| Travels of Dursmirg Vol. 1 Chapter 7 |
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CHAPTER 7 THE GREAT LAKES ARE BEHIND US AND IT’S DOWN TO THE SEA IN OUR LITTLE SHIP
It felt like Jane and I had made a major accomplishment with our crossing of the Great Lakes.
When I was young my dad had many times told me of one of his special dreams and that was to travel by boat
across the Great Lakes…a dream he never fulfilled. Well, we had just done it and on a boat we constructed with our
own hands.
What was ahead of us would be a strange new world of adventures that seemed to start the minute we awoke that
October 3rd morning at the Buffalo, New York Yacht Club.
As I stepped out onto the dock that morning I was met by what looked like the local militia. About fifteen police
officers with their guns pulled out were charging down the dock in our direction.
I hollered to Jane to tell her what I was seeing and she got paranoid to the point of hiding our automatic pistol. She
had heard that the State of New York had a law against handguns and instantly thought that the police were coming
for ours.
Well, the police ran right past our boat. To our surprise right off our stern and down stream from us was a cadaver
floating past.
The police pulled the deceased person up on the dock and it was quite evident that the dead man had been floating
around for a long time by the condition of the corpse.
I told the police that this was the first person that had ever passed by our boat without rapping on the hull to try to
determine what it was made of.
Because of all of the commotion that morning we didn’t get away from the dock until 11:45 AM.
A short distance downriver we came to our first lock, the Black Rock Lock, which was not part of the Erie Canal
System, but led to it. This was a Federal Government lock operated by the U.S. Army Corp of Engineers and all of
the Erie Canal locks are part of the State of New York Department of Transportation.
When we entered the Black Rock Lock we were 569 feet above sea level, it took eleven minutes to empty, and
twenty minutes total transit time.
(When we finally finished transiting all of the 35 locks in the Erie Barge Canal system we would then be at sea level.)
It was here that the Niagara River diverges and goes on over the Niagara Falls. As we entered the lock approach we
could see on the other side of the break wall that the Niagara River was picking up speed and descending as it
passed our position.
In this lock, the lockmaster insisted that we use their docking lines that seemed cumbersome. We now had our mast
down on deck which took some getting used to and also the fact that now we were no longer a sailboat. We would
have our mast down for over two weeks until we reached the Hudson River.
Shortly after we departed the lock Jane noticed that our bilge was being flooded. “Remember the water is supposed
to be on the outside!”
I looked desperately for a place to stop and tie our vessel, but none was to be found. Jane went to our hand
operated bilge pump and began pulling the handle. The pump was a gift to us from our friends Don and Betty
Currie. Don had told me that some day the pump would be very valuable to us…well, he was right.
The pump extracted about half a gallon of water per pump and Jane told me that she had just counted 500 and that
she was just barely keeping even with the gush of incoming water.
The problem turned out to be that the keeper on our packing gland nut for the drive shaft had inadvertently been
not secured properly…my mistake.
At 1:45 PM that afternoon we were finally able to pull into a small dock at the village park in Tonawanda, New York.
I immediately wrapped a rag around the shaft to stench the flow of water and to give poor Jane a rest. I still can’t
believe that she was able to keep that pump going all that time. Tom Callahan, George Swan’s crewmember
commented after hearing the story of Jane’s long ordeal on the pump that, “she would now be ready to take on
Liston”.
The problem was quick and easy to resolve when we were finally tied up and were out of the channel.
Above; the village park at Tonawanda, New York. Dursmirg and George Swan’s boat with Tom Callahan
and Jane on shore. The masts are down and on deck.
That afternoon the head of the Tonawanda Chamber of Commerce came to pay us a visit and see if he could do
anything for us. He told us that if we were interested he was going to Niagara Falls for the day and we were welcome
to ride over and back with him. We took him up on that offer for the next day.
We found out where the best pizza place in town was located and we were all set to enjoy the town.
That night Tom Callahan and Jane and I set out in search of that pizza place. We saw several strange sights along
the way. One that we saw was several brand new U-haul trucks that had their tops smashed in. It turned out that the
company had just established a new rental spot in Tonawanda and these were the first to leave town. The problem
was that a low overpass was situated on the way out of town and each one of those trucks got that far and no
further.
The other thing we saw on the way to the pizza place was a pipe organ fabricating company that was in the process
of making a large pipe organ for some big church. We got a guided tour and demonstration of just how these pipes
were fabricated and tuned. We had a real education from the masters because this had been a family business for
several hundred years.
The pizza restaurant was a local knowledge only place that had no signs out and had no resemblance of a business
at all. We had the address and description, but we made several inquiries before we finally went through a private
garden and knocked on a door that appeared to be a private residence. Sure enough, this was indeed the place.
We were invited in and had a memorable meal. We had to thank the man from the Chamber of Commerce again for
his tip on this “locals-only” pizza place.
Oh, by the way!
All of the time that Tom Callahan was in our company we would search out the very best pizza place everywhere we
went. That got us to some very interesting out of the way places.
October 4th we all met the man from the Chamber of Commerce at the designated time in the morning and we were
off to visit Niagara Falls. This was a beautiful and perfect day and the second time for Jane and I to visit the falls.
This time we made it a point to do all the things we didn’t do on our first visit and revisit our favorite places.
View from the top of the space needle on the Canadian side overlooking the falls.
October 5th, 1972 we were under way at 9:00 AM and starting our motoring trip across Upstate New York.
Oh, by the way!
The Erie Canal is owned, operated and maintained by the State of New York Department of Transportation. It was
originally completed in 1825 with 84 locks but over the years various alterations and upgrades have reduced that
number to 35 locks. The canal is 363 miles long from Buffalo on Lake Erie to Albany on the Hudson River. In spite of
the fact that we had our mast down on deck we still had to open several bridges to pass and we, of course, had to
coordinate the lock openings, therefore we did lots of waiting. Several places along the way there would be one lock
tender for up to four locks and once we started down a set of locks that same lock tender would accompany us
along the way in his car. We got to know these lock tenders and their cars and knew that there was no point in
arriving at the lock before he did because it wasn’t going to open until he got to the controls.
Another interesting thing that was engineered into the lock system was a means for opening and closing the huge
lock doors using the flow of water from the spillways to generate that power. At the time we transited the canal
system most of the locks were still using this original lock operating system.
One very nice thing about the canal system was that at all of the lock terminals we could dock for no charge and
there were also bath facilities. These places proved to be very convenient for fueling, as the fuel trucks had no
problem driving right down alongside our boat at the dock.
Back to our travels;
When we arrived at our first lock located at Lockport, New York we had our first experience with the bridges and
locks not opening. Well, we were not the first one in line here. Some high-ticket racing sailboat was docked partially
under the bridge that crossed the canal on the main street of town. The captain told us he was waiting for the bridge
tender who was supposed to arrive later that afternoon. We waited a while and then decided that we should at least
become walking tourists and went out to see some of the local sights.
Lockport, New York; this is a view of the old original locks completed back in 1825 on the right and the
new modern locks left. Our friend Tom Callahan is holding down the bushes so that I can get a good
picture of the locks.
At 7:00 PM that night we finally docked at Medina, New York for the evening. The scenery was incredible and we
were definitely going slowly enough to take in all of the sights of which there were many.
