I’m
thrilled we’re launching and using our dinghy more these days. With anchorages
galore and little in the way of marinas in Georgian Bay, boaters are able to
validate the presence of their dinghies onboard. Our dinghy, yet unnamed, rides
atop the roof of our stateroom, occupying what could otherwise be a back porch
gathering spot. I’ve often remarked to Clay that we’ve not used our dinghy
enough for it to be taking up space. And, thus…
Anchored
in the Bustards this Sunday morning, we took a day off (from cruising) and soon
found ourselves launching our dinghy for a ride through the Gun Barrel Channel.
Randy and Audrey led us, accompanied by Michael and Cathy (their dinghy is named
One Ringhy), on an hour-plus scenic ride, exploring the Bustards’ nooks
and crannies. Randy’s hunger pangs motivated the return to our Tie/Strawberry
Islands anchorage for lunch and an afternoon of free time. I elected to swim,
and with a lazy crawl interspersed with some breaststroke, made my way toward Trawler
Life for a visit. Clay was a good sport in ‘tootling’ around in the dinghy,
still sensing the need to protect his leg from any water-borne bacteria, remote
as the possibility seemed.
August
1st dawned bright and beautiful with a picturesque sunrise so inspiring that I
interrupted my morning stretches to capture the moment. Calm winds and thus
still waters caused the reflection of the sky to be as crisp and clear cut as
the sunrise itself. A once-in-a-lifetime photo I managed to capture and share
with you who are my Facebook friends.
An
abrupt anchor pull shortly before 9 a.m. had us three boats cruising 1.5 hours
to our next mooring in Bad River to set anchor for another day of Tom Foolery,
however we chose to define such. Michael and Randy had fishing on their minds
with a fish fry in the forecast for supper this Monday evening. Randy chose
another new-to-us unique mooring experience as we and Trawler Life each
sided up to a vertical rock embankment with a water depth of 20-30’. Michael
took responsibility for tying both boats, connecting bow and stern lines to
trees, rail stakes and rocks to well define and secure the next 24 hours’
locations.
Again
we launched the dinghy; with practice we’re getting better at this process,
remembering to tend to such necessities as plugging the drain hole and
attaching the kill switch cord. Off Clay went dinghying with some of our group
while I sprayed Home Defense bug killer at the contact points between us and
the rocks and tied Bounce fabric softener sheets at the lines where they
intercepted the boat cleats. Didn’t want the scurrying ants and other creepie
crawlies aboard SaSea Sally if we could prevent such! Ah, the joys of outdoor
living!
Post
lunch, I went for a two-days-in-a-row swim, setting my sights on Heart Tug
anchored some 150 yards in the distance. My lazy crawl, breaststroke and
treading water worked well yesterday; I wanted to see if my shoulder could
handle another day of such. (It did.) The water was fabulously clear if a bit
on the chilly side, and the afternoon sun did much to warm the attitude and
entice the desire to swim. Returning to the boat, I soon found myself aboard
our dinghy with Clay steering us along his morning route. He was taking me to
shoot the rapids, an activity for which this Bad River is known. Clay had
courage to attempt such on his own having experienced the trial run on the
morning’s outing captained by Randy (who was experienced). Not sure I knew what
I was in for initially but a ‘boat ride.’
We
easily found our way up the rapids, but the route back down was a puzzlement to
Clay. He soon coerced me to climb atop the rock boulder barefoot to look for a
possible way back down (can’t go back down the rapids the way you come up with
odds of a head-on collision very high). Having never experienced the rapids, I
truly knew not what I was looking for; it all looked the same to me with
boulders separating various waterways and certainly no signage directing us—an
intricate maze of waterways at best. Clay, prepared as he was with camera, cell
phone and hand-held radio, chose the latter to seek direction from friends
monitoring channel 6. Oops, radio was permanently locked to send, so we
couldn’t receive and thus couldn’t answer our now-becoming-quite-concerned
friends back at ‘camp.’ Another boat shooting the rapids came along to define
our route, and we thankfully made it back down safely, only to soon be met by
Randy and Audrey who had come in search of two lost souls.
A
delicious fish fry aboard Trawler Life completed our day where we were
joined by another Looper couple from Maine, Wally and Darcy (Summertime).
