Ontario Lake Crossing
Caution: No one should attempt a crossing like this without proper research, experience, and planning . These paddlers spent many weeks training for this event on the Finger Lakes. Conditions in large open-water environments can get extremely treacherous very quickly.
Lake Ontario Crossing
Written by Paul Conklin
(Sodus Pt. USA to Pt. Pertre Canada)
July 27th & 28th , 2010
41 miles
Paul Conklin (Hemlock SRT)
Harold Deal (Hemlock SRT)
Gary Marble (Hemlock SRT)
Crossing Photos by Paul
Twenty-seven years ago, George Marble mentioned that he would like to paddle across Lake Ontario in a canoe. His son Gary was a young teenager at the time. George's dream was never fulfilled but his son never forgot his father's wish.
In the spring of 2010, Gary, now 42 years old began to make inquiries on the feasibility of accomplishing this dad's desire. He talked with Dave Curtis who believed that a small group with the right canoes, favorable weather and an accompanying powerboat could safely make such an attempt. There is no question that Mr. Curtis (the owner of Hemlock Canoe) saw an opportunity to promote his business by sponsoring Gary's endeavor. However, anyone who has come to know Dave and Carol Curtis would know that helping people is their first goal.
Ideas were now gathering in an eddy of Gary's stream of thoughts. A business manager himself he linked his paddling desires with an effort to raise dollars for a cancer support organization to which he has personal gratitude. It became a win-win for everyone involved.
One of the most accomplished paddlers on the planet, canoe designer and all around nice guy, Harold Deal was invited to participate. He clearly saw the good in the endeavor and was of great assistance in preparing for the adventure. I'm sure he also saw it as an opportunity to check off yet another accomplishment on his long list of paddling achievements.
I was invited because I owned an SRT. The cancer cause is noble and I hope that my participation somehow helped generate donations but I will freely admit that I selfishly wanted the chance to learn from Harold and to begin my own list of paddling achievements.
I can only speak for myself but preparing for this event has pretty much dominated my paddling activities for the 2010 season. I logged over 300 miles in the SRT in practice and conditioning, favoring it over my other canoes. Night, marathon or windy lake paddles, always challenging myself, especially in adverse conditions.
I have learned much from Harold about how the SRT can be manipulated for advantage. Detractors will criticize its features as flaws attempting to pigeonhole its usage to a specific task. The SRT is a versatile canoe highly capable in a variety of conditions. Paddler comfort, safety and gear capacity are three of its major features.
Because of participant availability, lunar illumination and the sage advice of a few fishermen the last week in July was targeted for this undertaking. We began to study the websites of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration along with the Meteorological Services of Canada, looking for an acceptable weather window. The longest periods of calm would usually start in the evening and carry through to the next morning. We were looking for a minimum of fifteen hours with one-foot waves or less and wind speeds that did not exceeding 10 knots, preferably out of the SW. Predictions for the 27th & 28th were looking good so countdown procedures were initiated.
The departure was from Sodus Point. With pre-launch preparations, the paddle itself and then the return ferry home we were anticipating thirty plus hours without sleep. Harold had a six-hour drive so he arrived a day early to allow a proper rest period. The rest of us gathered on the Point at 2pm on the 27th. We were ready to depart an hour later and set out at 3:10 pm. This was two hours earlier than originally planned but the weather was acceptable and predicted to improve.
Ontario's surface area is the smallest of the five Great Lakes, it holds a little over 7% of the entire system's water. Despite its relative small size to the likes of Superior and Michigan its 7500 sq. miles of vastness is frightening from the seat of a 15-foot canoe. This was the first time I had ever been on one of the Great Lakes in any kind of a boat, and there I was attempting to paddle across forty miles of open water.
I have to admit that entering into this endeavor; I had a few apprehensions, first with my abilities and another with safety. Several marathon paddles on
the Finger Lakes settled the ability question. The safety concerns were alleviated with the knowledge that a large powerboat would be accompanying
us. We also had the technology of satellite weather information as well as communication and navigation devices only recently available to the small time adventurer.