The little towns along the way were quaint and we got a chance to see the farmers tilling their fields and occasionally
we went under a busy highway system with its speeding traffic and we were more than thankful that we were not part
of that “rat race” any longer.
Locking through the hills, this lock had a 42-foot descent. “Leaving and looking back.”
Note: (the weather turned cold and one night it got cold enough to put frost on the deck so we awoke to a 20 degree
morning. We were very happy that we had well insolated our Dursmirg because now we were warm, comfortable and
cozy inside our new home.)
Above one of the bridges we had to open that was written up in “Ripley’s Believe it or Not”. The bridge’
s claim to fame was that this lift bridge was inclined and higher at one end than the other and
maintained that precarious angle when opened…for what ever its worth, “you now have the rest of the
story”.
Jane is dressed for the cold Upstate New York fall weather as she prepares to fend off the lock wall on
our descent to the next level. Ahead you can see the rolling hills that we were traveling through.
Several times in this journey we would be boating along the canal and be able to peer out and down into
the adjacent valley and see farmers tilling their fields. Another place a river runs under the canal.
From the photo you can see that we were not always alone in the locks and many times we would have a
push-boat and barge as neighbors in the lock. This time it happened to be one of those multi-million
dollar pleasure yachts that a friend of ours always referred to as, “water-cars”. He also used to say that,
“sand-gnats and water-cars had the same level of consciousness.”
The fall colors had definitely begun to affect the trees after our cold 20-degree morning that changed
our “Indian-summer” into an early winter. We saw some snow flakes in the air before we were off the
Erie Barge canal on the 15th of October.
.
If you consider that our vessel weighed 20 tons, that is forty thousand pounds, (more than the weight of eight full
sized automobiles combined). Then think of this weight beginning to move and your only control and brake is the
rope you must make fast to whatever you can and pay it out under control. It was humanly impossible to put your
foot out to the dock to stop it when it was moving at all. Diverting it just a little took an incredible amount of physical
force. Even the wind pressure against the hull could easily create enough force to make it totally unmanageable. We
heard a story of a workman whose hard hat fell off and when he tried to retrieve it from alongside the barge he was
working on he was decapitated merely due to the force of the wind blowing on his vessel.
Well, we encountered several severe windstorms and we were happy to at least be in the relatively protected waters
of the canal when they hit us. Crossing the lakes on the canal system was always stormy and rough.
The most intense windstorm on the canal system occurred as we were approaching the city of Rome, New York. We
had just crossed Lake Oneida where the winds had already begun to build. I am not sure of just how strong the
winds actually got that day but we witnessed large trees blow down across the canal directly in front of our boat. As
we entered the city of Rome and approached the lock that we would spend that night at we witnessed a good-sized
houseboat completely overwhelmed by the force of the wind. It was being swept along and out of control. The
operator was using all the power that his vessel had but it was swept downstream in the direction of the spillway
overflow of the lock. As we helplessly watched this near tragedy happen before our eyes, the captain of the vessel
managed to run aground in amongst the trees just before the drop of the spillway.
Oh, by the way!
Here is a letter that a friend of ours, John Gray, wrote the following year about our encounter in Rome,
New York that day of the windstorm.
Jane and I met John Gray and his brother in the fall of 1972 on the Erie barge canal in Upstate New
York. We were transiting the canal on our way to the Atlantic Ocean from our homeport of Superior,
Wisconsin in our forty six-foot motor sailing vessel, Dursmirg.
1974 Saint Augustine, Florida; A SHORT STORY BY JOHN R .GRAY
A CONCRETE CASE
“It was a cold and scuddy day in mid October. Oneida Lake tossed up a chop of white-capped water. We were glad
to spot a black blob far ahead, and know that some other foolhardy boater was out there with us. It turns out to be a
strange looking craft which acted more like a fixed installation than a boat, not riding up and down with the waves,
but moving steadily ahead without a pitch or roll. On her transom we could make out gothic lettering: Dursmirg. The
seal-skinned as we stared our way ahead.
Oneida Lake is a component of the N.Y. State Erie Canal. At its eastern end are locks, which lift traffic up to the
divide between Oneida and the Mohawk waters. There the frugal lockmaster could see the monster far behind, and
waited to put us through together. When it eventually moved in, a little girl (all I could see was a red nose protruding
from her parka) climbed the wall to handle the locking lines. We were soon out and on, getting as far as Rome, New
York to tie up for the night at a Public Work’s Department wall.
That night was like the Arctic. Next morning, a quarter inch of frost on the fore deck made white velvet carpet. I
jumped ashore and shivered, noticing then, the monster tied up astern. The skipper at his chores was evidently
touched by my half-frozen appearance, as he asked if I would care to come aboard for coffee and kuchen. He said
his cabin was warm and cozy. I was eager to get south and said no thanks. We pushed off.
Another year, now in Saint Augustine: I looked out the window of my home one morning, and there anchored in the
bay, was that same black monster. . Now came the time and occasion for hospitality and friendship.
Dursmirg is their name spelled back wards; John and Jane Grimsrud. Here is their nautical story insofar as it has
come out of our casual conversation. I am not writing for publication, nor have I discussed this with them, but I think
what I say would be approved.
Their hometown of Superior, Wisconsin, alongside Duluth, is where the big ore boats move in and out with the
greatest bulk of cargo shipped on the seven seas. It is a very high powered port. Such would have been their
background scenery, but such is not the background of their life. They were on dry land, in business in which
success was adequate to permit retirement in their thirties to chase the bug that bit them. The Power Squadron
provided nautical education. They both have “Advanced Piloting” degrees, probably even “Celestial Navigation”.
These are difficult disciplines. They both are also mechanically inclined, and to build their own boat came naturally.
There is a great deal more to a boat than the hull, but it is the hull of the Dursmirg that has attracted the most
attention. It is concrete. In 1971, which is the year that I think that the back yard project went into operation,
concrete was less common than now. I do not understand the construction, but I do know it is a matter of preparing a
rather rigidly supported framework of steel mash reinforcing to which the concrete is applied. They hired a crew of
professional plasterers who had to work with out interruption, once started, as the whole hull must one monolithic
mass. It sounds like Cellini pouring his Pursus. I understand it was an occasion that attracted a considerable
following. It floated. The owners went right to work on rigging.
When I first encountered them on Oneida Lake, it was October of 1972.
They were headed south on their maiden cruise, but I think by then, would already be considered veterans. They
had sailed the stormy seas of Lake Superior, Huron, and Erie at the season when pleasure boats are usually hauled
out for the winter. Sliding down the Saint Clair and Detroit rivers, I understand, can be a sleigh ride, and Erie’s locks,
I know, can tax your muscles and your know-how. (There are 38 locks between buffalo and Albany.)
Now, adventure has become a way of life. Living aboard, they live off the sea, largely. They move somewhat with the
seasons, and somewhat with the mood, from Key West to Daufuskie Island, South Carolina, stopping in Saint
Augustine which is sort of a homeport. As I am writing, I can see that they are both aboard because the dinghy rides
astern. Moored nearby is a fleet of varied style and vintage. I see a little well-used sloop carrying a name that would
be an honor to any anchorage; JOSHUA SLOCUM. It’s a dividend of romance. JRG (John Gray)
Back to our travels;
Jane was wearing down and we asked if Tom Callahan wouldn’t come over to lend us a hand for a couple of days.
