With the recent posting of our Lake Champlain adventures, there is a bit of missing cruisology between our stop in Plattsburg, NY and my health concerns that routed us to Florida for a couple weeks. Suffice it to say, there's not much to blog about. We left Plattsburgh on August 14th, went north to Rouses Point, where we fueled at the Safe Harbor Marina there and took a short walk around town to toss a couple last-minute items in the US Mail before crossing an international border, cleared into Canada at the Customs Dock with no issue, and began the north'ard trek up the Richelieu River. We spent one night at anchor in the Fort Lennox Channel where we enjoyed one of the most crazy summer showers that included a real hail storm—a Stinkpot first! It wasn't particularly windy or rough. It's was just a wild, memorable moment. 

The morning of the 15th, we voyaged the rest of the way to St. Jean, Quebec. The river was unspeakably beautiful, and in looking back over our photos from that time, it looks like we were taking it in, not taking pictures of it. We had a wonderful first night in St. Jean, even meeting up for dinner with looper friends, Renée and Pierre, whom we met along our Great Loop trip five years ago. They even drove us for a quick reprovisioning at a local market. 

The dinner was so good that we decided to take another day to eat our way around town. We started with brunch at Restaurant Bonnes Soeurs, which was AMAZING. Later in the day we trundled into a local sandwich joint called PARMA to enjoy a muffuletta, which we split (not New Orleans, but still good), followed later in the early evening by poutine that was delectable at La Plank. 

It was while at La Plank that I started feeling strange. The next morning, still not feeling well, I suggested that we probably should make St. Jean the end of our Canadian trip, turn around, and start making our way toward the US healthcare system. Over the course of the next week or two, we followed a hasty south'ard course that ultimately had us docked in Croton-on-Hudson so we could make our way to Florida. The details of that time are etched in my memory in not-altogether pleasant ways, and I will eschew preserving them here. All I can say is, were it not for dockmaster extraordinaire, Steve, at Half Moon Bay Marina, things would have been a lot more stressful during that time. 

The rest of the story, you know. What you don't know is the excitement that lies ahead for us, and that, dear reader, will be shared in another blog after all the details come together….

While orbiting the popular vacation planet of Risa, I tried to start compiling this blog post. Actually, I started thinking that I should blog about our Lake Champlain cruising about two months ago when it would have been "fresh," but so much has happened, and been happening, I somehow have not found the time until now. I wrote most of this in August, and I'm only now hitting "post." For reasons that we'll eventually share, there will be more updates about our recent adventures, but I have simply not had the bandwidth to record them in prose. I'm editing/posting this in mid-October. All that follows this paragraph was written in late August. Set the Wayback Machine to August 29th, 2024 and entertain yourself with the words of my past self.

We are currently docked at Mooney Bay Marina in Plattsburgh, NY, where we've been for about 24 hours now. It's where we had parked our car before we cast off lines in Maryland, so, now ashore, we have wheels. Of course, tomorrow, we'll be using them to drive to Maine for my brief Vacationland tour. 

Last time I wrote here, we were docked in Fort Edward, NY, enjoying a free wall and shore power, a combination we find attractive. As I suspected, we got underway on the morning of the 18th and made our way to just before Lock 12, the final lock on the Champlain Canal, where we tied up on the town bulkhead in Whitehall, NY, where we also enjoyed shore power. While there we saw the skeletal remains of the USS Ticonderoga, which was a schooner and early steamship that was part of the US Navy and was sunk during the War of 1812's Battle of Plattsburgh—a pivotal British defeat. I'm told, were it not for that decisive victory, we'd all be speaking English. 

We also walked over to the lock to chat with the lockmaster, of whom we asked for a restaurant recommendation. Whitehall is cute, even picturesque, but it has more dusty, forlorn, locked up, and forgotten storefronts than we've seen on a Main Street in quite some time. We told her we were willing to walk a bit, so she suggested a place about a mile away called The Railyard Taproom & Restaurant, which was worth the walk it took to get there. The next morning, we did drop lines and lock down to Lake Champlain-level, where we boated to the end of the Champlain Canal and began our Lake Champlain adventure! 

