The SeaLight Adventure Starts Now

When we bought SeaLight she was high and dry on a boat cradle at Wigger's Custom Yachts in Bowmanville, Ontario. She had been there for the winter season after having some repairs done and a new paint job last fall. Wigger's is known to be one of the best boat repair shops around, but the trick is actually getting in and out of their harbour entrance with currently low water levels.

We had reserved a slip at Port Whitby Marina, just 15 miles or so west of Bowmanville, but with the additional pandemic lockdown measures put in place by the Ontario government, there was no telling when the marina would be able to open. So we came up with a plan. We would launch her on May 23 and my buddy Andrew would join me in sailing her to his waterfront house and dock just east of Kingston, about 113 nautical miles away or about 22 hours sailing. Then we would just travel up there on the weekends and enjoy the boat at a nice private residence while the province took their time opening things up. I scheduled the boat launch and everything was set...until I got a text at 5:30 in the morning from Andrew a few days before departure.

"Hey, what's the draft on the new boat, like 5 feet?"

"Nope. 6.5 feet - it's a full keel."

"Oh man, I didn't know it was that deep, Bella Blue only had about 4 feet, right?"

"Yep, and when we sailed her to your place last time she floated nicely on the dock with plenty of water beneath the boat so we should be good."

"Uh, I don't know - the lake levels are down like 2 feet."

"Oh shit."

"I'll go and measure."

Sure enough, there was only 5 feet of water at the deepest point on his dock. There was brief talk of dredging, putting down a mooring, anchoring in the middle of the channel, and a few other totally impractical ideas, then we realized the plan was toast.

I called Wigger's and moved the launch date to the following Friday, hoping that the gov't would east up on restrictions in the coming week. Fortunately, they did, and the marina sent notice they would be opening! Plan B was drop-kicked into high gear. My buddy Tony volunteered to drive the two of us up to Bowmanville Thursday after work for an early Friday morning drop-in, despite the forecasted weather looking less than promising.

Tony arrived right at 4:30pm on Thursday and we were off. The drive took a bit longer than usual due to rush hour traffic (which is a Covid fraction of what it normally is this time of day), but we arrived and I gave Tony a quick tour of the boat. We then launched into action and finished up a few remaining jobs to get her ready for the water, then we walked down to the launch site and gave the mast a good cleaning as it was covered in bird poo and spider webs from a long winter in the storage yard. We finished up around 9pm then returned to the boat for a huge feed of sheppard's pie and a couple of beers to wash it down.

By 8:30am Sealight was on a trailer and being towed by a backhoe down to the nearby launch site. The three gents from Wigger's then eased her into the massive travel lift and raised her up so we could splash some bottom paint on the cradle pad marks. By now it was freezing outside, having dropped nearly 20 degrees in the previous 24 hours, and at one point it started snowing horizontally. Painful, considering every day of that week the weather had been clear, calm and hot.

The lads rolled the travel lift into the launch well and slowly dropped her in. I jumped aboard to check for leaks and fortunately found none. The next step was to put up the mast, which is done with a boom truck that is stationed beside the well. They winched up the mast, maneuvered it into place, but as they were about to drop it, something soft and fleshy plopped from inside the mast down onto the deck of the boat. A dead baby bird. And after some foot hammering on the bottom of the mast, three other abandoned bird bodies flopped out, along with a pound of straw and grass from the next. They were unceremoniously flipped into the water then the mast and rigging was set into place.

Once all that was complete, we stood back and had a look. One of the shrouds (these are the stainless steel lines that connect the mast and spreaders to the deck) was floppy and they weren't able to adjust it enough to take the slack out so we feared the company that had just built all this brand new rigging for the boat had made a mistake and cut that one too long. Major problem. But because of the awful weather, the Wigger's guys didn't want to send anybody up in a bosun's chair to investigate further so we decided to abandon plans to leave today and instead work on it tomorrow, which was inevitable as the crashing surf at the harbour entrance was going to prevent us from leaving anyway.

I got onboard, started the engine and started backing up into the channel but soon got grounded and it took some fancy maneuvering with engine, lines, and people to wiggle her out and get her tied up at the dock. She was in the water, safely tied up, and we were cold and starving so we broke for lunch.

JP's Pita Deli is a local eatery where Magnus had picked up some delicious food for us a few weeks prior so we stopped in. JP's is not your average donair dump; it's more like a temple, dedicated to JP himself! The walls are papered with huge images of JP in the 70's as a Greek shmoozer wearing bell bottoms, open chested shirts, gold chains, and manly man-hair everywhere. There's one with him and his Camaro. There's one with chicks draping their arms around him. There's one of him wearing some kind of Indian/Led Zeppelinesque glitter robe. It's a full-on tribute to Greek Studmuffinism. Within 5 minutes he had made Tony and I two gigantic giros, told us all about his current life (working 7 days a week), related a few stories of all the babes he shagged in his Camaro and the resulting state of the upholstery, then offered us shots of Johnny Walker. When we politely turned him down he said he'd drink our shots for us and poured a huge mouthful for himself and gulped it down. I liked him right away.

We returned to the boat, ate our giros, then Tony headed back home and I mucked around in the boat for the afternoon, taking care of a number of inside jobs. Ana and the kids arrived early that evening and were happy to finally see Sealight floating. They brought a pot of chili so we warmed that up, ate it, and I was sleeping by 10pm while the rest of them stayed up longer enjoying the pleasures of the warm boat.

Todd, the previous owner of the boat, arrived Saturday morning and we got to work trying to fix the rigging. I was hauled up the bosun's char and after well over an hour of adjusting turnbuckles, measuring, hammering, twisting, slackening, tightening, detaching, and reattaching, we finally threw in the towel and admitted that the one piece of rigging was too long and needed to be returned to the shop for shortening. We then moved onto putting up the boom, installing the sailbag, and raising the headsail to get the boat ready to go in case we could get out in the afternoon. Robert from Wigger's came by, had a look at the water and decided it was still too rough, and we couldn't go out, but he did schedule the launch for the next morning at 8:30am since the forecast called for no wind and flat water conditions. With that, Todd went home and we spent the rest of the afternoon swabbing the outside decks and cleaning her up. The boat was really dirty, but by the end of our cleaning it was looking pretty damn good.

