We continued up the Hudson. At our first lock, a barge radioed ahead and was granted the right-of-way even though we arrived first. Water was let out of the lock, the barge entered, the lock filled, the barge exited through the far gate, the lock emptied, and finally our turn came.
Farther up, after passing more of the bizarre fish we’d seen the day earlier, we entered the first lock on the Champlain Canal, completing our time on the Hudson. For the first hundred meters, the canal runs along the Hudson, though higher up. It’s a strange thing to be on a calm river and look down. The water changed color, murky brown behind us and murky green ahead.
The 40-meter-wide canal does not meander like a river, but cuts through the rock straight as an arrow. Trees and dense foliage crowd the shore except for where the canal drives through swamp. We stuck close to the west side of the river and its refreshing shade.
The lock operators, a friendly sociable bunch, didn’t respond to their radios. Sometimes it was enough to call up from our boats, other times we climbed ashore to find them.
We made camp in the canal side gazebo at Ft. Ann. We asked about showers. A local told us that the truck stop a few miles away didn’t charge too much.
A bar just up the street from our gazebo had a sign, ‘Rooms Available’. Erin asked the barista if she knew where we might find a shower. “At the truck stop,” she told us.
I explained to Erin that whenever she ask for help, she needs to open with “We’re kayaking from New York.” In my travels, I had acquired a bit of skill at asking for help.
We hung up a ten liter water bag in the gazebo, and showered there. Hopefully not too many people were looking.
That night we used the mosquito netting from the beginning, so aside from the occasional train coming up the tracks along the water, we slept great.
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