The Final Leg of the Journey

Holmes Manor, Bateau Chanel to the Middle of Lake Ontario  - 52 nautical miles sailed, 45 kilometres driven, 2 kilometres walked

We are so close now. So close that it's difficult for me to comprehend the enormity of this journey and how it will soon be ending. By tomorrow evening, SeaLight will be gliding into our slip at Newport Yacht Club (inshallah), my beautiful Ana will be there, we will be surrounded by friends, and the trip will become a memory, tossed on the pile of previous adventures, but taking up more space than average. These memories are sure to pop up in the coming months as I go about my regular business. While putting SeaLight away for the winter in September I will be thinking about our brutal first passage across Lake Ontario to Oswego with our buddy Mike then the excitement of our first day on the Erie Canal. As I'm sitting on the couch watching tv in October I'll be remembering that first beautiful ocean passage from New York City to Cape May. As we go out to a restaurant in Paris for Ana's birthday in November, we will talk about her last birthday - an incredible day in Hilton Head. We'll probably be at home for New Year's Eve, and there all four of us will recall welcoming in 2025, wearing party hats and blowing noisemakers at that small Italian restaurant in Fort Lauderdale. On some cold night in January I will remember our first swim in Allan's Cay with a shark and a ray as we experienced that impossibly clear Exuma water for the first time. Some work day in February an image will pop into my head - Ana and I walking the perfect beach in Long Island while Stella sleeps on the beach lounger. We will be sitting down for dinner at home in March when Ana will remember us sharing pizza with Ben, Kate, Kevin and Ana in Hopetown, Abaco. I'll be polishing SeaLight's hull in April cursing the boat whose anchor slipped in Oriental, North Carolina and scraped up her sides. Not sure where I will spend my birthday this year, but I'm sure to remember how I spent last year's birthday alone in Coxsackie waiting for the Erie Canal to open. And we might just be anchoring out with friends in Hamilton in June when I start thinking of that lovely anchorage in Lake Chesapeake and those final days fighting our way through the locks with my brother and with my son.

These memories are so strong and fresh now. I can still smell the fishiness of Potter's Cay in Nassau. I can visualize the face of the Bahamian artist in Farmers Cay who sold us fruit. I can taste the lobster paella we made several times on the boat. I can feel the coarseness of the nurse shark's leathery brown skin in Staniel Cay and the warmth from the glowing pink fire radiating from the conch shell firepit we made on the beach in Egg Island. These memories will last a lifetime. And if those memories begin to fade, I will read these journals and they may feel like stories from somebody else's life, but I will know they are mine.

I am relishing these last few moments of the trip. The sense of freedom. The luxury of time. Relishing the mental space provided by the boredom of a long passage. Being at the mercy of the weather, SeaLight's mechanical systems, the gods. Being in control. Not being in control. Waking up thinking, I wonder what will happen today, knowing it could be anything. The excitement of possiblity. The agony of disappointment. A time where each new day is a blank canvas and is never like the last. Being so tuned into the boat I know her intimate squeaks and leaks, her curvature, how she moves in the water, when she's happy and when she's not. Over the months she has become the third partner in our marriage; it's Ana, Kris, and SeaLight. Always together. Taking care of each other. Relying on each other. Nurturing each other. Having fun.

Oh my. My reflections on the trip have already begun. Am I ready for it to be over? I certainly am anxious to get SeaLight home and moored safely in her slip, slightly bruised and batttered, but very much in one piece. I can't wait to see Ana and Stella. I'm excited for my upcoming trip to Saskatoon to see my family. But I will miss life at sea. I will miss everything about it.

Am I ready for it to be over? Regardless of the answer, it comes to an end tomorrow.

Today, Magnus and I had a morning of chores. We put the sails back on the boat. We sprayed off the thousands of tiny bugs which had collected on SeaLight overnight. We scrubbed the cockpit floor. We borrrowed Andrew's brand new kick ass truck and made a run into Kingston to pick up a few supplies and stopped for coffee downtown (one of the best downtowns in the country in my opinion). I noticed the K-Rock centre had been renamed Slush Puppie Place. I don't even know where to start with that one.

By 2 pm we had said goodbye to Victoria and Emma and were pushing off the dock, taking a full loaf of Victoria's sourdough bread with us and a really nice set of steak knives I found in a drawer. The wind was strong, gusting to over 25 knots, right in our face, so progress was slow. We stopped at Portsmouth marina west of Kingston's downtown to fill up with diesel, and did a fancy 360 in the harbour when I couldn't rember if the gas dock was a left turn or straight and I had maneouver to avoid hitting a dock. I told the gas dock staff I do a 360 every time I get to a new marina, as a sort of celebratory spectacle.

The open lake was choppier, with three foot waves and the odd four footer which sent SeaLight crashing. Magnus went down for a short nap at 4 pm and didn't wake up until 10:30! By that time I was tired and he was completely fresh so after a briefing he took over and I went to bed.

The clock tipped into midnight somewhere in the middle of Lake Ontario.

The Journey Begins

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. And the sailing journey of a lifetime begins with a single mile. From the helm of SeaLight I turned to look back at what we were leaving in our wake, one mile behind us. Our children. Friends. Stuff. Comfort. Routine.

In fact, I did not look back. I never do. As we’ve always told our kids, before leaving on a journey, look into the eyes of the ones you love, say your goodbyes, tell them you love them, then take that step forward into the unknown…and don’t look back. Never look back. That world will be there for you when you return. Lean into the unknown, embrace it, put your whole self into it, and if you feel the urge to look back, fight it. Those you leave behind will miss you, as you will miss them, and that’s okay. They are cheering you on as you push your way into your uncertain future, and they theirs. They want you to succeed.

 

Saying all that, this time for me was hard. I may not see my son Magnus for eight months. And Stella, four. The past weeks have been amazing, with both the kids at home, enjoying many meals together with us, talking, spending time together. seeing Magnus excelling in his college program and working hard as a server, and watching Stella embark on her exciting gap year, working full time and saving money for her upcoming trips. We are so insanely proud of them both. It was hard to say goodbye and there were tears. But we did it.

 

SeaLight’s diesel engine was purring like a stroked kitty as we set the autopilot due east, directly into the wind. There would be no zig zag sailing today – we had 140 miles to cover to reach Oswego and the conditions were not great, with 15 knots of sustained wind (which would have been great if is was coming from any direction other than due east) and very choppy water.

Our friend Mike had arrived yesterday, but the wild weather prevented us from leaving so we waited a day. By 3pm we were on the water, settled into the cockpit and sizing up the route. Mike is prone to seasickness so popped a tablet or two of Dramamine, which didn’t take long to knock him out and he slid into his “dead man in a coffin” routine and lay prone and utterly motionless on the port-side cockpit seat for about six hours, sadly missing out on the delicious shepard’s pie Ana heated up for dinner.

 

Three hours into the trip the winds were over 20 knots and Lake Ontario was giving us a beating. Waves were averaging 3 – 4 feet but several times we plowed the bow of the boat into rogue 6 – 8 footers, flooding the deck with rivers of water as we launched up then smashed down into the next big wave with a sickening crunch on the bow. Every time this happened it felt like the boat was about to break apart, but we knew from previous experience it certainly could take it…but could the crew? 