I installed the barbeque grill on the back of the boat and we cooked an excellent dinner then enjoyed it in the expansive, bug-free cockpit as we admired the resident swans paddling up and down the channel looking for their own meals.

One of the powerboaters further up the channel decided to take his boat out for a rip but as he was backing up he got completely stuck in the mud and was only able to pull it free by attaching a long line to his buddy's 4x4 on shore and getting out in the knee deep water and pushing from behind. This did not bode well for our 6.5 foot draft.

The Wigger's boys arrived early Sunday morning and by the time Todd arrived at 8:30, we were totally ready to go. They gave us the briefing, and the briefing was this: there was only 3.5 feet of water in parts of the channel, and our boat's keel needs over 6 feet of water, therefore they would attach the spare spinnaker halyards from the top of the mast to one of the power boats and he would drive the boat away from ours pulling down on the mast which would tip the boat onto its side and raise the keel, thereby reducing the draft. The other boat would tie a line to the bow cleat and tow us ahead and out of the channel. Now, this is not the way one would typically leave a harbour entrance, but there was really no other option besides having the boat trucked, and that would probably cost as much as seasonal dockage and take weeks to schedule.

Previous to this day, I was warned several times by Wigger's staff of the terror of this operation. When I was asking the owner's son about the infamous process the day before, he told me, "Everybody should try it once." I've heard the same thing said about eating durian fruit, Filet Americain, hakarl, and balut. If you don't know what those are, look them up and you'll see what I mean.

Todd and I boarded the boat while he others watched from shore. Thankfully Todd reminded me to plug the thru-hulls on the starboard side of the boat where we would be heeling, so I got some wooden dowels and pounded them into the holes, otherwise the water would have poured into the boat. I started the engine and piloted her through the narrow channel and got further than I thought I would as the boat came to a halt with the keel stuck in the sand bottom. The power boats revved into action, pulling sideways and forward and the boat immediately started to heel. Over she went, steeper and steeper until the keel pulled free and we began making progress through the channel. I turned off the engine as the propeller was surely now sticking out of water with the angle of the heel. The water started sloshing over the rails, but there was nothing much for us to do except watch and hold on tight!

At one point, the bow of the boat swung towards shore and we were headed straight for the rocks so the Wigger's boys cut the power and she swung back upwards, sticking the keel into the mud but thankfully avoiding the sharp rocks. Getting her off was tough, as the power boats leaned into the throttle, putting massive pressure on the mast and rope, and she eventually released with a groan and we were making progress again, but this time aimed more towards the middle of the channel. The boat was now nearly sideways, probably a 50 - 60 degree angle as she was dragged through the water, like a lion hauling a freshly killed gazelle by the broken neck across the savanna. I had now shifted my footing so that I was no longer standing on the floor of the cockpit; instead I was standing on the wall of the cockpit and the water was rushing far up over the rails, soaking the bottom edges of the canvas cockpit enclosure. Todd was sitting on the high side of the boat, looking down at me, and he seemed to be quite enjoying the ride as the new non-owner of the vessel. I am sure the bystanders on land thought we were trying to purposely sink the boat as they saw the steep heeling and the keel and prop sticking out of the water. I expect they also felt some embarrassment, similar to seeing a flash of bum under a pretty girl's dress, knowing you should probably look away, but instead succumbing to the irresistible urge to stare. After spending so many years sailing I know the physics of a sailboat are such that they can't really be tipped over, but I was worried about all the pressure being applied to the line and the mast and hoped that the standing rigging was tight and secure and able to withstand the loads.

Todd looked up the mast and said to me, "Hey, it looks like the line is getting frayed at the top, must be from all the pressure." Not one minute later there was a giant SNAP and the boat flopped back upright, viciously, but thankfully she was floating!

"That wasn't the mast, was it??" I yelled.

"Nope, the spinnaker line just broke. We're good," Todd replied.

With that, she was in the open water, just barely out of the shallows and it felt great as there seemed to be no damage beyond the broken halyard which was easily replaced. The Wigger's boys gathered up the remains of the line from the water, tossed it over to us and bid us goodbye. I thanked them profusely and thought to myself that this is indeed an experience to try once. Once.

Todd and I spent the next two hours motoring westward to Whitby, all alone on the lake, on a beautiful and calm day. The engine passed the sea trial with flying colours and we were achieving over 8 knots on 2200 RPM as she hummed along nicely. Along the way I took the opportunity to ask Todd all the remaining questions I had about the boat. He had owned the boat for several years and had spent two of those in the Caribbean so knew the boat's systems inside and out and had upgraded many of those systems himself.

We arrived at the Port Whitby Marina and slowly and carefully navigated the boat into the harbour. At some points the depth came right up to the bottom of our keel so we were skimming mud but did manage to float through. As we approached our slip I could see Ana and the kids there as well as several other people who had lined up to help catch our lines. I've always preferred backing into a slip, but because I didn't know how this boat handled I was taking a bit of a chance. My first attempt failed so I motored her back out, turned around, and came in for another pass and that time I brought her in reasonably well and soon we were all tied up and SeaLight was safely docked in her new summer home.

After a short break we got the bosun's chair rigged up to ascent the mast and remove the incorrectly sized shroud. As I was preparing to climb the mast Todd looked again at the rigging and suggested we try adjusting the turnbuckles again. I  knew we had already tried this but agreed to give it one more go before taking the next painful step of removing it completely. I went up the mast, got to the first spreader, started adjusting it and voila, it worked! I have no idea why, but perhaps all the yanking and twisting and jerking of the mast during the unorthodox channel launch stretched the rigging into shape. I was elated and would have done a happy dance if I wasn't hanging off a thin rope 40 feet in the air with an adjustable wrench and screwdriver in my hand.

With that, the job was done, the boat was settled, and we finally had a chance to sit in the cockpit, relax, and imagine what adventures the rest of the season might bring.

Is There a Bright Side to the COVID-19 Pandemic?

