Touching Bottom (not the good kind)

When 12 tons of boat meets the Canadian Shield, the sound is memorable.

We ‘touched bottom’ today exiting the narrow channel from Bone Island National Park anchorage. It involves going through a passage between two small islands. Off the eastern island sits a rock, well-charted and marked with a white float marker. Off the western island, unmarked, is a rock shelf extending like a long, bony finger into the channel. There is probably about 25 feet of clearance between the two objects and when we arrived two days ago, proceeding slowly, we managed to avoid them both and spent two nights in the bay listening to weekend party-boaters careen about. Fairly quiet late at night and early in the morning, though. Caught and lost a huge bass with my first cast of the day and from then on just small fry. I digress…

Thunder clouds at Bone Island

We decided to leave the anchorage and head back to Penetang as today is Sunday, tomorrow Canada Day and the day after that we take up residence for a month at Hindson Marina.

We gave a loud, jaunty blast of our horn as we motored off towards the narrow channel. I kept a steady eye on the water and the GPS and it looked like we were approximately where we were when we had entered. But close, as they say, only counts in games of Toss-The-Hand-Grenade.

Brooke, who had been stationed on the bow to watch for such things, had just nipped into the salon to grab her polarized sun-glasses, the better to see that which we were about to hit. Just as she came back on deck we started to pass over the very end tip of the rock shelf.

Brooke & Huxley playing in the dinghy

Her loud ‘whoa, whoa!’ came a second too late. I threw the engines in reverse but our momentum carried us over the shelf. Bump! A point near the bow on the keel took the hit (fortunately) and the force of the collision drove the boat up and most of it cleared the shelf before coming down again. I say ‘most’... Bump! The second hit came just astern of amidships. Then we were clear. We looked at each other with wide eyes and hoped that perhaps this time we had been fortunate.  I hove-to in the bay while Brooke went down below to check that we weren’t taking on water. She reported back that everything looked all right. Shaken, we motored on and checked again a few minutes later, just in case. Still no leakage… It looks like the smooth boulders of the shield were going to forgive us this time.

Of course, the rest of the trip was not much fun, mostly because of the uncomfortable start, but also because it was Sunday and every child, woman and man (and most of the dogs) in the district of Honey Harbour were on the water. Thousands of them… One could only describe it as a zoo so that’s how I’m going to describe it.

At one point we passed a runabout being driven by two 8 year olds. Honestly. Children! Motorized running shoe after running shoe whizzed by us in the narrow channels, missing each other by inches and swamping anything around them. Sea-doos darted in and out oblivious to everything but their own ravenous appetite for speed.  Dinghies manned by older gentlemen from the big boats sloshed about between slow-moving sail-boats that rolled and tossed, prisoners of their slow speed. Wave after wave crashed against the sensitive shore line and those people unfortunate enough to have boats moored at docks near their cottages watched as their own craft bounced and chafed against the wooden boards, their lines groaning.

Part of the Flotilla of the Damned

Just as we were clearing this mayhem and heading towards the exit out into the bay, two canoes filled with visiting friends from Italy, who had obviously never canoed before in their lives, veered about in the small craft channel. I played tag with them for a while, slowing down to a crawl and steering this way and that as they tried to figure out how to make the canoes go in a straight line. I couldn't pass them because the markers which I couldn't transgress (but they certainly could have) were too close together. Finally the one guy who actually could canoe somewhat told the others how to steer out of the channel.

Canoeists playing with their future

The bay itself was a seething mass of churning, confused sea as the wakes from a thousand boats hit each other, climbed over each other and smashed down upon smaller more innocent wakes. Some swells had grown to considerable size and we jerked around heading towards Penetang. Down below Mister Huxley began to foam.

Huxley & Hattie pretend not to be interested in a fancy dinner.

It only lasted like that for a short while though and then we were back at our old anchorage in Discovery Harbour. Strange day.

Mary Mary 'neath the prow of HMS Tecumseth

IMPORTANT NEWS BULLETIN!

