The Georgian Bay
My sister Lynn arrived on Elpis with a cold front and ready for adventure. We were ready to head north and traverse the Georgian Bay, and to follow the path of countless cruisers before us. 30,000 islands create phenomenal cruising grounds, and though we didn’t have much time to explore we were fascinated by the beauty of the trip. We motored along the serpentine path of the small boat channel, mesmerized by monoliths of solid rock above and below the water. Cautiously we made progress: one wrong turn could have put us and Elpis back on land for good. There are a lot of large, rock-solid reasons to pay attention while navigating the bay.
Lynn and I lucked out: we were late enough in the season that waterway bans due to forest fires all summer had just been lifted, and most the crowds were far ahead of us. All our anchorages were wonderfully peaceful and uncrowded. We swam. We jumped off rocks. We hiked. We drank tea and ate canned soup. We tried various methods to cool our beer. We spent evenings watching the sunset and listening to the cry of loons over the quiet, empty vastness. By the time we had reached the Bustard Islands, cottages were few and far between and we were familiar with the concept of remoteness. It was just us, a few other boats, and countless miles of whispering pines keeping watch over the wilderness.
We arrived in the Bustard Islands and the weather turned against us. Steady gray rain (“I’m not going out there…”) and howling winds kept us holed up for nearly three days. It was a nice time to be cozy; reading books, coloring, napping, and scheming future trips was mixed in with damp dinghy adventures and exploring the maze of rocks. We could have lived like that forever, but I had to find a way to keep moving so we wouldn’t get stuck. The islands are an outpost, the last stop before a 15 mile run of unprotected water to the next protected channel. We had to leave, and I was reminded of how grateful I am that Elpis is a very sturdy boat.
In a blustery fall fashion, low clouds skidded across the sky and the wind whistled. Sailing on just the main, conditions were just right and Elpis happily danced her way along. But the clouds thickened and a squall bore down on our little boat. The waves built and rolled by above the height of the deck, and just a mile to leeward they crashed and boiled on a field of boat crushing boulders. I was scared. Just a few more knots of wind and we’d be toeing the line of control. My mind kept imagining every possible horrible scenario, elevating my stress to unable-to-speak levels. Rain concealed the already difficult to see markers, and chilled us to the bone. Lynn put on a brave smiling face and drove while I navigated as best I could. When it was finally time to turn for safety, the conditions thankfully lightened just enough for me to yank the sail down and spot our way through a narrow channel, with more massive waves crashing on rocks on either side. Finally through the craziness and in a protected lagoon, we both breathed a deep sigh of relief and laughed. It wasn’t that bad!
On our way peacefully through Collins Inlet, making tea and recovering the library from the damp floor (again), we heard a call from MV Knot Kiddin. I had met Dustin and Eva briefly in the canals, and having just endured the same wild passage we made plans for dinner. These guys are awesome. Fellow young loopers! If you recognize them, they appeared on Good Morning America during their trip through NYC. We were all so grateful to be safe and sound, and to share our tales of the Loop late into the night.
With three days left for Lynn’s adventure, we headed up to Baie Fine, the Pool, and Lake Topaz. Again, we were lucky to be late in the season and not stuck with overwhelming crowds of boats. It’s an area of stunning beauty- it felt like traveling through fjords of Norway. We also managed to successfully med moor! I’ve never been so proud of an anchoring maneuver in my life. I had learned the move in theory, and wanted to try it while Lynn was still on board and we had a minimal audience. With the depth sounder sporadically flashing ghostly digits, Lynn watched for rocks as I inched Elpis towards shore as close and slowly as possible. Once we hoped we were at the right spot and guessing what the depth was, I turned around and Lynn dropped the anchor while I miraculously backed up in a straight line (difficult with a semi full keel and shifty winds). Lynn then secured the anchor and ran to the dinghy, where she hilariously—stand-up paddle board style—rowed herself to shore like a gondola. I tried to keep Elpis in position while letting out the stern line, almost pulled her in the water, and at long last got the line tied to a tree. At this point we were laughing almost too hard to breathe. The whole process was ridiculous, but it worked. Later we found out from our neighbors that we apparently looked like pros (“how many times have you done that before?!”). Next time I’ll be trying that move with more crew members.
To get Lynn home, our last destination was also one of our favorites. Remember Jerry and Marty on MV Monarch? We had met way back in Illinois and they had become some of our dearest boat family friends. They have a cottage on a small island next to Cove Island, at the tip of the Bruce Peninsula. It is a pristine haven of tranquility, and it was wonderful to spend time with old friends. Lynn had one more day, so Jerry and Marty showed us around, took us for a boat ride, showed us the best spots for (frigid) snorkeling, and took the best care of us. They even let us borrow their truck to help deliver Lynn back home. It was a perfect stop, and Lynn was successfully on her way back home just in time to make it to school.
I had a magical week of rest. Elpis was on a safe dock, we had delicious food, I slept in, and I caught up on necessary boat work. The list included removing mold, regular engine maintenance, tightening the packing gland, filling water tanks right from the lake, and all normal fun boat stuff. I was waiting for the right weather, and preparing for the next stage: solo boat trip!
Hey Lynn, let's go for a boat ride, surprise, it's going to be SUPER cold
Having fun in the Bustards
The conch horn is not used to the cold
Hello Baie Fine
Our first (and only) Med moor!
The Pool from above
Lake Topaz
Hanging out in the pool. Later that night there was a thunderstorm system somewhere nearby and we had the most impressive and scary lightning show I've ever seen. We made popcorn and peered through the windows and saw brilliant flashes of the anchorage countered with crushing blackness and sporadic drops of rain.
Covered Portage Cove just before a good weather window. There was a friendly otter here that would climb into dinghies and even into cockpits in search of food!
Enjoying fresh home-grown tomatoes
Safe and secure