Tom had been complaining about the food aboard George Swan’s boat where there was no refrigeration and Tom
told us about the green fuzzy hot dogs covered with mold that George merely wiped off and cooked for each meal.
So, Tom came to our rescue and Jane did the same for Tom with her good cooking…I believe that Tom’s heath
definitely improved aboard our boat.
We said “good-by” to Tom at Utica, New York. We also said “see you later” and yes we have kept in contact with him
and his families over all these years and to this day exchange e-mails.
Tom’s departure was very unusual, we just slowed the boat as we passed a canal work dock and Tom took a big
jump. We then threw his suitcase over and waved. Tom had an unusual adventure and we made a fine friend.
This trip across the Erie Canal was not just following the confines of the canal. We crossed Lake Oneida and the
Finger Lakes famous for their many wineries and beautiful majestic surrounding hills.
A letter Jane wrote to her parents
1972 Oct 12
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel;
Thank you so much for the birthday cards you sent us. We just got them about a week ago. It was nice to get the
letters. It doesn’t seem like I am so far away when we keep in touch. We are at Fonda, NY on the Erie Canal. It’s a
real beautiful trip, but quite a lot of work because we have 35 locks to go thru. The canal goes thru the mountains
and at times we are up above the valley. It’s so beautiful the leaves are changing colors and it’s mostly farm lands
that we are going thru. We have had two real cold nights of 20 degrees. The frost was real thick on the deck but we
keep nice and warm inside. It’s warm today but rainy so we are not traveling today. Progress is slow on the canal.
The speed limit is 8 miles an hour and it takes a lot of time to get through the locks. I’m really looking forward to
getting south. Only a few more days and we will be in the Atlantic Ocean.
I was glad to hear that Dads doing a lot better.
People have given us a lot of tomatoes, cucumbers and apples along the way. I made another apple pie today. We’
ve been working on the boat today- there is always something to do. We had to take the mast down in Buffalo, New
York because the bridges on the canal are too low and don’t open.
I don’t really have too much time to write lately. We’ve been keeping so busy. I’ve even lost some weight.
Write when you get a chance. Only 1400 more miles to Miami.
Love Jane and Bing
Say hi to everyone for us.
October 16th was our last day on the Erie Canal. We would descend 160 feet this morning, in a series of five locks
and emerge in the tidal waters of the Hudson River at sea level. When clearance was given to enter this set of the
last five locks we would be not encountering any oncoming traffic. The boats had to move through these locks in
one direction because there was no maneuvering room. One lock led directly to the next, and so on all the way down
the side of this hill. I felt like a skier pushing off and heading down a steep slope.
Once on the Hudson River, we passed Troy and Albany, and it was downstream all the way to New York City. We
were finally in a tidal influenced body of water. We were 150 miles from the Atlantic Ocean and the tidal difference
here was nine hours out of phase with the mouth of the Hudson River. The tide enters the river in a “tidal wave” that
moved steadily upstream and this would take nine hours to reach Troy, New York where we entered the river. The
receding “tidal wave” had the same action in reverse. Because these waves start in the river approximately every12
hours you can see that the wave action becomes confused along the way as the two high tides converge on the
same point at the same time. Also the low tides can meet at some point and cause an extra low tide. Figuring out the
tides and currents on the Hudson River could be a real challenge.
The next order of business was to find a place that we could tie up for the night that would have equipment for
stepping our mast.
The first place we tried near Rensselaer was uncooperative and wanted a huge sum of money for dockage plus
putting the mast up there was not convenient. The dock master did however tell us of a yacht club downriver at
Castleton-on-Hudson that had reasonable dockage rates and a do-it-yourself boom crane for putting up masts. That
was our next stop.
We made arrangements to pull our vessel into the slip where the boom crane was located and began our mast
raising. The process was not complicated but it was imperative that all the shrouds and stay cables plus the
halyards were running clear and not tangled before we started up with the mast. A sling around the mast secured
below the spreaders with a retriever line was placed on the mast and also a double tailing line. When the mast was
hoisted skyward and up high enough so that the base could then be pulled down and positioned over the mast step,
(deck fitting for the mast), the mast was then merely lowered into place. Then tailing lines were used by two people
on deck to guide the mast into its proper position. That sounds easy, well, it is, and we have done it before.
Well, this day there were several problems; the first was that a 40 knot wind was blowing that made holding the mast
steady in position physically impossibility. After 20 minutes of frustration I went to see why the boom crane
operators were not maintaining the position of the crane steady enough so that Jane and I could secure the
shrouds. When I saw that they were attempting to secure the boom crane with a one half inch nylon rope that
stretched with each gust of wind I immediately went to get my two ton cable come-along. That proved to be the
answer and in spite of the howling wind, we had the mast secured in less than five minutes. We were then ready to
get out of there and let the next boat in line step their mast.
I ran down and cranked the engine; put the boat in reverse and nothing happened. We were aground and the tide
was about to give us our first taste of its influence over boaters. It was late at night before we finally got out of there.
Almost twelve hours passed before we floated and then moved.
The photo tells a lot of the story of our condition at low tide. Note the boom crane
October 17th, 1972 was a cold, dark and wind day as we continued our trip down the Hudson on our way to the
sea. The scenery was beautiful in the extreme and we loved the historic landmarks like in the next photo of the
military academy located on the hills along the Hudson at West Point.
The Catskill Mountains added to the rugged beauty and the photos on these dark days did not reveal that the
leaves had all turned their bright fall colors.
Ahead was Bear Mountain and we were headed almost due south along the Hudson River, which had been our
intention from the very beginning of our entire project.
It was after dark this day before we found a dock to tie for the night at Rogers Point, Hyde Park. We didn’t see a soul
but they had security lights and the place was very quiet. It was also very cold and off-season for boating in this part
of the world. That made the trip even nicer for us because we had wanted to escape to places that were uncluttered
by people and without the rush just to get someplace. And as I had told Jane, “anywhere we were together we were
home”. And our old friend, Lance Burn, also used to say, “People are like cattle in cold weather, they herd up”.
October 18th we continued downstream headed for New York City. We had discussed a visit to the city and
decided that perhaps it would be best to dock north of the city and take the train in to see the sights. We decided to
look in the neighborhood of Hastings on the Hudson for dockage.
As we approached the big bridge ahead four youngsters came out on to the bridge with their bicycles and waved us
a welcome. We waved back and as we got directly under the bridge we were bombarded with rocks the size of
cement blocks. I didn’t realize what was happening at first and it was very fortunate we weren’t hit or that those rocks
hadn’t hit any of our deck-top port-lights. This game was not child’s play and if either one of us had been hit, we
more than likely would have been killed.
That incident was a wake up call to us to be extra cautious because we were definitely entering a high crime area.
October 19th we were at the commuter train station early, it was only a block from the marina where we had docked
the boat.
After boarding the train we found our seats and as we looked around we were amazed at the regulars that made this
trip a daily routine.
Most of the passengers were well-dressed businessmen with their briefcases and some with their newspapers.