This just in! Brooke passes her final test in Owen Sound and is now a full-fledged biker! Congratulations from Cappie and the crew!!

The Anchor and the Fury

Well, we had our first taste of cruising in Georgian Bay this past week with anchorages and boats and weather stories all combining to make a pretty swell and unusual first exploring attempt.

The weather has certainly been an issue with unseasonably cool temperatures and a very uncertain mix of sun and cloud and, occasionally, storms. The wind has been pretty stiff for the entire time except for evenings now and then and we regularly seemed to be running from or into 15 to 20 knots on a daily basis. We've always been able to find shelter but it gets a bit grueling having that perpetual moan in the mast and having to find relief in the lee of the boat which keeps shifting around. 

Here then is a brief rundown of our activities lately…

Rainbow at Hope Island

Sat. June 8

We travel by car to Thornbury, ON to visit with our friends Jenny and Terry and to drop off Brooke’s motorcycle. The plan is that we will travel later by boat from Penetang to Thornbury where Brooke will pick up her bike and drive it to Owen Sound, ON and there she will be taking a final road test for her license. This plan is soon to falter due to the aforementioned winds, but more on this…

We pass the shallow waters seen off-shore from the highway and spend a nice evening with the Dean-Flynns, spot a fox on a walk down to the water and see for ourselves the dramatic effect the low waters have had on the shorelines around this area.

Then we head back to Hindson.

Sun. June 9

We have decided that our first anchorage attempt will be out at Beausoleil Island. Even though we know that weekend boaters will make this problematic, it is the closest land mass and is said to sport several nice anchorages. Also, the wind has picked up from the N and our alternate choice, Methodist Point, is not well-protected from this. Plus you have all those damn Methodists all over the place with their ``hey, can we help you out, friend?” and their funny hats. They have funny hats, right?

Methodists... I stand corrected on the funny hat thing.

Sure enough, when we coast over to the island (about 7 miles) the anchorage we've chosen in Ojibway Bay is chock full of day-runners with party music (which we call ‘ooncy-ooncy’, by the way) so we anchor in the channel for a bit, getting in the way of their omni-present dinghies, and wait for the inevitable bug-out when Sunday winds down and they have to get back to the mainland for civic duties, like earning a living, which Brooke and I have pretty much  given up on.

By the end of the day there is still a fair amount of boats in the main anchorage area and the wind is starting to pick up from the north and when we notice the boats have left from a position a short distance away, we scoot over there and drop the hook. The one remaining boat there is soon gone and we think we have the position to ourselves until a couple of short-draft boats come sliding in, make slowly for shore, tie up to the small park dock there and commence to picnic down. They’re noisy but not intolerable. We swing around a bit but the holding is good and we have a nice dinner and watch a movie later.

Ojibway Bay anchorage

Mon. June 10

The sun is up for a while but gives way to rain and wind and the shore-party breaks up and heads home. The wind is shifting now to the SE so we weigh anchor and head over to the spot we had aimed for yesterday. Now it is clear but for a sailboat and a small cruiser. We drop anchor in about 15 feet of water in the shelter of a small island and, dressed warmly, enjoy the sun until it gives way to rain in the latter half of the day.

Tues. June 11

We have intended for some while to take advantage of a small anchorage close to the town of Penetang, called Discovery Harbour. It is an historical re-creationist sort of place and has a couple of small tall-ships tied to a dock and a few olde tyme buildings, manned by summer students dressed as olde tyme sailors and soldiers and such. Of course, in this benign setting, there are no hangings or virulent diseases that would actually mark the era. Just students in ill-fitting costumes. Brooke has determined that we will visit this site officially soon.

Brooke dreaming of the day when she will visit the Discovery Centre

We head back to the mainland, tie up at the town dock (which they will let you do for up to 4 hours without charge) and grab the truck (for which we have decided to pay the seasonal parking rate of $65 for convenience sake) and go for provisions. Then we motor up the way, circle the small Magazine Island in the middle of Penetang harbour and drop the hook just off-shore of the Discovery Harbour Centre.