Risk. Uncertainty. Fear. Panic. Welcome to 2020.

We are in the midst of the COVID19 global pandemic and at times like these, it is natural to re-evaluate one’s life and world view. The fear of this virus has become overpowering and unavoidable. There is literally nothing else being reported on in the mass media, stoking even more fear and desperation. Governments are executing massive stimulus programs, sending bucketloads of money out the door to people who have lost their jobs (and there are many), parents, seniors, but also large and small businesses across the country. Governments at all levels have sent us home into quarantine and closed schools, daycares, most businesses, parks, playgrounds, and restricted all social gatherings. Though few of us have experienced wartime outside of Hollywood epics, that’s what it feels like right now (without all the shooting). To make things worse for Canada and other resource extracting countries, the price of oil has dropped to below $20/barrel due to a supply war between Saudi Arabia and Russia, devastating the entire industry. The price is closing in on lows set in 1998 – over 20 years ago, and they hadn’t previously hit that level since 1947.

People are dying from this and more people are going to die. Many more will lose their jobs, houses, and other possessions as they start liquidating assets to bring in cash to spend on the necessities. Some of these people will crack under the pressure and commit suicide. Relationships will fall apart. Mental health issues will skyrocket. Many will give up hope. All of this is awful.

There is going to be plenty of carnage to go around. But one thing to remember is that when chaos reigns, opportunities abound…if you look for them. Many people plant seeds for future wealth during times of uncertainty. They are greedy when others are fearful. They take chances when others are running for the exit. Governments too have made their greatest and most significant changes during bad times, and the effects of these last for decades or longer. Let’s take a break from the doom and gloom and look for some opportunities.

1. Deal with climate change

Look at the world pulling together to combat an imminent threat. It is truly amazing what we can do in times of emergency. But it seems that this Herculean effort is only possible when the fear of death or total collapse is present. We are slowly roasting our planet by unnecessarily burning fossil fuels and we need to stop doing it, otherwise millions of deaths will be caused and our way of life will truly change for the worse, and impact the poorest of humankind the most. Let’s find a way to extend this spirit of global cooperation to seriously tackling climate change. Like Greta Thunberg recently said, “I want you to act as you would in a crisis. I want you to act as if our house is on fire. Because it is.”

Maybe this virus is part of the Earth’s plan. I imagine the conversation going like this:

Earth: Could you please stop burning all my energy resources, it is really causing a lot of problems and making it tough for me to hold the whole system together.

Us: Fuck you.

Earth: Ok then, if you are not going to do anything about it, then I will. And you’re not going to like my solution.

Has it occurred to anybody that there could be another virus that pops up right after this one, but maybe it will kill 50% of the people who contract it and will be more contagious than the coronavirus? Maybe the combined problems of human overpopulation and warming temperatures are causing ever more deadly viruses to occur ever more frequently. Nature is all about balance, nature is complex, nature works in mysterious ways. We ignore her at our peril.

2. Improve the school system

In Canada we claim to have a world class school system, and judging by international standards, it is good, but could absolutely be improved. Is the money we are putting into the education system delivering the anticipated results? Canada's ranking in global comparisons of education systems has slipped in recent years, and this is not for lack of funding. Perhaps we've reached the point where incremental changes are no longer improving results. The recent strikes in Ontario have been difficult to the public to understand as the unions, who wield an enormous amount of political power, pushed for increased pay and benefits, and pushed back on some progressive reforms such as online learning and higher class sizes for high school students both of which seemed like rather tolerable changes to get the overall cost of delivering education under control, but which would have resulted in fewer teacher positions, despite the government's guarantees that these position cuts would be delivered through attrition and not job losses. As a result, teachers across all systems went on strike, resulting in lost school days, terrible disruption for parents, and disappointed kids. In the end, it seems the unions came out ahead, as most of the proposed changes were tossed and yearly benefits will be increased by 4% while pay will be held to 1%.

Our provincial government is facing major spending challenges as the provincial debt and deficits have exploded in the past fifteen years. Cuts must be made and systems need to become more efficient. How can we educate children to become productive, innovative, creative citizens but at a lower cost? As we are seeing during this crisis, health trumps everything else and the bill is going to be massive, which will give the government much less room for future compensation increases for public sector employees.

Governments should take advantage of this time to reset the rules. First, in a time where people everywhere are losing their jobs, losing their businesses, and losing their minds, teachers and many other public sector workers (me included) are effectively sheltered from all of it. It is time to reset expectations. Public sector salaries and benefits cannot continually rise when private ones get decimated during the inevitable crisis times. Paying public sector workers more than similar private sector jobs and offering incredible pensions that go far beyond anything in the private sector does not make sense and it is not fair to taxpayers.

Deep structural changes such as consolidating the four different types of school boards, implementing accountability systems that affect pay for unionized workers, or somehow reducing the political power of the unions are tough, if not downright impossible. But this is a perfect opportunity to embrace the idea of using technology to enable remote or online learning. If teachers and students can effectively learn remotely, then whenever the physical schools are closed because of bad weather or a crisis, we can switch to the online model and keep the system running. And we can continue to develop the idea from here for the benefit of students. This seems like something that everybody should be able to agree on.

3. Get government spending under control

This is all so predictable that it’s almost laughable. Over the past ten years, Canada has been going through nearly uninterrupted boom times. Yet all levels of government run massive deficits every year. It’s in the name of “investment”. Or to solve burning social issues. Or to keep us competitive. There is always a reason. But the fact is that during the good times governments should not be overspending because the next disaster where massive stimulus spending will be needed, is always right around the corner. Doesn’t a crisis tend to happen every ten years or so? Why do we think these won’t continue to happen? Permanent deficits are bad policy and an awful example to regular citizens who simply follow their lead and spend money they don’t have on things they don’t need.

The aftermath of this crisis will be massive levels of government debt, which means taxes will rise and future spending will be cut. At least the math would suggest this is what should happen, but in these times, we can’t count on any governments to spend and tax responsibly, because we keep electing ones that don’t.

