A History of The Mary Mary – Part 1– Tampa Bay to Fort Meyers, Florida (2006-2007)

Well, it’s now December the 27th, two days after Christmas and still a long, dark four months until we are back on board. The Mary Mary sits shivering on her blocks in Port Severn, Ontario and thoughts shift to warmer climes. And that is why it has occurred to me to fill you in on the history of the mighty Mary. From the time of my taking possession, that is.

I bought the boat in October, 2006 from my beloved bosuns father, Master Bradley Johnson. It came to be that, owing to the sale of a cottage I once owned in Bancroft, I found myself with a hefty sum in pocket. Attempts to find another cottage similar to the one I had sold (under duress I might add, but that’s another story) were fruitless in that for the amount of money I now had I could only expect to get a property 3 or 4 hours drive away at best and that wasn’t going to cut it.

It came to my attention that the aforementioned Brad Johnson was trying to sell a Grand Banks 36 that had been docked in Tampa Bay, Florida for the last couple of years. Owning a boat of substance had always been a bit of a dream for me, especially since I had taken up scuba diving. So I expressed interest and he and I flew down to have a look at her. Well, it was proverbial love at first sight and I committed, after some sleepless nights, to purchasing the boat. Best decision I ever made. Other than taking up relations with Brooke some time later.

At dock In Fort Myers

I put a substantial amount down and Bradley kindly agreed to finance me for the rest for a few years (GB’s aren’t cheap) and in October of 2006 Brooke, Bradley and I arrived in Tampa Bay to begin the task of bringing the boat north to Toronto. I had decided to motor her up for two reasons… the adventure of doing so and the cost of traveling it by truck. Mostly the former. Also there was the thought that I could learn the ropes on the way. This proved both a heady and frightening experience at times. I had taken the Canadian Power Squadron's basic boating course and had my operator's papers and radio license... but that was all theoretical.

Bradley, again with great kindness (and probably to avoid reading about my demise in the morning papers) agreed to accompany me for the first week of travel and show me a few things. This would take us from Tampa Bay, down the coast as far as Fort Meyers, where he and Brooke would depart back to Toronto and I would have to find another mate to help on the next leg.

After a day of provisioning we had a breakfast out and then headed out onto the waterway. Part of my heart was in my throat and a couple of other pieces were tacked to my sleeve.

Cappie and Brad Johnson... "I think we should be over there..."

Now, if you’re not familiar with the art of following charts and maps, at the best of times it can be difficult to stay on track and not drift into shallow waters. Which is what we did. At about four in the afternoon on our first day at sea we ran aground. The boat was lodged firmly but not dangerously and it would only be with the next high tide that we would float free. This would be in the dark of night and several hours away. Which was fine until the waves started to increase and bounce us around.

"Yep, definitely over there..."

I should say at this point that one of my fears about this boating thing was that I have experienced sea-sickness several times before and had something of a weakness for it back then. As the boat pitched and rolled, jammed into the soft floor of the Gulf of Mexico, I grew more and more uncomfortable and certainly couldn’t eat the dinner that Brooke and Bradley, oblivious it seemed, to the movement, had fixed for themselves... spaghetti. As the pungent smells of tomato, onion and garlic filled the cabin, I began to wonder if I had made a colossal mistake in buying a boat. Could I handle the sea life? But after lying down for a bit I grew more determined and decided then and there that I would master this and not embarrass myself by having to run out onto the deck and do what I felt like doing.  I fought off  the nausea eventually and lay on my bunk until we were mercifully set adrift by the incoming tide and we could re-start the engines and resume our course. (Side Note: To this day and despite many times when the conditions were similar, I have never lost it on the water.)

The welcoming committee

During the remainder of the trip to Fort Meyers, we experienced many exciting things: whole pods of dolphins following the boat and playing off our bow (they seem to be particularly drawn to us and I theorize that the frequency of GB engines was the reason as other boats close by didn’t have the charm); we ran aground again and were rescued by some fishermen who set us free from the muck by speeding around us in a circle and rocking us out of the mud with their wash; great meals both on and off board and hordes of stars at night. I performed my first docking at a marina (something I had been dreading) with absolute precision. I don't mean to boast. I only mention it in order to set up the mayhem that I would cause later on. But for now, at least, I was beginning to feel comfortable at the helm.

Beautiful...