Discovery Harbour

It turns out to be quite a nice little anchorage really and the island cuts off the NW wind to a large degree. It rains for a while but let’s off and the evening is calm. While at this anchor we spot a young beaver swimming around eating wood, or whatever they do. Also, we saw a few big fish near the island fighting with each other; splashing around in the shallows and wiggling their tails at each other. I guess there isn't a whole lot fish can do than bump into each other. Unless, of course, they’re predatory, like sharks. We have yet to spot a shark.

Fish fight... not a whole lot of damage going on there.

Wed. June 12

We get up in the morning, motor over to Hindson and buy some fuel. It costs $1.37 a litre and I think back to a year ago when we were paying $1.58 a litre at the Outer Harbour Marina in Toronto which is owned by the city and therefore feels it has a right to fleece you.

Then we head out, destination… Giant’s Tomb. I had thought that this island was named such because it probably looked like some sort of big grave from a distance, but have since read that there is actually a giant buried there. His name was Roger.

Anchorage at Raft Point, Giant's Tomb Island

The wind is picking up (again), this time from the NW so Giant’s Tomb will be okay since its lee is to the SE. When we get there it is deserted (just the way we like it) and inching in we anchor in the sand at about 11 feet. Unfortunately, the intense drop off causes the anchor to ride down the incline and we end up in an awkward position when the wind shifts slightly and starts to push our stern into uncomfortably shallow water. We bring the hook out and move into deeper water and re-set with success.

Cute baby geese? Yes, Giant's Tomb has cute baby geese.

Thur. June 13

Well, the wind is getting silly now and we can’t hold out at Giant’s Tomb anymore so we decide to make a run for it across the strait and through into a bay at Hope Island. Active-Captain, a web-site that I belong to and has a great anchorage recommendation map, holds that Sandy Bay on Hope Island is a great spot when the winds are from the N to any degree.

Another aspect of this bay that has received numerous mentions in A-C is the remarkable colour of the water. When we arrive we find that this is no exaggeration. It is, on a sunny day, a fantastic emerald colour and clear as an actor’s bank account. We discover later that we can actually look down and see our anchor in the sand at 15 feet.

The emerald-green waters of Hope Island

We are well-protected, the bay is at rest and there is nobody else about. Later a nice-looking Beneteau comes cruising in under power and drops anchor a few hundred yards away. When they have finished dropping the hook, we hear the pop of champagne bottles and cheers. We estimate that this is a new boat on its first day out. Here’s to many more, you unseen compatriots.

Cappie soothing his injured knee in the icy water

Later in the day, a huge storm front which we had run to Hope to avoid descends on the region. Environment Canada has issued a Small Craft Warning and we are definitely that. But luck and smart planning have combined and we watch, in awe, as the huge thunder heads roll past us to the east and dump their lightning, thunder and rain on all areas there, including Giant’s Tomb. We, conversely, are bathed in sunlight.

Shoal Point, Hope Island. Storm in the background.

Fri. June 14

We had contemplated swinging over to Beckwith Island (just a couple of miles away) to the west side anchorage there but when the wind swings so the WNW, we decide instead to make for Christian Island, where we will hunker down at an area of the ferry channel near the small community there. All of the islands around here are park lands mostly and belong to the Beausoleil First Nations. For a small fee you are welcome to enjoy most areas but are also welcome to take your garbage home with you and not to wreak havoc on the scenery.

We anchor off the shore near the town dock where the ferry comes in every hour or so, for most of the day and night as far as we can make out.

Sat. June 15

We have heard over the weather radio that there is a small window of calm around day-break and after that the wind will be climbing to 15 – 20 knots from the SW. This is the day that we are supposed to head over to Thornbury by boat. We have telephoned the marina there but have had no response despite several attempts and messages left. Given that it is a town marina and is supposed to be open 6 days a week, 8 – 4 pm, this seems pretty shabby. But we decide that we will just head there anyway and if there is a problem getting a slip, we’ll instead make for Meaford, some 6 or 7 miles further, where we know we can get in.

