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                Part One To Part Two To Part Three To Part Four To Part Five To Part Six Stage 3: Watertown NY to Mackinac Island MI 
                Entering Ontario Provence was another culture shock. All things 
                French, including language, abruptly disappeared. Went looking 
                for moose. Didn't see any. Saw a Timber Wolf, though: standing 
                in water up to his haunches and staring at me as I puttered by. 
                 
                  |  | The last half of this leg was in big waters 
                    with a lee shore. Difficult, but doable. |  
                 
                  |  | A railway lock. It's like being on the top 
                    of a roller coaster. |  
                 
                  |  | Sometimes the view is idylic... ...and sometimes there's no view at all. [Does not enlarge] |  
                 
                  |  | And sometimes it's just too bumpy. |  
                 
                  |  | Eakins |  Stage 4: Mackinac Island MI to Grafton IL The 
                Northern half of Lake Michigan, for hundreds of miles, is magnificent, 
                panoramic, and totally unspoiled. The only sign of human impact 
                revealed itself one day while running close inshore; I spotted 
                ahead the rotting pilings of a long ago dock. Surprising, since 
                their is no protection on this windward shore from the prevailing 
                West winds, and I had seen no other boats, big or small, for several 
                days. As I drew closer, I was even more surprised to see some 
                of the pilings seem to shift positions as much as a foot or so. 
                Finally, all was revealed as the pilings turned out to be not 
                pilings at all but dozens of people standing in water up to their 
                chest in more or less a straight line stretching out into the 
                lake. Who they are, where they came from, how they got there, 
                I don't know. The dunes leading down to the bay are hundreds of 
                feet tall, some of the largest in the world, and there are no 
                roads on this part of the coast. As I swung out and around them, 
                not one payed me the slightest bit of attention, but I liked them 
                immediately; I pictured this band of people finding their way 
                to the dunes, climbing or sliding down the hundreds of near vertical 
                feet to the white sand beach, and wading out into the water to 
                just - stand, on a hot day. I projected this image to the early 
                evening when I imagined they would leave the waters, climb back 
                up and over the dunes and disappear leaving behind only footprints 
                in the sand. 
                 
                  |  | I just saw one of those pilings move. |  
                 
                  |  | The magnificent sand dunes of Lake Michigan. |  
                 
                  |  | Beached at Aux Sable Point Lake Michigan. |  
                 
                  |  | Kite Flying in Little Traverse Bay MI. |  
                 
                  |  | Chicago! |  
                 
                  |  | Frank Gehry. Peoria IL |  
                 
                  |  | Why bridge builders need designers. These two 
                    are within a half mile of each other. |  
                 
                  |  | This classic Karmahn Ghia has apparently just 
                    been pulled from the river. Notice the rapt attention the three guys are paying to the 
                    girl.
 |  
                 
                  |  | "Pretend you don't see him; he's just
 going to ask us
 if we have any
 spare change". Me
 |  Stage 5: Grafton IL to Nashville TN. A short 
                layover in Grafton found me in a nice pickle: I had left the boat 
                in a little lagoon fed by the Illinois, and on returning discovered 
                the water level had dropped by four feet, leaving me high, dry 
                and several hundred feet from the river. However, my luck holds; 
                several people showed up to lend a hand. The first was Kenny, 
                who has a combination Bookstore and Barborshop on Main Street, 
                then Tom Foster, from the Kayak rental place across the flats. 
                His idea was to get a couple more guys, unload the boat to lighten 
                it, and carry it a few feet to firm ground and a trailer he would 
                provide. We were in the process of figuring what this would cost 
                when (my new best friend) Steve, a lineman for the county, shows 
                up with a friend and a Bobcat (the Bobcat is a forklift on tracks). 
                We were back on the river in twenty minutes and they wouldn't 
                take a penny for their efforts. I'll have fond memories of Grafton. The Illinois joins the Mississippi just below Grafton. The current 
                kicks up to four plus knots and it can get quite turbulent at 
                times with eddies, whirlpools, and rapids. These are not a problem, 
                but not particularly comfortable either. Leaving the Mississippi for the Ohio saw my speed over the ground 
                drop abruptly from 10k to 5.5k at half throttle, but the weather 
                was near perfect, and I was in no hurry. 
                 
                  |  | Where the boat was. |  
                 
                  |  | The Mississippi current. |  
                 
                  |  | The St. Louis Arch. Quite impressive. |    ***** 
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