​Our first stop was for a black-water pump out at Chipman Point Marina, on the Vermont side of the lake, which has two of the oldest buildings you might find anywhere in New England. We did go ashore to take them in, but were underway very soon to ultimately anchor beside Fort Ticonderoga. It was a lovely spot to drink in the views of the historic fort and hear cannon fire. We liked it so well, and the weather was so lovely that we stayed two nights there. On the morning of Saturday, July 20, we dropped our dinghy in the drink and started motoring up the nearby, but well hidden La Chute River to the town of Ticonderoga. 

It was a beautiful upstream passage. La Chute is a river that starts on Lake George and then travels “downhill” to Lake Champlain. The water is very clear. You can see bottom nearly everywhere. We traveled around fallen trees, under “tunnels” formed by overhanging branches, and two bridges. It was an intoxicating ride. When we were nearly there, we spotted a covered bridge, which was to be our cue that we should be looking for a place to tie up. We went under the covered bridge and took a spin in front of the waterfalls, but ultimately backtracked and tied up to a disused bulkhead that probably hadn’t had a barge or other commercial vessel tied up to it in many decades.

Normally, in a situation like this in an unknown area, we would lock the boat to an immoveable object somehow, but there was nothing to run our lock cable through. We were a little concerned that we were leaving our only connection to Stinkpot in a public area, on the fringe of a public park, unlocked and vulnerable. A quick step away from the water’s edge revealed that the boat “disappeared” behind the berm quickly, so a would-be miscreant would have to know there was a boat tied up there, or stumble upon it. We threw caution to the wind, tied the boat bow and stern to hold the bow into the current, and walked away through the park.

Our first stop was at a nearby luncheonette. The real deal—counter service with a smile. The food was, for better and worse, exactly like you would expect. Nothing ostentatious, solid “diner” fare, and service with just enough attitude to make you smile, but not so much that you might gripe about it.

After lunch, we walked the sun-beaten streets a bit, but the allure of the air conditioned museum nearby was quickly more than we could bear, and so we entered the Star Trek Original Series Museum and Set Tour. This is an exact replica of the sets used to film the original series, built from the original blue prints that were willed to the museum’s founder, and recreated with exacting detail, including enduring modifications made for specific episodes. There are many collected artifacts that were used in the filming as well. For fans of the series, like us, it’s a feast for the eyes, and nearly nothing more. They have a strict, “look but don’t touch” policy in every space except Enterprise’s bridge where everyone in the tour is invited to sit in Kirk’s famous chair to strike a captainly pose. Interestingly, William Shatner comes to the museum a few times every year for events and has been photographed in the same chair many times. Word is, he claims it feels very familiar.

We finished the tour, and, on our way back to Li’l Stinker, stopped at a very small museum exhibit in a former mill building, dedicated to the industrial past of Ticonderoga—to wit, paper and pulp production and, naturally, graphite products, including the eponymous pencil. Before long, we were once again in the dinghy and underway back to Stinkpot with a sizable following current for most of the voyage. After a peaceful night aboard, we continued north up the lake.

Our next stop was in Arnold Bay, named for the traitor himself. We spent one beautiful night here, took our first swim in the lake. I rowed the dinghy ashore for a sunset stroll and to read the historic marker (pictured) that detailed the story of how Ferris Bay became known as Arnold Bay.

Monday, July 22, we weighed anchor and made our way up Otter Creek to the town of Vergennes, VT. Otter Creek was a very cool little diversion. Like Ticonderoga, it’s a town built around a scenic waterfall with a connected industrial past. Again, we were pleased to tie up to a free dock with shore power. The park where the dock was located was a War of 1812 shipyard that, under the command of Lieutenant Thomas Macdonough, built the US Navy fleet that won the battle of Plattsburgh in 1814—a fleet that included the USS Ticonderoga, to bring our “Champlain as battlefield” historic education full circle.

While in Vergennes, we did walk about a bit. Enjoyed more than our share of local ice cream, dined at the nearby pizza joint (which was the only restaurant in town that was open while we were there), and took in the local wind band which played a concert on the town green one of our two evenings there.

