Progress - Day 91: Fort Plain to Waterton, NY

Today I discovered that no one minded my camping spot because camping was formally allowed at any of the 30+ locks along the canal, meaning that I had been carefully hiding my sleeping spots for no reason. I guess that's what I get for being too demoralized to research anything. It was convenient that I was allowed to be there, because I had trouble getting motivated to actually leave. I woke up late, and finally got moving after a large drop-bug ambushed me from a tree, landing with a loud "thunk" on the tarp I had sloppily thrown over myself to protect from some light rain. It was some kind of caterpillar, yellow and fluffy. I flicked it away from beneath the tarp and it exploded into a cloud of tiny yellow hairs that I figured I shouldn't breathe. Sorry buddy.

My knees were finally feeling mostly better, thanks to the flatness of the canal. This was actually the first day I managed to avoid taking painkillers more than once since I'd left Chicago. I forgot to mention that my knee problems were another motivation to follow the canal instead of taking straighter roads.

I loaded up on food at a particular Family Dollar for two reasons: one, I'd learned that they have a lot of cheap, calorie-dense food. Two, they had a parking spot just for horse buggies, and I thought that was great. I sat outside next to the horse parking to eat my cheese danish and bananas, and sure enough, a buggy full of women and children pulled up and hurried inside. I sat and ate with the horse. I realized I wasn't sure what horses eat, so instead of becoming pals I just accidentally taunted it with my food. It pointedly used its blinders to block me out once it figured it wasn't getting fed.

The past couple days had given me much poorer roads, but as I approached Albany things began to improve, eventually becoming paved again. More water scenery showed up, too, as the canal and Mohawk River -- I wasn't sure whether they were the same thing all the time -- became less decisive in their courses.

Technically, you're supposed to call ahead to ask about camping at a lock, so I actually did that for Waterton instead of just inviting myself in. I arrived with time to spare and camped outside the visitor's center, bracing for an incoming storm while answering a barrage of questions from some local kids. I have to admit that I enjoyed the company, especially since they seemed to really appreciate that I showed up to kill some boredom. They wanted me to hang out at a local diner later, and insisted that I stay for something called the Tugboat Roundup tomorrow.

I found the diner they mentioned, but didn't find the kids anywhere. The place was great, though. Nothing had changed in many years, including the prices. It felt like a truck stop for dockworkers, where everyone was just surly enough to give you space but not enough to be actively unpleasant. The food was prepared to match, making no effort to hide the use of sliced American cheese, or to include any frivolous spices. If you had a problem with it, that was your issue. I had no problem, because no one cared when a scruffy dude like me sat down for two hours, plugged a mess of wires into the wall, and took his sweet time working through two cheese omelets, a soft pretzel, and a large bowl of rice pudding just trying to exceed the minimum credit card purchase.

I went back to my tent and buckled down for a very intense storm that lasted about 20 minutes before completely clearing up again. I was proud of how well everything held up since it hadn't been seriously tested for a while. I probably could have picked a better spot, though, because I did end up digging a small trench to redirect water around my tent and keep things from flooding. I went to sleep after the storm passed.