Analysis of a Trip and Becoming Landlubbers

Our final sailing trip is done, the miles are logged, and the boat is sold. The four of us spent 27 days on the boat, logging over 1200 kilometres (660 nautical miles), which translates into approximately 131 hours on the water, or about 5 hours sailing per day. I looked back at our previous sailing trip to the North Channel five years ago and we did about the same number of miles but in half the time, so the pace of this trip was far better. We managed to cover most of what we wanted to see, missing a few spots such as Beardrop Harbour, Winfield Basin, Penetanguishene, Meaford, and Collingwood, but we visited so many other amazing places we didn’t expect to which more than made up for it. The fact is, this area is huge and packed with so much to explore that you could never, ever be done with it, and the ever changing water levels means that new anchorages open up, new beaches appear, the shorelines change and adapt, and it really is a new experience every time. The next time we sail here I could see us taking an entire season and adding in Lake Michigan and maybe even a small part of Lake Superior before returning to the North Channel and Georgian Bay to fill in some of the holes.

It was such a pleasure boating with our buddies Tony and Angela. They are just amazing people and the best travel companions one could hope for. This is now the fourth trip we’ve done with them and I hope there will be many more. The time we spent with the German-Hinds at their beautiful Manitoulin cottage was priceless, and such a nice break from the sailing routine. We have so much in common with them and always enjoy every minute we spend together. I’d love to do a big trip with them sometime too - preferably for 3 months backpacking around Asia. Then, of course, was the incredible day we spent with the Bradshaw family in Parry Sound, where we made some new friends and spent time with old friends on their home turf enjoying the pleasures of great food and excellent company. To top it off, we got to see our friends Ken and Sheila on the final day we were with the Henriques, so although we were out exploring so many new places, it was made so much better by spending time with all these fantastic people along the way. What a trip!

So here I now sit, back at home, in our gigantic mansion of a house compared to the cramped living quarters we’ve occupied for the past month in the belly of Bella Blue, coming to terms with being boatless. Owning a boat is a huge commitment in both money and time. With Bella Blue, every weekend of the year from April to October was spoken for, from spring launch to the full weekends spend on her all summer with our dock family, our extended sailing trips, then the sad month of October where she was dry docked, winterized, covered in a tarp (or several), and put to sleep for the season. But then our schedule would change dramatically. After months of ignoring our Paris and Brantford friends, we’d reconnect and be back into Friday night happy hour at local breweries, Saturday night dinner parties, Sunday day trips around the area attending festivals and exploring shops, and all the festive Christmas activities in December, followed by three months of miserable cold winter, usually broken up with a week in Cuba, then it was back into boat season.

But this year will be different. While the COVID-19 appears to be relatively under control in Ontario, this could turn on a dime, so we are still being cautious, which means no abundance of dinner parties and keeping our social circle very limited. And there will almost definitely be no international travel this year, meaning no mid-winter trip somewhere warm to break up the monotony of the cold months. Our new boatless situation means that we are going to have even more time available for weekend activities so the challenge is going to be figuring out what to do with this time. That is going to be tricky. Perhaps I will take up knitting? Or the crochet? Or maybe I’ll finally get serious about learning Portuguese and focus on that? In any case, it’s not often one is given the gift of time, so we will make the most of it. As far as the next boat, we are already looking, but the logistics of finding, inspecting, and relocating a boat with the COVID restrictions in place will make it very difficult. But who knows what the future may hold?

So here’s to the final adventure on Bella Blue! It was a lovely ride my darling, we wish you well and thank you for all the joy you brought to our lives. Bon voyage!

Little Current to Paris

Ana and I were up at 6am, and by 7 everybody was showered and fed and hauling stuff out of the boat to the dock. I was really proud of the kids as they really pitched in and we were working together like a well-oiled machine. Mark arrived by 8am with histruck and we piled that sucker high, then used a tarp to hold it all together. As usual, everything just fit. We took one last photo in front of Bella Blue then Stella kissed the hull to say goodbye to our beautiful sailboat, then we walked away, without looking back.