It wasn’t until 9 at night that the winds finally weakened and the waves settled. I went down for a fitful sleep while Ana watched the helm and at 1am we switched. The waning crescent moon provided scant light so we sailed through darkness.

July 4, 2024 – The 2024 Sailing Trip Begins

This year’s trip was going to be a little different. We typically take two weeks of vacation in July and push our sailboat as far as we can possibly go within that time. We usually start the trip planning by thinking, This year, let’s take it a bit easy and have a more relaxed pace. This never happens. There are usually multiple overnight runs, many 4am starts, and a lot of long, long sailing days, which are usually by motor power as the wind seems to always be either right in our face or nonexistent.

But this year it was different. The initial plan was for my nephew William to join us for a week of the sailing trip and limit the destination to marinas in and around Toronto. He has attended sailing camps during the last couple of summers and has really enjoyed it so when we visited my brother Marty and family in Ottawa for New Year’s, William and I made a blood pact that he would join us this summer. After cutting deeply into our palms with the turkey knife and clasping hands in an iron grip then winding the knuckled, bloody mass with ceremonial nautical manila rope and staring into each other’s eyes, the deal was done and irrevocable.

Once my dad caught wind of our pact he called and asked if he could join us, which of course he was welcome to do, as he suffers from severe FOMO and we do all we can to bring him in on the adventures, especially when we can put him to work on stuff. Now, once my Saskatoon-based nephew Eliot caught wind of the revised plan he floated the idea of joining, which of course he was welcome to do, as he has only the beginnings of a FOMO affliction, but was more interested in hanging out with his crazy cousin and trying out some Lake Ontario pirating.

Now, I had to consider some trip rules. Both the nephews are the same age and undoubtedly in the cruel grips of puberty where their brains aren’t working properly and other weird shit starts to happen. After some deliberation, I decided the boys needed only two rules:

1.    Wear your lifejacket
2.    No whacking off in the boat

I forwarded the rules onto my brothers, who wrestled agreement out of their sons and reported back that the terms had been reluctantly accepted.

Everything was set and we all anxiously awaited the start of the trip. Then the whole damn thing fell apart a week before departure. Why? Well, William has always been a bit of a rascal and this year’s rascalling led to something more serious than usual. Details from my brother were fuzzy, but it seems the Quebec language police raided William's English-only lemonade stand and a massive firefight ensued. Injuries were sustained on both sides and there was not a clear victor, but it did end up with William getting entangled in some lengthy court proceedings and a stint in solitary confinement with Mitsou videos and French soap operas on infinite repeat for a dose of Quebec-style language reprogramming. These punishments were set to last for the foreseeable future.

When Eliot heard the news he was given a choice by his folks: continue with the trip and hang out with grandpa and his aunt and uncle for a week, or stay home. His decision was solidarity with the cousin and he declined the trip to make time for writing letters of support to the young jailbird. As much as we were going to miss the opportunity to spend time with him, it was the right decision, but I do hope William sorts out his legal issues and we get another shot at this trip sometime.

Fortunately, my dad decided to soldier on and join us. And that’s where the trip begins.

2023 Sailing Trip - July 14th - A Fine First Day

I awake with a slight headache and the taste of raw onion in my mouth. Last night’s cockpit drinks and garbage plates took a toll. But I care not – this is the first day of boat vacation! I crawl out of bed, put on yesterday’s clothes, boil some water in the kettle and make a barley drink (pseudo-coffee, all the bitterness with none of the caffeine), then step off the boat and onto the dock where I begin walking. I pass the club parkette and picture the scene last night where our friends Daryl and Lydia hosted a Garbage Plate Party to kick off this year’s shared adventure on Lake Ontario. 14 people sat anxiously awaiting the garbage plates which our hosts were carefully constructing. We discovered this regional cuisine in Rochester, New York last year during our sailing trip and were instantly hooked. The recipe is simple and infinitely adjustable. Start with a base of French fries, throw some macaroni salad on that, add in potato salad or coleslaw or whatever else you have in your fridge approaching or past the “best before” date. Seal with a heaping ladle of spicy meat sauce boiled to the consistency of dog vomit, decorate with a handful of raw onions, then criss-cross with jets of mustard, ketchup, and mayo. Voila, the Rochester garbage plate! Some of the less adventurous in the group chose to forgo the garbage plate experience and just bun a wiener (including the host Lydia, which arose great suspicion among those gathered). As I walked past the now vacant picnic tables, I smacked my lips then sucked my teeth and was rewarded with a small piece of onion my toothbrush failed to liberate in the early hours. I spit it to the ground and continue my walk up to the clubhouse for a shower.

By 9am, we are ready to depart. The crew consists of my three favourite ladies in the world – my mom Diane, my wife Ana, and my daughter Stella. We throw off the lines, motor out of the marina, and say goodbye to Newport Yacht club as we point the bow of the boat towards Wilson, New York. I am not surprised to see that the favourable west winds forecasted all week for today have become east and are blowing directly in our face. This is normal for sailing, especially when you are trying to go long distances. So we leave the sails furled and remain in powerboat mode as I push the throttle up to 1900 RPM giving us a cruising speed of nearly 7 knots. We leave behind the clouds gathered around the shoreline of Lake Ontario and find a cloudless sky over the open water.

Once we are settled in and the autopilot is engaged, I give my mom a full briefing on the boat. She has been day sailing with us before but never on a longer trip so has been very excited for this day since booking her flights from Saskatoon two months before. I am so glad she’s here with us – there’s nothing better than getting some lake salt into the veins of prairie folk. I explain all the safety procedures on the boat and stress that the disasters that will befall this on our trip are likely to be completely different than the ones she may have read on blogs from previous trips, including the near electrocution in Wilson and the grounding at Oak Orchard last year. We like to keep it fresh. Making the same fuck-ups year after year is so tiresome so we try to fail in new and different ways.

After several hours on the water the wind completely dies leaving a glassy lake surface so we stop the boat and jump in for a swim in the 25 degree water. Glorious. Stella alternates leaps into the water with shampoo, conditioner, and soap applications as the rest of us float around on pool noodles. It can be unnerving floating around in the middle of a giant lake with no other boats for miles around, but Mom seems pretty chilled out.

As we hit the sixth hour of our journey we reach the harbour entrance to Wilson and Ana calls into US immigration through their amazing ROAM app and gets us checked in within minutes with no issues. We ease into Wilson harbour and take a little trip to the end of it where we fill up with diesel then return back to the Tuscarora Yacht Club where the dockmaster Tim helps us dock then hands me the pump out hose and I extract the foul liquid from our holding tank, only splashing a little bit on the jib line, my feet, the side window, and a little splash may have hit Ana’s dress but she didn’t notice and I didn’t tell. Tim is a young fellow and explains that this is his first job and he knows nothing about boats or boaters. I like his brutal honesty, and I can tell Ana does too as she pulls him aside and shows him how to cleat off a line.

Another boat pulls up and Tim points them down the dock to an open slip as he’s got his hands full with a different boat coming in to dock, so I run down and guide them into the slip. The second boat follows up shortly after that and Ana and I both run back down to help dock them. By this time Daryl and Lydia have arrived in their power boat so we help dock and fuel them, then yet another boat comes in and we get him docked too.

“We’re good at this,” Ana says as she whirls a dock line over her head then perfectly lassos a cleat 20 feet away. “Maybe we should become dock hands in our retirement.”

