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.