While we were out on one of our walks on Monday afternoon, something happened aboard with electricity, and when we returned to the boat an alarm was going off and every warning light on our AC breaker panel was angrily greeting us—not to mention, the voltage gauge that should read 110-120 volts was pegged at 150 volts, and the acrid smell of electronics death was wafting through the air. Not good. I shut off the main breakers and disconnected us from shore power. I tested the voltage on the shore power with my multi-meter, and it was normal. I started the generator and started turning on breakers one at a time until the culprit, which once again spiked the gauge to 150 volts, was found. Our main battery charger had failed, and because the voltage spiked the breaker didn’t kick (I’ll not wax philosophical here about Ohm’s Law). Fortunately, it seems the battery charger was the only casualty. Everything else seems functional. Parts are ordered and will greet us in Maine next week. My spare “automotive” battery charger has been temporarily installed to keep things working, though at 15 amps, it’s a slow charge for a big bank of batteries.

On Tuesday morning, my dear friend and former colleague, Johanna, joined us for breakfast aboard Stinkpot. She came toting a bakery bag of muffins, a croissant, and a scone, which was dispatched with caffeinated beverages in short order. Like all such visits, this one happened fast and ended too soon, but it was great to see her.

After Johanna’s departure, we, once again, took to hoofing it around the town. We walked to the “other” waterfront park, across the creek from Stinkpot to grab a couple “baby photos” and then back to town for a "maple creemee" (Creemee is apparently what they call soft serve in Vermont). It was decadent. On our way back to the boat, we realized some of the other dock space in the park was suddenly occupied by a fleet of small, recreational steamboats—the real deal. The air was thick with woodsmoke, which I have to admit smells better than diesel exhaust. They didn’t stay long, but they were quite a sight to behold, and one or two of them gave us a hearty “toot” on their steam whistles on the way by.

After one more peaceful night within earshot of the white noise of the falls, we spun Stinkpot on her heel and back out the creek to Lake Champlain. We ran up as far as Converse Bay where we anchored on the leeward side of Cedar Island for a peaceful night. Following a morning swim, we got underway Thursday for Willsboro Bay, which we were told was a “must see” place on the New York side of the lake. It didn’t disappoint, with mountains and foothills rimming the bay, it reminded us a bit of the fjords of Norway.

We anchored at the southern end of the bay where we would be protected from most of the wave action from the evening’s predicted winds. With really no place to go ashore other than a nearby marina and no real reason to go ashore, we settled in, took in the sunset and had a peaceful night aboard—until our anchor alarm went off around 5AM, just before dawn. (…continued below gallery)

We began the scramble to assess the situation. We were dragging, it was slow, but not slow enough to ignore. The wind was blowing, and not in the predicted direction and at a far greater strength. I surmised that the mountains and hills probably funnel the wind in odd ways, making it difficult to predict. We threw on some clothes, raised and cleaned the anchor, which came up loaded with plant life and clay (which is why we dragged when the wind came up). With the engines making slow turns, we watched the sunrise as we made our way out of the bay. Once on the lake proper, the winds came around to the forecasted direction and settled down to the expected, gentle breeze.

At about 7:30AM, our voyage for the day was over, and we anchored behind Rock Point in a clearly enviable spot about a mile north of Burlington. We napped a bit. Shrugged off our morning, and then dropped the dinghy and ran the mile or so to the town dinghy dock by the Burlington Community Boathouse Marina. From there we hoofed around town, had lunch at Church Street Tavern, and then meandered over to the local, impressive food co-op to pick up some fresh produce before finding our way back to the dinghy. As cool as Burlington is, and it is, we just couldn’t manufacture a reason to remain. It’s the sort of place that has so much going on that, if you don’t intend to spend a week ducking in and out of cool watering holes, museums, and historical spots, it’s hardly worth the trouble. We trudged back to the dinghy with our booty, and made way back to Stinkpot.

Saturday, after a leisurely morning, we weighed anchor around noon and made for Malletts Bay, which we semi-circumnavigated, cruising the northern shore along Niquette Bay State Park, down the eastern shore, and across the southern shore nearly to Moorings Marina, where we ultimately had the hook down a bit after 4PM. We did row ashore to the Bayside Park dinghy dock for a short walk before sunset, but the mosquitoes aggressively drove us back to the safety of our screened vessel within about a half hour. It’s a pretty area, but there is no real commerce—not even an ice cream stand within walking distance.

