Sometimes the rivers and waterways unfold in front of you like ribbons of water. Somedays, the wind is behind you, cheering you on your way. Somehow the sky and earth merge into one blessed highway to carry you from where ever you are to the place you’re meant to be. Fair winds and following seas makes for good traveling and good spirits. Dear Readers, It has been a very long stretch of all the good.

We began our ascent up the Chesapeake Bay on a sunny morning with a south wind urging and pushing us on our way. We moved everyday from Virginia and through Maryland. Night one, we anchored in Little Fleet Bay on the bay’s western shore. Night two we anchored at Solomon’s Island in Mill Creek. Night three, we tied up in the Back Creek in Annapolis at the Annapolis Landings Marina. And, on the fourth night of this long stretch, we tied up in Chesapeake City at the Chesapeake Inn and Marina.

The last leg of the Maryland journey was fueled by a fresh tank of diesel and a big heart fill-up while we were in Annapolis. David’s sister, Kathie, came to fill us up with the an enormous and delicious meal at The Boatyard Bar and Grill. Enough food for a week and a huge portion of love. For dessert, our hearts were filled by a visit from my bestie, our Dear Wendy. We sat on Irene’s top deck until dark, talking and filling, sharing and filling, feeling the wind, refilling, rediscovering, and letting some of the hard stories go with the wind. That’s it Dear Readers. Let the wind take the hard stories and carry them away. Love is the purest fuel. I mean this quite literally. The future is made by the thoughts that we have now. So please, forgive all the bad for the good. Release your grip on the words that hurt you and the people that born them. This is our practice on this side of the veil. Forgive. Move on. Visualize it. We are starlight. Take care of your light. Don’t let anyone blow it out. The world needs our light right now. We got a long way to go; forward, not back.

From Maryland, the US waterways take you down the Chesapeake Delaware Canal and out to the mighty Delaware River and into the vast Delaware Bay. These are little oceans and the Long Stretch of Good brought the wind at our backs so we could meet the tides and the strong current with an equal dose of Mother Nature’s strength. As we neared Cape May, NJ, we did meet some wave action that pounded us around a bit. That’s New Jersey for you. Tougher than most. Nine and a half hours later we entered the Cape May Canal only to find the anchorages filled with other travelers waiting for calmer water on the North Atlantic. We were so fortunate to reach an angel at Utche’s Marina, just as they were about to close, she gave us directions to one last slip just as fog “thick as pea soup” set in. She waited there for us a half an hour after her time to go home. She waited with a dock hand named, Earl. An angel and a an Earl; divine and royal beings. Exhaustion and gratitude can only begin to describe the feelings coursing around us then. Then you know what the angel on Earth did? She handed me a bottle of home-made wine in a clear glass bottle and a key to the bath house tied to a big wooden light house. “Make yourself at home.” You see how that works? Magic.

Just after sunrise we headed out to the channel to wait with six other boats before we went out the inlet and into the Atlantic. We chatted on the radio with fishermen who were out there already. They said it was “gnarly” with big rollers coming over their bows and told us to wait. We all idled in the channel for about an hour and then jumped out. The rollers were big but the wind was with us all the way to Atlantic City. Atlantic City, who knew it could be a site for sore eyes? The casinos were flashing their big lights and the wind calmed down as soon as we were inside the jetties. Amen.

On land, David and I both had a case of sea legs. Sea legs negate the idea that you can walk anywhere well. It’s the equivalent of bedspins except you’re standing up. We showered and Ubered it to a restaurant only to find it had closed BUT their was a barbershop there now and David needed a haircut and apparently, the universe agreed. Ubered it from there to Kelsey’s for some of her southern style cooking. And I kid you not, I had grits. Yup. When you’re in New Jersey and your grit level is dwindling your refill on the cheesy grits and you’re good to go. A little better for the wear.

We rose at sunrise and left at slack tide to hopefully ride the rising tide all the way to Point Pleasant Beach at the Manasquan Inlet. Only a five hour ride up the New Jersey shore. We made it there through some pretty profound fog, a lot of messaging with the boats around us to share conditions, and a lot of turn taking at the wheel. Most days we can set a course on the auto pilot and tweak our course over time however; certain conditions mean you surf the waves and for that, you hand steer. You also hope you have a partner as cool as Jesus so he can take the wheel when you throw your hands up (or whatever ;-).