We drove 45 minutes to South Baymouth, which is on the south-eastern corner of Manitoulin island then boarded the Chi-Cheemaun ferry which took us to Tobermory in about 90 minutes. From there it was a very nice drive home as we talked with Mark the whole way and learned a whole lot about his career as a police officer, and he gave us some great tips on how to beat the polygraph, frame others for crimes, cover your tracks, lie convincingly in court, select the best ammo, outrun the cops, and avoid jail time. All useful life skills.

We were so happy to have found Mark and Kelly as we really wanted to sell our boat to great people who will take care of her and enjoy her just as much as we have, and we know they will.

By 5:30pm we were home, and by 6 we had Mark’s truck unloaded with our stuff then reloaded with the sailboat stands, tarps, and other bits and pieces he would need for the boat, and he was back on the road for the long drive back to Sudbury. The rest of the evening was spent unpacking and reacquainting ourselves with life on land, then we collapsed exhausted from the day.

Training Day!

We woke up to a glorious, sunny day in the North Channel and after lake baths and Stella’s last big jump off the cockpit arch, we sailed back into the Spider Bay Marina. Mark arrived shortly after that and we began Training Day. I had put together a list of all the things I wanted to show him, which began with boat documentation and training manuals, so while we were doing that Ana and the kids headed into town for a walk and to explore.

Mark and I went through all of the manuals, discussed training and licensing requirements, then later went through all of the boat systems, with Stella helping out by creating a video of these that I’d be able to send to Mark for his reference. We then all went out on the water and showed Mark how to undock the boat, use the chart plotter and other instruments, anchor, went through some basic collision avoidance rules, then had lunch near Picnic Island. An afternoon sail ensued, and we had nice steady winds to show Mark how to use each of the lines, trim the sails, and maneuver on the water under sail. It wasn’t until 5 or so that we returned to the marina and gave him the helm to practice docking - probably the most difficult part of boating, and he did exceptionally well. Lastly, we motored over to gas dock for a final pump out and to explain the fueling process. As we approached the gas dock Ana simultaneously overestimated the length of her legs and underestimated the distance from the boat rails to the dock surface and crashed to the dock after leaping off the sailboat. But she did something like a judo breakfall, then a masterly stuntman roll and popped right back up with nothing but a scratch on her ankle. The strange thing was that there was nobody there to witness it, and Ana usually saves her docking fails for when there’s a huge crowd of spectators. After she brushed herself off she said to Mark, “So that’s not exactly the best way to come into the gas dock!”

We finished up training day around 6:30pm and we were all thoroughly spent, plus my throat hurt like hell as I was definitely not used to talking all day long. Stella had done some research on the local food scene and guided us to Elliott’s Restaurant where we had fish tacos, pizza, and nachos, then finished it off with desserts - ice cream and an amazing bread pudding, all delicious.

Despite being exhausted, once back at the boat we continued the packing that Ana had already started and worked together to gather and bag all of the stuff on the boat that we were taking with us. And there was a lot - about the equivalent of 20 black garbage bags, and by the time we were done there was so much stuff piled up that Magnus had to sleep on the floor and Stella could just squeeze into her berth and sleep on the edge of her bed. That was it - our final night on Bella Blue.

Rous Island

Sailboats are strange creatures. They have a personality all of their own. They have guarded secrets, mysteries, rituals, protocols, and it takes you a very long time to familiarize yourself, never mind actually ever really understanding, why things work the way they work on a sailboat. Take, for instance, our boat’s barbecue grill. It is a simple device - really just some stainless steel welded together with a burner and grill, and it runs off one of those little green propane tanks. You should be able to turn on the gas, light it up, throw on your food, and cook it until it’s done. But that’s not how this sailboat grill works. First, you turn on the gas. Then you stick a BBQ lighter into the ignition hole near the burner and flick it on. Nothing happens. You can smell gas. So you light it again, and you can see the flame, but still nothing happens. It’s only when you get your arm or head or any other body part sprouting hair close enough to the grill that it ignites and scorches off whatever hair is left from the last time you lit the grill. You then have to press on the temperature control knob to give it double the gas and really get it burning, but half the time it will simply flame out, then you have to light it again, and that usually doesn’t work until you use your other still-haired arm to light it. Sometimes it will then run for a while on its own, but as soon as you put your food in, it simply will not stay reliably lit unless the lid is left open a crack using, what I call, the sacrificial wiener. I tried explaining this whole thing to Tony last week and his first comment was, “Doesn’t that hurt?” Now it doesn’t specifically have to be a wiener (and definitely not your wiener) - it can be an edge piece of whatever you are cooking, but unless there’s a chunk of food sticking out, it simply does not work properly. But it’s all part of the never-ending fun and adventure of living on a boat.

