One of the things I look forward to when setting off on a cruise is the people I will meet. I know I will cross paths with a lot of kind, helpful, interesting, informative, and genuinely nice people; predominantly boaters, but not just. While a few of these random meetings have resulted in enduring friendships, the bulk have been momentary encounters measured in days or, sometimes, only hours. Yet the significance of these encounters is not diminished by their brevity. They always leave me with something I continue to value long after we have parted company. This cruise was no exception.

There were all the boaters who had been where I was going and took the time to go over charts and share navigational information and advice and recommend places to stop, sights to see, and sources of supplies. There were all the lockmasters and people staffing the town tie-ups who filled me in on the distant and recent history of and future plans for the Erie Canal and regaled me with canal related stories. There was the couple from Hamburg, Germany on a Rival 36 who were in the third year of their second circumnavigation. There was the recently retired couple from Cleveland who were going sailing for as long as it was fun on the Brown Searunner 40 trimaran they had just purchased. There was the Canadian powerboater who spent three hours helping me diagnose and fix an electrical problem in the dark. There was the sailor at Presque Isle State Park in Pennsylvania who offered to drive into town to get any supplies I needed and, when I said the only thing I was getting low on was Coca-Cola and that was no big deal, left a 12 pack of Coke in my cockpit while I was off sightseeing as a gift.

This is just a sampling of the great people I met on my cruise. But there are three people who deserve to have their story told in detail:

It had been a long day and I was getting tired. Self-steering is not feasible on the canal and I had been traveling westbound, steering by hand, for over 10 hours. It was early evening when I arrived at Lock 19 . The Utica tie-up, my destination for the night, was six miles west of the lock. I anticipated that making it there before dark would be no problem.

I radioed the lock to request transit. Getting no response, I shifted my engine into neutral and drifted. Several minutes passed and still no response. I radioed again. The light breeze had blown me a little too close to the bank so I shifted into forward to reposition myself. Nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. Increasing the throttle increased engine RPMs, but there was no forward movement. I shifted into reverse. That worked. I shifted back to forward. I was still moving in reverse. I increased throttle a bit. My speed in reverse increased. I was stuck in reverse. I shut off the engine.

My first thought was to drop anchor. But I didn't relish the idea of spending the night anchored in the middle of the Erie Canal just below a lock. There was no need for immediate action so I took a moment to consider alternatives. There was a 10 foot high concrete wall just below the lock's gates and a steel ladder was recessed into the wall. I decided to try and back up to the wall and tie up to the ladder.

I started the engine (somewhat surprised it started in gear) and slowly backed in a semi-circle until my stern was pointed toward the lock. As I approached the wall, I stopped and started the engine to control my speed. Just as I came alongside the wall and grabbed the ladder, the lockmaster, who had noticed my maneuvering, came down to find out what was going on. I quickly explained and threw him bow and stern lines which he secured above the wall.

In the fading light, trying to ignore the mosquitoes which had come out to feast on manna from Michigan, I spent a half-hour in an unsuccessful attempt to figure out and at least temporarily fix the problem. After talking things over with the lockmaster, we decided it would be best for me to lock through and tie up on the west end approach wall for the night. He emptied the chamber very gently so my boat would not be tossed around by the turbulence. Then I backed into the lock and, after uplocking, backed out of the lock and tied up to the approach wall.

By now it was completely dark and time to close the lock for the night. Before leaving, the lockmaster, Dave Edick, offered to drive to the nearest town and bring back food or anything else I needed for the night. (I didn't need anything.) Dave also called Lock 18 and got a list of names and telephone numbers of marine businesses in the area which might be able to help me. He left that information along with a note explaining my situation for the morning shift.

Jim Jordan, the morning shift lockmaster, gave me free use of his office telephone. My second call was to Utica Boat Service. The owner, Jeff Kershaw, went out of his way to help me. For more than an hour we called back and forth. Jeff and his mechanic would consult and then tell me what to do. I would do it and report back. In that fashion, we systematically diagnosed the problem -- a broken shift cable.

Jeff did not have the correct cable in stock. But he called around until he found a wholesaler who did and then got the wholesaler to make an exception and sell the cable directly to me.

But the wholesaler was located in Herkimer, 10 miles east of Lock 19. I needed a way to get there. Jim called a friend who agreed to drive me into town to get the cable. When I called Jeff to tell him I had found a ride, I learned he had been making arrangements to have his wife pick me up and take me in.

I got the cable, eventually got it threaded with Jim's help, hooked it up, and was ready to go by early afternoon. Thanks to Jeff's, Dave's, and Jim's assistance, the broken shift cable resulted in only a five hour delay. The only thing Jeff charged me for was the retail price of the cable -- $40.

As I locked through Lock 20, the lockmaster called out "I heard you had to back through Lock 19. It's good to see you on your way again."

One of the best things about cruising is the people you meet.