We get up at 5:30 in the morning only to find that the weather has come earlier than anticipated by Environment Canada and the wind is already starting to pick up. We motor over to the entrance to the Christian Island channel and look out onto the featureless horizon. The waves are already starting to grow and the distance we would have to traverse is about 18 miles, or in Mary Mary language, 2 ½ hours at 8 knots. Granted it would be a head wind and if we were on our own we would probably have run it, crashing the waves head on, but with the cats, it would only be traumatic. They start to foam, you know.

Strange pollen slick off Sawlog Bay

So we decide to forgo it this time and instead head back to Penetang, the wind pushing us along as if to agree with our decision. It’s disappointing, particularly because we were to meet up with Jenny and Terry for the evening, but we have learned from experience, that when conditions are iffy you have to go with your gut and force yourself to make the smart choice.

When we arrive back at Hindson marina, we book in for a week’s stay and watch later as terrific thunder storms hit the area.

Storm clouds in the sunset

Thus endeth anchor week.

Cappie's Guide to The Dangerous Wildlife of Georgian Bay

Since many people who read this blog might one day find themselves in the pristine waters of Georgian Bay, and even venture by dinghy on to land now and again, I thought I would let you know in advance about some of the dangerous species that exist here. That way, with a bit of common sense, a day trip to the sunny shores of the area won’t end in disaster or worse. Hence, this general publication of …

Cappie’s  Guide to The Dangerous Wildlife of Georgian Bay

The Black Bear

One of the most dangerous predators of the Georgian Bay area, the common Black Bear (named not because of the colour of its fur, but its general mood) can grow up to 17’ long and weigh over one ton. These bears tend to travel in packs and can be very dangerous if cornered or made fun of with gestures.

One rule of thumb is to never get between a mother bear and its cub. A new mother bear may want her off-spring to become a dentist, for instance. It would be great folly indeed, therefore, to buy a young black bear a guitar for it's birthday. The enraged mother bear would probably eat her own rather than live to see it become a musician.

Enraged Black Bear finding out her cub has joined a ska band

The Eastern Massassauga Rattlesnake

The Eastern Massassauga Rattlesnake, cousin to the Western Massassauga Rattlesnake and distantly related to the Southern Massassauga Rattlesnake and completely unrelated to the Northern Massassauga Rattlesnake, is easily the most formidable of the Massassauga snake family. Owing to the massive chemical pollution of the great lakes, the EMR has evolved into a bizarre version of its previous self. Growing up to 17’ long and weighing over one ton, the EMR can now be spotted in trees and other overhanging growth. The pollution damage to EMR eggs over the last three decades has caused it to grow a second head at what used to be its shoulder region and now the two-headed EMR is common to all areas of Georgian Bay. If you hear this snake rattling its "back brains" stop and slowly move away. It's venom can kill a full-grown bull moose in 2 seconds.

Should you encounter one of these dangerous animals, there is only one safe way of dealing with it. Since Poison Ivy has a narcotic effect on these monsters of the park, the Parks Department asks that when you run into this hideous reptile you should cover it with Poison Ivy and then, once it is unconscious, place it in a canvas sack and bring it to the nearest Ranger station. Just leave it on the counter with a note addressed to Steve.

Young EMR wit its secondary head

The Muskellunge or Muskie

Even in the seemingly calm, clear water of the bays and inlets around our wonderful Georgian Bay, horrific danger lurks mere inches below the surface. The Muskie is a fearsome fish with crocodile-like jaws and a ravenous appetite. Specimens have been caught reaching lengths of 17’ and weighing in at over one ton. Anglers caught unaware by one of these submarine behemoths have often been dragged overboard and devoured because of lack of vigilance.