After listening to the 9am Cruiser’s Net channel 71 boaters briefing from Roy Eaton (see https://www.lcyc.ca/cruisers-net for a great story of Roy’s 15 years of broadcasts) I went for a walk downtown while the rest of my gang was getting ready for the day, and by 11 or so we were pushing off the dock for a short 4.5 mile run to Rous Island, a nice anchorage just west of Little Current. It was a very windy day, but sunny, and the anchorage was calm and empty. We got anchored then spent what I think was the most relaxing day of the trip - we swam, jumped off the boat, played frisbee from boat to dinghy, caught a few perch, went for dinghy rides, listened to classic rock, and Ana and I even had naps in the cockpit while the kids left us alone. It was glorious, and such a great way to spend the last real day of the trip. Nearly every day of this adventure has been full, with a mission or goal in mind, but the goal today was just to relax and have fun and that’s exactly what we did.

We stayed overnight at the anchorage and went to bed early, as we needed to be back in the marina by 9 the following morning to meet the new owner Mark and do a full day of Bella Blue training. The end was near.

Heywood Island to Little Current

Today’s blissfully short ride of 8 miles to Little Current was going to feel like a walk to the bathroom compared to the miles we logged yesterday. The morning was calm and beautiful and the anchorage looked much less dangerous during daylight hours. Last night there must have been a huge mayfly hatch as the boat was covered in bugs this morning, which is unusual for this area as we’ve been finding the bugs are really only bad for an hour or so at dusk, then during the day you just get the odd deerfly or horsefly nibbling on your ankles or toes. I spent half an hour with the bucket and brush cleaning off the buggage, trying to get the boat back into pristine condition. The kids and I then had our morning lake bath in the warm and still surprisingly clear 25 degree water.

As we were getting ready to depart, I was pulling up the anchor and the kids were in the cockpit looking around. All of a sudden Magnus says, “Dad, I think I see a bear swimming through the channel!!” I looked over and sure enough a black bear was bear-paddling his way across the anchorage entrance with his black head just sticking out of the water. I quickly hauled in the anchor then motored the boat over closer to get a good look at him. The kids wanted me to run right up on the bear so they could jump on its back and take a ride into shore but I didn’t think that was a good idea (for us or the bear) so we kept our distance, but had a great view of him swimming across, pulling himself out of the water, running onto shore, and then standing up on his back legs and looking directly back at us. The kids were thrilled! They had never seen a bear in the wild before so this was quite a spectacle. We had spoken with a boater back in the Benjamins who had told us there had been reports of a bear in the Heywood’s swimming up to boats and actually clawing his way up onto them and eating food left outside, so perhaps this was the perpetrator.

We sailed into Little Current and got docked at Spider Bay Marina, one of the worst marina names I can imagine as boaters are spiders are arch-enemies as those little buggers web up your boat nightly, drop staining poos onto your fiberglass and cushions, and explode on your sails making awful black and green stains. Plus sometimes they crawl into your mouth when you are sleeping - this is what causes bad breath. The marina itself is small, but quite nice with a nice office building, bathrooms and showers. Our new buyer had reserved a slip for the rest of the season so it was already paid for, and the dock hand confirmed we were all set and didn’t need to get registered.