Sunday morning, we again took our time, ultimately getting underway around noon, and made way to Pelots Bay, anchoring in the northwestern part of the bay. We did dinghy ashore for dinner at Drifter’s Boathouse at the nearby marina. The place was packed; the food was OK. The service was decent. The management was non-existent. Our server made a $4 mistake and had no way to void the error because the manager was “off.” We asked him to just give us $4 in cash, and he said he couldn’t do that, and implied we should just pay the $4. Ultimately, another server who had been there longer “helped” and we walked out with $4 cash in our pocket. I’m not sure who needs to hear this, but if you own or manage a restaurant, never leave it without at least one employee who can void transactions in your absence.

We returned to Stinkpot for the balmy evening which gave way to cool, comfortable sleeping weather. Monday, we weighed anchor and “completed” a circumnavigation of North Hero Island which had us within about 5 miles of the Canadian border before turning south again, ultimately anchoring in Middle Bay in Pointe Au Roche State Park in Plattsburgh, NY. We did dinghy ashore for a very pleasant walk in the park and had a refreshing swim off the boat, as the weather was quite warm. I tied up the dinghy “on the hip” since I expected we’d probably stroll again in the morning.

The NOAA wind forecast was for gentle westerlies, so it should’ve been a very pleasant night. It wasn’t. At about 11PM, the breeze started coming in, which was refreshing at first, and then it got stronger…and stronger. We ended up taking a thrashing from the south with 2-3 foot waves. I got up around midnight and re-stowed the dinghy (not easy since both Stinkpot and her tender were pitching on the waves, and then put out storm scope on our anchor rode. Returning to bed, neither of us expected to sleep well, but my eyes did close around 1AM, and the next thing I knew it was light out. The wind had let up a bit, but we were still in an uncomfortable place. I suggested we get underway and cruise south to the leeward side of Treadwell Bay, which we did. After we had the anchor down, a sailboat that was in a better place vacated, and we re-anchored in his spot. The wind was still going, but we were out of the waves, and that was all that mattered.

I then set about to doing laundry so we would have less to worry about it came time to pack for our trip to Maine. We needed to charge our batteries anyway. I started the generator and got to work. After an hour or two, I realized the generator exhaust sounded louder than it should. I know that sound. It happens when the seawater flow that cools the engine isn’t “flowing.” I immediately checked the generator’s temperature, and it was clearly overheating. I shut it down immediately.

Stressed by the morning, the lack of sleep, and now the generator, I suggested to Stacey that we should just give up and go into Mooney Bay Marina a day early, if they’d have us. She agreed, I made the call, and they agreed. We got underway, and were tied up in a slip at the marina around 2PM yesterday (Tuesday).

Once we were settled in, I continued working on our laundry, and being in a marina meant we could use the dryer in the bath house instead of line-drying everything. While I was out there working the washing machine, a large, late-model, Quebec-registered Sea-Ray backed into a slip near us. No sooner had they made their lines fast to the dock, I heard a man start yelling hysterically in French on the next dock over. His words were too fast and too emotional for my high school French to kick in, but our new neighbors understood and ran while I was still twisting foreign words in my head, and I saw people from all over the marina start running as well. I thought perhaps someone fell in, and decided with the rush of people who ran over, I would be nothing but in the way. Our neighbors’ teen-age daughter came off the boat and, in perfect English, filled in any blanks we still had. A man had just been found floating and unconscious in the water on the next dock. They were just dragging him onto the dock and beginning CPR and kept it up until the EMS showed up. From our vantage point, we saw the defibrillator get used to no good effect. Then the crowd broke up as people began dejectedly walking away from the scene as the heavens opened up and a deluge poured down for about 20 minutes, the likes of which I have rarely seen. When we emerged from the boat after the shower, the body was still on the dock, covered with a towel, awaiting the coroner.

Exhausted by our own ordeal of the last 24 hours and emotionally drained and a bit shellshocked from what we’d just witnessed, we walked up the dock to the restaurant very near its end. It was good. The bartender, Kim, was very nice, and clearly sensed we’d benefit from some friendly chatting. We had a good time and a good meal. We returned to Stinkpot and slept.

And so, here we still are, at the marina, and preparing to leave in our own car to Maine for my gigs early tomorrow. We’re still working out our return path, and that will be part of another blog.

​I’m still a bit at a loss for words over what we saw yesterday. I don’t know if I will ever find them. Life’s short. Hold your loved ones close.