None had a smile and most dozed off into a half trans-like sleep. Like programmed robots as they approached their
exit station, they somehow awakened and then shuffled off the train. The men reading their newspapers never
looked up or out and some how instinctively departed at their station as though they were in some sort of a hypnotic
trance. Jane and I both were happy and thankful that this was not going to be our lot in life. If we could do just about
anything else with our lives that would be somehow rewarding, fulfilling and meaningful we would then consider
ourselves to have succeeded in life. We took pity on these poor, shallow lives that were merely counting down the
days until retirement and then waiting for their last gasp without a dream.
We got off our train at Grand Central Station on 42nd Street. It was a cold, dark and windy day with a light snow
coming down as we ventured out onto the street.
We had decided that the very best thing for us to do first was to take a city bus tour.
We were slightly apprehensive about the city because of all of the precautions we had been given about street
crimes.
Less than a block from the station someone grabbed Jane on the shoulder and she instinctively went into a very
defensive mode. Who could possibly know us in this distant place on a busy street corner? Well, it took a second
but then it came to us. This was the couple from London, Ontario, Pat and David that we had met on the Erie Barge
Canal and later at Castleton-on-Hudson where we stepped our mast. The boating community was a close-knit group
as we were finding out and over the years we were part of that special bunch of people that took a different road in
life.
The city tour was worth the price and we were very surprised that we didn’t even have to look for where the tour
began. As we stood on the street gazing at the many wondrous sights that this very famous city was filled with,
someone came to us soliciting the Gray Line City tour that would be departing from that very spot in a matter of
minutes.
As we were riding around to the East River and past the United Nations building we happened to look down and see
a friend’s boat tied there at the ship’s museum near to the Fulton Fish market.
We knew that if our friend George Thurston had his boat tied there it had to be a good spot and we couldn’t wait
until the next day to come and visit them.
Before we boarded our commuter train that afternoon to return to our boat we made a long walk around the
downtown section of town and found a nautical supply company where we purchased the charts that we would need
to venture out into the Atlantic Ocean and head south.
This time of year the days were getting short on sunlight at these latitudes and by the time we finally got back
aboard our boat that night it was good and dark. It didn’t take long to heat the cabin of our boat when Jane fired up
our diesel galley range and I must admit the heat felt good.
As soon as we could get away the next morning we were under way headed for the East River and the ship’s
museum.
Docking on the East River proved to be a disaster because the pier was so high the boat went under and bent some
of the stanchions that hold our lifelines. To make things even worse, as we were trying to tie up a tugboat tied at the
next pier cranked up and his stern wash sent our boat to the end of its line and Jane couldn’t make it fast to the
dock. The strong ebb current of the East River was also working against us. Some man standing on the dock,
seeing Jane’s peril, came to give her a hand just in time. But this simple docking maneuver that could have taken a
couple of minutes wound up taking half an hour and I would have some repair work that I didn’t need straightening
those bent stanchions!
Once docked, we got together with our friends George and Bella Thurston aboard their boat, “By George” that we
had seen the day before as we were on the city bus tour.
Oh, by the way!
George was retired military and had just been working at a marina up on the Great Lakes and decided it was time
for the family to make a change in their residence. So, they packed their family aboard their boat and were making
the transition cross-country by boat which we thought was a novel way of travel and a wonderful opportunity to see
the countryside and also have the family together at the same time. George and Bella were traveling from Ohio to
Virginia with their two teenage children to start a new life in a new town. We met them up on the Erie Barge Canal
and passed through a lot of the locks together and even docked at some of the same places several times. I can’t
ever forget one incident that happened as we were all traveling together on the Erie Barge Canal and that was when
Bella had just put their dinner on the table and some huge “pleasure yacht” came by leaving a destructive wake that
sent all of their prepared food to the floor. At the next lock wouldn’t you know it, we were all together in the lock at
the same time with that jack-ass that couldn’t or wouldn’t mind the speed limit of the canal system. George and I
went to the lockmaster and protested the behavior of that obnoxious boater. The rule was that speeders would be
held back from locking through with the rest and have to wait another turn. The lock master was reluctant but both
Jane and Bella became insistent and sure enough the lockmaster turned back the “jack-ass”. That was just a small
measure of justice.
Back to New York City;
That afternoon we all struck off together, George, Bella and their two kids Ruth and George Jr. plus Jane and I, to
see more of New York City.
We were on a walking tour and went to China Town, up to the top of the Empire State Building and many of the local
ethnic neighborhoods. We rode the subway, walked in the parks, visited several museums, went to the public library
and just mingled with the New Yorkers, which filled the day to its limit with activities.
New York City, photo taken from southeastern Manhattan Island adjacent to the Fulton Fish Market at
the Ships Museum looking northeast up the East River with the Brooklyn Bridge foreground. Photo by
John M. Grimsrud;
This spectacular sight was just one of thousands that Jane and I were able to enjoy over the years from the deck of
our new home the Dursmirg.
October 21st I went out on the street early on that Sunday morning at the Fulton Fish Market that was adjacent to
the dock we were tied to. I was looking for a plumbing part I needed to repair a leaking lube oil cooling system line
from our hydraulic reverse gear. In this huge impersonal city, I met a man that was sympathetic to my plight and
gave me a ride to a parts store that was open on Sunday morning and then he waited for me to purchase the part I
needed and drove me back to the boat. We were impressed and thankful to find such a decent and helpful person.
He refused any money and just told me to enjoy my adventure…so, thanks again to a stranger that made our trip
such a memorable experience.
In less than a half hour I had the new part installed, torqued and tested. We were now ready to take our departure
and ride the ebb tide into yet another dimension of completely new circumstances that would open the boundless
horizons of the world beyond.
It was a cold clear day and fall had defiantly sealed its icy grip on this part of the world that it would not release until
the following spring.
We were for the first time in our lives in a position to escape the cold of the northern winter and slip off into the land
of tropical balmy briny breezes.
In the photo above you can see the view we encountered that cold fall morning as we ventured out into
the Hudson River looking back at New York City.
“The lady”, that had greeted countless immigrants to America over the years this day seemed to be
waving to us, our “good-by”.
This far the trip had been exciting and rewarding with all of the people we had met and strange and interesting ports
we had visited along the way.
Next, it was into the great Atlantic Ocean. We were past the “Statue of Liberty” and with the first salt spray to cross
the decks of the Dursmirg; we knew we had made it!
The whole idea of sailing to this place had seemed as far away as the moon when we were both working at our jobs,
going to school three nights a week and putting this twenty ton dream together back in Superior, Wisconsin.
next chapter
It felt like Jane and I had made a major accomplishment with our crossing of the Great Lakes.
When I was young my dad had many times told me of one of his special dreams and that was to travel by boat
across the Great Lakes…a dream he never fulfilled. Well, we had just done it and on a boat we constructed with our
own hands.
What was ahead of us would be a strange new world of adventures that seemed to start the minute we awoke that
October 3rd morning at the Buffalo, New York Yacht Club.
As I stepped out onto the dock that morning I was met by what looked like the local militia. About fifteen police
officers with their guns pulled out were charging down the dock in our direction.
I hollered to Jane to tell her what I was seeing and she got paranoid to the point of hiding our automatic pistol. She
had heard that the State of New York had a law against handguns and instantly thought that the police were coming
for ours.
Well, the police ran right past our boat. To our surprise right off our stern and down stream from us was a cadaver
floating past.
The police pulled the deceased person up on the dock and it was quite evident that the dead man had been floating
around for a long time by the condition of the corpse.