The ladies walked into town to pick up a few things while Magnus stayed in the boat and enjoyed the AC. It was blazing hot outside today with full sunshine and a fair bit of activity happening in downtown Little Current. Ana and I considered stopping for a drink somewhere, but instead we returned to the boat, made drinks, and walked over to the nearby park for a potential swim, but the beach was full of scraggly weeds and goose poo and the water was shallow and mucky so instead we parked ourselves on a picnic table and talked mainly about our next boat.

It was a slow and relaxing evening - I cooked up bok choy on the bbq (delicious) along with salads and some packaged bacon wrapped chicken medallions that we had procured from the $10 bin at Food Basics four weeks ago and had been through at least half a dozen freeze/thaw cycles so were bloody awful and I feared I’d poisoned the entire crew. While Ana and were making dinner, the kids entertained themselves by playing frisbee inside the boat - yes, it is possible, and they didn’t even knock anything over.

There was mention of watching a movie, but as usual it didn’t happen. I had assembled at least 40 movies on USB sticks ranging in quality from horrible to bad to completely stupid (Nacho Libre, Blazing Saddles, Hot Tub Time Machine - you get the picture), but give me a break - after this year’s COVID lockdowns we have already seen every good movie ever made, so what to do?

Collins Inlet

Magnus jumped into the water for the morning bath, then nearly ran across the top of the water back to the boat like a cartoon character as the subsurface temperature was under 19 degrees - 8 degrees less than our last swim. I nearly chickened out, but then psyched myself up by going down below in the v-berth at the front of the boat and sprinting through the cabin, scaling the steps, racing through the cockpit, then launching myself cowabunga-style into the icy waters. The heart-stopping pain only lasted for a few seconds, then I had my morning bath and felt most refreshed.

The anchorage was, of course, beautiful in the morning, so we had a leisurely breakfast and goofed around until 10 or so, then pulled anchor and sailed east through the Killarney channel and continued onto the west entrance of Collins Inlet - a 15 mile long river like passage that is only accessible during high water years, like this one. Stella was in command of the helm today and she navigated us safely with only a little help from Ana and I.

There were a surprising number of boats, both meeting us and passing up, as we crossed the channel. Some parts of it became very narrow and it felt just wrong being there with a sailboat, but the depths were good throughout. We stopped halfway through and anchored for lunch, then continued onto the end, and turned south into the larger bay which was clustered full of islands, rocks and shallow spots. The wind was blowing strong from the south-east, and we had a tough time finding a good anchorage, checking out at least four potential ones before finally deciding on the east side of Toad Island. I didn’t much like the anchorage, but it was the best option we could find and as we were lining up for anchoring I pulled the boat in too shallow and we felt a slight bump of the keel as it hit rock - Bella Blue’s first contact with the North Channel! I simply reversed out into deeper water and we stuck the anchor on the first try then HQ2 tied up alongside us.

As we progressed through happy hour drinks, the winds died and we were left with a reflective and glassy lake surface. We took a moment to recognize this would be our final evening in the North Channel, and Tony and I decided to light up Cuban Partagas cigars to acknowledge the milestone. One of the empty aluminum cigar tubes accidentally plopped into the water and began slowly floating away with the current. Stella looked at it, went down below in the cabin for a while, then came back up and could still spot in the distance. She told us she felt terrible that we polluted the lake so she jumped in the dinghy by herself and motored out to rescue the cigar tube. After retrieving it she was so happy with being able to solo the dinghy that she started it up again and went for a ride into the island, got off and then did some exploring. While she was gone, we hatched a plan. Magnus had given Tony and Angela a miniature rubber man named Brad, as a travel companion for HQ2. We decided it was time for Brad to set out on his own journey and make his own way in life, so we jammed him into the cigar tube and then Stella wrote a note explaining he had been thrown off his last ship on suspicions of mutiny, of which he was mostly innocent, but was COVID-free and looking for a new home. She also left our email address and asked that the new owner please contact us to let us know Brad was all right, although why we’d care after ejecting him from our boat and stuffing him in a cigar tube was a little hard to explain. Stella put the threaded top on the tube and Magnus lit a candle then dipped it in wax to waterproof it and then Brad and his waterproof vessel were ceremoniously hurled overboard. We wish you luck Brad. Bon voyage!