Then, unfortunately, that first magic week came to a close and Brooke and her father were to fly back home to Toronto and I would be on my own for the next leg. To be sure, I would be joined by my friend and colleague, Bruce Hunter, but he had less experience than me even. And for this first time, the night between their departure and Bruce’s arrival, I would be on my own with the anxiety of the  unknown journey ahead of me.

Leaping along off the starboard beam

After they had gone, I sat aboard for a few hours looking around and playing the cheapo blue guitar that I had bought at a large chain store whose name we dare not speak. After a while, I couldn’t just sit around so I went ashore and ended up drowning my fears in a pound of crab clusters at Captain Joe's Crab Shack. If you’ve never had Dungeness crab, don’t delay any longer. It is fabulously delicious and was chiefly responsible for turning the tide that night. Full and sleepy, I was able to drop into my bunk later and get a good sleep with the slight sway of my boat and the soft chafing of lines along the pier. My first night alone on my boat.

Shot from the bow. Dolphin is just under the surface

The next day, bright and early, I was up and off to the chandlers to pick up a couple of hardware items I needed. When I got back to the boat I was greeted by a phone call from Mister Hunter. He didn’t think he was going to make it down….   (Stay tuned)

On November and the Beginning of the Big Freeze.

Not a kind month, November. For Canada at least where (notwithstanding the odd freakish example) it spells the end of what can be optimistically construed as ‘the summer’ and offers a bleak, telescoped view of what’s to come; the kind of view that one usually regards through the wrong end of the telescope. Certainly it might be a gentle winter that follows in terms of the sub-zeroes and the snow that, when it first alights, seems to send drivers into a paralyzing panic every year. Perhaps we won’t even need the snow-tires that we put on at considerable expense. Nevertheless, we are forced to contemplate at least five months of uncomfortable coolness and, in the case of the boating world, probably six. 

Uh-oh... Gotta haul-out sooner next year.

When Hurricane Sandy blew through a couple of weeks back we really only got the tail portion of it. But that was enough. In case you didn’t know, the highest recorded winds (106 km/hr) in Ontario landed in Georgian Bay. More to the point, near Port Severn and even more to the point, about ten kilometres from where Mary Mary sits, silently shelved in her plastic cocoon. When I read about this it was already several days since the event and my heart stopped beating irregularly when I realized that they would surely have contacted us from The Starport Marina if any calamity had occurred. As mentioned earlier, we had the boat shrink-wrapped for the first time this year and I had visions of the whole vessel bouncing along the highway like some huge, heavy runaway balloon. My fears eventually abated except for the arrival of one email from Starport that had as its subject line… “We regret to inform you…” The surly pump in my chest again threatened mutiny until I read the rest of the message and it turned out to concern a much-loved employee of theirs that was moving on to another position. I mean… really.

Hurricane Sandy heading our way.

So now we begin the onerous job of waiting out old man winter. We do have a couple of bright spots however. It was my birthday in September and Brooke decided to surprise me with a most potent gift. She has arranged for the two of us to spend a week in Bonaire in January to go scuba-diving. Incredible... We went out the other day to replace some of our equipment that we lost in our big storage fire. We found an excellent deal on two fins/masks/snorkels/booties packages and we are pretty primed to try them out.

Me in my dreams... Brooke is taking the photo...  in a bikini... Brooke, that is.

I have also taken on the challenge of preparing for my Captain’s exams. (Although, it’s mostly for the knowledge, not the thought of actually becoming licensed). The course is quite intense and the aid for it comes in the form of a huge course text. The knowledge contained therein is what you supposedly need to know in order to properly command vessels up to 100 tons. One hundred tons… can you imagine? By comparison, Mary Mary is 12. I’m already pretty good with the rules of the road, but most of the ones I know pertain to smaller pleasure craft like ours and the rules governing larger, working boats are many and varied. And they come in two types: those pertaining to the inland waterways and those pertaining to international waters. But I’m ploughing along and have finished the ground work on the first chapter. Although a brief oral test by Brooke revealed my level of retention isn’t what it was. So it will definitely be one thing to focus on during the aforementioned snow time.

The Captain's Tome

Soon we will be looking into over-hauling the battery system on the boat and figuring out the best scenario for us. Right now I am leaning away from the old 8D system that is problematic and weighs a ton. We will probably look at the newer, component systems if the price isn’t too prohibitive.

That’s it for now.  

Two on a boat

Winter 2012 - Of Shrink Wrapping and Varnish

Time marches on...

