It is past dawn and time to leave. SeaLight slides out of her slip at 5:30 am, does a ninety-degree reverse turn, then motors towards the exit. It is still smoky, the visibility is poor, and the winds will be in our face, but the water has flattened and we hope to make the 55 mile run today to Ashbridges Bay Yacht Club. There will not likely be any sailing today.
The passage time goes quickly. We have to pay more attention on this run as we pass through a very popular fishing area and, sure enough, have to twice dodge small fishing boats on collision courses with us, not paying attention and not yielding our right of way. I graciously alter course and pass behind them but do try to get close enough to snag their lines in my keel.
There is just enough chili left over from two previous meals to craft magnificent chili dogs for lunch. For some inexplicable reason, Ana can’t understand the chili and wiener combination and requests a hot dog without the chili, so I serve her a plain dog and eat the rest of the chili on the side.
We motor into the still smoky Ashbridges Bay and squeeze into slip 101 on White Dock. After securing the boat, we take a walk, very happy to be back in Toronto and less than 10 miles away from National Yacht club – our destination tomorrow and for the weekend with a gaggle of our boating buddies from Newport.
For me, the Beaches neighbourhood in Toronto is always a surprise. It’s a surprise because one would not expect a clean, mile long beach near the downtown of a huge city on a freshwater lake. Ocean city, sure. But a lake city? And because of the insanely diverse ethnicities of the beachgoers, if you were dropped onto the beach from an airplane, blindfolded, you would simply not have a clue where you were. Dubai maybe? Brazil? Sydney? Greece? Oh wait, there’s the CN Tower – must be Toronto.
We walk along the beach boardwalk then turn north and head to busy Queen Street and find a Firkin pub where we have drinks and a plate of nachos. On the television is a sport that initially looks like rugby, then I realize it must be Aussie rules footy after seeing it was being played in front of a crowd of tens of thousands in Geelong stadium. The only reason I would know this is because my Aussie buddy Johnny used to try to teach me how to bounce the oblong ball on the ground while running, which is impossible for non-Australians. It is a game played on a football sized pitch and you seem to be allowed to do pretty much anything with the ball – throw it, kick it along the ground, handball it to a teammate, punt it, or run with it until another player takes your head off. I had to text Johnny to ask him why there would be an Aussie rules footy game playing in an English pub in Toronto. He had the answer. The Poms are refusing to watch soccer anymore after their semi-final loss at the World Cup.
Back at the boat, we take care of a few chores in preparation for the weekend. I wash the exterior and clean out the weeds from the AC water intake, Ana vacuums and cleans the inside, we inventory the food and booze situation, do a load of laundry at the clubhouse, and start looking for indoor things to do with the kids on Saturday, which is expected to be rainy.
No comments:
Post a Comment