Kira Bay to Covered Portage

Today was a travel day so we pulled anchor at 5:45 am and set sail for Little Current, 47 miles to the east. The lake was nearly void of boats so I set the auto-pilot and cracked open the laptop to do some writing. It hasn’t been easy finding time to write during this trip - the days seem to start very early and are full of activity. You would think traveling by slow sailboat would provide many hours of quiet time for solitary pursuits, but there is always a lot to do. Planning out your course, setting up waypoints, trimming the sails, scanning the seascape for boats, monitoring your course, looking for floating water hazards, eating snacks, cleaning the boat, preparing meals, monitoring the VHF radio, fixing things that inevitably break, and the list goes on. But today, I made the time to write.

We arrived in Little Current, got pumped and dumped, then tied up at the free public dock to fill our water tanks, plug into shore power to charge phones, and allow us time for a quick grocery shop. While there, a couple walked by and asked Ana about the boat, and when she mentioned it was for sale they were interested so we told them all about Bella Blue and took them onboard for a tour. We don’t know if they are seriously interested, but it was nice to show the boat nonetheless. When a person makes an unannounced visit, leaving no time for the owners to “fluff” the boat, I think they get a much better indication of what the boat is really like to sail and live on, with all its flaws and imperfections, but also the many features. I will be sad to see her go if she sells, as this boat has taken us to so many incredible places, so many times, and provided several lifetimes worth of memories. Plus a lot of scars on my hands, feet and legs.

From here we pushed on an additional 20 miles to meet up with HQ2 in the Covered Portage anchorage, just west of Killarney, arriving around 7pm, making for a long sailing day. We were really happy to see them again and to be back with our trusty cruising partners. They were already anchored in a great spot so we tied up with them and cracked a beer for happy hour. This anchorage is stunning; you first reach the outer bay then enter through a narrow channel then it opens up into a small inner bay completely surrounded by tree-covered hills and steep rock cliffs, giving it a “covered” feel. It is probably the second most popular anchorage in the North Channel so there were at least 25 boats anchored in the inner and outer bays.

Ana, Stella and I went for a slow dinghy ride around the anchorage then as mosquito hour was really winding up, we retired into the boat for refuge, played a game of Kaiser, then collapsed into sweet sleep.

Kira Bay, All Day

The original plan was to leave this morning to rejoin HQ2, but after seeing the kids having such a spectacular time together, we just couldn’t break it up so were invited to stay for another day. Everybody was up by the time Ana and I dinghied into shore, and Kira was busy making bacon and wild blueberry pancakes for breakfast using those berries we picked a few days back in the Benjys.

Ana and I grabbed coffees and set up on the loungers by the water with books and spent a lovely hour relaxing and reading. The cabin library included a book on Canadian inventors and it was fascinating. Canadian inventors have been responsible for creating nearly every piece of communication technology that exists in the world today - from wireless voice transmission, to fiber optics, to radio, to pagers, to the internet, and even the personal computer. Other Canadian inventions include peanut butter, commercial jets, the snowmobile, sonar, lacrosse/hockey/basketball, the jockstrap to protect the aforementioned testicle-crushing sports, the electric wheelchair, Botox (you’re welcome, Hollywood), IMAX, Standard Time, insulin, the electron microscope, plexiglass, the electric oven and Easy-Off oven cleaner, the Robertson screw, and so many others. A man named Reginald Fessenden, whom I’ve never heard of, was the most prolific Canadian inventor and received hundreds of patents in radio and sonar technologies. But the common theme running through all these inventions was the lack of follow through. In the vast majority of cases, the commercialization of the inventions was bungled or the inventions themselves were stolen, ripped off, sold early for a ridiculously low figure, abandoned, or otherwise wasted. And most of the inventors had to move to the US to get the financial support they needed and bring their ideas to market because the Canadian government and investors would not support them. The ones that didn’t ended up penniless. It is a happy story, but also a very sad one.