It is almost three weeks since we left the boat on the hard in Port Severn. As you will see from the picture below, she's been all shrink-wrapped. It's the first time we've done this as the cost has always been prohibitive. Especially down in Toronto. But since we got a more north-friendly price on our winter storage package, we decided to bite the bullet this year and wrap her up. We have been doing a lot of wood-work and gel-coat renewal this past year, so the additional protection is warranted probably. 

Mary Mary in her shrink-wrap

The 'bright-work' (all wooden and varnished surfaces) is a continual job on a Grand Banks and we have only just figured out a good combination of stains and varnish that seems to work quite well. Except for areas that we didn't get around to giving enough coats to during our summer on the Trent. These are starting to show signs of degradation already and we may even have to do some surfaces from scratch. But it is hard as stink to get yourself to be sanding and varnishing all the time where there's so much laying around to do. If only we could figure out how to get the cats involved somehow. Maybe with little brushes on their tails.

We have found that with the teak we have that  a good combination of steps is as follows:

1.      Clean the wood with either teak cleaner or mineral spirits

2.      Sand the wood to base, then fine sand

3.      Then a coat of protective oil (we have been using Australian Timber Oil, neutral tone, basically except when we couldn't get 'neutral' and had to use 'honey' which is slightly richer in texture but not really noticeable over all)

4.      Then 8 coats of varnish with fine sanding in between each coat. (We use Epifanes for this; a Dutch product.)

Hand rail with three coats of varnish

After this you maintain it by keeping it dry when possible and once a year find and repair weaknesses. When we get back to it in 2013 we'll try once again to be more disciplined with it. Anyway, that's the theory.

The End of the Trent-Severn Waterway

366 Kilometres - 43 Locks - Approximately 45 Days

I'm writing this post from the relative comfort of my home office, warm it is true, but bewildered and becalmed by this return to 'civilization'. We have been back for ten days now, have tried to bring our heads back around to life in the big city and the certain knowledge that it will be at least 7 or 8 months before we can take to the water again. (Although we are going to Bonaire in the Caribbean for a dive holiday in January.) Such is the life of a Canadian boater until the time comes when you can live-aboard in the south.

The boat is on the hard at the Starport Marina in Port Severn where, because of favourable rates, we will also get her shrink-wrapped this year for added protection. We arrived at the marina on September 25th and spent almost a week there before actual haul-out (including my birthday, where I found out about the dive holiday, a generous gift from the beloved bosun.) During this time we winterized and I returned to Toronto briefly for some voice work. The weather is a mix of sun and rain, mild during the days, cool at night. Nice enough but not the Indian Summer we'd hoped for.

Getting to the marina from our location when last we posted involved descending the Big Chute Marine Railway and then motoring to Port Severn and the last lock of the Trent-Seven Waterway... Lock 45. It's been a great ride.

The Big Chute marine railway car arriving upstream

The Big Chute is quite an adventure and a wonderful way to wind up the trip. You motor around to the blue line on the wall near the railway and wait for the lock masters to deliver the big car that you will travel in over the road and down to the water on the other side. Then you motor in slowly and when you're in position two slings are brought in under the boat. The car then slowly moves up the rail, the water runs off and the boat is left resting on its keel on the car floor. The slings just act as a balancing device for a boat this size. The whole car, boat cradled within, then travels out of the water, over the road and begins its slow, steep descent down to the water on the other side.

Looking out from the car to the water down below

Sitting on the bridge as you are hauled over the rise is a truly strange experience and quite disconcerting, particularly when you breach the rise and for a long, uneasy moment, can't see anything in front of you. Sort of like cresting the top of a roller-coaster hill. Onlookers are watching us and taking pictures and we joke with them nervously, shouting the old carney phrase... "Do you want to go faster!!" When you descend on the other side the boat is on a bit of an angle downwards and you get the sense that with a bit of a nudge the whole boat would slide right off the car. There is no forward gate as you can see in the picture above.

Unfortunately, because of our port battery issues, we are unable to start the port engine quickly enough on the other side so I take the boat out slowly just using starboard thrust. The wind, which has been gusting mightily at around 30 km/hr for the last day or two catches the bow and it is only by the narrowest of margins that the stern rail avoids rubbing against the left side of the car as we exit.

We stop in the centre of the bay, take a breath, re-start the port engine and continue on.

The journey from Big Chute to Port Severn is short but the day is sunny and the protected channels leading to Severn are pretty and show us some of the best aspects of the anatomy of the Muskokas. We take the adventurous route through the gap at Basswood Run on the Gloucester Pool where we find the waters lower than expected but with caution we make it through unscathed. Don't try this with a draft of over 4' though.