“I’d prefer to dock boats on a volunteer basis, you know, to keep expectations low.”

After taking their incredibly cute but decrepit 17-year-old wiener dog Chili for a walk where he doesn’t really walk but instead just stands there trembling until some urine leaks out of him, Daryl and Lydia join us in the cockpit of SeaLight for drinks and snacks. This turns into a dinner as we realize it’s already 7pm so the girls heat up the delicious chili Mom made the day before and we devour it.

A band starts up at the Boat House restaurant just a couple hundred metres away and they have a killer setlist – all 90’s rock and grunge stuff. Last year we enjoyed some high calibre pina coladas at the 5 Coconuts bar just beside the restaurant so we head on over for happy hour. Problem is, we didn’t bother launching our dinghies, which would  make for a 2 minute ride, so instead we have to walk around via a bridge, long forest trail to a side road, long side road to the main road, then long main road that eventually winds back into the harbour, but not before passing this market of antiquities with such treasures as broken 30 year old fishing rods, tackle boxes full of rusted hooks and spilled fish scent, pots without lids, lids without pots, rotary phones that barely rotate, bent and rusted kitchen utensils that offer little utility, and open air tables chock a block with rained on knick knacks and boring curios. I’m going to let Rob Zombie know about this place as it would be a great site for a kill scene in one of his low grade horror movies.

The pina coladas are excellent but judged to be less excellent than the ones last year, probably because the star bartender John moved onto permanent employment, but I don’t know why because I can’t imagine any job more fulfilling than making cocktails for drunken boaters. We test out a second round, but this time go for strawberry daiquiris and classic margaritas and the quality is judged to be that of “standard issue”. But it’s all good and the music the band belts out is excellent – I pick up some Mr. Brightside, some Living on a Prayer, Don’t Stop Believing, Man in the Box, and even some Vaseline. As we are enjoying the drinks Stella says, “Everybody here looks very American, but I’m not sure exactly what it is.” She’s right, and it’s kind of hard to pin down what is it (other than the leg tattoos of eagles and American flags and the holstered sidearms), but despite being so close to home, things always look and feel different on this side of the border.

Lydia noticed some friends of ours from Newport on a nearby dock so we leave the bar and wander over then Daryl sends her down the dock to investigate. If you are ever looking to establish any sort of social connection, Lydia’s your girl. She is a people magnet. As expected, a chorus of cheers erupts and we are waved down the dock to find a whole bunch of Newporters – Ray and Heather, Daryl and Natasha, and two other couples we hadn’t previously met who are equally cool. The welcome they give us is irrationally exuberant – full body hugs, boozy kisses, and glasses of white wine shoved into our hands as we share news at a breakneck pace. It’s as if we’ve all met up by chance in a remote airfield in Kamchatka or bumped into each other dragging weasels on a trapline in northern Manitoba or recognized each other underwater scuba diving in Borneo. But in fact, Wilson NY is probably the number one destination for Newporters, but it still feels like a remarkable coincidence and we love it. I fire up the Cuban cigar I brought and have a nice long dock chat with the boys as the party erupts around us. What a crowd!

Ana is now four to five drinks in which is as much as she typically consumes in a heavy month and she’s getting bouncy and ready for a walk so she gathers my mom, Stella, and me and we bid the party goodbye and start the long trot back to our boat. Ray offered us his Sea Doo to ride over but we think it would probably be tough to fit six of us on there then even tougher to explain tomorrow how it wound up inverted and impaled on a rock.

The walk is lovely but it feels like we’re chasing Stella the whole way. She is an extremely fast walker and only has one speed – race pace. We make it back to the marina, stop at the yacht clubhouse for a free pee then check out the main gallery where we find two of the dudes we helped dock earlier in the day and another couple who are sitting helpless at a table with two smartphones on the table. We learn their attempts to check-in with the US border app have been fruitless and they are out of ideas and just sitting there as illegal immigrants. Ana the fixer is immediately on the situation - setting up their accounts, adjusting profiles, getting two factor SMS messages working, updating boat information and within minutes they are all set and just awaiting video call from an agent. They thank her profusely. The fixer does it again.

We are back in SeaLight’s cockpit for a nightcap, and I inexplicably make mine a water while Mom has a half glass of wine and Ana immediately falls asleep with her face buried in a pillow. After a nice chat with Mom and I decide it is time to put the wraps on an exceedingly fine day so I wake up Ana and we disappear into our cabin.

2022 Sailing Trip Day 2 - Anchor by Wire, Gynecological Inspiration, and Pina Coladas

It's always exciting when a new day starts with a big surprise, so imagine my delight when Pat burst into our cabin at 3am in terror reporting that the boat was ensnarled in power lines.

"No, that's impossible!" I grumbled, mostly asleep.

"No man, we're hitting the lines, and I think the mast is electrified!"

"Can't be,' I said, trying to get back to sleep.

"Get up man, we're all going to die!"

Die seemed to be the magic word so I jumped out of bed, wearing only boxers and rat nest hair and joined Pat in the cockpit, looking up.

"Great news! I think it's only the lower hanging telephone lines we're snarled in," I said happily, then added, "Holy shit, we're screwed!"

The crew leaped into rescue action and soon all four of us were on deck with Pat and I in our underwear, girls in their sailing moo-moos, our 1000 lumen spotlight being waved around indiscriminately, one second illuminating the overhead wires, then blinding me at the helm, then shining on the terrified faces of my crewmates, then cast over the whitecapped bay. The howling wind had shifted east and the length of anchor chain that prevented us from hitting the barges was insufficient for holding the boat and our anchor had dragged, but fortunately the telephone lines currently scraping against the mast were holding us from floating further into the shallow bay and grounding ourselves. This is actually a valuable safety feature on sailboats that powerboaters don’t get with their vessels.

"Who the hell's even using a telephone landline these days?" Melissa asked as she cradled her chin and tapped her lip.

"Yeah, that's strange. Everybody's on cell service these days," nodded Ana.

We then convened a round table to discuss the current state of communications technology in the US, and I started taking meeting minutes, but then we realized we were still in deep shit, so the meeting was terminated and we resumed yelling at each other, running around on the deck, waving the spotlight around, and panicking.

I hollered at Ana to pull up the anchor as I cranked the engine and slammed it into forward gear. We immediately lurched off the lines and were clear, but the anchor was stuck and wouldn't come up. I left Pat at the helm and ran up to the bow to see what was going on. After a bit of screaming and pointing we realized the steel pin locking the anchor chain in place hadn't been removed, which became more difficult as the pin was now all bent up, but I managed to yank it out, scraping a layer of skin from my knuckle, and the anchor started coming up. Pat drove the boat back into the wind towards the state park docks then called me back to take over as he said there was no damn way he was going to dock the boat. Even though I knew his skill level was high, and he could probably do it blindfolded, I took over the wheel.

We circled the area around the docks, looking for a place we might be able to squeeze SeaLight's wide ass into and found enough dock length in one spot to try. Fortunately, the wind was parallel to the dock, making it quite easy to slide her in and once close enough, the crew jumped off the boat and tied the lines down to the available cleats, but not before Ana landed one of her feet in a large pile of goose shiza, and soiled her only pair of socks, which was really the only lasting damage from this particular screw-up, besides the bent anchor pin.