The rest of the day was spent in an island way - walking, frog-spotting, powerboat rides, swimming, eating, drinking, and a volleyball rematch where the kids got their game together and whipped the adults properly. During a powerboat ride we visited their neighbours (several kilometres away as the lots are enormous) and saw the pile of beautiful cedar posts and 2x8x12s they had cut from their own cedar trees using a sawmill, which were being used to construct a new deck. I hadn’t even really noticed the towering cedar, pine and hardwood trees everywhere and the incredible value they represent on these lands.

We barely saw any of the kids the entire time we spent at the cottage. They were completely consumed with each other playing board games, volleyball, badminton, swimming, dinghying back and forth to the boat, snorkeling, playing with the dog, watching tv, and really having the time of their lives.

It was a glorious day and we finished it with a sundowner then slowly gathered our things, said goodbye to our hosts, and dinghied away for the last time. Upon boarding the boat I smashed my ankle into steering pedestal, cranked my head on the gangway, scraped my hip on the corner of the counter, then caught my finger in a hatch hinge. Being exposed to large, wide open, luxurious cottage spaces during a boat trip does have consequences.

Spanish to Gore Bay

Spanish weather was a bit icky - chilly, windy, and the threat of rain hung in the air. Our original plan was to continue west towards Bear Drop Harbour and spent another night on the hook, but somebody on the crew (not going to say who) threatened mutiny if she didn’t get some clean underwear, because she likes to wear brand new clothes every day and god knows she didn’t learn that move from me. The laundry facility at the Spanish marina was closed, and the next closest one was 20 miles away in Gore Bay, so we adjusted the plan and set out southward.

The sailing was good and the winds were higher than expected, heeling the boat way over as we crossed the open waters on the way into Gore Bay. We were last here four years ago and just happened to arrive the evening before their annual Gore Bay Festival, which provided a crazy weekend of entertainment and events. There was going to be no such luck this year as all of the festivals had been cancelled (thanks COVID!) and the level of boater traffic was also way down so we arrived to a mostly empty marina and a whole lot of quiet.

Gore Bay is the base for a company called Canadian Yacht Charters and they charter out a large fleet of boats for cruising in the North Channel throughout the summer months. Ana and I walked over to check in at the marina and I noticed that the listing of charter boats posted on the wall included a 2016 Gemini Legacy catamaran, so after settling up we went next door to the charter company (which doubles as a well stocked marine store) to inquire on the boat. The lady I spoke with didn’t seem to have any clue about the boats, and despite selling paddle boards also didn’t seem to know whether or not they sold paddles. Her colleague wasn’t able to help either and the whole operation seemed confused and in disarray. We went for a walk on the docks to see if we could track down the boat and did find one catamaran, but it was an older PDQ type. As we were looking at it another staffer from the charter company ran out to talk to us and told us he didn’t know anything about a Gemini but the PDQ was for sale, and that we could go onboard, but had to stay out of the starboard cabin as he was currently residing there. As we were boarding, some other staffer started yelling at us from office, then yelled at the guy who let us on and the whole thing was rather unprofessional. We were eventually allowed to look at the boat, and it was dirty, poorly maintained, and had a bad layout. Many boats were in storage on land so we took a stroll through there and did find the Gemini and had a good look around the exterior of the boat. Knowing that pretty much every boat is for sale, we returned to the office and spoke with the yelling man, who first tried selling us the PDQ and seemed very reluctant to even discuss the Gemini, but finally relented and called the owner, but was told it was definitely not for sale.

HQ2 arrived and we helped them get docked, then Angela and Magnus and I walked over to the marina’s laundry/washroom facility where Ana was already doing laundry. As we approached the building Ana came out, waved us away, and then told us there was an angry man who was swearing and accusing her of cutting in line. When I looked over he started swearing at us again and I told him to take it easy then he jumped up and was ready for a round of fisticuffs over his laundry spot. I ran over and delivered a flying side-kick to his solar plexus then walloped him with a flurry of punches, elbows, knees, roundhouse kicks and clothesliners. Through all the blood I noticed he was wearing a stupid Toronto Maple Leafs jersey so I pulled it over his head then speed bagged him in the face for a minute or two then finished him off with a perfectly executed DDT, just like my hero Jake “the Snake” Roberts would do. My crew all cheered then presented me with the championship belt, which I put on proudly, but not before mercilessly beating my unconscious opponent with it for good measure.