On route to Lock 45 and the end of the trip

At Lock 45, Port Severn, we tie up and investigate the lock and some of the surrounding area. We have seen the tiny village when we transported the truck to Starport Marina from Orillia, so we know the area a little already and don't venture far. We have decided, since this is the last lock, that we will lock through and the day before haul-out, come back through again to get a pump-out at the upper Starport Marina as one last kick at the can before winter.

Landing at the lower Starport marina becomes problematic as the wind has shifted and is bearing down on us at around 20 km/hr and adds to the approximately 3 knot current spilling out onto Georgian Bay from the dam. I have a rough time bringing her into the tight slip we will be using. It's the last of several in a line running east to west and immediately to the west of this last slip the rocks rise up in an instant. As I'm manoeuvring in, the wind catches the stern and starts to pull the props frighteningly close to the rocks so I abandon the bow-in approach in favour of the stern. This takes away the threat of prop damage, but now the exposed, larger surface of the bow and bridge begin to take us once more into the danger zone that is only about ten feet away. The dock hands that have come to help us are braying and Brooke slips as she attempts to leap to the pier with a line and hangs from the side, precariously, for a moment until she regains her footing.

Click to Enlarge

Finally the boat is wrangled into the slip and tied tight and we breathe easy once again. It turns out that right now the water is lower than it has been for a long time, in some cases the person questioned can't remember it ever being so low. This means that the small basin that the marina is situated in is even smaller now in terms of navigable water area. Immediately after landing, two fellow boaters that had helped drag us in inform us that they are at the marina because they had tried to navigate the channel that leads from Georgian Bay into the lock area and had damaged their props on the rocks. The strong wind and current apparently had pushed the day-markers off of their positions. We wonder what this will mean for us next year when we attempt to leave the Trent Severn by that same channel. Especially if the water hasn't risen any with the spring run-off.

It is Tuesday and the next few days will be spent winterizing the boat and for one day I will return to Toronto to do some work. On my return we will complete the process, celebrate my 59th birthday at a restaurant named the Dam Grill and then on Monday, Oct. 1, we will haul-out. We have decided that, owing to the low water levels, we won't return up through the lock to the marina located there for a pump-out. Instead we will take advantage of a portable unit that they have at the lower Starport. That means that we truly have seen our last boat trip of 2012.

One of the unusual local rock markers... a bicycle rack complete with bicycle

The wind dies for a day or so but rises once again, just in time for me to have to manoeuvre out of the slip and over to the travel-lift bay some hundred yards away. The water is even lower now and in order to take the boat from the slip over to the bay, I will have to bring the boat out of the slip by at least the length of the boat  (36') before I can start to turn to starboard. (Refer to diagram above.) This because of the tight slip we are in. Attempting to turn before the boat was truly out of the slip would cause the stern and swim platform to swing to port, striking the dock end. Directly in front of the slip, about 60' away, is a line of red danger buoys that are strung up in front of a shoal of mud and rock that is usually beneath the water but now looms out ominously from the receding waters. That means I will have about a 20' buffer in which to turn the boat and avoid disaster.  Not a lot of room for error under these circumstances.

The dock hand who will be hauling us out comes along to the dock and reassuringly tells me that if I can't control the boat better than when I came in the other day that I will surely be dashed to bits on the rocks over by the travel-lift bay. Yes, I say, that would be bad. But I am not so much worried about bringing the boat in by the travel-lift because the rocks there are up-wind of the bay. I am more worried about getting the boat out into the basin and making a turn before the wind and strong opposing current takes her.

This is the sort of thing (when you know in advance what the problems are probably going to be) that makes you lose sleep. It reminds me of when I was just learning the ropes, down in Florida on the Okeechobee Waterway, and had to negotiate my first locks with limited skills at manoeuvring and an inexperienced first mate (Mister Bruce) to help. After a near-disaster in the first lock there, I could barely sleep the night before having to enter the next one and my daytime was little better, being filled with dread of the next lock to come. But the thing of it is, I guess, that you are left with no choice as Cappie. What has to be done, has to be done. And you learn.