I told the police that this was the first person that had ever passed by our boat without rapping on the hull to try to
determine what it was made of.
Because of all of the commotion that morning we didn’t get away from the dock until 11:45 AM.
A short distance downriver we came to our first lock, the Black Rock Lock, which was not part of the Erie Canal
System, but led to it. This was a Federal Government lock operated by the U.S. Army Corp of Engineers and all of
the Erie Canal locks are part of the State of New York Department of Transportation.
When we entered the Black Rock Lock we were 569 feet above sea level, it took eleven minutes to empty, and
twenty minutes total transit time.
(When we finally finished transiting all of the 35 locks in the Erie Barge Canal system we would then be at sea level.)
It was here that the Niagara River diverges and goes on over the Niagara Falls. As we entered the lock approach we
could see on the other side of the break wall that the Niagara River was picking up speed and descending as it
passed our position.
In this lock, the lockmaster insisted that we use their docking lines that seemed cumbersome. We now had our mast
down on deck which took some getting used to and also the fact that now we were no longer a sailboat. We would
have our mast down for over two weeks until we reached the Hudson River.
Shortly after we departed the lock Jane noticed that our bilge was being flooded. “Remember the water is supposed
to be on the outside!”
I looked desperately for a place to stop and tie our vessel, but none was to be found. Jane went to our hand
operated bilge pump and began pulling the handle. The pump was a gift to us from our friends Don and Betty
Currie. Don had told me that some day the pump would be very valuable to us…well, he was right.
The pump extracted about half a gallon of water per pump and Jane told me that she had just counted 500 and that
she was just barely keeping even with the gush of incoming water.
The problem turned out to be that the keeper on our packing gland nut for the drive shaft had inadvertently been
not secured properly…my mistake.
At 1:45 PM that afternoon we were finally able to pull into a small dock at the village park in Tonawanda, New York.
I immediately wrapped a rag around the shaft to stench the flow of water and to give poor Jane a rest. I still can’t
believe that she was able to keep that pump going all that time. Tom Callahan, George Swan’s crewmember
commented after hearing the story of Jane’s long ordeal on the pump that, “she would now be ready to take on
Liston”.
The problem was quick and easy to resolve when we were finally tied up and were out of the channel.
Above; the village park at Tonawanda, New York. Dursmirg and George Swan’s boat with Tom Callahan
and Jane on shore. The masts are down and on deck.
That afternoon the head of the Tonawanda Chamber of Commerce came to pay us a visit and see if he could do
anything for us. He told us that if we were interested he was going to Niagara Falls for the day and we were welcome
to ride over and back with him. We took him up on that offer for the next day.
We found out where the best pizza place in town was located and we were all set to enjoy the town.
That night Tom Callahan and Jane and I set out in search of that pizza place. We saw several strange sights along
the way. One that we saw was several brand new U-haul trucks that had their tops smashed in. It turned out that the
company had just established a new rental spot in Tonawanda and these were the first to leave town. The problem
was that a low overpass was situated on the way out of town and each one of those trucks got that far and no
further.
The other thing we saw on the way to the pizza place was a pipe organ fabricating company that was in the process
of making a large pipe organ for some big church. We got a guided tour and demonstration of just how these pipes
were fabricated and tuned. We had a real education from the masters because this had been a family business for
several hundred years.
The pizza restaurant was a local knowledge only place that had no signs out and had no resemblance of a business
at all. We had the address and description, but we made several inquiries before we finally went through a private
garden and knocked on a door that appeared to be a private residence. Sure enough, this was indeed the place.
We were invited in and had a memorable meal. We had to thank the man from the Chamber of Commerce again for
his tip on this “locals-only” pizza place.
Oh, by the way!
All of the time that Tom Callahan was in our company we would search out the very best pizza place everywhere we
went. That got us to some very interesting out of the way places.
October 4th we all met the man from the Chamber of Commerce at the designated time in the morning and we were
off to visit Niagara Falls. This was a beautiful and perfect day and the second time for Jane and I to visit the falls.
This time we made it a point to do all the things we didn’t do on our first visit and revisit our favorite places.
View from the top of the space needle on the Canadian side overlooking the falls.
October 5th, 1972 we were under way at 9:00 AM and starting our motoring trip across Upstate New York.
Oh, by the way!
The Erie Canal is owned, operated and maintained by the State of New York Department of Transportation. It was
originally completed in 1825 with 84 locks but over the years various alterations and upgrades have reduced that
number to 35 locks. The canal is 363 miles long from Buffalo on Lake Erie to Albany on the Hudson River. In spite of
the fact that we had our mast down on deck we still had to open several bridges to pass and we, of course, had to
coordinate the lock openings, therefore we did lots of waiting. Several places along the way there would be one lock
tender for up to four locks and once we started down a set of locks that same lock tender would accompany us
along the way in his car. We got to know these lock tenders and their cars and knew that there was no point in
arriving at the lock before he did because it wasn’t going to open until he got to the controls.
Another interesting thing that was engineered into the lock system was a means for opening and closing the huge
lock doors using the flow of water from the spillways to generate that power. At the time we transited the canal
system most of the locks were still using this original lock operating system.
One very nice thing about the canal system was that at all of the lock terminals we could dock for no charge and
there were also bath facilities. These places proved to be very convenient for fueling, as the fuel trucks had no
problem driving right down alongside our boat at the dock.
Back to our travels;
When we arrived at our first lock located at Lockport, New York we had our first experience with the bridges and
locks not opening. Well, we were not the first one in line here. Some high-ticket racing sailboat was docked partially
under the bridge that crossed the canal on the main street of town. The captain told us he was waiting for the bridge
tender who was supposed to arrive later that afternoon. We waited a while and then decided that we should at least
become walking tourists and went out to see some of the local sights.
Lockport, New York; this is a view of the old original locks completed back in 1825 on the right and the
new modern locks left. Our friend Tom Callahan is holding down the bushes so that I can get a good
picture of the locks.
At 7:00 PM that night we finally docked at Medina, New York for the evening. The scenery was incredible and we
were definitely going slowly enough to take in all of the sights of which there were many.
The little towns along the way were quaint and we got a chance to see the farmers tilling their fields and occasionally
we went under a busy highway system with its speeding traffic and we were more than thankful that we were not part
of that “rat race” any longer.
Locking through the hills, this lock had a 42-foot descent. “Leaving and looking back.”
Note: (the weather turned cold and one night it got cold enough to put frost on the deck so we awoke to a 20 degree
morning. We were very happy that we had well insolated our Dursmirg because now we were warm, comfortable and
cozy inside our new home.)
Above one of the bridges we had to open that was written up in “Ripley’s Believe it or Not”. The bridge’
s claim to fame was that this lift bridge was inclined and higher at one end than the other and
maintained that precarious angle when opened…for what ever its worth, “you now have the rest of the
story”.
Jane is dressed for the cold Upstate New York fall weather as she prepares to fend off the lock wall on
our descent to the next level. Ahead you can see the rolling hills that we were traveling through.
Several times in this journey we would be boating along the canal and be able to peer out and down into
the adjacent valley and see farmers tilling their fields. Another place a river runs under the canal.