4. Let kids learn in a different way

I’m not going to lie. I have really been enjoying this time. I realize we are very fortunate in that my job seems to be secure, and really hasn’t changed much at all, besides working from home 100%. Ana’s job is safe for now, so we still have money coming in. I know many are not in this enviable situation, so it is good to see governments stepping up to help get people through, because people really need help right now.

This time of the four of us at home, together, has created a huge opportunity to experiment with learning. When the schools closed, Ana and I put together a plan for the kids. It was simple. They must spend 4 hours per day learning new things. So we created a list of interesting topics, ideas and activities. Here are a few of them:

- learn calligraphy

- practice wood carving

- learn touch typing

- develop a carbon reduction plan for the family

- learn how to cut up a whole chicken and how to fillet a fish

- learn to sew

- make bread and do baking

- research what the Koran is and why is it important

- what is the Big Bang?

- use Lynda.com, khanacademy.org, or any of the thousands of self-directed learning websites

The kids can choose any of these, or come up with their own, but the idea is to use this incredible and probably once-in-a-lifetime gift of time to explore things they are interested in. No teacher telling them what to do, no deadlines, no pressure, and no test. Deliverables from their day’s activities are discussed during dinner and if they have put a presentation together, they deliver it after dinner in the family room, and then we discuss it together.

Are we the kind of people who could do home schooling? I don’t think so. But this time has given Ana and I an incredible chance to explore this style of learning with our kids. And it has been working out very well. The kids have embraced the system and are probably doing more than the 4 hours each day as they are enjoying the things they are working on. They are also allowed to choose their own times. Stella loves to stay up late and sleep in, so she has been doing just that and starting her work day at 10 or 10:30. Magnus sometimes sleeps in, and sometimes is up at 6, so we have put them in control of their time and their learning.

5. Take a break from Consumerism

We buy stuff all the time. It seems that nearly every day we carry something into this house. Something we bought somewhere. I know because I track every dime of our spending and review every receipt, and by the end of the year I have a box absolutely crammed with these scruffs of paper, which I look at and think what the hell was all this stuff?? Well, we’re certainly having a nice break from that. We have bought nothing else besides food for the past two weeks and it has been beautiful. Actually, that’s not quite true – Ana and Magnus went to the Dollar Store yesterday and bought scrubbie pads for doing dishes, some new steak knives, and a few other bits and pieces. I know we needed some of it, but I think it was really more like a pressure relief valve for all the pent up “retail constraint” that has been steadily building. I don’t know. I usually play the bad guy and complain whenever a new bag of stuff comes through the door (thankfully, the things we bring home are usually used and from Value Village, thrift stores, garage sales, etc.) but I do realize we need things to live and I passionately hate shopping so it’s probably better if I keep my mouth shut and just purge things from the house when nobody is looking.

6. Reconsider the use of a rainy day fund

Financial experts used to recommend having 6 – 12 months’ worth of living expenses in savings available in case of an emergency. I think they eventually quit saying it because nobody listened. And in these days of instant and accessible credit, it is quite easy to get money if you need it – from a home equity line of credit, from a credit card, or from a bank loan. At least it is in normal times. When crisis happen, credit often dries up. Back in 2009, the banks effectively stopped lending. This was not kickstarted until the government stepped in and provides massive injections of money and guarantees. The same thing has not yet happened during this crisis, so credit remains available, but there’s a catch: many bank branches are closed, hours are limited, and the telephone lines are overwhelmed with calls so it is virtually impossible to speak with your bank. This means that if you run out of money, and max out your plastic, you might be calling the Bank of Mom and Dad.

Having a nice buffer of savings gives you piece of mind that you can ride out the storms that inevitably occur. Plus, and I hesitate to say this, but these crises usually present some incredible deals on “toys” when people living on the financial edge are forced to start liquidating. In the coming months you will be able to scoop up snowmobiles, atvs, side-by-sides, boats, cars, and trailers at great prices…if you have cash.

7. Transform the working world

Remote working has been with us for a long time, but primarily in select industries or occupations, such as call centres and consulting. Now, we are pushing the boundaries of this and if you have the sort of job that is possible to do remotely, then you likely are. This working model has many advantages that extend far beyond the workplace. First, commuting. Driving to and from work every day produces carbon emissions, wastes time, and exposes both drivers and pedestrians to injury and death from traffic accidents. Commuting requires us to have more and bigger roads, more traffic control systems, more emergency services, more road maintenance equipment. And it causes more localized pollution. These are costs and deaths that could be avoided, and I can’t wait to see the studies that come after this crisis showing how many lives were saved due to fewer traffic accidents.

Second, effective time management. My normal working hours are 8:30 to 4:30, a paltry 7 hours per day making me one of the lucky ones in the public sector. My day is filled with meetings, impromptu hallway conversations, phone calls, and all the regular stuff you find in an office environment. Now, I have been starting at 6am, which gives me over two hours to focus on the tasks that require quiet and concentration without disruption. Then I do my online meetings and calls throughout the day, but I take a much longer lunch to spend time with the kids, go for a walk, play some guitar, or do some writing. Then I get back to work for the afternoon with a clear head. Structuring the day this way has increased the quality and quantity of my output.

Third, having the infrastructure to support remote working makes an organization much more resilient. Being able to rapidly switch to this model in times of crisis reduces downtime and will result in a much better service to the public. This time it’s a virus, but next time it could be a weather disaster, a chemical spill, a bomb threat, or a building failure. Instead of being fragile, let’s be antifragile.

Now do I think that we should all work from home all the time? Absolutely not. But I think we could adjust schedules to allow people to work from home on certain, coordinated days of the week. For example, all meetings happen on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. People in appropriate jobs can work from home Tuesdays and Thursdays. This would allow employees to schedule the tasks that required focus during the home times. Let’s face it, meetings should and do result in action items, and if you have an endless stream of meetings, there’s no time left to do the damn work!

So there you have it – a few ideas to make the most of these troubling times. I strive to be optimistic, and it’s tough when the world seems to be falling apart. But I try to remember that crises will always happen, and they will always end. And though it can be hard to see at the time, some good outcomes will always come out of difficult events.