Anyhoo, we cast-off for haul-out and sure enough, the bow starts drifting to port and close to the rocks as I attempt to turn to starboard. I am quickly running out of my 20 foot buffer dead ahead and my 10 feet or so to port. I attempt to throw the engines into a port forward/starboard reverse manoeuvre where I feel more comfortable applying more thrust, but the yaw continues as I drift downstream. I am rapidly running out of time and space, so I decide to reverse momentarily to give myself more room off the bow and then I'll gun it forward while turning to starboard. As the stern closes in dangerously close to the dock that I am attempting to leave, the people there are shouting warnings that I register but don't have time to acknowledge, nor to explain to them what my plan is (this all happens in about 30 seconds but seems, of course, like an eternity). I manage to get away from the dock with help and finally the bow starts to respond to the wheel and I complete my 90 degree turn to starboard with about 5feet to spare between the port hull and the red marker buoys. The rest is a piece of cake comparatively as it just remains to pull into the travel-lift bay. The only concern there is depth but it turns out all right and the Mary Mary is lifted out of the water on a slightly wonky angle and rides over the bumpy tarmac to its resting place behind the marina buildings.

The excitement and scare leaves us both shaking somewhat. I remark to Brooke how a strange thing happens when operating the controls in an iffy situation. The  two gear levers (port & starboard) only have three positions (neutral, forward and reverse) whereas the throttle controls are fluid and just slide from idle to full. You operate the gear levers with your left hand and the throttles with your right. But I sometimes find myself pushing on the gear controls harder and harder as I wait for the boat to respond. This even though, of course, once the lever has been pushed into forward, pushing it harder doesn't accomplish anything. Even while I am doing this I realize that it is just me 'willing' the boat to do as I want and faster. But it is hard to resist the urge not to shove on the already utilized lever and shout "come on, you bastard!" as you attempt to avoid some imminent threat. I guess it doesn't really matter to the manoeuvre but its a pretty good indication of your tension level.

Mister Huxley tries to encourage Cappie before haul-out

We spent the rest of the day cleaning out the boat and loading the truck full to the brim with our clothes, the items that will be needed at home, left over food, etc. And, of course, Mister Huxley and Mister Hattie who naturally have slept through the entire event.

 

September 27th - This posted by Brooke

Motoring along

It was a bit cold this morning when I slipped out from beneath the covers. Or, more precisely, was tugged out by Huxley’s insistent meowling. She spent a good deal of time under the duvet during the wee hours.  Adrian left for the city yesterday just after noon, which partly explains why it was extra cold in bed. He had two recordings to do, one session yesterday was at Pirate Studios where he records a series called Almost Naked Animals, voicing characters named, Shrimp, Radiation Rooster and Mouse Howie, and this morning he’ll be playing Armand, the very theatrical Sasquatch in a show yet to be aired called Camp Lake Bottom recorded at Studio 306.

Mister Huxley takes Cappie for a walk

The other explanation for the cold is that it is the end of September and the frost has hit.  And it’s taking a while to heat up the cabin because the shore-power breaker keeps snapping off. At first I thought it was because I had the kettle on, and then realized that the house battery is charging from shore and that requires about 75 amps.  Another thing I’m thinking is that the pump for the water-cooled heating system may well be clogged and is working too hard.

Rory in snow gear as temperatures for September crash

Yesterday I checked the strainer basket for the fridge pump. The fridge had been making more clatter than normal and the trickling sound was more noticeable than the usual strong, smooth and quiet pour—and, if you’ve read the blog to now, you’ll know that we’ve had a lot of weed issues this voyage.  The fridge-pump strainer basket was completely stuffed with weeds, and I had to remove the intake hose to flush it out as well….so I wonder if there might be the same issue with the strainers for the heater and maybe the generator and engines too.  After coffee I’ll have a look at the heat pump baskets at least.

Adrian had sanded the last of the trim while I was away in Prince Edward Island, and so I  put a coat of Timber oil on some of it (which we apply before the endless coats of Epifanes varnish). Couldn’t do much of that work though, because of my crummy neck and shoulder muscles. The overhead work is especially bad because it seems to pinch some nerves and gives pins and needles in my hand.

The house battery is charged to its supposed 12.6 volts, so I’ve switched off the charger and am trying the heat one more time before going down into the engine room to draw up the cold, wet, cloggy strainers.

The bilge pump and cold, wet, cloggy freshwater strainer baskets

These last few days have the horrible hanging doom feeling. The feeling when you know there’s to be no more voyaging, only packing and preparations for haul out and winter and 8 months before you leave port again. We have the 25 litres of oil at the ready for the winterizing and the new oil filters. And Adrian is bringing back several large jugs of antifreeze.