There is little to be done to avoid the Muskie as it can reach swimming speeds of up to 40 MPH and in the green and blue waters of the lake, is almost impossible to spot before it’s too late. There have been unconfirmed reports that some fishermen have had success in distracting them temporarily with egg salad sandwiches.

Georgian Bay's silent killer - The Muskie

The Chipmunk

The Northern Reticulated Chipmunk is not to be confused with their cute, furry cousins from other areas of Ontario. This Chipmunk has four rows of razor-sharp bicuspids, can leap up to 15 feet and has an acid-like spray that it can eject from the large poison-sacs located around their throat

If you come upon one of these creatures while it is sleeping in its lair or ‘kill cave’ you may have caught a break and an opportunity for escape. After feeding on one of its many prey, (which includes the aforementioned Black Bear and Muskie) the Northern Chipmunk may sleep for up to five days. 

Northern Reticulated Chipmunk - or Wolvermunk

The Raccoon

The Georgian Bay Raccoon (or as the indigenous population has named it, Okantawe - Death Bringer) again differs greatly from its southern type. Instead of breaking into garbage cans and eating the garbage, it hides in the can silently waiting for park visitors to toss something in. Be sure not to put your hands too close to any receptacle or you may be grabbed, hauled inside and dispatched of quickly by this wily predator.

It was the Georgian Bay Raccoon that was Species Zero in the proliferation of rabies, cholera and rickets that has subsequently spread far and wide.

Sabre-tooted Okantawe

The Mosquito

The Mosquito (French for Terrible Insect) is not uncommon to most parts of Canada. However, the Georgian Bay Mosquito is over 8 feet long and has not one but two stingers. The second stinger is located near its anus. Campers falling asleep in their tents without properly securing the zippers have been found the next day, totally drained of blood.

Research shows that one female GB Mosquito needs the equivalent of the entire blood supply of four Sussex oxen in order to reproduce. That passing airplane you hear overhead at night is probably a GBM off to find its next abandoned bus barn in order to lay its eggs.

As monstrous as these creatures are you can avoid attack by covering yourself in a mixture of honey, wild rhubarb and camp-fire ash.

Georgian Bay Mosquito feasts on camper

Certainly, there are many things to do in the woods and waters of Georgian Bay. And first amongst these is... STAYING ALIVE!

And so the summer begins…

And so the summer begins…

On Monday Brooke sets off for Penetang on her 250 Honda Rebel that we like to call Bikini (that’s pronounced By-keen-ee and references a comparison between her Rebel and my old 1200 Kawasaki). The plan is to move the bike up north, not only for additional transportation but also because she plans to take her final road test in Owen Sound where conditions better favour a successful attempt. And so, off she goes. I must confess that I worry somewhat for her because this is her first highway ride and she’s going it alone. It’s a small bike and even though she’s taking the back roads, it’s still a bit of a haul. Of course, she makes it, but only after a few hours of battling 30 k headwinds. Ouch.

Brooke, ready to set up north aboard Bykeenee

I will complete the bug-out from the apartment the next day and with a packed truck and two cats, I lock the door and hoping for the best, head north.

The cats are perfect, very few complaints, and within a couple of hours I am wheeling them in a dock cart to the boat which waits in its slip. Mister Huxley is meowing loudly as we approach the boat and I am thinking that this is just her way of saying ‘let me out already’. It isn’t until we try to get her out that I realize that her claw is caught in the sheep’s wool liner of her cat case and she is in pain., Brooke, now happily aboard, rescues her.

Misters Huxley & Hattie... 'We're going where now?"

Then the weather sets in. It’s cloudy, rainy and unseasonably cold. Still, it’s boat and how bad can that be really? Brooke tells me that a woman named Karen that we met at the marina in Orillia has dropped by to say hello. Her family owns the Dutchman’s Cove marina on the other side of the Penetang bay and her husband, Brandon, has a 42 foot Grand Banks that he is renovating bit by bit. We might end up wintering there, depending on how the summer develops. Later, Brandon visits the boat and tells us about his work with his GB and I am deeply jealous of his ability to work on her when he wants to with a shop and equipment and such. Wouldn’t that be nice? (Karen admits to being a fan of this blog, so when you read this Karen… howdy.)