Day 2 - Ubers, Retail Therapy, Pools and Horror Flicks

I’m up early, need to find a mechanic, need to find parts, need to figure out a plan. But then I remember it’s Sunday and there ain’t nothing happening on a Sunday. The best I can do is to call the emergency number on the door of the Bay Marine Service, right next to our marina, and leave a message in the most impassioned, desperate voice I could muster. I even consider crying a bit, but consider that may be a bit too pathetic, so I leave my message and contact number and then we have a family meeting to decide what to do today. It is gorgeous outside - clear skies, warm, and with a nice northerly breeze, so we decide to do a little shopping trip in the morning and then return to the marina for some pool time this afternoon.

We first wander over the the park near the marina as we hear music and see cars pouring into the area. We wander in and realize it’s a massive evangelical church thing with thousands of people and the pamphlet that was shoved into our hands tells us that we’re just in time for a giant baptism ceremony and worship service. We turn tail and head straight out as our plan for Sunday does not include baptism or hymning.

Ana swipes up an Uber and three minutes later our car arrives and whips us over to a TJ Max in a big commercial plaza. The ladies hit the racks while Magnus and I walk over to Ollie’s Discount Centre and wade through a huge warehouse full of Chinese made junk. They did have a large book section, but half of the inventory was bibles and the other half were media conspiracy, fake news, pro-Trump, pro-Republican, anti-Democrat and other works of fiction. Better not strike up any political discussions round here, I’m thinkin. The food section was all canned and packaged items, and Magnus hoisted up a two pound bag of packaged fig bars and said, “These look figging disgusting!” Ouch, right in the punny bone.

Stella buys herself a lovely set of Adidas running shoes for the outrageous price of $35 which is unheard of for her, since she is just as cheap as her mom. Ana picks up a dress and maybe some other stuff, and seems to be pacified with this rather short bit of retail therapy so the next mission is to do the boater parade and find some cheap US booze. What, you don’t know what the boater parade is? This is where Canadian boaters arrive in the US but without vehicles, so they go walking around intensely un-walkable US power centres and commercial plazas in search of liquor to supplement their boat alcohol inventory. We find a grocery store a mere half kilometre  away and are able to walk down the highway for a bit then across to the store, but are faced with either tackling a steep grass embankment or a busy road with no sidewalks. The kids and I take the hill challenge and scrambled up, but it is steeper than I thought and have to dig my finger and toe nails into the weeds to get a foothold, and nearly start sliding backwards as the kids look down at me from above laughing. Ana takes the long way around on the road, dodging traffic and the stunned looks from drivers who just can’t believe somebody is walking.

After a quick hot dog fundraiser lunch for 12 bucks in the entrance of the grocery store, we enter and find the beer aisle. The 12 packs of Yuengling beer are $11.99, which seems OUTRAGEOUS considering the last time we were in the US I bought 24 packs for $18. The three litre boxes of wine are also around $18. Since it is early in the day, and we have nothing better to do, Ana and I decide to walk to the next closest grocery store - Wegmans, and see if they have better prices. So we leave the store, walk across a hot parking lot, a grassy field, scurry across a highway, then find a pleasant shortcut through a residential neighbourhood, which has a few trees to protect us from the blazing hot sun. Stella says, “Dad, what are we doing here in the middle of nowhere? Where are we going?”

“Well Stella,” I reply, “We’re going to walk 2 miles through treacherous inner-city landscapes to save a dollar on beer. It’s a value lesson for you kids.”

The kids looked at me like I am insane. Ana laughs. I laugh. And we kept walking.

Of course, the Wegman prices are exactly the same as the first place, so we check the map and se that Target is only a mile away, and are considering torturing the kids a bit more, then realize it is 1:30 and there is a cool swimming pool back at the marina, so I grab two 12 packs of Yuengling, a box of wine, and we Uber back to the marina with a cool dude named Joseph and become his 6,326 ride - information courtesy of the Uber app which is simply amazing. Joseph tells us that the yellow cab company in Erie had recently shut down, which is no big surprise, and I’m sure it’s happening everywhere.

The pool is full of people, but not so full that the kids and I can’t play a round of frisbee, bouncing the blue disk off the heads of other poolgoers, but apologizing profusely each time. Ana and I find two loungers at the pool and enjoy a hot nap in the sun while Stella goofs around and Magnus returns to the bot, not wanting to damage his carefully developed farmer tan. Having a pool at a marina is relatively rare, so we take full advantage of it.

Magnus returns after a while and we play several games of corn hole - this awesome bean bag tossing game that you find everywhere in the US, where you have two plywood boxes with an incline and a hole at the top and you take turns tossing bean bags, trying to sink them into the hold. I consider putting grandpa John to work building a set of these when we get home, as they would make an excellent addition to the Port Dover Harbour Marina. We recently chipped in with our extended marina boat family and bought a basketball net for the kids to use, and so far it’s been a big hit, so we might as well keep on building the activity roster to keep them busy and active.

We finish up this beautiful Sunday with happy hour drinks on the boat and then a nice meal of grilled chicken, salad, rice and Oreo cookies for dessert. Stella was digging through the movies we brought along and found Pet Sematary, (she loves horror flicks…as long as they are not too scary) so we watch that and it is quite horrifying, but Stella just closes her eyes through the worst parts. Magnus hates horror movies, so he keeps himself busy on his phone instead.

Tomorrow, everything opens up again, so our mission is to find a mechanic and get Bella Blue back on the water.

2019 Lake Erie Sailing Trip - Day 1

It is 5:30 am on Saturday, June 29, 2019. The sun has crept up over the horizon and now casts light on a windless, still morning. I fire up the diesel engine as Ana readies Bella Blue - pulling up fenders, untying lines, unplugging cords. I put her into forward gear and we slip out of the slip and slide into the calm channel of the Port Dover Harbour Marina, kicking off our two week sailing tour of Lake Erie.

