of all provinces in Canada. 

The rooster is a symbol of the Apostle Peter, the first Pope. It refers to Jesus telling Peter at the Last Supper that he would betray him before the cock crows three times. Peter denied that he would, but out of fear, he did. The rooster is a symbol not to give in to our human fear, but remain faithful to Christ.

The symbolism is moving. Being from another culture, we are still surprised to see a rooster sitting atop the cross. 

For awhile, we'll be traveling with Mike and Cindy. (Here they are this morning with Montreal's skyline ahead of them.) We've slowed our travel speed down to match them and are going longer days. Like us, they have a sense of urgency, feeling that we have to keep moving to avoid bad weather that starts mid- to late September in the Great Lakes.  

Our next destination after the weather clears here will be the province of Ontario. We'll go up the nearby Ottawa River to Ottawa and connect to the Rideau Canal. At the end of the Rideau is Kingston, near the start of the Trent-Severn Waterway, the last and the best of the Canadian canals, so we've heard. We're looking forward to getting there.

From the Land of Rip Van Winkle . . .

. . . To the Not-So-Frozen North

In Washington Irving's short story, Rip Van Winkle slept for 20 years in the woods around the Catskills. He woke up to a changed world. The Revolutionary War had been fought, and his children were grown. In reality, Washington Irving had never visited the Catskills when he wrote the story. He later moved there and wrote about Ichabod Crane and the headless horseman.

Now, there are statues, town names, and even bridges, such as the Rip Van Winkle bridge to the right, based on Washington Irving short stories. 

The 11 days we were in Catskill, N.Y., seemed like a long time, not because of the village or the people, but because we are used to being on the move. Our friends, Sid and Bonnie, made the stay better by getting us off the boat.

One Step Closer

We finally traveled 15 miles north to Shady Harbor Marina near New Baltimore, N.Y. Other Loopers were there, too, deciding whether to wait out flood damage-repairs to the Erie Canal or take the much longer Champlain Canal route. 

Many boats left a couple of days before we did for the Champlain. Others stayed because they were too tall to go under Champlain Canal bridges. We let the lines loose from the dock and headed north again after three days.

On the Road to the Champlain Canal

We passed by Albany, a city that has preserved its history. Our friends took us to beautiful downtown Albany where we saw its beautiful capitol building. Its State University of New York campus is stately and very European in looks. The city has renovated many of its older buildings and Victorian homes. However, you can't see all that beauty from the Hudson because they chose to build highways next to the river. Our hometown, Chattanooga, may not have the historical beauty of Albany, but has the advantage of the riverfront and greenways.

Past Albany were signs of the floods in the area. Debris was on top of docks, locks, bridge walls, and floating in the water.

North of Albany was the first lock, the Federal Lock at Troy, for both the Erie Canal and Champlain Canal. At this point, we have no more tides to deal with!

Carina stayed on the Hudson River, following the right arrow up the Champlain Canal. 

Life on the Hudson

The annual gathering of steamboats was taking place at Waterford, N.Y., as we went by. When we first heard about it, we imagined "Life on the Mississippi" steamboats with paddle wheels. These were even better. Every boat is different and made by hand. The similarity is the steam engine in the middle. Almost every one has a calliope whistle. You could call them "Life on the Hudson" steamboats.

If this water level is on the Champlain Canal route, we can only imagine what it's like on the Erie Canal. The water levels were still high after a week with no rain.

We stayed overnight at several towns along the Champlain Canal that offered free docks with free electricity and water. Fort Edwards was next to Lock 7 (of 11) on the canal where the natural Hudson River became a creek with rapids and the man-made Champlain Canal began. It was also the home of Fred (above) on Tug 44, the rock star of the New York Canal System (in our opinions). He lives near Fort Edwards and traveled along the Erie Canal reporting to Loopers the condition of the locks on a daily basis. He was our feet on the ground that we all needed to make a decision to go on the Champlain or wait for the Erie. His Web site -- www.tug44.org -- is a virtual tour of all the canals, lock by lock, for anyone interested in seeing what it's like.

