Captain's Log: There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Blog

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….