We motor out onto the glassy lake and set a course south for the end of Long Point, after which we will turn west and sail to Put-in-Bay, Ohio - a complete journey of about 150 nautical miles, which I estimate will take about 25 hours, if all goes well. Play foreboding music here and pan the camera to our smiling faces, enjoying the sail, just like the beginning of every horror movie where things start out great and everybody’s happy, but you know it’s all going to turn to hell soon.

We are only a few miles out into the lake when we spot an island, but there are no islands in this part of the lake, so it seems rather unusual. We motor up to investigate and find a 20 by 20 reed island floating around, waiting for somebody to claim it. I would have jumped off the boat and onto my new island, planted a flag and the seeds of a brand new, utopian society, but upon closer inspection there wasn’t much holding the thing together besides some thin roots, so I probably would have plummeted right through it into the cold lake water and lost my flag.

After that bit of excitement Ana goes back to bed and I continue on, very much enjoying the beautiful morning, the solitude, and that special feeling that comes with the first day of a big vacation from work and regular life. Then the biting flies arrive. The Great Lakes have a lot of Great Bugs and this lake is no exception. Last weekend we did a cruise out on the lake and were attacked by swarms of fish flies - so many that the stern of our white boat turned black with bugs and we spent the entire time dumping buckets of water trying to get them off. Well today is different and the mushy fish flies have been replaced by these little nasty biting flies, that look a bit like house flies, but like to zero in on your feet and ankles and bite them, just for fun. So I get out the basura - our homemade Portuguese broom, - and start beating them to death. Before long the carcasses are piling up on the boat, but they just don’t get the message. Fly killing keeps me busy for about three hours, reminding me that there are always so many things to do on a sailboat that you rarely have the opportunity to get bored.

The family wakes up and we have some breakfast while letting the sailboat’s auto pilot guide us down the lake, pointed directly south-west, directly into the building wind, making sailing useless so we stick with motor power. And then, after a couple more hours of bug killing I notice the engine is making a strange sound, so I go down below to investigate. I pull the engine hatch open, look in, and see white smoke billowing out. I yell at Ana to cut the engine, which she does, but not before I see water squirting out from somewhere, which is hitting the overheated engine and instantly evaporating into clouds of smoke. We set the sails and get the boat moving again then I go down below to take a closer look. The engine exhaust riser head looks to be cracked, but the huge double threaded union holding two of the pieces together has been sheared off and is completely broken. Which means no cooling system, which means no motor power. Shit. Boating is so awesome, until disaster strikes, then it’s not so awesome, and disaster does strike with some regularity, as all boaters will attest to.

It’s decision time. We can either head towards Ashtabula, where our vacation companions Tony and Angela in their powerboat are heading to, or cut over to Erie, Pennsylvania, which is closer, bigger, and much more favourable for sailing with the current wind, but out of our way. I make the (bad) call to continue towards Ashtabula, but after a few hours we realize the wind in our face is killing us - only making 2 knots - which means it’s going to take at least 12 hours to get there, which means we will arrive in the middle of the night with no motor. We change course and head to Erie, and with the wind on our beam we are doing greater than 6 knots and making great time.

Along the way we’ve been trying to figure out what to do. We get in touch with our friends Tony and Angela, who are joining us on the trip, but are ahead of us in their power boat, but they start making calls for us looking for parts. With an intermittent cell signal we do some searches for parts online but can’t seem to find anything, besides a stainless steel model in the UK that costs $600 and will take weeks to ship. We call every diesel repair shop and dealer we can find, but no luck. I try contacting our mechanic in Port Dover, but can’t get through to him. Soon we lose signal completely so instead focus on the sailing, conserving battery power, and keeping the kids from going batty.

The most important piece of equipment on this trip so far is the Portuguese basura corn broom  - the only thing that works for killing the horrible biting flies, which are a constant nuisance and driving us crazy. Ana somehow accidentally drops it overboard and screams “Basura overboard!” and we trigger the man overboard routine. I mark the spot on the GPS and do a tack to turn the boat around while Ana stands in the cockpit pointing at the floating broom, getting smaller and smaller in the distance. The kids ready the boat hook. We approach the broom under sail, going quite fast, and Ana snags it with the boat hook, but there’s nothing to hook onto, so it slips away but I jump to the stern of the boat, hang from it with one hand and reclaim the basura. Yay!! In truth, I was planning on doing a practice man overboard test with the family sometime today, so it all worked out very well and I am very proud of my crew. The broom is promptly put back into service killing flies.

As we draw nearer to the US we get a cell phone signal and Ana is rocked by a call from her sister in law with the news that her uncle Joe has just passed away. Yesterday he had been moved to critical care and we went up to the hospital to see him, and things hadn’t looked very good. Joe and Concecao are an amazing couple, perpetually in love, and have five adult children and an army of grandchildren. This is the family on Ana’s side that we are closest with and have spent countless hours with them over the years. Joe had been diagnosed with cancer two years ago, which took him to the edge, but his determination and strength was enough to overcome it, and he made a remarkable recovery, and until three weeks ago he was great. But complications arose, which put him back in the hospital. We all said our goodbyes yesterday, thinking we may not see him again, and we were all broken up, but especially Ana, but we were at least able to see him and the family. In an incredibly unhappy coincidence, our good friend and sailing (and life) mentor Cesar, who had also been hit with the fucking cancer two years ago, was also in critical care and we were able to see him too. But I can’t write about him now, too much sadness for one blog. It makes our current issues quite insignificant, but does remind me that life is so precious, and being stuck in the middle of a giant lake with my family on a disabled boat, an improbably plan, and uncertain outcome, is truly living life to the max, and we are not wasting a second. Cesar would be loving it!

As we approach Erie, we finalize our plan. There is a long channel leading into Presque Isle bay, and the wind is directly in our face so we won’t likely be able to sail through it. But we should be able to shut the water intake sea cock for the motor and run it dry for a short while, until it heats up too much and disables itself. We will sail as close as we can to the channel entrance, start the motor, power though the channel, then once we clear it put the sails up and sail the remaining 2 miles to the marina, letting the motor cool off, then start it again to get into the dock. As as backup we will get the dingy and motor ready to go, and tow it behind the boat, so if things go pear shaped I can jump I the dingy and tow Bella Blue. If all else fails, we’ll drop the anchor and call a towing company. That’s the plan. But there’a lot of things that can go wrong so although I’m appearing confident to the kids and Ana, I’m just not sure how this is going to go. In truth, this is what boating is all about - having to problem solve, make fast decisions, and being as prepared as possible for the disasters that will inevitably happen, more often than you think.