Several hours later it was daytime and we got up, all cool like, tied up to the dock, wondering if anybody was fortunate enough to see the clown show we put on for them in the early hours. We did not notice anybody snickering.

The ladies heated up an amazing breakfast casserole that Melissa had prepared in advance of the trip and we enjoyed a big meal in the cockpit with the beautiful sun shining down through clear skies. I assured our guests that epic disasters were a vital part of the sailing experience, and it was good we had the first one under our belts.

While the girls were getting ready, Pat and I worked with Daryl on some electrical issues he was having with the boat, until I got distracted with trying to fly the parasailing Barbie we had purchased while on vacation in Mexico earlier this year. It is like a kite but way worse as there must be a hundred strings attaching the doll to the parachute and they got horribly tangled, but not before I did get her into the air for a brief, but magnificent ride.

We jammed the five of us into our nine-foot dingy and motored back up the harbour to the busy part where we saw the restaurant and band the previous night. We tied up at the gas dock, checked out the gift shop/convenience store, then began walking to the town of Wilson, which was only a mile or two away.

Daryl and Lydia caught up to us about halfway there, just as we were admiring one of the impeccably maintained houses, which were similar to many we'd seen in many other small lake towns of the US - two story, white picket fence, and universally displaying a US flag and often several US pennants hung over the porch rails. The sense of nationalism here is unlike anywhere else.

There wasn't a lot to see in town, but we did find a nice park where we found a baby swing for Beau, and had a swing for ourselves, then moved onto the surprisingly large and well provisioned grocery store where we all picked up some booze and Pat struck gold with a gigantic plastic jar of like 500 pretzel sticks, which he claimed really supplemented the beer drinking experience. As for me, well I scored two cases of Yuengling beer, which is by far my favourite summertime boat brew, and haven't been able to get any due to the closed borders so I was smiling the entire way back, despite my arms feeling like they were about to drop off.

Once back at the boat, Melissa laid baby Beau down on the floor of the cabin while we unloaded the provisions and found places to store them. At one point Pat looked over to see Ana standing over Beau as she was putting away some groceries and he was looking directly up her dress, smiling and mesmerized.

"When he becomes a gynecologist later in life, I wonder if he'll remember his first moment of inspiration?'" Pat said.

"I sure will," I replied as I took a photo then high-fived Beau.

Melissa took Beau down for a nap, I put on the Santana Supernatural cd and we got settled into the cockpit for a beer. It wasn't long before both Ana and Pat started sliding further and further down onto the seats, with droopy eyes, so I took the cue and retired to the comfy v-berth and we all napped for nearly two hours as Santana played smoothly on repeat.

The day's adventuring finished with one final dingy ride into the harbour to meet Daryl and Lydia for a pina colada at the simple yet groovy little dockside Five Coconuts bar. We all agreed they were the tastiest pina coladas we’d ever encountered on Earth.

2022 Sailing Trip Day 1 - Wiener Dogs, Krazy Binz, and Rubber Vajay-jays

The day had finally arrived. The moment I most look forward to all year. Everything in the world seemed right as we casted off the lines and embarked on our annual sailing trip, this year on Lake Ontario to explore the US side, which had not been possible the last two years because of the pandemic.

Our friends Pat and Melissa and their baby boy Beau had taken residence in the two aft cabins of our sailboat SeaLight while Ana and I took over the front v-berth. We powered out of our home port Newport Yacht Club at 3:30 pm and into the lake. There was no wind and the lake surface was glass so we continued by motor power alone, pointed towards the town of Wilson, New York.

Most people assume sailors don't go anywhere near the lake unless there are 20 knot winds and white capped waves. Well, I can assure you that is not true. While we do like having wind to push us along, we also love being on flat water, motoring along at a comfortable 7 knots without sails, enjoying the smooth ride. And that is exactly what we had today.

We know Pat and Melissa from the many years we spent in sailing from Port Dover and were overjoyed when they expressed some interest in joining us on the boat trip. They are experienced power boaters and have been around boats their entire lives but have never done an extended trip on a sailboat. Pat is also a millwright and has suffered through countless boat disasters so has a real knack for fixing anything that might go BOOM on SeaLight. The best part is that their little boy Beau is only 8 months old so exposing him to the wonders of sailboats at this formative time just may turn him into a future sailor.

We were about halfway to Wilson when Melissa was in the cockpit and wanted to go down in the cabin but was too impatient to take the stairs so instead just stepped right off and took the elevator option straight down, sending herself arse over tea kettle, splayed out on the cabin floor. Ana and I initially felt awful, until Pat explained that Melissa always starts off her boat trips with a spectacular wipeout and really wouldn't have it any other way. We felt better after learning this, but I did have Ana check to make sure they had properly filled out their SeaLight liability waivers.

Shortly after this we decided to stop the boat and have a swim. Pat and I jumped in right away, but the ladies decided to give it a miss as the water temperature at 22 degrees Celsius was not sufficiently balmy; they would wait for warmer bays. As we were getting dried off, our friends Lydia and Daryl and their 16 year old wiener dog named Chili Dog passed by us in their power boat. They had decided to join us on our trip which was perfect as we always like to travel with power boat friends so they can get to the marinas first, find the best slips, scope out the area, pay for all the dockage, then have cold drinks waiting for us when we finally arrive by sail, many hours later.

We arrived in Wilson at dusk and were mesmerized by the pretty harbour, with boats of all shapes and sizes on one side and classic American cottages on the other, plus a busy restaurant near the entrance to the harbour, with a live band playing. We motored to the end of harbour and found our friends tied up at the state park docks, but there didn't look to be sufficient room anywhere for SeaLight so instead we anchored in the bay, but because of huge barges that were also anchored there I had to put out less chain than I normally would to prevent us from swinging around and crashing into one of them. And we couldn't move further into the bay away from the barges as there were power lines overhead, and we wanted to avoid those despite the chart showing they were 75 feet high which gave our mast plenty of clearance. The anchor seemed to stick well and soon we were settled, with drinks in hand, in the comfort of the bug-free, fully enclosed cockpit. Lydia and Daryl arrived shortly after that in their dingy and we spent several hours discussing important matters of the world...but also the “Krazy Binz” liquidation store in Stoney Creek near our marina and the five-dollar rubber vagina I found there recently, but was forbidden by Ana to purchase it, despite the potential of it being the best gag gift ever.

It’s the Bananas! The Damn Bananas!

I woke up in severe pain resulting from yesterday’s mechanical maneuvers. My back was thrashed and arms and hands were covered in bruises and aching. I guess I just wasn’t cut out to be a diesel engine mechanic.

Andrew drove us back to the boat and we gave it one last go with a few new tools and ideas. I really felt like it was going to work. Along the way Stella said, “Dad, what if we get to the boat and find that the coupling just dropped off on its own overnight? Would you be happy or sad?”

“I’d be bloody overjoyed, but humiliated at the same time. That’s sort of how boating works sometimes.”

After torching it twice as long as yesterday, and applying fresh hammer force, the coupling remained firmly stuck. Andrew helped as much as he could, but it became clear it just wasn’t going to happen. He also helped us call every marine mechanic in Kingston, but they were either too busy or in the case of the marine mechanic working on site, was too freaked out by Covid to go on a boat that hadn’t sat empty for at least three days. They did all offer tips on how to get the job done though, but they were all things we’d tried already.