I have already mentioned the fear of gazing into the vast nothingness that was before us. I should also point out the breathtaking beauty of the calm water and cloudless sky. The only geometry to be detected was from the water's rippled surface and it's intersect with the horizon. If it is true that the color blue can ease tension and calm the riled emotions within us, we were surely in a mellow state of mind. The setting sun reflected only two very soothing hues of this color.
Our escort would allow us to paddle past them, and then, before we were out of sight, motor ahead. This leapfrogging technique worked well and gave us a greater sense of being alone on the lake. That said, the rumbling roar of its inboard engine powering pass every forty minutes or so was a welcome sound, especially in the darkness of the night.
The timing of this journey was scheduled to take advantage of a full moon. Only moments after the illumination of the sun was lost, the glowing red orb of our lunar satellite was peeking over the southeastern horizon. By 10:00pm, it was high enough and bright enough to cast a shimmering silver stripe on the water behind us. It gave us reason to pause and look over our right shoulder from time to time.
A simultaneous sunset and moonrise coincided with the border crossing, which, we imagined to be at the halfway point or 20 miles into our journey. Soon thereafter, at about 10:30 the first glimpse of what we thought to be Canada occurred. It was a flashing red light in perfect alignment to our GPS heading. We were certain it was our destination at Pt. Petre. Reaching the halfway point and having something on the horizon was a tremendous psychological lift.
By midnight, our calm seas were becoming a bit more textured. Conditions slowly deteriorated as the wind shifted from the south to the west. At 2am, waves were guessed to be in the one to two foot range, still very much within our comfort range.
Our single flashing red beacon was now a cluster of red lights. My first impression was that the lights followed the outline of a large ship but as we neared, it was evident that they were indeed on land. We had arrived but were still several miles out. It won't become official until some part of the canoe touches Canada.
Harold spotted a singular flashing white light lower than all the red ones. It was in line with his GPS coordinates so he surmised that it must be the Pt. Petre light station and we paddled directly for it. In the moonlight, its red and white Cat-In-The Hat hat appearance became clear.
We each approached the shore at different points. I was hoping to land the canoe and actually step out to plant the flag but wave action against an uncertain shoreline in the darkness precluded that idea. I felt my paddle blade tick something below the surface and accepted that as reasonable contact with the country. My paddle blade tick came at approximately 4:30am or 13.5 hours after leaving Sodus Point. My GPS odometer read 41.3 miles.
The ferry home took longer than expected due to the deteriorating conditions. By the time the canoes were loaded waves were in the 3 to 4 foot range and they did not diminish. We averaged less than 10 MPH on the trip back.
This adventure is amongst the most exciting of my life. so far. Not for its difficulty but from the "YOU DID WHAT ?" reaction I get at the barbershop. I am glad I got over my apprehensions and stuck to the plan. I know that Gary and I both feel that it's done and it won't have to happen again. Harold on the other hand is probably already planning an east west Hamilton to Henderson adventure.
In the spring of 2010, Gary, now 42 years old began to make inquiries on the feasibility of accomplishing this dad's desire. He talked with Dave Curtis who believed that a small group with the right canoes, favorable weather and an accompanying powerboat could safely make such an attempt. There is no question that Mr. Curtis (the owner of Hemlock Canoe) saw an opportunity to promote his business by sponsoring Gary's endeavor. However, anyone who has come to know Dave and Carol Curtis would know that helping people is their first goal.
Ideas were now gathering in an eddy of Gary's stream of thoughts. A business manager himself he linked his paddling desires with an effort to raise dollars for a cancer support organization to which he has personal gratitude. It became a win-win for everyone involved.
One of the most accomplished paddlers on the planet, canoe designer and all around nice guy, Harold Deal was invited to participate. He clearly saw the good in the endeavor and was of great assistance in preparing for the adventure. I'm sure he also saw it as an opportunity to check off yet another accomplishment on his long list of paddling achievements.
I was invited because I owned an SRT. The cancer cause is noble and I hope that my participation somehow helped generate donations but I will freely admit that I selfishly wanted the chance to learn from Harold and to begin my own list of paddling achievements.
I can only speak for myself but preparing for this event has pretty much dominated my paddling activities for the 2010 season. I logged over 300 miles in the SRT in practice and conditioning, favoring it over my other canoes. Night, marathon or windy lake paddles, always challenging myself, especially in adverse conditions.