These Georgian Bay waters are filled with Loopers, Canadian boaters, and many
Michigan boaters who cruise these waters summer after summer. So, it is
expected to marry up with other boaters for an evening, an overnight or a
weekend in the same anchorage. In fact, this Bad River anchorage was populated
with nineteen boats prior to 5 p.m. when a host of other boats arrived, total
count unknown.
Tuesday
morning we untied from shore, cruised through Collins Inlet for another
overnight anchorage in Thomas Bay. We spent this day much as the prior
day—delightfully so, I might add. Well, almost delightfully. By dinnertime, I
was done with this lifestyle (I’d be ok by morn, but tonight I was DONE!!) I
was DONE with bees attacking my meal, be it breakfast, lunch or dinner, open as
our cabin was to nature; I was DONE with a stray flying insect buzzing my ear
as I tried to sleep at night; I was DONE with handling cold showers (out of
necessity because I want clean hair and body, I’m adjusting to them but I would
never choose them); I was DONE with preparing three meals a day, cleaning
toilets, emptying trash daily, sweeping, handling lines and fenders, and
answering all of Captain Clay’s commands. When I reach this maxed out point, I
soon chill, telling myself, “At least I can (am able).” But in the interim…
With
a good pull Wednesday, we were destined for Killarney (population 430, reliant
on tourism, and for many boaters the gateway to the North Channel) then Covered
Portage for the overnight. By ‘good pull,’ I mean the anchor and chain
retracted almost neatly into the compartment and holding cradle respectively,
dragging along no mud; the anchor roll bar politely positioned ‘up’ so I didn’t
have to coerce it so; and the rest of the puzzle pieces fell into place without
further ado. The same can’t be said of our stop in Killarney! Because we three
boats needed to pump out, take on fuel and water and dump trash, we divided
ourselves among the crowded docks at Killarney Mountain Lodge and Sportsman’s
Inn and the LCBO dock. ‘Assigned’ to Killarney Mountain Lodge, we hovered in
the channel then docked at KML. Enough to say, the fuel dock staff was
mismanaged, inefficient, and tried unsuccessfully to juggle the way-too-many
demands of way-to-many boaters. We aborted our attempt midway through the
process and motored to Sportsman’s Inn to compete the servicing. (Clay was
quick to report our experience on Active Captain so as to forewarn other
boaters!)
Shortly,
we joined our friends at Herbert Fisheries’ Mister Perch, ‘the world famous
fish-and-chips takeout restaurant housed in a bus right at the public dock.’
This was truly a place where ‘everyone knows your name.’ We hailed fellow
Loopers while Randy and Audrey greeted their Canadian friends, all of us
lunching on the only menu item: fried fish and French fries (the only decision
was in the quantity of entrée and beverage). A walk after lunch encompassing
the full four blocks of town took us to Randy’s cinnamon bun bakery (called
Curds ‘n Whey with the bright red Adirondack chairs out front), to the LCBO
(limited in supply, I didn’t find my new favorite cabernet-sauvignon called
Stoney Bay), to Pitfield’s General Store, then a quick stop at the Sportsman’s
Inn gift shop (which offered more in the way of marine supplies than gifts).
Our
intent (Plan A) was to maneuver a touch-and-go at Killarney, delayed a bit as
outlined above. Once departing Killarney we three boats began ‘gunkholing’
(Clay’s definition is ‘going to remote anchorages and hanging out’). According
to Wikipedia, “Gunkholing is a boating term referring to a type of cruising in
shallow or shoal water, meandering from place to place, spending the nights in
coves. The term refers to the gunk, or mud, typical of the creeks, coves,
marshes, sloughs, and rivers that are referred to as gunkholes. While not necessary,
gunkholers typically seek out the serenity of isolated anchorages over the
crowds of marinas and popular bays, and a minimal draft is preferred, since
gunkholers tend to go as far up and into the gunkholes as possible, seeking
ever more inaccessible destinations.”
Our
gunkholing was enabled safely by our experienced Canadian boater guides Randy
and Audrey. First destination only a short distance away was Covered Portage,
‘the most famous and a must on your first cruise in the North Channel.’ Note:
With our passage through Killarney we were now in the North Channel. Covered
Portage is both beautiful and thankfully well-protected. “There is … a
spectacular high wall on the south side of the cove (which) looks like an
Indian head from certain angles.” Once again we had opportunity to transact a
Med mooring for the overnight, swim, dinghy ride and enjoy this beautiful
anchorage which is obviously not only highly recommended through the Looper
network but very well known to locals. Randy called our attention to both a
river otter and a beaver swimming along the shoreline which was fun; I’ve not
experienced much success in locating wildlife on my own.