A couple of days pass and the winds are 20 k gusting to 40, so we’re not going anywhere. We thought about anchoring up the way at Discovery Harbour or a little further at Awenda Park area, but it’s just too dull and windy to consider. We have to vacate Hindson Marina for the weekend as they have a big ‘in-water boat show’ happening and they need our slip. Given the conditions I can’t see a lot of boat sales occurring but we have decided to cross the bay and stay at the Penetang Town Harbour slips.

We motor over and dock just behind the restored sailing gun-boat, the H.M.S. Badger. There isn’t much boat activity here except they are having some sort of civic regatta this weekend that doesn’t really involve boats but the mayors of the surrounding area get together at the town pier and go through some ceremony or other. We will probably leave on Sunday (which is meant to be the only sunny day for a while) and do that anchoring that I mentioned above.

Mary Mary and H.M.S. Badger

A while ago some kids caught a fair-sized bass off the dock and couldn’t quite handle it so I helped out getting it off the hook and once it was determined that the young  boys were going to keep it and eat it, I bashed it’s brains in with a  ‘Fish Billy’. One of its eyes kind of bugged out, almost exploding, and this brought squeals of revulsion from the young crowd as the bass shivered in its final throes. Probably these kids will remember me for the rest of their lives as the ‘guy who showed us how to kill.” I like to think that I have had a good influence on their lives. My reasoning was simple… if you’re not going to throw it back, kill it quickly. This reasoning might also be suitably applied to politics.

Billy and Cappie just before the bashing

For the last while (except for the couple of years that we laid up in Toronto) our boating has usually been uni-directional and we always have had a destination. The decision to just motor around the Bruce Peninsula this year, is taking some getting used to.

Things will probably look more promising when good weather eventually arrives. I have come up with a word describing the nature of weather that won’t turn the corner to nice… Shunshine. Feel free to use this expression. Just remember who gave it to you.

"There are three things all wise men fear"

"There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in a storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

Okay, Pat, I can add one to that... low water levels in Georgian Bay.

Sunday, May 26

We arrive back at Port Severn. Seven months of waiting and anticipating the spring launch and an answer to the question, “will we be able to escape the Severn River and enter Georgian Bay?” Historically low levels of water and nagging images of the water rushing out under the Highway 400 bridge (not to mention tales of  large boats coming downstream through the last lock, seeing the next 8 markers and quickly turning about) have periodically caused me sleepless nights. Oh, nasty creative imagination! I have played out every possible scenario over and over. In the best scenario we slip, unimpeded, through the channel and out into the bay and bump into a wooden chest containing hundreds of thousands of dollars. Other scenarios randomly involve being stopped dead on jagged rocks, being flung sideways in one of the eddies, losing power, having to motor backwards against the current and, of course, heart attack.

I have kept an almost daily watch on the water level graphs posted on the Canadian Hydrographic Service website and have been somewhat buoyed lately by an upward trend towards normalcy that seems to be happening. Heavy rains in the last while have helped there but questions to marina staff and others still are met with comments like “Gosh, you should be all right” and “most of the boats have made it through lately”. That latter comment is usually accompanied by no certain knowledge of the drafts of the boats that did make it. As the marina is closing early, we decide to drive over to Penetang (note: Penetang is interchangeable with Penetanguishene, a nicer sounding name, but much harder to type) where we have made arrangements for a slip for a week. Providing we make it through what I am now referring to as “The Gauntlet”.

At Hindson Marine, a large well-appointed marina at the bottom of the Penetang harbour, we notice a good-looking Grand Banks Europa and go over for a look. While there we speak to a couple with a large boat who are thinking about taking it up the Trent to Sparrow Lake someday soon. They have been in touch with ‘Cam’ one of the lock-masters at Lock 45 who tell them that the depth in ‘The Gauntlet’ is 47 inches. Well, isn’t that just exactly what we draw? Yes, it is friends.