We sail into the channel entrance, tacking back and forth into the wind, as we prep the dingy, lines, engine, lifejackets, and everything else we can think of. We enter the channel, thinking we might be able to do short tacks and work our way up, but then boats start approaching from the other direction, and our tacking is interfering with their passage, so we wind up the sails, and turn the engine key. But it won’t start! The boat is now floating backwards, heading for the unkind concrete wall of the channel edge. Ana tries it again, it turns and turns, whining and chugging, and finally sparks to life, so I ram it into gear and we are powering up the channel. The engine sounds terrible as it’s running without water and heating up fast. I’m down below watching the engine, but powerless to do anything about the overheating, besides blowing on it and fanning it with a dish towel, which is completely useless but somehow makes me feel a bit better. We make it a third of the way up the channel. Then we are halfway, so far so good, but the engine is smelling hot. Then we are three quarters of the way up and the overheat alarms goes off and the engine automatically shuts down. Boats are coming at us from both directions and the powerless sailboat is now being blown around with no space to sail. I frantically leap into the dingy, fire it up, motor to the front of the boat and Magnus throws me a line. But the little 4 hp engine is just not powerful enough to pull the boat against the wind, and we are lost. Just as I’m about to yell to the crew to drop anchor, two guys arrive on Sea Doos and ask if we need help. I pass him the line, he ties it onto the back of his machine and straightens out the boat and begins towing us, offering to take us to wherever we need to go. The marina is about 2 miles away and the two Sea Dooers pull Bella Blue in all the way while I putter ahead in the dingy looking for the marina entrance.

Ana is at the helm and pilots the boat in magnificently through the narrow marina entrance while I dingy over to an open dock and get ready to catch their lines. Ana guides her in nicely while Magnus tosses me the bow line and Stella throws the stern line, both right on target. Ana jumps off the boat and helps me to tie up, and Bella Blue is safe again. I offer the lead Sea Dooer (who sports a groovy hipster beard and doo) some cash but he won’t take it, saying “Everybody needs help sometimes.” Isn’t that the truth.

We make the call to customs, and have to wait for 45 minutes, but finally get cleared and only then together do we breathe a giant sigh of relief, letting those stress toxins start to slowly dissipate. We get checked in at the Commodore Perry Yacht Club, pay for two nights, are given a beer from one of the members, proving yet again that Americans are simply the best hosts one could ever ask for.

The legendary Sloppy Duck bar and restaurant are a two minutes walk away, so we head over and sit down for a well deserved drink and meal, while the party momentum builds around us, partygoers arriving, the band playing, drinks flying, volume increasing. The mood at our table is more sombre than celebratory, still thinking about Joe and Cesar, not knowing how we’ll fix the engine, not sure when we’ll be able to meet up with Tony and Angela, but definitely happy to be safe and settled. Stella’s future 18-year-old self is revealed when she turns to me during dinner and says, “Dad, you know that guy towing our boat. I luuuuved his beard.”

As I collapse into bed at 11pm, exhausted, I start to wonder what tomorrow will bring, but sleep overcomes me before I get halfway through that thought.

Chicago in March

After too many years, we finally returned for a trip to Chicago to see my old buddy Mike Schaaf. Mike and I have been friends since working on a project together in the Bahamas twenty years ago, and have not just kept in touch, but have spent time together many times over that period. Mike’s been a great mentor to me over that time, as we work in the same field, but he has a much wider depth of experience, working in many different industries and countries over the years. He is also a 6' 6" gym monster and ruthlessly beat me into shape during our year working in the Bahamas. To ensure I didn't get too shredded I drank enormous quantities of Kalik beer, which kept me loaded with empty calories and resulted in half of my workouts performed in a state of queasy hangover. But man, we lifted a lot of weight! In fact, our Friday night leg workouts were the stuff of legend; we could barely walk down the gym staircase at the end of it. It was all I could do to stagger weakly to my local bar Hammerheads and prop myself up on a bar stool.

The lead up to our March break trip to Chicago was not encouraging. First, Stella got hit with a terrible cold and was congested so bad she was hardly sleeping. And then Magnus caught some kind of stomach bug and was blowing it out both ends for several days. This was during their school break so they didn’t even get the pleasure of missing classes.

That left Ana and I. We did not want to get sick before the trip. But in a moment of motherly love, Ana went and slept with Stella one night when she was particularly stuffed up and miserable. I had been quite successful avoiding contact with both of the germy spawn, but Ana broke down and exposed herself to the infection. I began avoiding her too as I had a feeling what was coming.

The kids suffered through it and perked right back up the day before we left. On Wednesday Ana reported some unusual joint ache as we drove down the 403 highway headed for Michigan and both of us were pretty sure she was going to get it, but still we hoped for the best.

We arrived in Ann Arbor, Michigan by around 7:30 pm, our first stop as we had decided to do the 9 hour trip to Chicago in two legs. I had been in nearby Detroit the month before for some work training and heard great things about Ann Arbor so we wanted to see it for ourselves. As we drove into town we were stunned by the magnificent buildings, most of which looked to be part of the University of Michigan, but there were also some government buildings and museums, all of which were enormous and well kept. We passed several university sports facilities - a football stadium, field hockey facility, indoor track and field complex, and soccer pitches, making us wondering how all this was funded. Sports in the US is a huge deal - especially college sports - and is in such stark contrast to Canada where there are college sports (apparently), but you just don’t hear much about them.

We had to drive around for ages to find a parking spot, but finally did and then went for a walk in the busy centre area. Despite it being Wednesday, the many restaurants and bars were loaded with people, as were the sidewalks, and all was bathed in light from the giant State Theatre marquee radiating dazzling colours.