Andrew headed back into work and we went to the marina office to schedule the boat drop-in. The staff member handed us a bill for twice what we were quoted and we stood there in shock. Ana fought it out with the owner but she would not budge, saying that the original quote was based on them not having to undo the straps, but none of them thought to mention that at the time, otherwise we might have just put the boat back in the water. So we paid the $1400 and simply repeated the boaters favourite acronym: B.O.A.T. – Bring On Another Thousand.

As we were walking around the gravel yard, getting scorched by the sun and angry as hell, Ana the Garbage Picker spotted a discarded Napoleon bbq grill by the dumpster. After a cursory inspection revealed that the only real problem was the burner, I hoised it up on my shoulder like a prize and carried it back to the boat and stowed it in the cockpit locker.

“Man, that thing must be worth about $1400, what a great find,” I said weakly.

“Sure,” replied Ana somewhat sarcastically, but I could tell she was a a little less mad now.

I rigged up a seal clamp that we could use to stop the flow of water when the boat was not underway, which would get us through to the end of the season when we could either have another go at it, find a diesel mechanic to do it, or maybe even find a two part shaft seal that didn’t require the disassembly for installation. In retrospect, this is what I should have done, but again, lesson learned. Always exhaust all inexpensive fixes before going for the expensive, complicated one.

As part of the haul out package, I had craftily negotiated a free pump out (which were probably free anyway…) so after they dropped SeaLight back in the water we motored over the the pump out stationa and left a load of sewage for them, which felt satisfying in a sick and vengeful sort of way. We then motored out of there as fast as possible and started trying to shake off the fact that we’d just spent the two most beautiful days of the trip on the hard. The healing process was continued by tossing out a whole bag of moldy buns, one by one, leaving a trail behind us all the way out of the bay. I was relieved to find that the boat was running perfectly fine – after all the beating and pounding I had been scared that we might have bent the prop shaft, which would have been a mega disaster, but thankfully she remained straight and true.

The further out into the lake we got, the better we started to feel. We originally thought we’d sail to Coburg to spend the night and explore the town, then then once we were on the open lake, we decided to do the big run all the way to Toronto and have some extra time there to relax. There was not a breath of wind and the lake was completely flat so after several hours on the water we stopped the boat and jumped in for a glorious swim. The water temperature was up to 25 degrees C, which is Ana’s minimum for lake swims. Stella wasn’t too excited with the 400 foot water depth, thinking there was possible risk of shark or sea monster attack, but she braved up and jumped in with us.

Once we were back underway, I was at the helm when I heard a cry from below.

“Holy shit, bananas!” Ana exclaimed.

“Bananas?” I asked.

“Bananas, ” she replied.

“You found bananas on the boat? Why the hell are there bananas on the boat? How’s that possible?” I pleaded.

“Well….remember when Angela and I went grocery shopping. We bought bananas and I meant to get rid of them but forgot.”

“Well goddamn it, no wonder we had so much friggin trouble. Get rid of them!”

Stella flung those evil bananas as far as she could then washed her hands thoroughly while Ana sanitized every surface the bananas had touched. You see, bananas are banned from boats because they bring awful luck. Every time we’ve had boat disasters, there’s been a banana involved. I was overjoyed to know that this recent misfortune had nothing to do with my deficient decision making and instead was caused entirely by the goddamn bananas.

Banana-free, we motored across this great lake and into the night.

Rainy Day in K-Town

The rain and gloom forecasted for today arrived right on time. After a lengthy coffee session with Andrew and Victoria we drove into downtown Kingston to meet Marty and gang for breakfast at the Four Points Sheraton where they were staying, then we went for a walk downtown and avoided the intermittent showers by ducking into shops. In a moment of complete misdirection I bought a pair of $90 boating shoes, which were marked down from an even higher price. My bar for shopping value is high as the majority of my fashions come from Value Village or consignment stores thanks to my good lady wife who is constantly on the search for deals. But this purchase used up five years worth of footwear budget so I’ll likely be wearing them all winter too.

The day passed entirely too quickly, as it always does when we are here. We all assembled back at Andrew’s in the afternoon and visited, goofed around, drank beer, told stories, and smoked a big prime rib and a few racks of ribs in his smoker, which turned out magnificently. At some point during the day their neighbour Bob fired up his chopper and buzzed us in the yard. I thought it would be cool to leap up, grab onto one of the skids, and go flying through the air like an action movie hero. I’d then climb heroically into the cockpit, punch Bob in the face, throw him out into the lake far below, then pilot the bird back to Andrews and land it on the dock, to my cheering and adoring family who would shower me with confetti and gummy worms as I raised my arms in victory then took them all for helicopter rides. But all that seemed like it might be bad for my back so instead I just took a photo and waved to Bob.

Towards the end of the night, Andrew decided to demonstrate one of his home automation features. Every time we visit there is a new piece of technology in his house: auto-tinting glass on the front door, automated blinds throughout the house, voice controlled temperature and stereo, high resolution and motion activitated security cameras. One feels very much like Captain Jean-Luc Picard on the bridge of the Enterprise, without the tight-fitting bodysuit.

After dinner, most of us were at  the dining room table and Magnus was at the sink running the tap to rinse off some dishes. Andrew grabbed his phone and said, “Watch this.” As Magnus turned off the tap and began to walk away, Andrew pressed the screen and the tap came back on. Magnus heard the water running, looked a bit confused, then went back and turned off the tap. As he walked away Andrew turned it on again, totally confusing the boy. This ruse held up for at least four rounds until Magnus finally noticed us laughing wildly, flipped us the bird, and seeked safety from further embarrassment by joining his cousins playing Mario Cart on the giant screen in the lower level.

“You have internet enabled taps? Why the hell would you need internet enabled taps?” Marty asked.

“The money I spent on those just paid for itself right now!” Andrew replied, with Marty nodding in agreement.

We said goodbye to Marty and Jen and the boys at the end of the night as they had to head home early the next day, which was holiday Monday of the August long weekend, which really sucked as the weather forecast was finally looking decent. We said goodbye and I really hoped we’d be able to get together again soon.

With that, we too packed it in for the night and had a beautiful dingy ride back to the boat. The wind had died, the clouds had disappeared, the moon was bright and beaming, and the moonlight shone down upon SeaLight, guiding our path.

Weekend with the Ottawa Olsons

We were alone again. With the Henriques gone and Andrew and Victoria having to work all weekend and the Ottawa Olsons not arriving until afternoon, it was the perfect time to do some chores. Andrew had left his truck for us so Ana and I ditched Stella on the boat to chill out and we drove to the west end of Kingston to Marine Outfitters, which is likely the best provisioned chandlery we’ve ever been to. After dropping some coin on boat supplies we picked up human supplies at a giant Loblaw’s supermarket and returned to Andrew’s place. 

Marty, Jen, Leif, and William arrived shortly after 1 and we dingy’d them all out to SeaLight for a tour and a welcome drink. The kids took the dingy back into shore to goof around while the four of us got comfortable in the cockpit and caught up on our respective happenings. We hadn’t seen them for a year and a half due to Covid restrictions so a visit was long overdue.