I have learned much from Harold about how the SRT can be manipulated for advantage. Detractors will criticize its features as flaws attempting to pigeonhole its usage to a specific task. The SRT is a versatile canoe highly capable in a variety of conditions. Paddler comfort, safety and gear capacity are three of its major features.
Because of participant availability, lunar illumination and the sage advice of a few fishermen the last week in July was targeted for this undertaking. We began to study the websites of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration along with the Meteorological Services of Canada, looking for an acceptable weather window. The longest periods of calm would usually start in the evening and carry through to the next morning. We were looking for a minimum of fifteen hours with one-foot waves or less and wind speeds that did not exceeding 10 knots, preferably out of the SW. Predictions for the 27th & 28th were looking good so countdown procedures were initiated.
The departure was from Sodus Point. With pre-launch preparations, the paddle itself and then the return ferry home we were anticipating thirty plus hours without sleep. Harold had a six-hour drive so he arrived a day early to allow a proper rest period. The rest of us gathered on the Point at 2pm on the 27th. We were ready to depart an hour later and set out at 3:10 pm. This was two hours earlier than originally planned but the weather was acceptable and predicted to improve.
Ontario's surface area is the smallest of the five Great Lakes, it holds a little over 7% of the entire system's water. Despite its relative small size to the likes of Superior and Michigan its 7500 sq. miles of vastness is frightening from the seat of a 15-foot canoe. This was the first time I had ever been on one of the Great Lakes in any kind of a boat, and there I was attempting to paddle across forty miles of open water.
I have to admit that entering into this endeavor; I had a few apprehensions, first with my abilities and another with safety. Several marathon paddles on
the Finger Lakes settled the ability question. The safety concerns were alleviated with the knowledge that a large powerboat would be accompanying
us. We also had the technology of satellite weather information as well as communication and navigation devices only recently available to the small time adventurer.
I have already mentioned the fear of gazing into the vast nothingness that was before us. I should also point out the breathtaking beauty of the calm water and cloudless sky. The only geometry to be detected was from the water's rippled surface and it's intersect with the horizon. If it is true that the color blue can ease tension and calm the riled emotions within us, we were surely in a mellow state of mind. The setting sun reflected only two very soothing hues of this color.
Our escort would allow us to paddle past them, and then, before we were out of sight, motor ahead. This leapfrogging technique worked well and gave us a greater sense of being alone on the lake. That said, the rumbling roar of its inboard engine powering pass every forty minutes or so was a welcome sound, especially in the darkness of the night.
The timing of this journey was scheduled to take advantage of a full moon. Only moments after the illumination of the sun was lost, the glowing red orb of our lunar satellite was peeking over the southeastern horizon. By 10:00pm, it was high enough and bright enough to cast a shimmering silver stripe on the water behind us. It gave us reason to pause and look over our right shoulder from time to time.
A simultaneous sunset and moonrise coincided with the border crossing, which, we imagined to be at the halfway point or 20 miles into our journey. Soon thereafter, at about 10:30 the first glimpse of what we thought to be Canada occurred. It was a flashing red light in perfect alignment to our GPS heading. We were certain it was our destination at Pt. Petre. Reaching the halfway point and having something on the horizon was a tremendous psychological lift.
By midnight, our calm seas were becoming a bit more textured. Conditions slowly deteriorated as the wind shifted from the south to the west. At 2am, waves were guessed to be in the one to two foot range, still very much within our comfort range.
Our single flashing red beacon was now a cluster of red lights. My first impression was that the lights followed the outline of a large ship but as we neared, it was evident that they were indeed on land. We had arrived but were still several miles out. It won't become official until some part of the canoe touches Canada.
Harold spotted a singular flashing white light lower than all the red ones. It was in line with his GPS coordinates so he surmised that it must be the Pt. Petre light station and we paddled directly for it. In the moonlight, its red and white Cat-In-The Hat hat appearance became clear.
We each approached the shore at different points. I was hoping to land the canoe and actually step out to plant the flag but wave action against an uncertain shoreline in the darkness precluded that idea. I felt my paddle blade tick something below the surface and accepted that as reasonable contact with the country. My paddle blade tick came at approximately 4:30am or 13.5 hours after leaving Sodus Point. My GPS odometer read 41.3 miles.