Actually there will be one more short voyage, back up through Lock 45 to the pump-out station to clear our holding tank. 

And we’ll likely relish every moment of that jaunt.

These summer months seem so much richer than the rest—even the tough or dreary days are fragrant with the joy that comes with 'doing'. I will miss the coiling of the heavy, wet lines in the rain, the swapping fenders for various dock and lock walls, the discussion of approach choices, taking turns clunking around in the engine room jump-starting the port engine from the starboard battery with the torturous Jumper Cables of Death (they weigh about 25 pounds, are 12 feet long and impossible to keep untangled).  

I really will miss that.

Mister Huxley and I  enjoying the voyage

Maybe it’s because it is hard physically, and often challenging mentally, and while there are many things in our life that are taxing and anxiety ridden and, yes, dreary (certain auditions), this hard physical work on-board and the experience we’ve gained — often with  certain accompanying skills — is a source of supreme pleasure for me. And it is something that, for the most part, we do together. We have puzzled out a number of system issues this year. It took us several hours over two days, but together we fixed the fuel-lift pump issue on the port engine before this spring’s launch; and, before launch we installed new window sliders in three window casements, as the old ones were growing forests of moss, and in the process we each broke the same window, (Adrian broke the pane when removing it from the frame, and I broke the replacement pane while re-installing it). We scraped, sanded, caulked and painted the aft head and the stateroom. Adrian did the lion’s share of the sanding and varnishing of the teak rails and trim and refinished the top of the big salon table, while I learned to sew futon covers, pillows and a pile of pleated curtains, then a screen for the salon door and a cover for the barbeque.

While underway we took turns in the engine room to fix (repeatedly, mind you) the air conditioner when it was 37 degrees Celsius inside; and also repaired what was sometimes a strainer issue and then became a wiring issue on the refrigerator when it was 38 degrees inside (Both the AC and the fridge are water cooled, and the water in the canal was 80 degrees this summer, so as a coolant it wasn’t doing the trick); there were so many other tasks and triumphs, but I can’t remember them all now, except to say that the marine surveyor gave us glowing report and said he’d never seen a cleaner bilge…. 

Rory says "OMG, it's hot outside!" (Yet he still dresses in black)

(We know after the issues in July that we need a whole new battery bank. Adrian has deduced that we don’t have the proper working isolators, as the system is continually draining the batteries. The electrical set up is old and the mess of wiring is the result of too many hands, so we may have to get an expert in to simplify that whole system.) 

With the work we do ourselves, I love being able to actually see, hear and feel the result of our own labour. It ain’t the same when you do a performance, this work is in no way ethereal. It’s solid and right there in front of you:  well-greased, shiny-ish, and running smoothly…with occasional help from the torturous Jumper Cables of Death.

Days 30 - 33 - Thrills and Spills

 

Orillia to Lock 42

A terrible moment occurred last night. We had just finished our dinners and were relaxing in the salon. The door was open and Mister Huxley had gone for her usual evening constitutional. The wind kept blowing the cat gate down so I had elected to leave it off for the time being as there was really only one other inhabited boat on our pier and long distances to any others. I was startled suddenly by a pitiful yowling coming from outside and, realizing that something must be up with Huxley, ran out. Brooke grabbed a flashlight and followed right behind me. I couldn't see Huxley but the yowling seemed to be coming from right under the dock. Looking over the side I spotted Mister Huxley, her claws somehow lodged into the support structure under the dock. Later we would remark how amazing it was that she managed to hang on there as the structure appeared to be made out of metal or strong plastic material of some kind. (We never did find out how she had managed to fall in but suspicions ranged from strangers on the dock to simple slippage. If she fell between the boat and the finger pier, she would have had to swim all the way around it to end up where she did.)

I got down on my stomach, reached under and hauled a soaked and shaking Mister Huxley up onto the dock. We quickly moved her inside and towelled her off. Aside from the scare she seemed to be okay but for some slight bleeding where her claws had been pulled back a bit. After a while she ate some food and began a cleaning session that went on for hours. We, however, were shaken and it was some time before we could get back to normal calmness. 

 

Mister Huxley after the spill

The next morning we pack up and head out to seek a new spot for the night. We had heard that the lock at Talbot, Lock 42, was a pretty area and at this time of the year we hoped that it would be relatively unpopulated. The trip up Couchiching Lake is fine and what wind there is blows from our stern and pushes up the water with no problem. We arrive at Lock 42 and find that it is, much as described, a nice place. We proceed through the lock as there are a couple of boats camped for the night at the top and take a place by ourselves at the bottom. 