We enjoyed a nice meal, did some people watching, and then drove back to the hotel which was actually a scary motel called the Red Roof Inn, but after seeing the name I started calling it the REDRUM Inn, but the kids obviously haven’t seen The Shining because they didn’t get the joke until I told them to spell it backwards. It actually wasn’t too bad - the room just had a faint odour of…something, but it didn’t stop me from having a great sleep.

The next morning we had a quick hotel-supplied breakfast of rock bagels with grape jam, gluey oatmeal and chocolate frosted sugar bombs, and then hit the road for the second leg of the journey to Chicago. After five hours on the road we finally arrived at my friend Mike’s house in Algonquin - a suburb north-west of Chicago. Mike hadn't changed - still big, muscular, handsome, and with an unimproved fashion sense - and coming from me, that's really saying something. In fact just after we arrived, the 80's called him and asked for their jeans back.

After a drink and a catch-up session with Mike we went for a big walk in the nature area close to his house. Ana’s cold or flu or whatever it was had fully set in, and she was feeling terrible, but joined us on the walk nonetheless. We talked non-stop, with hardly a break in the conversation, like it should be with old friends. The girls decided to go out shopping so Mike cracked out some beer and the three lads went out to the garage to scarf some suds and play with Mike's fine collection of power tools. Magnus, with Mike's help, fabricated an awesome wooden axe, and finished it just in time for the girls' return, and after some Chicago deep dish pizza, a ping pong round robin, and a bit of tv watching, we retired for the night.

Saturday was a huge day. Despite waking up feeling worse than ever, Ana used the power of coffee and cold meds to get her moving and soon we were out the door. We went for a huge, delicious, American-portioned breakfast at a local restaurant called "Burnt Toast", conveniently just down the road from Mike's place. The server brings out these bodacious, bountiful plates while I'm thinking "There is no way in hell I am going to be able to put a dent into that mound of grub". Fifteen minutes later my plate is clean and I'm picking away at the uneaten home potatoes on Stella's plate, and then Ana's, and then I go back to Stella's and eat the remaining half of her pancakes. I lova dis countdry!

We first drove to the nearby marina where Mike keeps his powerboat in the summer, had a quick look around, and then continued driving eastward right to the shores of Lake Huron. Here we turned south and followed the shoreline through some of the most expensive and exclusive neighbourhoods in the region, and stopped along the way for a beach walk. Suburb eventually turned into city, and we snaked right into downtown Chicago amidst the towering buildings and congestion of vehicles.

We spent the afternoon wandering the streets of Chicago, stopping first at the Art Institute of Chicago, but only making it in as far as the bookstore as we didn't have enough time to commit to properly exploring the museum. There I found a coffee table book of naked men and found an image of a particularly virile young Adonis with a python sized wanger and a magnificent sack. I brought it over and stuck it right in Ana's face, hoping to gross her out, but she just took the book and started flipping through it, interested. I considered buying it for her for Christmas, but it was almost a hundred bucks, so I decided instead to write her a love poem and work on a real good sexy dance.

Chicago downtown welcomed us in and we walked up and down the busy streets, ogling the magnificent buildings, watching people, popping into shops, stopping for lunch, and eventually making our way to Millennium Park and grabbing some photos by the giant stainless steel bean sculpture. From here we drove over to Navy Pier, the busiest tourist attraction in Chicago, and explored the lush indoor tropical gardens, shops, and the kids went for a ride on the giant Ferris wheel. The weather was not great as it was cool and there were intermittent showers throughout the day, but hey what do you expect for March in Chicago - a city not exactly known for its fabulous weather. But it is certainly a city full of life and I couldn't help but visualize us sailing Bella Blue all the way across Lake Erie, up through Lake Huron, and back down Lake Michigan right to one of downtown marinas and spending a good few days here in the heat of the summer.

The drive back to Algonquin was quite long as the traffic was thick and dense, but fortunately Mike had one of his famous cd compilations to listen to in the van. He calls them the "Best of Schaaf" but I just call them the worst music of all time. It's a deplorable mix of those songs that make you lurch for the tuner when they come on the radio and then stick in your head for days. We're talking John Denver, Peter Paul and Mary, "Afternoon Delight", "Seasons in the Sun", Captain and Tenille, "Rhinestone Cowboy", that sort of crap. Ana lucked out as she was feeling so terrible she had passed out in the back of the van, and the kids were just paralyzed at the sonic vomit leaching into their ears so they didn't even know what was happening. The worst part was I knew most of the words to the songs, which must come from deeply repressed memories from driving around in the back of my parents' wood panelled station wagons in the 70's, with the 8 track cranked. That's why Mike is the best - he marches to the beat of a different drummer. A bad 1970's drummer.

Sunday arrived - St. Patrick's Day and Mike and I were up early drinking coffee and chatting. But after watching the local news and seeing the massive waves of people rushing into downtown to watch the Chicago River being turned green (a 50 year old tradition) and the big parade, not to mention Ana sleeping like a corpse upstairs, we ixnayed the plan to head back downtown and instead decided to spend the day at Rancho Relaxo el Schaafo which seemed to suit everybody just fine. We visited, goofed around outside, Mike and Magnus build a birdhouse, Stella and I played ping pong, Ana drank tea and tried to get healthy, and then we all went for a short shopping excursion to the nearby super plaza. Mike's daughter Arielle, her husband Andrew, their dog Aslan, and Mike's sister Julie came over for supper and we had a lovely time drinking beer and wine, playing with the mutt, and putting together a nice feast. When Mike and the kids were outside chasing the dog around, Arielle and Andrew dropped a news bomb - they were pregnant! But we were sworn to secrecy as they hadn't told Mike yet and were planning an elaborate reveal for him two weeks hence. So we toasted the soon to be parents and then zipped the lips. It was a most excellent evening, and I could hardly wait for Mike to learn he was a grandpa!

We were up early the next morning, said our goodbyes to Mike and then started the return journey back to Canada. We took a slightly different route home, and the drive went well, making it back home in under nine hours. With another Power Weekend under our belts, I never cease to be amazed at the great variety of locations that surround us, and how easy and fun it is for us to travel to these places.