From the photo you can see that we were not always alone in the locks and many times we would have a
push-boat and barge as neighbors in the lock. This time it happened to be one of those multi-million
dollar pleasure yachts that a friend of ours always referred to as, “water-cars”. He also used to say that,
“sand-gnats and water-cars had the same level of consciousness.”
The fall colors had definitely begun to affect the trees after our cold 20-degree morning that changed
our “Indian-summer” into an early winter. We saw some snow flakes in the air before we were off the
Erie Barge canal on the 15th of October.
.
If you consider that our vessel weighed 20 tons, that is forty thousand pounds, (more than the weight of eight full
sized automobiles combined). Then think of this weight beginning to move and your only control and brake is the
rope you must make fast to whatever you can and pay it out under control. It was humanly impossible to put your
foot out to the dock to stop it when it was moving at all. Diverting it just a little took an incredible amount of physical
force. Even the wind pressure against the hull could easily create enough force to make it totally unmanageable. We
heard a story of a workman whose hard hat fell off and when he tried to retrieve it from alongside the barge he was
working on he was decapitated merely due to the force of the wind blowing on his vessel.
Well, we encountered several severe windstorms and we were happy to at least be in the relatively protected waters
of the canal when they hit us. Crossing the lakes on the canal system was always stormy and rough.
The most intense windstorm on the canal system occurred as we were approaching the city of Rome, New York. We
had just crossed Lake Oneida where the winds had already begun to build. I am not sure of just how strong the
winds actually got that day but we witnessed large trees blow down across the canal directly in front of our boat. As
we entered the city of Rome and approached the lock that we would spend that night at we witnessed a good-sized
houseboat completely overwhelmed by the force of the wind. It was being swept along and out of control. The
operator was using all the power that his vessel had but it was swept downstream in the direction of the spillway
overflow of the lock. As we helplessly watched this near tragedy happen before our eyes, the captain of the vessel
managed to run aground in amongst the trees just before the drop of the spillway.
Oh, by the way!
Here is a letter that a friend of ours, John Gray, wrote the following year about our encounter in Rome,
New York that day of the windstorm.
Jane and I met John Gray and his brother in the fall of 1972 on the Erie barge canal in Upstate New
York. We were transiting the canal on our way to the Atlantic Ocean from our homeport of Superior,
Wisconsin in our forty six-foot motor sailing vessel, Dursmirg.
1974 Saint Augustine, Florida; A SHORT STORY BY JOHN R .GRAY
A CONCRETE CASE
“It was a cold and scuddy day in mid October. Oneida Lake tossed up a chop of white-capped water. We were glad
to spot a black blob far ahead, and know that some other foolhardy boater was out there with us. It turns out to be a
strange looking craft which acted more like a fixed installation than a boat, not riding up and down with the waves,
but moving steadily ahead without a pitch or roll. On her transom we could make out gothic lettering: Dursmirg. The
seal-skinned as we stared our way ahead.
Oneida Lake is a component of the N.Y. State Erie Canal. At its eastern end are locks, which lift traffic up to the
divide between Oneida and the Mohawk waters. There the frugal lockmaster could see the monster far behind, and
waited to put us through together. When it eventually moved in, a little girl (all I could see was a red nose protruding
from her parka) climbed the wall to handle the locking lines. We were soon out and on, getting as far as Rome, New
York to tie up for the night at a Public Work’s Department wall.
That night was like the Arctic. Next morning, a quarter inch of frost on the fore deck made white velvet carpet. I
jumped ashore and shivered, noticing then, the monster tied up astern. The skipper at his chores was evidently
touched by my half-frozen appearance, as he asked if I would care to come aboard for coffee and kuchen. He said
his cabin was warm and cozy. I was eager to get south and said no thanks. We pushed off.
Another year, now in Saint Augustine: I looked out the window of my home one morning, and there anchored in the
bay, was that same black monster. . Now came the time and occasion for hospitality and friendship.
Dursmirg is their name spelled back wards; John and Jane Grimsrud. Here is their nautical story insofar as it has
come out of our casual conversation. I am not writing for publication, nor have I discussed this with them, but I think
what I say would be approved.
Their hometown of Superior, Wisconsin, alongside Duluth, is where the big ore boats move in and out with the
greatest bulk of cargo shipped on the seven seas. It is a very high powered port. Such would have been their
background scenery, but such is not the background of their life. They were on dry land, in business in which
success was adequate to permit retirement in their thirties to chase the bug that bit them. The Power Squadron
provided nautical education. They both have “Advanced Piloting” degrees, probably even “Celestial Navigation”.
These are difficult disciplines. They both are also mechanically inclined, and to build their own boat came naturally.
There is a great deal more to a boat than the hull, but it is the hull of the Dursmirg that has attracted the most
attention. It is concrete. In 1971, which is the year that I think that the back yard project went into operation,
concrete was less common than now. I do not understand the construction, but I do know it is a matter of preparing a
rather rigidly supported framework of steel mash reinforcing to which the concrete is applied. They hired a crew of
professional plasterers who had to work with out interruption, once started, as the whole hull must one monolithic
mass. It sounds like Cellini pouring his Pursus. I understand it was an occasion that attracted a considerable
following. It floated. The owners went right to work on rigging.
When I first encountered them on Oneida Lake, it was October of 1972.
They were headed south on their maiden cruise, but I think by then, would already be considered veterans. They
had sailed the stormy seas of Lake Superior, Huron, and Erie at the season when pleasure boats are usually hauled
out for the winter. Sliding down the Saint Clair and Detroit rivers, I understand, can be a sleigh ride, and Erie’s locks,
I know, can tax your muscles and your know-how. (There are 38 locks between buffalo and Albany.)
Now, adventure has become a way of life. Living aboard, they live off the sea, largely. They move somewhat with the
seasons, and somewhat with the mood, from Key West to Daufuskie Island, South Carolina, stopping in Saint
Augustine which is sort of a homeport. As I am writing, I can see that they are both aboard because the dinghy rides
astern. Moored nearby is a fleet of varied style and vintage. I see a little well-used sloop carrying a name that would
be an honor to any anchorage; JOSHUA SLOCUM. It’s a dividend of romance. JRG (John Gray)
Back to our travels;
Jane was wearing down and we asked if Tom Callahan wouldn’t come over to lend us a hand for a couple of days.
Tom had been complaining about the food aboard George Swan’s boat where there was no refrigeration and Tom
told us about the green fuzzy hot dogs covered with mold that George merely wiped off and cooked for each meal.
So, Tom came to our rescue and Jane did the same for Tom with her good cooking…I believe that Tom’s heath
definitely improved aboard our boat.
We said “good-by” to Tom at Utica, New York. We also said “see you later” and yes we have kept in contact with him
and his families over all these years and to this day exchange e-mails.
Tom’s departure was very unusual, we just slowed the boat as we passed a canal work dock and Tom took a big
jump. We then threw his suitcase over and waved. Tom had an unusual adventure and we made a fine friend.
This trip across the Erie Canal was not just following the confines of the canal. We crossed Lake Oneida and the
Finger Lakes famous for their many wineries and beautiful majestic surrounding hills.