The pleasant, sunny day started turning not so pleasant and soon the wind was screaming through the channel kicking up largish waves and I was getting nervous being anchored so close to a lee shore. We decided to motor across the channel to the protected bay on the other side. By this time, Andrew and Victoria had returned home to find four kids ravishing his home and doing all the things he’s constantly scolding his dog for – jumping on the couches, eating food out of the garbage, chewing on his socks, peeing on the floor, licking everything in sight, and blowing farts all over the place. He immediately poured a rum and coke and escaped to the safety of his deck, only to find us hauling anchor and taking off. The following series of texts ensued.

WTF – WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS GOING?

Going to cruise the islands for the rest of the day, be back for dinner.

WTF – WHAT ABOUT ALL THESE GODDAMN KIDS?

Just give them pop and chips. We might stay out for the night if we find a good anchorage.

WTF – GET BACK HERE, I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH RUM TO GET ME THROUGH THIS!

We have plenty of rum here, have fun! We told the kids to start calling you Uncle Andrew so don’t be surprised.

After an hour or so the squall blew through and we sailed the boat back  to Andrew’s and made sure she was anchored well before dingy’ing back in and rescuing our good buddy from the ravages of parenthood, which are cruel and unyielding.

As is customary in these parts, the neighbours once again assembled at La Mansion Andrieu and we ordered several hundred bucks worth of delicious pizza and ate and drank until we were tired.

Back to the Kingston Mansion

The day was cool and clear so after breakfast we all paddled into Leek Island to take a leak, I mean a look. It is not a large island – we walked across it for five or ten minutes and popped out onto a broad beach with large flat rocks, onto which all five of us collapsed with exhaustion.

“It’s great to get some intense exercise,” said Ana as we all layed there like walruses after a seafood smorgasbord. We all agreed, then our thoughts wandered to what was on the docket for lunch. Sailors are not the most physically active folks in the world.

We returned to SeaLight, had a round of morning showers and baths, then said goodbye to Leek Island and its many minks then got underway. Angela cued up one of the awesome playlists she had cureated for the trip and the music rang out joyfully as we sailed our way back to Andrew’s place, passing by the Admiralty Islands then navigating back through the Bateau Channel. Unfortunately the wind was right in our face most of the time so we had to motor nearly the entire way.

Sadly this was our final day with the Henriques and the end of phase 1 of the sailing trip. After arriving back in Kingston and anchoring in front of Andrew’s house we lounged around the boat for a while, had some food, then the Henriques organized their things and we ferried ourselves into shore. We said our final goodbyes then Angela and Tony took off back towards civilization. It’s always sad parting after a trip, but we know the next adventure with the Henriques is never far away.

While waiting for Andrew and Victoria to return from work we gave the boat an interior cleaning, an exterior wash, and got the cabin ready for our next guest – Magnus! He was scheduled to arrive around 7 or 8 pm and was catching a ride from Brantford with a colleague of mine who was driving to Ottawa for the weekend. In addition, my brother Marty and his family would be arriving tomorrow to spend the August long weekend with us and Andrew.

I borrowed Andrew’s truck to pick up Magnus from the drop-off point at the Husky gas station on the 401 highway, just a ten minute drive away. My colleague arrived in a mini van and when the door opened a small army emerged – parents, kids, Magnus, and a rather large dog. I had a quick visit with my colleague then we let them get on their way as they still had a couple of hours left to get to Ottawa. Magnus and I caught up on the week’s events as we drove back to Andrew’s. It was great to have him back with us.

Another Friday night meant another neighbourhood party at Andrew’s! Bob, Terri, Jan, and Don all arrived and we enjoyed more than a couple of drinks as we visited and goofed around. I discovered why Andrew’s dog Emma is always after the can of beer I am generally holding. Throughout the evening when nobody was looking, or especially if they were, Bob would call Emma over and pour Coors Light into her mouth which she lapped up greedily. I don’t know if it’s even possible to become an alcoholic drinking Coors Light, but if so the dog was definitely ready for an ADA meeting (Alcoholic Dogs Anonymous).

Brockville to the Navy Islands

I am normally a pretty positive guy but the cool and rainy weather was really bumming me out. In years past we have been spoiled with good weather on our annual sailing trips where the sweltering hot days are pleasantly broken up by dips in the cool lake, shirts and shoes are rarely worn, the AC is the most critical piece of equipment in the boat, and the crew is always on the lookout for fresh ice. Well, this trip was all about sweaters, hot coffee, rain gear, cabin salon dinners, and heroic but painful leaps into the freezing cold water. Wha’ append? It turned out that in 2021, summer would not arrive until mid-August.

Fortunately, the company was as good as ever so we made the best of it, and did quite enjoy the amazing sleeps we enjoyed at anchor with the cool nighttime temperatures. And Stella did get to rotate through all the different outfits she had brought for the trip instead of just wearing shorts and a tank top all the time.

We had some nice bran muffins for breakfast – at least Angela and I did, and I learned that not everybody in the world loves them as I do. I had my suspicions the week before the trip when I was thinking of making a batch of bran muffins so I texted Tony the following:

“Do you guys like bran muffins?”

He replied, “Bran muffins?? Those are laced with cocktails of bad stuff…bran muffins! God help us.”

I knew none of my family liked them either so was starting to think I was weird or something, so the relief was welcome when Angela bought a box of them. Butter, raisins, grainy stuff, fibre - what’s not to like?

We pulled anchor and sailed back westward against the current along a similar route that brought us here. The weather remained crummy right up until we arrived at the Navy Islands and found an anchorage amongst the dozens of boats that were already there. As we dropped anchor the clouds vanished, the sun appeared, and the holy rays shone down on SeaLight and her weary crew. Shirts and jeans were unceremoniously stripped and tossed in favour of swimmers, and we exploded from the cockpit to the open deck with fruity drinks and some sweet summer reggae tunes blasting from the speakers. After some time on deck, and some leaps into the water, and some tricky moves from Stella on the paddleboard, and more drinks, and lots of laughs we found ourselves all sprawled out on the deck when I exclaimed, “This is the best moment of 2021!” And it was. After months and months of lockdowns, masks, deaths, sickness, anti-vaxxers, idiotic conspiracy theories, hours upon hours of Netflix,  isolation, sneaking around, and all the other unhappy results of this pandemic, here we were enjoying a beautiful day on our boat with friends and not giving a damn nor thought to Covid. It was the best moment of 2021.

To make things better, Andrew cruised out in his new ultra fancy power boat to meet us for a drink and we had a lovely long visit covering all sorts of topics regular people generally don’t discuss, including how close a relationship a man can have with his dog.

“I really loved Belle, she was the best dog ever,” Andrew reminisced.

“Yes she was, we all loved her. Labs are the nicest dogs.” I replied.

“When I was single I thought maybe it could be just me and her forever.”

“Uh. Like a relationship?”

“Yeah. She was beautiful, caring, loving, a great listener - really everything you need in a partner.”

“I suppose. She did have quite small breasts though.”

“Sure, but there were lots of them.”

We tried talking Andrew into staying for dinner but Victoria already had something on the go so he had to leave, taking our remarkable and forbidden conversation with him. I do miss our little chats.