The ferry home took longer than expected due to the deteriorating conditions. By the time the canoes were loaded waves were in the 3 to 4 foot range and they did not diminish. We averaged less than 10 MPH on the trip back.
This adventure is amongst the most exciting of my life. so far. Not for its difficulty but from the "YOU DID WHAT ?" reaction I get at the barbershop. I am glad I got over my apprehensions and stuck to the plan. I know that Gary and I both feel that it's done and it won't have to happen again. Harold on the other hand is probably already planning an east west Hamilton to Henderson adventure.
Lake Ontario Crossing in Solo Open Canoes
A 41 mile open-water overnight paddle in July, 2010
Gary Marble, Paul Conklin, Harold Deal
Gary Marble, Paul Conklin, Harold Deal
by Harold Deal
I woke up in my tent to the sound of birds beginning a new day. A light wind was blowing from the north. Waves were rolling onto the New York shoreline a short walk from my campsite. The date was July 27, 2010. I had driven from Pennsylvania the day before with plans to meet Gary and Paul for a paddle across the middle of Lake Ontario. It would be a few hours before meeting so I headed to the historic light house at Sodus Point for a visit, checked over my
gear list, then monitored the lake conditions and took some time to contemplate what we were planning to embark on.
Gary Marble had the vision for this challenge and benefit Paddle for Breast Cancer. His father and mother had provided the inspiration. Gary had already been in the planning stages with Dave Curtis and other supporters when Paul Conklin and I were contacted to ask if we would be interested in doing the crossing and teaming up for some shake-down paddles on the Finger Lakes. Navigation, wind, night paddling and conditioning were some factors we wanted to be fresh on.
Several weather sites covering the region we would be exposed in were followed for trends and predictions of both weather forecasts and lake conditions. The sites we had been checking for weeks indicated conditions could become favorable sometime on July 27, then change to less favorable again later into the 28th. Another benefit of this time frame would be the full moon, which would aid in reading the wave patterns at night. These reports were watched even closer during the 25th and 26th as well as the hours before we launched on the 27th. Our estimated time to cross was 12 to 15 hours based on prior lake paddles in a range of conditions. The conditions did subside for a near ideal start with only a mild breeze off our bows and modest wave action. We reached the middle of the lake at sunset. Temperatures were pleasant and no rain had been expected. The wind and waves began to change through the night due to the weather pattern moving in but conditions would remain within a comfortable range long enough for us to complete our goal of reaching the Canadian shore.
We launched off the beach at Sodus Point, NY shortly after 3 o’clock on Tuesday afternoon July 27 after coordinating our GPS headings then checking in with the United States Coast Guard and confirming we had our passports. We reached the Canadian shore at the Point Petre Light Station on the western tip of Prince Edward Peninsula in Ontario at 04:30 before daylight the following day, for a time of 13 1/2 hours. The light station consisted of a number of towers with red lights and a low red and white striped tower with a white intermittent light. Our average speed was just over 3.0 mph. Our max speed was 5.4 mph. The distance we paddled was recorded at 41.0 miles by my GPS unit and corresponded to our plotted mileage of about 40 miles. This was entirely across open water. No islands, no buoys. No getting out of our canoes. Taking photos and pausing to feel the vastness of the open water during the daylight and sunset hours added to our enjoyment, although this did extend our overall travel time. It appeared that Gary was also making cell contact with supporters associated with the benefit paddle until his service faded and the night closed in. Only two ships were heard by us in the distance during the night. Turbulent wave action against a rocky shoreline deterred us from landing in the morning darkness so we tapped our paddles on Canadian turf and headed back out into deeper water to load the canoes onto the power boat, a process taking about one hour in the rolling waves.