A letter Jane wrote to her parents
1972 Oct 12
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel;
Thank you so much for the birthday cards you sent us. We just got them about a week ago. It was nice to get the
letters. It doesn’t seem like I am so far away when we keep in touch. We are at Fonda, NY on the Erie Canal. It’s a
real beautiful trip, but quite a lot of work because we have 35 locks to go thru. The canal goes thru the mountains
and at times we are up above the valley. It’s so beautiful the leaves are changing colors and it’s mostly farm lands
that we are going thru. We have had two real cold nights of 20 degrees. The frost was real thick on the deck but we
keep nice and warm inside. It’s warm today but rainy so we are not traveling today. Progress is slow on the canal.
The speed limit is 8 miles an hour and it takes a lot of time to get through the locks. I’m really looking forward to
getting south. Only a few more days and we will be in the Atlantic Ocean.
I was glad to hear that Dads doing a lot better.
People have given us a lot of tomatoes, cucumbers and apples along the way. I made another apple pie today. We’
ve been working on the boat today- there is always something to do. We had to take the mast down in Buffalo, New
York because the bridges on the canal are too low and don’t open.
I don’t really have too much time to write lately. We’ve been keeping so busy. I’ve even lost some weight.
Write when you get a chance. Only 1400 more miles to Miami.
Love Jane and Bing
Say hi to everyone for us.
October 16th was our last day on the Erie Canal. We would descend 160 feet this morning, in a series of five locks
and emerge in the tidal waters of the Hudson River at sea level. When clearance was given to enter this set of the
last five locks we would be not encountering any oncoming traffic. The boats had to move through these locks in
one direction because there was no maneuvering room. One lock led directly to the next, and so on all the way down
the side of this hill. I felt like a skier pushing off and heading down a steep slope.
Once on the Hudson River, we passed Troy and Albany, and it was downstream all the way to New York City. We
were finally in a tidal influenced body of water. We were 150 miles from the Atlantic Ocean and the tidal difference
here was nine hours out of phase with the mouth of the Hudson River. The tide enters the river in a “tidal wave” that
moved steadily upstream and this would take nine hours to reach Troy, New York where we entered the river. The
receding “tidal wave” had the same action in reverse. Because these waves start in the river approximately every12
hours you can see that the wave action becomes confused along the way as the two high tides converge on the
same point at the same time. Also the low tides can meet at some point and cause an extra low tide. Figuring out the
tides and currents on the Hudson River could be a real challenge.
The next order of business was to find a place that we could tie up for the night that would have equipment for
stepping our mast.
The first place we tried near Rensselaer was uncooperative and wanted a huge sum of money for dockage plus
putting the mast up there was not convenient. The dock master did however tell us of a yacht club downriver at
Castleton-on-Hudson that had reasonable dockage rates and a do-it-yourself boom crane for putting up masts. That
was our next stop.
We made arrangements to pull our vessel into the slip where the boom crane was located and began our mast
raising. The process was not complicated but it was imperative that all the shrouds and stay cables plus the
halyards were running clear and not tangled before we started up with the mast. A sling around the mast secured
below the spreaders with a retriever line was placed on the mast and also a double tailing line. When the mast was
hoisted skyward and up high enough so that the base could then be pulled down and positioned over the mast step,
(deck fitting for the mast), the mast was then merely lowered into place. Then tailing lines were used by two people
on deck to guide the mast into its proper position. That sounds easy, well, it is, and we have done it before.
Well, this day there were several problems; the first was that a 40 knot wind was blowing that made holding the mast
steady in position physically impossibility. After 20 minutes of frustration I went to see why the boom crane
operators were not maintaining the position of the crane steady enough so that Jane and I could secure the
shrouds. When I saw that they were attempting to secure the boom crane with a one half inch nylon rope that
stretched with each gust of wind I immediately went to get my two ton cable come-along. That proved to be the
answer and in spite of the howling wind, we had the mast secured in less than five minutes. We were then ready to
get out of there and let the next boat in line step their mast.
I ran down and cranked the engine; put the boat in reverse and nothing happened. We were aground and the tide
was about to give us our first taste of its influence over boaters. It was late at night before we finally got out of there.
Almost twelve hours passed before we floated and then moved.
The photo tells a lot of the story of our condition at low tide. Note the boom crane
October 17th, 1972 was a cold, dark and wind day as we continued our trip down the Hudson on our way to the
sea. The scenery was beautiful in the extreme and we loved the historic landmarks like in the next photo of the
military academy located on the hills along the Hudson at West Point.
The Catskill Mountains added to the rugged beauty and the photos on these dark days did not reveal that the
leaves had all turned their bright fall colors.
Ahead was Bear Mountain and we were headed almost due south along the Hudson River, which had been our
intention from the very beginning of our entire project.
It was after dark this day before we found a dock to tie for the night at Rogers Point, Hyde Park. We didn’t see a soul
but they had security lights and the place was very quiet. It was also very cold and off-season for boating in this part
of the world. That made the trip even nicer for us because we had wanted to escape to places that were uncluttered
by people and without the rush just to get someplace. And as I had told Jane, “anywhere we were together we were
home”. And our old friend, Lance Burn, also used to say, “People are like cattle in cold weather, they herd up”.
October 18th we continued downstream headed for New York City. We had discussed a visit to the city and
decided that perhaps it would be best to dock north of the city and take the train in to see the sights. We decided to
look in the neighborhood of Hastings on the Hudson for dockage.
As we approached the big bridge ahead four youngsters came out on to the bridge with their bicycles and waved us
a welcome. We waved back and as we got directly under the bridge we were bombarded with rocks the size of
cement blocks. I didn’t realize what was happening at first and it was very fortunate we weren’t hit or that those rocks
hadn’t hit any of our deck-top port-lights. This game was not child’s play and if either one of us had been hit, we
more than likely would have been killed.
That incident was a wake up call to us to be extra cautious because we were definitely entering a high crime area.
October 19th we were at the commuter train station early, it was only a block from the marina where we had docked
the boat.
After boarding the train we found our seats and as we looked around we were amazed at the regulars that made this
trip a daily routine.
Most of the passengers were well-dressed businessmen with their briefcases and some with their newspapers.
None had a smile and most dozed off into a half trans-like sleep. Like programmed robots as they approached their
exit station, they somehow awakened and then shuffled off the train. The men reading their newspapers never
looked up or out and some how instinctively departed at their station as though they were in some sort of a hypnotic
trance. Jane and I both were happy and thankful that this was not going to be our lot in life. If we could do just about
anything else with our lives that would be somehow rewarding, fulfilling and meaningful we would then consider
ourselves to have succeeded in life. We took pity on these poor, shallow lives that were merely counting down the
days until retirement and then waiting for their last gasp without a dream.
We got off our train at Grand Central Station on 42nd Street. It was a cold, dark and windy day with a light snow
coming down as we ventured out onto the street.
We had decided that the very best thing for us to do first was to take a city bus tour.
We were slightly apprehensive about the city because of all of the precautions we had been given about street
crimes.
Less than a block from the station someone grabbed Jane on the shoulder and she instinctively went into a very
defensive mode. Who could possibly know us in this distant place on a busy street corner? Well, it took a second
but then it came to us. This was the couple from London, Ontario, Pat and David that we had met on the Erie Barge
Canal and later at Castleton-on-Hudson where we stepped our mast. The boating community was a close-knit group
as we were finding out and over the years we were part of that special bunch of people that took a different road in
life.