Before dinner I went for one more swim and a little snorkeling adventure. I swam close to the shoreline and saw more fish than I’ve ever seen in Lake Ontario – bass, pike, perch and even a catfish that scared the crap out of me after I dove down 20 feet to take a closer look at a giant hole in the side of an underwater bank and as I stuck my head in to have a peek, this giant freakish fish came out and nearly brushed my face with his feelers. This nice thing about being underwater is when you pee your pants from fear it really doesn’t matter.

Dinner was magnificent – grilled chicken and fresh veggies, followed up with cockpit cocktail then a couple games of Sequence, a board game that takes little skill, is fast, and folds up nicely – perfect for boating!

The Secret Tunnel of Brockville

The poor weather that started yesterday continued into today and we awoke to grey skies and rain. And the forecast didn’t look great. Despite the cool morning, I put on my shorts and jumped on the paddleboard for an early morning lake bath.

Once the crew was woke, showered, and fed we motored into Gilbert’s marina in Brockville to top up the water tanks and drop off the ladies for a shopping expedition. Tony and I then motored back out to the closest anchorage we could find – Skelton Island and got SeaLight securely anchored before heading back to shore for our own non-retail explorations.

We got drenched from the rain and waves during our short dingy ride to the marina. We tied up then proceeded to the dockmaster’s office, where we found a most unusual set of tools lying in the corner: a huge cutting saw, a chainsaw, a jackhammer, steel pry bars, and an axe or two. We theorized the following:

“Brockville marina, Brockville marina. This is Dainty Sailor heading into the marina looking for a slip. Over.”

“Dainty Sailor, what length of boat are you? Over.”

“Uh, what do you charge per foot? Over.”

“Two dollars and fifty cents per foot. Over.”

“Ok. Uh, we’re a 34 footer. Over.”

“Please proceed to slip E14. Over and out.”

Shortly after the captain of Dainty Sailor gets tied up and pays dockage for his vessel, the dockmaster and his helper go out to the slip with a measuring tape and the crate of aforementioned demolition tools.

“Hmmm. According to this measuring tape Dainty Sailor is 37 feet long. But he only paid for a 34. So let’s make it a 34! Fire up the chainsaw!”

When the thrifty captain returns to his boat he finds the first three feet of his boat sliced off and the rest of it sinking slowly with the dockmaster and his mate leaning up against a tree, brandishing their weaponized tools, winking at the captain and offering a double thumbs up.

Not that the honorable captain of SeaLight would ever lie about the length of her to save a few bucks, but In retrospect, I feel rather happy they had no space here and we’re safely at anchor.

With the ladies nowhere in site, we walk a short distance over to the Brockville Railway 

Tunnel, a place I’d never heard of, but one I’ll be telling everybody about. Canada’s first underground railway tunnel opened for business in 1860 and was used extensively in fueling the growth of this nation and then eventually fell into disrepair and was decomissioned in the 1970’s. Fortunately, the structure was rehabilitated and reopened as a pedestrian tunnel and tourist attraction in 2017. The tunnel is half a kilometer long and features some amazing geological curiosities, all highlighted by constantly colour-shifting LED lighting. It is truly one of the coolest things I’ve seen in Ontario and definitely worth the visit.

After exploring the tunnel Tony and I hustled through the rain and found two nice bar stools at Moose McGuire’s pub in the downtown core where we moved onto our second activity of the day - exploring local brews. The bar was totally hokey, with all sorts of Canadiana kitch hanging off the walls – moose heads, elk antlers, racoon tails, hockey jerseys, canoes, and, of couse, a bunch of televisions showing hockey replays and, later, some kind of online hockey video game championship which was just mesmerizing in its stupidity.

The ladies took a break from their shopping extravanagza and joined us for lunch. They each displayed their purchased wares in turn and Tony and I politely clapped. Lunch was unspectacularly typical for such a standard-issue sports pub, but it was certainly filling and laden with calories to fuel our vacationing bodies. By that time, we’d seen enough of the town so the boys dingy’d back to SeaLight for rum and cokes while the ladies continued their retal therapy.

When the ladies were ready to return, they rang up the Uber Dingy Hotline and Tony and I took turns retrieving them. Tony discovered that if you were running the dingy solo, and maxed out the throttle, and moved forward to the bow, that little 4 horsepower Mercury engine could indeed get her up on plane, resuliting in blistering fast speeds, but a total lack of control because you couldn’t reach the handle from there, unless you used your foot, which turned out to be quite fun.

During my run back to shore, I spotted a man and his two kids in a small sailboat struggling with its engine so I did my good deed of the day and towed them back in to the marina. On the water, karma rules, and you do everything you can to help other boaters, as your own next breakdown is never far around the corner.

The day finished with a cool swim, a hot meal, and an onboard fashion show by Stella, proudly showcasing her fabulous new fashions.

Admiralty Islands to the Brock Group

Tony, Stella, and I began the day with a swim and a snorkeling expedition while the ladies enjoyed morning coffee in the cockpit. The water temperature was chilly, but once past the shock of the initial plunge it was manageable. Stella and I dove down and founds dozens of perch cruising around in the weeds, and even a few small bass.

Some of the boats from the previous evening had already departed and they continued gliding out of the anchorage, one by one, likely to lock in a premium spot at their next anchorage. We were less ambitious and instead took our time, made sauage and eggs for breakfast, and planned our our next destination. We decided to make the 35 nautical mile run to Brockville, which is the eastern end of the Thousand Islands and as far east as we would go on this trip, then we could slowly make our way back westward. I was quite excited as we did not make it that far on our previous visit to this area three years ago.

I fired up the engine while Tony and Ana went to the bow of the boat and retrieved not just the anchor, but four hundred additional pounds of mud and weeds. With the help of the boat hook, some unbelievable yoga power stretches, the windlass to dip the anchor and and out of the water, and massive muscle power, they managed to liberate the bottom growth from the anchor and we were on our way.

Navigation in the Thousand Islands requires good charts and 100% attention from the helmsman as there are hazards everywhere: rocks, reefs, nets, kite surfers, sea-doos, buoys, overhead power lines, strong currents, inattentive boaters and most importantly, the US border which weaves unpredictably aorund the islands and currently restricted due to Covid. SeaLight has an excellent navigation system with fairly up to date SeaRay instruments, but we also keep backup navigation software on our phones and iPad just in case of failure. What we don’t have are the full set of paper charts for the area, which we should, but honestly they are expensive, bulky, and rarely used.

SeaLight threaded and weaved her way following the small craft route passing hundreds of islands and hundreds of other boats along the way. The afternoon sunshine beat down and we enjoyed the best weather of the trip so most of the crew were sprawled out on the deck in swimsuits drinking fruity beverages.

We arrived to the Brock Group of islands after a 5 hour sail and began looking for a suitable anchorage. Ana had called the Brockville marina along the way and learned that our timing for this trip was rather bad. You see, since 1971 the province of Quebec has celebrated the “Construction Holiday” which is a two week period from the second last Sunday of July where everybody in the construction industry drops tools and goes on vacation. Only in Quebec would they halt construction right in the middle of the best season for building so that the brutish concrete workers can get their Speedos on and take up every damn marina spot for hundreds of miles around La Belle Province. It’s good to be a Quebeccer.