All three canoes were Hemlock SRT solo boats. Each canoe was completely self supported for the paddle across, including any need for nature’s relief that might be necessary. An escort boat leap-frogged across the lake on the same compass course we had plotted, staying about a mile or two in front or behind us. This powerboat served as our taxi back to the U.S. and provided some degree of security if a threatening situation were to develop but otherwise there was no dependency on it and we had the satisfying sense of being alone. Shane, Josh and Gary’s father, George, crewed the powerboat through the night and back. The return trip took about 6 hours on an altered course due to deteriorated conditions and persistent wave heights in the four feet range that were being buffeted by a steady wind. A single container ship passed in front of us at close range on the way back. We were navigating back into Sodus Bay on the NY side at 11:30 a.m. on July 28.
This was a great experience and all went well. It also had a special meaning to me being a sibling of a breast cancer survivor.
gear list, then monitored the lake conditions and took some time to contemplate what we were planning to embark on.
Gary Marble had the vision for this challenge and benefit Paddle for Breast Cancer. His father and mother had provided the inspiration. Gary had already been in the planning stages with Dave Curtis and other supporters when Paul Conklin and I were contacted to ask if we would be interested in doing the crossing and teaming up for some shake-down paddles on the Finger Lakes. Navigation, wind, night paddling and conditioning were some factors we wanted to be fresh on.
Several weather sites covering the region we would be exposed in were followed for trends and predictions of both weather forecasts and lake conditions. The sites we had been checking for weeks indicated conditions could become favorable sometime on July 27, then change to less favorable again later into the 28th. Another benefit of this time frame would be the full moon, which would aid in reading the wave patterns at night. These reports were watched even closer during the 25th and 26th as well as the hours before we launched on the 27th. Our estimated time to cross was 12 to 15 hours based on prior lake paddles in a range of conditions. The conditions did subside for a near ideal start with only a mild breeze off our bows and modest wave action. We reached the middle of the lake at sunset. Temperatures were pleasant and no rain had been expected. The wind and waves began to change through the night due to the weather pattern moving in but conditions would remain within a comfortable range long enough for us to complete our goal of reaching the Canadian shore.
We launched off the beach at Sodus Point, NY shortly after 3 o’clock on Tuesday afternoon July 27 after coordinating our GPS headings then checking in with the United States Coast Guard and confirming we had our passports. We reached the Canadian shore at the Point Petre Light Station on the western tip of Prince Edward Peninsula in Ontario at 04:30 before daylight the following day, for a time of 13 1/2 hours. The light station consisted of a number of towers with red lights and a low red and white striped tower with a white intermittent light. Our average speed was just over 3.0 mph. Our max speed was 5.4 mph. The distance we paddled was recorded at 41.0 miles by my GPS unit and corresponded to our plotted mileage of about 40 miles. This was entirely across open water. No islands, no buoys. No getting out of our canoes. Taking photos and pausing to feel the vastness of the open water during the daylight and sunset hours added to our enjoyment, although this did extend our overall travel time. It appeared that Gary was also making cell contact with supporters associated with the benefit paddle until his service faded and the night closed in. Only two ships were heard by us in the distance during the night. Turbulent wave action against a rocky shoreline deterred us from landing in the morning darkness so we tapped our paddles on Canadian turf and headed back out into deeper water to load the canoes onto the power boat, a process taking about one hour in the rolling waves.
All three canoes were Hemlock SRT solo boats. Each canoe was completely self supported for the paddle across, including any need for nature’s relief that might be necessary. An escort boat leap-frogged across the lake on the same compass course we had plotted, staying about a mile or two in front or behind us. This powerboat served as our taxi back to the U.S. and provided some degree of security if a threatening situation were to develop but otherwise there was no dependency on it and we had the satisfying sense of being alone. Shane, Josh and Gary’s father, George, crewed the powerboat through the night and back. The return trip took about 6 hours on an altered course due to deteriorated conditions and persistent wave heights in the four feet range that were being buffeted by a steady wind. A single container ship passed in front of us at close range on the way back. We were navigating back into Sodus Bay on the NY side at 11:30 a.m. on July 28.
This was a great experience and all went well. It also had a special meaning to me being a sibling of a breast cancer survivor.
Cautions: Conditions in large open-water environments can get extremely treacherous. Research, experience, and planning for a range of contingencies can only help reduce the risks involved, for it is nature that has the upper hand and it does not discriminate when it unleashes its fury.
Copyright © 2015 Harold Deal All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2015 Hemlock Canoe. All rights reserved.
