Ballet afloat

Tal and I are watching Lake Erie from the open fantail of the Grande Mariner as we make our way to Cleveland.  There's a honeybee out here with us.  It lights on the back of a chair, flies up level with the upper deck or to one side of the ship or the other only to retreat, returning to the unbuffeted safely of the chair.  Again and again.  In much the same patterned route.

We left Buffalo's boat basin before supper yesterday, some 13 hours ago, and I am assuming that our pollen-laden visitor has been with us since, trapped in this boat-wide block of still air.  I wonder if it will be surprised when it emerges in Cleveland.  Will it know it's in new territory?  Where will it deposit the bright yellow pollen?

The two of us are not exactly bewildered as to our location from day to day -- there's a schedule posted on the bulletin board outside the lounge after all.  But, where we find ourselves is something of a marvel when reality casts a beam on us, a wonderfully frequent occurrence since we moved into 57B last Monday.  Sailing Lake Erie at dawn on a Tuesday in late May?  Really?  I guess we are not entirely unlike the bee who continues checking out the edges here at the back of the boat.

Unlike the bee, however, we have settled into a calm and leisurely routine.  Our cabin is small and terribly efficient, if we're careful.  While getting up, showered, dressed in the morning requires very few steps, having put everything away is essential, as is only one person going through the process at a time.  That keeps frustration and jostling to a minimum.  The routine we have developed includes my rising first and arriving in the lounge for early bird coffee just about the time the gurgling stops and the light on the urn flicks to red.  On the upper deck at dawn that hot coffee searing my throat I am guaranteed a period of solitude.  Once I get that bit of time, on board togetherness doesn't cost me over much psychic energy.

Making all this possible is the Grande Mariner's crew and staff.  Meals produced in a snug galley by two chefs and served by four stewardesses are as good as I have ever eaten.  The entire crew sees and attends to our needs almost before any of us realize we have a need at all.  And, watching the captain maneuver the vessel in tight places inspires awe even in the seasoned sailors among us.  In the background of all our leisure is washing and cleaning, scraping and painting, fueling and waste removal, the arrival of coaches for shore excursions and of performers and lecturers coming aboard to entertain or to instruct.

One way to describe what I am observing is a delicate balance among us as our little ship moves river to canal to lake.  The balance is not precarious.  It is not overly promoted.  But, it is careful, a deliberate set of steps, a dance that -- along with two 750 horsepower Caterpillar engines -- allows and defines our progress toward Chicago.

As I watch the honey bee take another breather before resuming its patrol of this air space, I have to wonder what getting to Chicago is going to be like.  Pondering that is likely a more worthwhile focus for me than wondering about a bewildered bee's arrival in Cleveland.  Harder work, too, I daresay.  Am I going to be the same person I was in Warren the first time a walked up the gang way?  After participating in this graceful dance along these historic waterways, I feel certain I'll recognize Chicago, but will I recognize myself?    

Moving on -- overland

Since we were told on Monday night how this trip was going to have to play out, given the persistently high water in the Oswego Canal, I have experienced a mirthful delight at very idea of a tour of historic waterways by bus.  But, after packing our bags and leaving them in the corridor and after one last breakfast -- this one including waffles, pancakes, apple wood bacon, fresh fruit, that is precisely what we set out to do today.  Two buses arrived in the RV park.  We were loaded in moments, our goodbyes said to the crew, and on our way, abandoning the boat in the woods.  My last glimpse of the Grande Mariner was from the bridge over the canal, the boat alongside the dock, all flat, wide and streamlined, and Lake Oneida on my right.  Sigh.

It was a three-hour drive to Buffalo.  We were riding in the back, by choice.  Lots more leg room.  A little more solitude.  I didn't bring a map with me on this trip, since I wasn't going to need one.  Google Earth was on the screen on the lounge almost all the time, that or the captain's sailing charts.  So, today I've felt a little lost.  In a church parking lot somewhere on the outskirts of Buffalo we paused long enough to rendezvous with two step-on guides who stayed with us through our visit to Niagara Falls.

Our first stop was at the New York Power Authority visitor center, about 4.5 miles downstream from the falls, where we ate box lunches -- which had been prepared aboard the Grande Mariner.  (Have I mentioned recently not liking having had to leave the boat?!)   High above the Niagara River Gorge and called the Power Vista, the visitor center overlooks two power plants (the Robert Moses Niagara Power Plant on the US side and the Sir Adam Beck #2 Generating Station on the Canadian side) and the graceful Lewiston-Queenston Bridge.

Taken from the Power Vista on the American side of the Niagara Gorge -- Beck on left, Moses on right.

After that too-short visit -- didn't get to explore the exhibits or roam the grounds, we traveled along the Niagara escarpment, eventually ending up aboard the Maid of the Mist, all clad in what looked like blue, hooded dry cleaner bags.  Great fun, very wet, too short.

Despite some graduate work in architectural history, to include landscape, I didn't know that Frederick Law Olmstead did work at Niagara Falls.  In the late 19th century the site was heavily industrial, as well as having been commercialized (like it isn't now?).  New York state established a state park (called a reserve at the time) in 1883 (making it the oldest state park in the nation), which was then designed by Olmstead, collaborating with Calvert Vaux.  Our visit was on the Friday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend, the place choked with visitors, the design carrying the load, but just barely.  I can only imagine what the next three days will be like.

The American Falls from the observation platform at Prospect Point

The rapids on their way to the brink of the American Falls

A view of Horseshoe Falls from Goat Island's Terrapin Point



Made from a 100
year-old Silver
Maple damaged in
a storm in 2006

To the hotel with us, the Buffalo Hyatt Regency in downtown.  What was one of the first things I saw from my backseat perch?  A "statue" of Frederick Law Olmstead alongside the driveway!  Yes, it does lean back quite a bit.  What do you think?  Chisel or chainsaw?