The city tour was worth the price and we were very surprised that we didn’t even have to look for where the tour
began. As we stood on the street gazing at the many wondrous sights that this very famous city was filled with,
someone came to us soliciting the Gray Line City tour that would be departing from that very spot in a matter of
minutes.
As we were riding around to the East River and past the United Nations building we happened to look down and see
a friend’s boat tied there at the ship’s museum near to the Fulton Fish market.
We knew that if our friend George Thurston had his boat tied there it had to be a good spot and we couldn’t wait
until the next day to come and visit them.
Before we boarded our commuter train that afternoon to return to our boat we made a long walk around the
downtown section of town and found a nautical supply company where we purchased the charts that we would need
to venture out into the Atlantic Ocean and head south.
This time of year the days were getting short on sunlight at these latitudes and by the time we finally got back
aboard our boat that night it was good and dark. It didn’t take long to heat the cabin of our boat when Jane fired up
our diesel galley range and I must admit the heat felt good.
As soon as we could get away the next morning we were under way headed for the East River and the ship’s
museum.
Docking on the East River proved to be a disaster because the pier was so high the boat went under and bent some
of the stanchions that hold our lifelines. To make things even worse, as we were trying to tie up a tugboat tied at the
next pier cranked up and his stern wash sent our boat to the end of its line and Jane couldn’t make it fast to the
dock. The strong ebb current of the East River was also working against us. Some man standing on the dock,
seeing Jane’s peril, came to give her a hand just in time. But this simple docking maneuver that could have taken a
couple of minutes wound up taking half an hour and I would have some repair work that I didn’t need straightening
those bent stanchions!
Once docked, we got together with our friends George and Bella Thurston aboard their boat, “By George” that we
had seen the day before as we were on the city bus tour.
Oh, by the way!
George was retired military and had just been working at a marina up on the Great Lakes and decided it was time
for the family to make a change in their residence. So, they packed their family aboard their boat and were making
the transition cross-country by boat which we thought was a novel way of travel and a wonderful opportunity to see
the countryside and also have the family together at the same time. George and Bella were traveling from Ohio to
Virginia with their two teenage children to start a new life in a new town. We met them up on the Erie Barge Canal
and passed through a lot of the locks together and even docked at some of the same places several times. I can’t
ever forget one incident that happened as we were all traveling together on the Erie Barge Canal and that was when
Bella had just put their dinner on the table and some huge “pleasure yacht” came by leaving a destructive wake that
sent all of their prepared food to the floor. At the next lock wouldn’t you know it, we were all together in the lock at
the same time with that jack-ass that couldn’t or wouldn’t mind the speed limit of the canal system. George and I
went to the lockmaster and protested the behavior of that obnoxious boater. The rule was that speeders would be
held back from locking through with the rest and have to wait another turn. The lock master was reluctant but both
Jane and Bella became insistent and sure enough the lockmaster turned back the “jack-ass”. That was just a small
measure of justice.
Back to New York City;
That afternoon we all struck off together, George, Bella and their two kids Ruth and George Jr. plus Jane and I, to
see more of New York City.
We were on a walking tour and went to China Town, up to the top of the Empire State Building and many of the local
ethnic neighborhoods. We rode the subway, walked in the parks, visited several museums, went to the public library
and just mingled with the New Yorkers, which filled the day to its limit with activities.
New York City, photo taken from southeastern Manhattan Island adjacent to the Fulton Fish Market at
the Ships Museum looking northeast up the East River with the Brooklyn Bridge foreground. Photo by
John M. Grimsrud;
This spectacular sight was just one of thousands that Jane and I were able to enjoy over the years from the deck of
our new home the Dursmirg.
October 21st I went out on the street early on that Sunday morning at the Fulton Fish Market that was adjacent to
the dock we were tied to. I was looking for a plumbing part I needed to repair a leaking lube oil cooling system line
from our hydraulic reverse gear. In this huge impersonal city, I met a man that was sympathetic to my plight and
gave me a ride to a parts store that was open on Sunday morning and then he waited for me to purchase the part I
needed and drove me back to the boat. We were impressed and thankful to find such a decent and helpful person.
He refused any money and just told me to enjoy my adventure…so, thanks again to a stranger that made our trip
such a memorable experience.
In less than a half hour I had the new part installed, torqued and tested. We were now ready to take our departure
and ride the ebb tide into yet another dimension of completely new circumstances that would open the boundless
horizons of the world beyond.
It was a cold clear day and fall had defiantly sealed its icy grip on this part of the world that it would not release until
the following spring.
We were for the first time in our lives in a position to escape the cold of the northern winter and slip off into the land
of tropical balmy briny breezes.
In the photo above you can see the view we encountered that cold fall morning as we ventured out into
the Hudson River looking back at New York City.
“The lady”, that had greeted countless immigrants to America over the years this day seemed to be
waving to us, our “good-by”.
This far the trip had been exciting and rewarding with all of the people we had met and strange and interesting ports
we had visited along the way.
Next, it was into the great Atlantic Ocean. We were past the “Statue of Liberty” and with the first salt spray to cross
the decks of the Dursmirg; we knew we had made it!
The whole idea of sailing to this place had seemed as far away as the moon when we were both working at our jobs,
going to school three nights a week and putting this twenty ton dream together back in Superior, Wisconsin.
next chapter
(Onward and downward we went. Two of the locks we
traversed were actually up locks and this made a special
challenge because I had to put Jane off of the boat a block or
two before the lock so that she could then run ahead up
upon the lock wall and pass me down a mooring line which I
would have to handle completely by myself. I thought long
and hard about the logistics of this maneuver. Then I devised
an ingenious system whereby I belayed one end of the
mooring line to the bow that would then pass around one of
the mooring bollards on the lock wall and then led the other
end down to the stern where I could then pay it in as needed
when the boat began its ascent. . With this maneuver I was in
control of the bow and stern lines at the same time. I was like
the one-man-band. I controlled the end of the mooring line
and kept it sufficiently tight to keep the vessel held against
the lock wall and at the same time with a pike pole fended off.
I occasionally slipped the boat into gear to maintain its
position in the turbulent currents created in the lock as the
water was discharged. Another concern was upon leaving the
locks, other vessels would many times discharge a
destructive wake when they powered up to leave. One more
challenge was that outside the lock chambers the spillway
waters often times came pouring into the canal and would
seriously divert your vessels course unexpectedly.
traversed were actually up locks and this made a special
challenge because I had to put Jane off of the boat a block or
two before the lock so that she could then run ahead up
upon the lock wall and pass me down a mooring line which I
would have to handle completely by myself. I thought long
and hard about the logistics of this maneuver. Then I devised
an ingenious system whereby I belayed one end of the
mooring line to the bow that would then pass around one of
the mooring bollards on the lock wall and then led the other
end down to the stern where I could then pay it in as needed
when the boat began its ascent. . With this maneuver I was in
control of the bow and stern lines at the same time. I was like
the one-man-band. I controlled the end of the mooring line
and kept it sufficiently tight to keep the vessel held against
the lock wall and at the same time with a pike pole fended off.
I occasionally slipped the boat into gear to maintain its
position in the turbulent currents created in the lock as the
water was discharged. Another concern was upon leaving the
locks, other vessels would many times discharge a
destructive wake when they powered up to leave. One more
challenge was that outside the lock chambers the spillway
waters often times came pouring into the canal and would
seriously divert your vessels course unexpectedly.