Pretty Grand Banks Europa

There seems to be a common thread in the info that we’re getting and none of it is particularly encouraging.

We spend the night at the Kings Inn Motel in Midland. (For what it’s worth, if you’re looking for a bargain in that area, you can spend the night in a clean, well-equipped but small room there for about half of what you pay at the Best Western or Comfort Inn just up the street.) We have fish and chips at Captain Ken’s downtown (4 stars if you like f & c) and return to the motel for some restless sleeping.

Monday, May 27

Launch Day.

Despite the constant concern about the navigation to come, there is something inherently joyful in Launch Day that, temporarily at least, brings some relief to the stress of anticipating the next day.

The newly installed battery bank looks great (with its 6 x 6 volt batteries) and we have supposedly tripled our amp hours by it. The bimini that we bought last year is in place. The hull job we had done last year shines on and all looks well.

Shiny new battery bank (6 x 6 volt)

Time slows down now as we wait for the 2 pm launch. I am thinking about how we will have to navigate against the strong current into the slip that we have arranged for the night at the yard, but thankfully that is not to be the case as one of the marina staffs says we can stay right there at the slip next to the launch bay. We are grateful for this favour as maneuvering is a bit dicey when you haven’t had your hand on the wheel for the last half a year.

We don’t have much in the way of supplies so we decide to have some lunch at the Dam Grill in Port Severn. It is bright and sunny and we sit outside to best enjoy the surroundings. It is quite peaceful at the moment and a pint of Sapporo doesn’t hurt that notion.

Brooke notices that there are a couple of O.P.P. inside having lunch and we realize that the run-about docked at the restaurant (you can tie up there if you’re coming down the Trent, it’s just before you go into Lock 45) is in fact theirs. One of the two men turns out to be a conservation officer, so we question them about ‘The Gauntlet’. Here we get some of the best insight yet. On telling them our draft, the policeman says we should have no problem (there's that 'should' again) and the conservation guy backs this up. However, he says, owing to the heavy rains increasing the rate of flow from the lock, one of the green day markers is submerged and dances around just below the surface.

OPP boys spreading the 'Keep the beer for the anchorage' philosophy

We decide to get as close to ‘The Gauntlet’ by land as possible and have a look for ourselves. We had discussed the idea of launching the dinghy and taking a run down the channel, but decide against it because it is unlikely that our little 2.5 hp. motor would be able to bring us back against the current. We notice a large boat has approached the lock and it looks like he’s going to take a run at it. Perfect timing, we get to observe... We quickly drive over to a lane-way that approaches the point near ‘The Gauntlet’. There is a large, seemingly abandoned house on the property and we park in the long, uncut grass and climb over the rocks down to the bridge to watch the other boat.

When the boat, which looks to be some sort of Carver or Bayliner, perhaps 45’ in length, comes into a view, we are astounded by his rate of speed. At some points under the bridge the markers look to be only about 15 feet apart but this guy must be making 16 or 17 knots towards ‘The Gauntlet’! It’s like some sort of weird dream. High up in the plastic enshrouded fly-bridge a man in a baseball cap is bent intensely over the wheel. Behind him stands a woman, perhaps his wife, gripping a handrail. But crazier still, another man is sitting on the bow giving the captain hand signals as to which way to go!

Crazy Carver similar in size and speed to the one that ran 'The Gauntlet'

The boat swerves into the rapid flow and careens from one side of the channel to the other. Brooke, unable to help herself, calls out something like ‘slow down!’ more to herself than to them. They couldn’t possibly hear her over the roar of the engines echoing off the bridge walls. The boat swerves erratically and we realize that he doesn't see or know about the sunken, dancing green marker that right now looks more like a rock protruding occasionally from the water and sure enough the speeding boat runs to the off-channel side of it. (At this point on the waterway, red is on your starboard going downstream. Remember that, ye who venture forth.) He’s now almost out of the channel.