Our resting spot as seen from the top of Lock 42

The cats have a great time scampering around in the brush and Mister Huxley seems to have completely gotten over her slip into the drink. 

Missy the cat looks on enviously from the opposite shore as Hattie & Huxley play

We eat stuffed pork chops from the BBQ and enjoy the surroundings. This might be the last fine weather we will have for a while as it seems things will be getting a bit nasty for the next few days.

Lock 42 to Sparrow Lake Chute Anchorage

The weather is iffy and it looks like we’re in for some major rain. We saunter along the canals and small lakes at a peaceful five knots until we spot an anchorage suggested in the Ports guide. It is in a little bay with good depth so we drop anchor. The wind changes and it becomes necessary to drop another anchor off the stern to keep ourselves from swinging onto the rocky shoreline. The rain begins and it is a deluge that keeps up all night.

In an effort to further impress you with our fine cuisine, I’ll say that we had a dish composed of pork sausage-stuffed peppers with spring salad and New Orleans-style rice and beans. How’s that?

The next morning we find that the securing anchor we fed off the stern has gone under the boat and we have to be careful not to foul it in on the gear underneath as a dive into this rapidly cooling water would be a harsh challenge. We manage to get the rope out by raising the anchor with the help of the boat hook, removing it from the anchor clip and pulling the rope free from the other end. Onwards…

Anchorage to Severn Falls Marina

The scenery in this part of the Muskokas is quite brilliant and we pass many remarkable pictures-in-waiting including the unpainted Group of Seven shown below. It takes us much longer than necessary to get anywhere as we gawk our way along. 

Unpainted Group of Seven

We stop at the lock at Swift Rapids. This is the highest conventional lock on the system at 44 feet, but is a pretty quick descent. We consider staying at the wall here as it is very quiet and secluded since there is no road access. The lock staff has to bicycle in to get to it. However, there are strong winds a’coming and we’re running low on provisions so we decide to stop in at the Severn Falls Emporium where there is, amongst other things, a town dock and an LCBO agency. Hurray.

The town dock at Severn Falls is a rickety affair and we’re quite high off of it so stepping down is a little difficult. Mister Huxley has no trouble jumping down though. We go to the store and buy some things and rent two DVD’s; a so-so comedy with Rowan Atkinson (Johnny English, Reborn) and a not very scary horror film produced by Guillermo Del Toro (Don’t Be Afraid Of The Dark). In hindsight, the producers probably found that telling people not to be afraid while watching their so-so horror film was a mistake. We find that the old dock, with no facilities except 30 amp power, is going to cost us $1.25 / foot. Bit of a rip, actually.

We’re getting close to the end of this season’s travels now and we wish the weather could be more co-operative. Tomorrow there are meant to be gale-force winds (over 35 knots) and we’ll have to have a plan in case we can’t proceed. I have to be back in Toronto for work on Wednesday and the truck is in Port Severn.

The rain holds off though and we do enjoy some sun time. To prepare for the winds tomorrow we decide to take the bimini cover down off the bridge. The newly-made cover comes down quickly and easily and the supporting struts are simple to secure. We are very happy with our new bimini. (Constructed by Bennett Custom Canvas of Etobicoke)

Severn Falls Marina to The Big Chute

Misty morning at Severn Falls

This morning is beautiful and mist-coated and the winds seem to be holding off for us. We decide to make the short run to the The Big Chute. Big Chute is a marine railway that actually takes your boat out of the water on a big car that descends into the water. You ride into it, slings raise you up and the whole car rides 400 metres down to the lower side of the Chute. Then it slides back into the water, the slings come off and your drive out of it.

We see it in action this morning and look forward to the ride tomorrow. The predicted winds are somewhat less than announced and we are quite comfortable on the public docks.

Day 27 - 29 - Coasting Lake Simcoe

Lock 38 – Talbot

When we arrive at Lock 38, otherwise known as Talbot Lock, we are happy to find that there is nobody else there at all and we have our choice of wall positions. We back into a spot at the start of the lock and decide to stay the night as it is  such a nice area. 

Misty morning at Lock 38

Brooke gets in touch with friends Ron and Sarah Baird and it is arranged that they will come and get us and take us to their home in Beaverton for wine and cheese. How’s that for service? Ron is an accomplished sculptor and his home is filled with wonderful pieces, mostly his but also some from his partner, Sarah. Ron designed and built the sculpture that sits at the entrance to the Barrie Harbour in Heritage Park. We will soon see it.

