Waiting For Boat-o

We wait. 

The winds rise and huge, cold raindrops slap at the window behind me. Cats are squirrely. It doesn’t seem as though we’ll ever be on-board the boat. And I can’t wait to launch the new kayak. It’s now the second week of May, we’re in the apartment on Roncesvalles and the Mary Mary is on the hard at Wright’s Marine four hours north; hopefully she’s still sleepy in hibernation and unaware of our neglect. It certainly isn’t intentional. And I guess it’s early yet, but it feels some days as though her haul-out last September was a dozen years ago. What a long cold winter it seemed. 

Our new Scamper 2 Inflatable Kayak super-imposed on a phony BG

Adrian and I have just come back from Halifax where we had a two-week run of my play, Trudeau Stories, at the Neptune Theatre. I’d had visions before we flew out there of a boat tour and maybe a visit to the Coast Guard Station and breezy strolls along the harbour-walk in the spring air. April was supposed to be a lovely time to visit Nova Scotia.   But 2015 was a dastardly winter down east, they were hit time and again with ice and snow storms. Haligonians were pummeled with so much snow that one man said he shoveled 8 hours one day to clear a path from the road to his front door. The snow stood twice his height.  They all seemed pretty exhausted from the endlessness of it, so we couldn’t really complain too much about the greyness and the rain and wind during our visit. The grisliness of it didn’t demand any backbreaking labour, just a hunch in the shoulders when we walked up hill to get to the theatre in the driving rain.

Snow in Halifax - 2015

We did have a couple pockets of sunshine and climbed up Citadel Hill, and we did visit the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic, which was very well laid out, with great exhibits on shipwrecks, not only the SS you-know-what, but also the Empress of Ireland where so many more lost their lives; and scores of others from Louisbourg, Sable Island and Halifax Harbour etc.; some detailed Naval histories; beautiful large handmade models of some of the Cunard line and others, stores of ship’s artifacts from the age of sail as well as steam, and some fascinating details about the Halifax Explosion of 1917.  Merlin the Museum Macaw was absolutely beautiful (and he knew it); and we treated ourselves to a couple of glorious visits to the Press Gang Restaurant for oysters, wine and jazz.

Merlin doing his thing

Now we’re trying to decide what boat freezer to buy with some of the proceeds from the play, and--once we decide--how to get it, now that West Marine is closing many stores in Canada. The low Canadian dollar makes this purchase choice tricky too.

I don’t mean to complain, really I don’t.  I just want to be floating.  

Cappie 'floating'

Trip on Three Finger Bay (2014)

Last summer, while adventuring around the Massasauga Provincial Park area, we ended up in Three Finger Bay. Having looked at the real 3 fingers and finding them either unsuitable or occupied we anchored offshore in what could reasonably be called the thumb. As there weren`t many boats around at that time, it didn`t really matter that we were somewhat out in the open because the weather appeared to be cooperating and would do for the near future. 

Map of Three Finger Bay (and thumb)

I had the greatest fishing experience of my life there, actually. After dropping anchor for a bit and going for a swim, I was prone on the deck, enjoying the late afternoon sun, when I spotted a low-riding, heavy-engined fishing runabout manned by two fellows in camouflage gear. They were slowly meandering along the shoreline, casting in occasionally. 

When they got close to the Mary Mary, we exchanged pleasantries and the one guy asked if I had any idea where all the fish had gone. I restrained myself from responding that perhaps, just like themselves, they were all  wearing camouflage too. At any rate, apparently he was used to better luck in these waters. I relayed to him that spotty fishing was all I was used to really and so the boat wandered off.

What the heck, I thinks to meself. I`ll try me luck. 

I grabbed the rod, threaded on a worm and tossed her over. Slowly reeling back in I was gob-smacked to see a giant bass (by my standards, anyway) that was slowly following the dangling bait back to the surface. Stay there, stay there, I exhorted my prey and lowered the line back in. Sure enough, a moment later, a hard hit and I hauled the lunker in. I reckoned him to be about 4 or 5 lbs. 

One of the many beauties, glistening in the sun

As I am wont to do, I screamed for Brooke to come with the net and help me before the fish could flop off. Brooke arrived and straining with the weight, the net came up over the side and onto the deck with struggling Billy. We took pictures, a video, called the National Fishing Association and generally celebrated what was easily the biggest fish I`d ever caught (Other than a Mahi-Mahi in the Pacific Ocean.) We released the trophy back into the water and I settled back to fish some more, not really expecting any further excitement. But no sooner did the line hit the water than, bang, another big hit. I reeled him in, this one only slightly smaller than the last. And again and again the fish came bursting over the side until my arms  were sore from reeling them in. Altogether perhaps 10 or 12 large bass were caught in the space of about 45 minutes. Finally I ran out of bait.

As satisfying as the event had been, I only wished my fellow fishermen had still been around so that I could tell them exactly where the fish had gone to. Under my boat.

The next day we lowered the dinghy and took a ride up in to the northern finger of the bay and visited a small feeder creek that was the bloated with huge algae blooms. We had our Go Pro camera with us in its underwater housing and below is a link  to the video we shot. Enjoy it.