Whether by local knowledge or because the boat is planing high out of the water due to the high rate of speed, or just by sheer good luck, the boat speeds through ‘The Gauntlet’ successfully, spewing spray and wake everywhere. If they had hit something they would probably all be dead. Certainly the guy sitting on the bow would be. Incredible…

We catch our breath and return to the yard. I don’t know whether what we have just witnessed is making me feel better or worse. There’s no way I could ever convince myself to employ that captain’s strategy. ‘The Gauntlet’ seems even more daunting now somehow.

It is Brooke’s birthday tomorrow and amongst the logistical problems that I have had is the transportation of prezzies to the boat without giving too much away. Not to mention the cake that even now is languishing at the bottom of some bag in the steamy truck. It’s quite the challenge that we be embarking on, on Brooke’s ‘special’ day.

The weather is beginning to be a bit of an enemy now as today seems to be the last solid day and a storm front is moving in tomorrow and then rain and moderately heavy winds.

Perfect.

Tuesday, May 28

The Gauntlet…

We awaken to find that the wind has shifted to SSE. This is exactly what we didn’t want as now the water could be driven north and west out of the bay, lowering the levels in ‘The Gauntlet’. The forecast is now calling for rain later in the day and a quick peek at the Environment Canada site shows all the lakes shaded the deep red of a ‘small craft warning’. This apparently because the winds are going to reach 20 knots + for the next couple of days with gusts up to 40 knots.

What to do? If we go now we have the greatest chance of having the necessary water levels but we might get caught out on the bay in heavier wind. If we wait we may have to do so for two or more days with no guarantee that things will improve after that. It would also mean that we would have to maneuver into a slip at Starport, tricky because of current issues.

I go up and talk to Sean Hickey, the marina manager and he walks down with us to view the water for himself. Sean is of the opinion that now would be as good a time as any to leave the river, so with that encouragement, we opt to shove off.

Now that the decision has been made, I feel much better and the well-oiled machine that is the crew of the Mary Mary swings into action. We drain all the water from the tanks (we discovered yesterday we can gain over an inch of draft this way), stow birthday presents and fire up the twins. They are purring and it is a welcome and comforting sound.

We shove off, sterning out into the basin and come about, headed for the small channel from the marina to the river. Brooke is filming from the bow (we'll post the video soon) as we nose out into the main channel and turn to port. There it is… The Gauntlet. The current seems to have picked up and I’m thinking it’s a good 4  or 5 knots, which means that in order to maintain steerage, I will have to be going faster than that.

We have been warned by most to err to the starboard (red) markers and keep up speed until we pass under the bridge. There is a small fishing boat in the shallows under the bridge and Brooke notices that one of the men in it has signaled downstream to an on-coming cruiser to wait while we run through. Nice fellow.

As we approach the first markers, you can see eddies swirling about in the shallow water and for a moment we are pushed to port. That passes however and then we are in the middle of it all. I can see the submerged green marker popping and bobbing in the flow and the gap between it and the nearest red marker seems extremely narrow to me, but as we approach and the current picks up, I realize that Brooke’s theory about the current helping us as much as hindering was right. We slip along with little yaw and a moment later are out under the bridge and approaching the upward-bound cruiser, who is drifting in the channel, being slowly pushed about by the steadily increasing wind. He waves as we pass and I silently wish him well going up as his boat is larger than ours by 5 feet or so.

We are through. The only thing to worry about now is getting to Penetang before the wind picks up too much and avoiding the pitfalls of the area known as the Mary Rocks. But that passage is well-marked and in a couple of hours we are motoring into Penetang harbour and docking at the Hindson Marina.

Hindson Marina

When, after the fact, you look back on things that worry you, they generally fall into two categories. Either you were right to worry and things turn out badly or you were right to worry but things turn out okay. For us, this time, it was the latter. I think, in boating, a certain amount of stress turns into preparedness with the right approach. Having said that, I’m glad that portion of the adventure is over. On to Georgian Bay…