Dream Catcher by Ron Baird

We eat, drink and have cultured conversation, of the sort that Misters Huxley & Hattie just can’t provide... unless we’re discussing cat food. (Which we often do.)

Mister Hattie catches a dream of Cat Food

 Beaverton Harbour

There seems to be a weather window happening the day after tomorrow for the crossing of Lake Simcoe, something we are being cautious about as it can blow up pretty fast and usually from the south which would mean crossing on a ‘beam’ sea, meaning we would be hit from the side by wind and waves and rock on, nauseatingly. We decide to finish up with the locks on this side and stay in Beaverton Harbour for the night. As we exit the lock 41, we realize that there are now only four locks left between us and Georgian Bay and Port Severn where the boat will live for the winter. The Trent is almost done.

Men working the lock mechanism

Beaverton Harbour is small and the town dock is just a wall with cleats on it, but as it is now off-season it is free and that is a good thing. We arrive to find the wall full but for one small space only a couple of feet wider than our length. But with some careful maneuvering and with the help of a passing biker, we pull in snug to the back of a tiny motor boat; a tiny motor boat that would have been crushed like a pancake if we had gone in badly.

We provision in town where the fall fair is happening and later the sound of tractor pulls and midway rides can be heard in the distance from the harbour. The parking lot of the Harbour seems to be a meeting place for many people; youngsters, fishermen, young guys on the prowl, etc. At one point, several young guys (thirty year-old knuckleheads, actually) hover in the doorway of a nearby boat house and fire an air-rifle across the parking lot trying to hit a tin can lodged in the stone wall of a municipal building. Don’t they know beer and guns just don’t mix?

Local yahoos target shooting across the parking lot

But that mayhem eventually dies down and we cook steaks and watch movies until we get tired and fall asleep. No more gunfire.

Town of Barrie Municipal Marina

We are up at 0730 to catch the calm waters of the morning for the Lake Simcoe crossing. It will be a three-hour haul and I am hoping that the predicted winds stay that way… predictable. At first it seems like we might be in for a bit of ride, but further out we find that the waves are tolerable and we make our way to Kempenfelt Bay. If you look at a map, you’ll see that Kempenfelt Bay is almost as long as the lake is wide and half of the trip is motoring up to the end of it where the town of Barrie awaits.

We arrive in the large marina of Barrie harbour and get a berth near some shiny police boats. The area is fenced in so Huxley is allowed to wander around a bit. She disappears for a while and when I go to get her she is happily cleaning herself on the back of somebody’s million dollar boat. She likes to do this from time to time. It doesn’t seem to bother other boaters when she comes to visit, but I can’t help but feel that eventually she’s going to leap on-board some boat to find a sleeping dog waiting for her there.

We are in Barrie, which is off of our route really, mainly to visit my brother Chris and my niece Melissa and her daughter, Alexis, but only Chris can make it along as the baby is sick, so that is a bit of a disappointment. But good to touch base with him. I did manage, however to get in touch with an old high-school friend, Jersene Joy, whom I haven’t really seen for 40 years (except for once, briefly, a couple of years ago at a high-school re-union). She and her husband Tony, a fireman, come to the boat for a glass of wine and we talk about some of the old days, the people and catch up on life’s doings. A pleasant time is had by all.

This was on the morning of the following day and realizing that bad weather is imminent for Tuesday, we decide to make the run up to Orillia despite the predicted 30 km/hr winds. Since the wind will be coming from the south and we are heading north for the most part it shouldn’t be too bad with our ‘following’ sea. We might even pick up a knot or so of speed.

Heron on the run

The ride turns out as expected and we arrive in the Port of Orillia marina in due course. This marina has a very strange policy once the season is over (Sept.1). If you stay as a paid guest for Thursday, Friday or Saturday nights, you can stay for free from Sunday to Wednesday. This is great unless you’re arriving on one of those free days because there is nobody working there and the power boxes are locked. Fortunately, we run into Larry, a fellow boater whom we met in a lock before he passed on ahead of us to Orillia. He guides us to a slip that another boat just vacated and the power is still on. He also gives us the code to the washroom/showers and the log-in code for the internet. What a guy.

The nice day gives way to the forecast rain and we batten down the hatches as it were. Well, exactly as it was actually. Tomorrow we are renting a car to drive back to Fenelon Falls, pick up the truck and ferry it to Port Severn.