The Interesting History of Whitehall

The village before Lock 12 on the Champlain Canal is Whitehall, N.Y. The Skene Manor, a Victorian Gothic home built in 1874, is high on a steep mountainside overlooking the town and the river.

The manor was built by a local judge and named after the founder of Whitehall, Philip Skene. The town was originally named Skenesborough until the Revolutionary War when it was renamed. You see, Philip Skene was a loyalist. It wouldn't do to have the town named after a supporter of King George.

He did have a manor named after him though that dominates the countryside.

The manor is three stories tall. The good folks of Whitehall  recognize what a gem they have in Skene Manor and are working to protect it for future generations.

Whitehall is another town along the Champlain Canal that gives boaters free docking, water and electricity. Carina was the only boat on the dock when this photo was taken from the porch of Skene Manor. We were later joined by two brothers on a trawler that had just started their Loop.

The tiny speck beside Carina is Kent waving. Whitehall was an industrial town in the Rustbelt that has struggled to provide jobs for the people that live there. While we were there, we were warned about packs of older teens who vandalized public buildings and -- threatened is too strong of a word -- let's say, made visitors uneasy. That made us sad for the village that has so much history and has so much potential.

Remains of the USS Ticonderoga are displayed under a shed in Whitehall. (Note Skene Manor on the hillside.) The Ticonderoga crew fought the British near the northern end of Lake Champlain and eventually was laid up at Whitehall. She was the first of many great U.S. Navy ships named Ticonderoga. There's not a lot left of her.

Whitehall is also the birthplace of the U.S. Navy. We bet you thought it was Annapolis.

Before he defected to the British during the Revolutionary War, Colonel Benedict Arnold had a fleet of ships built in Skenesborough (now Whitehall) Harbor for the Continental Army.

North into Lake Champlain

In spring and summer months, typical Lake Champlain water levels are high. This year they've been higher than usual because of the rains. 

Lake Champlain also has fierce weeds that trap the water in slews. Here a New York version of a weed whacker clears a trail for the water to drain into the lake.

Although built by the French, Fort Ticonderoga was captured by the British and was a key fort in its move west. During the Revolutionary War, Ethan Allen of the Green Mountain Boys and Colonel Benedict Arnold captured the fort for the Continental Army, moving all of its cannon by snow sled to Washington, D.C. where arms were desperately needed.

As Lake Champlain grew wider, we could see the Green Mountains of Vermont to the east, here with the very, very early morning fog among them.

To our west was the much-taller Adirondack Mountains. Fog was on the water on that shore.

When the sun finally came up, it was a wonderful day for sailing on Lake Champlain -- if you only had a mast up. Dozens of sailors were out during the day.

Fort Blunder

The U.S. Fort Montgomery, close to the Canadian border, was built over a 30-year period in the mid-1800s. Construction was well along when a survey showed the fort was actually on Canadian soil. Building stopped until a new survey showed it was on U.S. property. However, its purpose had been to prevent attack by the British. By the time of completion, there was no need for the fort. For all of this, it earned the nickname: Fort Blunder. Oddly enough, Canadians have a similar fort to prevent attack by the States, named Fort Lennox.

Gun-Totin', Anti-Smokin' Teetotalers

That's us. Or we believe that's what Canadian Customs agents thought. Two agents greeted us on the dock. One processed passports, while the other stayed with us and talked about Chihuahuas. (He has three.) They usually ask about weapons, cigarettes and alcohol. Not with us. They asked several times whether we had weapons. Bear spray on board didn't bother them, but we couldn't be carrying mace. Go figure! No question was asked about smokes or drinks. 

ToTo, We're Not in Chattanooga Anymore

We entered Canada in Quebec, the French-speaking province. That's all anyone speaks. But us. After 24 hours, we are coping well and have found the people here to be kind and helpful. We're still stumbling through the language. Our next goal is to learn the French word for restroom.