Fishermen test their luck in the Erie Canal. After we rescued our friend Janice from the horrors of our first lock experience, Captain John pulled our boat, Fantessy, to the side of the canal and pulled out a book of maps. Being a wise man, he had decided that Janice needed time to calm down, and we needed to know where we were going.

"I have decided," Captain John said in an authoritative manner, "that we should head for Rochester, about 50 miles away. Along the way we should stop at Clyde, Lyons, Newark, and Fairport. But, first, we have to navigate from the Cayuga/ Seneca Canal to the Erie Canal."

Captain John pointed out, "Locks on the main Erie Canal are designated by the letter E, i.e. Lock E25. Locks on the adjoining Cayuga- Seneca Canal used CS, i.e. Lock CS 2&3, our first lock where we almost lost Janice. We have one more lock on the Cayuga- Seneca Canal (Lock CS1), then we move into the real Erie Canal in about an hour."

FantTehsesy anticipation on the swelled. Captain John pushed the speed up to five miles per hour and away we went. I took my appointed seat at the bow with camera in hand. Linda went below deck to prepare a pot of tea. Janice took a nap.

Linda in the galley preparing a pot of tea. We cruised along, the only boat in sight. The Cayuga/Seneca Canal was about three boats wide. On the south side were docks and the backyards of homes that faced the adjacent highway. Large cottonwood trees hung over the canal dripping their fluff into the water. On the north side was a wildlife preserve, mostly marshland with small canals connecting with our canal. Small groups of fishermen sat on the bank casting into the water.

"Having any luck?" I asked.

"Nope."

Lock 25, our first on the Erie Canal, was a real experience. Captain John spoke to the lockmaster on the phone, " Fantessy from Seneca Falls requests permission to enter lock. We are heading west toward Clyde."

Fan"teWsesylcome to Lock 25, . The gates are open. Proceed on green light."

According to the Lock E25 sign, we were at Mays Point, NY. The lock would lift us six feet from 374 to 380 feet above sea level. The next lock, E26, was 5.84 miles away. The town of Clyde was just beyond the lock.

Linda poses in front of the Lock E25 lockmaster's house. The lockmaster came out of his white cement house and spoke with us as we moved into the lock, pretending to be old hands at it. I took up station in the bow, Linda in the stern. Both of us grabbed the cable with our grappling hooks like pros.

The gates closed behind us. The water rose six feet, the gates in front of us opened, and we sailed out gracefully. Captain John pulled to the dockside, and we leapt ashore to check things out.

The four canalistas explored the dockmaster's house and the nearby fish camp full of tiny cabins and pickup trucks. We visited the campstore hoping to watch victorious fishermen scale and clean their catch.

"Have any luck?" I asked a group of burly men and bulbous women leaning on fishing poles.

"Nope." Our next stop was Clyde.