After a failed anchoring attempted in brisk current between De Rottenburg and Black Charlie islands, we continued eastward throught the island group looking for a better anchorage. As we were motoring down the Brockville Narrows a giant frieghter caught up to us and passed by, displacing an enormous mountain of water as it went. Surprisingly, these beheamoths leave very little wake – less than a Sea-doo so they pose no danger. Unless, of course, you are in their path and they run into you, something we experimented with on last year’s trip but did not much enjoy it. So we stayed clear.

We found a delightful little anchorage between Smith Island and the mainland so we dropped the hook, then had a short chill out session in our cabins before meeting up in the cockpit in preparation for a planned swim. Somebody noticed that Tony was no longer on the boat, so after a cursory search we theorized that he must have fallen off the boat somewhere along the way. We each took turns telling our favourite Tony story and there were many “he was a good man”, “such a gentle soul”, “would give you the shirt off his back”, and similar generous comments in his memory. As we were raising our glasses for a toast, he appeared just off the port side of the boat on the paddleboard, so we quickly lowered our glasses and pretended like nothing had happened. It was good to have him back.

I jumping in and went for a deliciously long snorkeling expedition. The water here was cool, incredibly clear, and had a variety of bottom conditions from thick weeds, to rocky drop-offs, to long stretches of rocky plates. I saw a number of perch and small bass, then at one point I spotted what I first thought was a northern pike cruising the weed beds, but as I got closer I realized it was probably a muskie. First, it was a little more grey than a pike, and looked a lot meaner, then it immediately took off as soon as it saw me – usually pike don’t mind you trailing them around in the water for a while.

The beautiful afternoon sunshine disappeared and the overcast skies started dumping rain as I was near the end of my swim, so after I was out and changed back into clothes, I joined the others in the cockpit for happy hour. Ana heated up the chili we had made in advance of the trip and also re-warmed up the sheppards pie we had overcooked for lunch, leaving a black, grisly bottom coat that made it almost inedible. Almost.

Two scouting missing were sent out in the dingy – first Angela and Tony, then Ana, Stella and I. The three of us went right into Brockville, and did a quick tour around the marina and confirmed that it was indeed jam packed full of Quebec boats, sacre bleu! We also learned that the slightest chop on the water dumps the tops of waves right into the little dingy, so it really is a two person vessel and not ideal for us, but it would have to do for this season as the currently overpowered boat market was making it very difficult to find anything decent.

The day concluded with us all in the cockpit, deep in convo, wearing sweaters becuase the temperature had plummeted. It did not feel much like July but the whole summer had been much cooler and wetter then normal. C’est la vie.

Kingston

It has become clear that the greatest feature of our new boat versus the old one is the gloriously large and covered cockpit. Our old boat Bella Blue had a modest bimini cover over the cockpit, but not a dodger (which covers the front) nor side panels so when the weather got bad, you were putting on foul weather gear and getting splashed in the face. When the bugs got bad you were swinging the basura wildly and constantly cleaning the cockpit out with buckets of water to rinse out the insect corpses. And when it was cold outside you would freeze at the helm.

SeaLight has a full cockpit enclosure so it remains warm, cozy, clean, and bug-free. While the visibility without a cockpit cover is superior, you can still see quite well through the transparent plastic panes, but to be sure you can just unzipper one of them and stick your head out every once in a while to scan the water for other boats. But this comfort comes at a cost – remaining conscious during the overnight shift becomes exceedingly difficult. On Bella Blue, it was easy staying awake as you were either shivering uncontrollably or batting bugs or usually both. Plus you were standing up most of the time and wearing a bulky, uncomfortable lifejacket tethered to the helm to prevent yourself from an accidental fall off the boat. On Sealight it was all decorator pillows, prone position, salty snacks, and cozy, sleep-inducing temperatures so despite both of us remaining in the cockpit for most of the evening, there were times when we drifted off to la-la land while the boat steamed on.

Fortunately there was literally nobody else on the lake. Besides two far away freighters we could barely see across the lake, we did not see a single other boat until we had been on the water for 15 hours and were approaching Kingston. The wind finally picked up in the morning so we deployed the sails and enjoyed some engine free sailing. After breakfast I advised the ladies to shield their eyes while I engaged in a chilly bucket and sponge bath on the swim platform so that we wouldn’t have to pull the sails in and stop the boat.

This was the first trip where we were a crew of three instead of four. Magnus had scored a summer job as a camp councillor with the City of Brantford, and was also working weekend shifts at a local grocery store so he was unable to join us, although we had worked out a plan for us to come make it out during the two weekends which our trip would cover, so we were looking forward to seeing him then.

We arrived at our friend Andrew’s waterfront house late in the afternoon and despite his previous measurements of water depth at his dock being well under the required amount for our boat, we decided to give it the old college try anyway.  I pointed the bow of SeaLight towards shore and we tenderly powered ahead, watching the depth gauge. 10 feet. 9 feet. 8 feet. 7 feet.

“Good so far!” I yelled to Ana on the bow and Andrew on the dock.

6 feet. Then a sudden stop as the keel hit an immovable rock.

“Whoops, that’s it, out of water. Sorry about that blue bottom paint on your rock!” I hollered as I punched it into reverse and backed out. We didn’t get too close but it was worth a try.

Because the southerly wind was picking up we decided to anchor across the channel in a bay that was well sheltered instead of trying to anchor off the lee shore – never a good idea. We dropped anchor and stuck it right away, which was a nice change from Bella Blue where anchoring was always tricky and the Delta and Danforth anchors she had just didn’t work nearly as well as the Rocna type one on SeaLIght. We gathered up our things, deployed the dingy, then the three of us hopped in and motored back across the channel to the dock, tied up, and joined the rather large gang of people on Andrew’s upper dock deck – neighbours, family, dogs. We were already well acquainted with all of them so we exchanged greetings and salutations then got to work on the Bud Lights stacked up in the fridge. It was nice to be back on land after a long ride, and to enjoy the company of these fine folks. Andrew and Victoria’s newish puppy Emma made us feel especially welcome by dashing into the water to get fully soaked, then returning to the upper deck to stand in front of each of us in turn and doing the doggy shake to unleash 8 litres of hairy water directly into our laps and faces. The misting actually felt quite nice.

As afternoon slipped into evening, the horde migrated to Andrew’s house, ordered up a mess of pizza and poutine then stuffed our faces and got into the Guiness and red wine. We were feeling buzzy and comfortable, but Andrew’s neighbour Bob was not, as he could simply not believe that we had left our boat anchored across the bay on its own. So he would get up every few minutes and walk to the patio door to ensure he could still see the mast light, and that it appeared to be coming from approximately the same location.

It must have been near midnight when we decided it was time to dingy back to the boat. So we walked down to the dock, accompanies by the hard core partiers, and discovered the wind speed had doubled or tripled and there were huge whitecaps bashing up against the dock. There was no way our little dingy was going to get us back to the boat; in fact it likely wouldn’t have gotten us to the end of the dock without being swamped. So Andrew and Victoria invited us back in to stay at the house, which is quite a privilege as the neighbours confirmed he refuses to let anybody sleep in his amazing lower level, complete with three fully furnished bedrooms, a full kitchen, popcorn machine, giant ship’s wheel, video game system, 9 sprayer shower system, hot tub, wonderfully folded towels, an excellent smell, and fully stocked fridges. Why does he let us? I think it’s mainly because of Stella. He was pretty much her first friend and she’s had him wrapped around her finger ever since.