Oh, New Jersey, by the way, thank you for raising so many beautiful friends, their wonderful children and loving families. They endure. They’re ingenious, crafty and curious. Thank you for being home to so many brilliant artists, writers and musicians. The Garden State, where they grow ’em strong and brilliant.

Since the rain doesn’t stop we agreed, “let’s keep going”. It would have been so easy to succumb to the tempest and stay in bed, drink coffee, watch the Scottish Open (on the iPad) and just be “ok” on the wall in Ilion, NY, but “nah”. We can be persistent too. We departed at 8:45 and completed this section of the Erie, which is the one in the same with the Mohawk River. This entailed high water, lots of logs and missing or misplaced markers. Conversely, it meant a peaceful steady rain on the boat, a beautiful green landscape, a solitary river to ourselves, encountering the heartiest of lock keepers, and being visited and entertained by beautiful flocks of geese and by eagles, sandpipers and herons. At the first lock of the day, #19, we noticed upon approach that a giant log, actually a fallen tree, had wedged itself across the entrance and was not moving. I radioed the lock keeper and we talked about our options and he said in the most beautiful accent, “I’m going to go try to move it”. Keep in mind it was huge, stuck at least 30 feet down an embankment from him, oh yeah, and raining. We watched and wondered and marveled at his strength with a very long pole that had a spear on the end of it. We cheered him when he successfully held it off for us. Thank you, Demitrie from Belarus, our first hero of the day. Again, wish I had a picture, but you will need to imagine this scene. We were too busy being present in the moment to remember to capture a physical image.

Right around here in our travels, the Mohawk River diverges from the human-made canal, and the debris from the heavy rains became less frequent and we could make up some time with a few extraordinary exceptions where the dams control the canal levels were flowing heavy into the canal and creating log jams. Again, I wish I had pictures dear reader because you would not believe your eyes. But, it was all hands on the wheel with David on the deck with a boat pole and a pointer arm through the canal fields full of logs and brush. We made our way through locks 19, 20, 21 and 22, but not without a few more events that were memorable. Especially at lock#19 where ONLY ONE lock door would open. Mind you, IRENE is 11.5 feet wide and the doors are just a bit more, there’s wind, current, and debris. The lock keeper cheered and said, “you made that look easy”. The walls are tall, the chambers are kind of ominous and we are human so our hearts beat a little faster for a minute.

The last section of the human-made canal between Utica, Rome and Sylvan Beach is straight, flat, green and narrow. You’ve been raised up hundreds of feet and at the last two locks, you are lowered to the level of Oneida Lake. It’s a funny feeling to make it to this point because you’re elated at the same time that you wonder, “Now what”? Once there we miraculously found a space on the free marina wall. Of course, it was Pirate Carnival Weekend complete with rides, fried dough, Harley’s, young couples, lots of traffic and more. As Leda said once, “American Pirates are like Yarrr, give me a hot dog…” LOL It was a scene until late into the night. Not being pirates, we grabbed a pizza and turned in early to listen to the festivities, slept like babies and rose with the sun.

We wanted to run ahead of the rain and cross Oneida Lake to Brewerton, NY (30 miles) to stop at the Brewerton Marina to address a problem with our generator shutting down unexpectedly. It was a glorious morning. A peek at the sun before we hit fog followed by glorious sunshine, fishing boats, waves on clean, waving, open water (hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah).

We made it to Brewerton in bright sunlight and were greeted at the dock by a few folks we had no idea we would come to know quite well. Why? Because the little generator issue? Well, it’s still a big issue. Day two of “trouble shooting”. New impeller, new switch, new sensor, every part inspected and cleaned, and it’s not the control panel, but wait, almost no water pressure….I am not making this up. We are here for a whiiiiillllllleeeeee. OH, also a moot point as the locks ahead are all closed due to rain in the Mid-West, the Oswego Canal is closed and the guard locks are down in Rochester due to high water. In true Noah style, as I type this, we are having an enormous hail storm (the first David has truly experienced in his life). The boats are rocking, lightening is cracking and thunder is real loud. I think this was foreshadowed last night when the setting sun was bright red from the wild fires farther out west. This earth of ours is going through some big changes and we are all ascending at our own pace. Blessings and prayers my friends.