Because
there are three of us boats traveling together, Randy felt compelled to hold a
crew meeting each morning to discuss the wishes of the group. We gathered on
the back porch of Trawler Life to outline Thursday’s agenda once it was
decided: a trip to Baie Fine’s Mary Ann’s Cove for the overnight. Three hours
travel time through Killarney Bay and Lansdowne Channel, then across Frazier
Bay found us entering Baie Fine which is one of the North Channel’s prime
attractions with its white quartz mountains that stretch for miles down the
narrow bay which is often called a fiord.
Most
boats continue all the way up Baie Fine to The Pool (our destination on
Friday), but Randy and Audrey suggested Mary Ann’s Cove for the opportunity to
hike to Casson Peak on a lay-low Friday. Thursday progressed, once anchored,
with some housekeeping chores, a swim to cool off (I’ve been surprised by this
Canadian summer’s warm temperatures having expected many more long-sleeve days
than we’ve had), and finally launching the dinghy for an Audrey-organized
rocktails event on…you guessed it…a rock onshore. Audrey had earlier motored to
each and every boat anchored in Mary Ann’s Cove to invite them to join the
rocktails event. What fun we had meeting and greeting and, yep, again
exchanging boat stories.
A
Friday morning crew meeting aboard Trawler Life again found us in
planning mode punctuated by smiles and laughs as Mike and Randy bantered back
and forth with one-liners. (Mike was collecting a list of what he called
“Randy’isms,” and he delighted in adding to his collection daily). Most of us
completed cleaning chores Friday morning. Early afternoon, with Mike and Cathy
opting out of the hike, Clay and I bounced along in the dinghy with Randy and
Audrey to the well-trampled, well-marked start of the hiking trail. It was
suggested we take plenty of bug spray and allow an hour to reach the top of the
1200’ Peak. We traversed a rocky uphill incline thick with fallen branches and
an occasional downed tree and littered with a dense carpet of pine needles.
Rocks and boulders over which we climbed were white quartz and granite,
sunlight making the quartz sparkle. Moss was soft and feathery and, in some
cases, extremely spongy to the touch. What fun this was! And how I wished Sus
and Christy were there to share in the experience! Once reaching the peak, we
were treated to a spectacular view and lingered to enjoy not only the scenery
but the breeze which was mounting in intensity (20+ knots) as predicted with
each passing minute we spent taking pictures.
The
drama began nine-tenths of the way down the trail when a trio of
uphill-climbing hikers ‘suggested’ we might want to return (they were told to
use the term ‘non-emergency’) to the SaSea Sally for some trouble-shooting.
Uh-oh! Amazingly, I kept my cool; you can’t hurry down the mountain slope
safely any faster than we were moving. Once in the dinghy and motoring back to
the anchorage, it became apparent that there was a host of dinghies
holding our boat off the shoreline. What wonderful friends we have in the
boating community! Clay had been sure that our anchor was not ‘set’ (firmly attached
to the bottom), but Randy assured him it was. Had there been a bet, Clay would
have won! I was in agreement with Randy in that we passed all the tests we ran
after setting the anchor which now, with the mounting winds, simply dragged
along the bottom to finally threaten damage to the hull when reaching the
shoreline.
Logistically,
it simply became a matter of relocating the anchor and ensuring it was set.
Sounds easy enough. We worked quickly and efficiently under the guidance of too
many dinghy chiefs offering advice additional to Clay’s expertise. Everyone had
an opinion on where we should drop the anchor, how much line to let out (7 x
depth is recommended), etc. We reset our anchor with 100’ of chain plus 10’ of
the continuing rope, giving us a first chance to configure this
lengthening-with-rope. I finally learned the purpose of a Sampson post. Got ‘er
done! And, as everyone involved commented, we have another tale to tell.
We
sighed with relief over dinghytails this evening as our group of six was joined
by Al and Sherry (Sea Y’all II), rafting our four dinghies together for
early eve wine/beer/snacks before separating for dinner and the overnight.
As
this day comes to an end without mishap, I will sign, seal and send another
episode of our SaSea Sally Adventures.
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