In reality, Ana wisely defused the situation and we walked away leaving the profoundly disturbed and unhappy man to fume and swear as he waited for our gitch to finish in the spin cycle.

As we walked way Angela said, “Welcome to Gore Bay.”

Our explorations in downtown Gore Bay were equally unsatisfying as many places were closed (including their fantastic Legion) and Magnus got yelled at in a convenience store for no good reason. We picked up supplies and rolled our shopping carts right back to the docks, in fact right up to the stern of Bella Blue and unloaded everything, then returned the carts and got set up for happy hour. A mink appeared on a partially submerged piece of dock and we watched as he dove down into the water, came up with a crayfish in his mouth, then proceed to disembowel it and munch up all the good pieces while leaving the claws and head in a tidy pile on the dock. He did this two more times and looked to be living a very good life indeed.

After dinner we took a walk with Tony and Angela and the kids through the marina dry docks again to see the Gemini (and had another strange and off-putting chat with the charter company guy who liked to yell) then walked a bit beyond the marina and found a nice craft beer place (closed), restaurant (closed) and an art gallery (closed). But our boats are always open so we returned and spent the rest of the evening chatting, enjoying dock Scotch, and watching a muskrat slide back and forth through water over and over and over again.

The Benjamin Islands to Spanish

My first order of business for the day was to go for a paddle board ride, but I didn’t get far into it before the damn paddle snapped in half. Chinese junk! I really thought it would have survived longer than a year, but at least the board itself is still in good condition. I used the half paddle for the rest of the ride, then returned to the boat and cooked up a big sausage and egg breakfast for my gang. Once we were all ready, the next mission was to scale the massive rock hill to the west of the anchorage, so we jumped into the dinghies and motored the short distance over. Many of the boats that were anchored here had already left or were preparing to leave as the weather today was windy and overcast. Plus, it was Sunday so I imagine some poor suckers had to go back to work.

We climbed the hill and were rewarded with a magnificent view over the entire anchorage - the boats, the hard rock surfaces, the water lapping up against the shoreline, the thick forest. There may be some better freshwater anchorages in the world, but I certainly can’t think of any. Meandering through the forest with no particular destination was fun and we found dozens of patches of blueberry bushes full of berries, so Magnus offered up his bandana and we fashioned a satchel out of it large enough to collect a sufficient amount of blueberries for a future breakfast, maybe blueberry pancakes or blueberry oatmeal? Angela and Stella found some designer moss and fancy ferns so uprooted the whole lot in the hopes of setting up a botanical garden on HQ2.

After our walk we got both boats ready to go and left the anchorage through an impossibly narrow passageway to the west, then started making our way northward the 11 miles to the town of Spanish. Cruising around these parts is strangely scary as you have to navigate through channels that you normally wouldn’t sail anywhere close to with the expectation of hitting rocks, reefs or bottom. But here, many of the shorelines drop cliff-like into the water creating plenty of depth even though you may only be passing a couple of metres from the shoreline.

The passage takes us northwards, snaking around rocks and islands, passing shorelines thick with trees, deadfall, and wildlife, moving at a steady pace. At one point we spot something that seemed impossible - a small sailboat towing behind it a Sea Doo, then behind that was another Sea Doo, then behind that was a dinghy. Now this would be completely normal if it was a powerboat towing this flotilla of planet killing carbon spewing machines, but a sailboat? I can only imagine it must have been a sail boater with even more powerboat tendencies than us.

The channel approach to the Spanish marina (or perhaps I should say “marina in Spanish” to avoid confusion) was narrow, and my attempt to shortcut it nearly ended in disaster as I watched the depth sounder go from 15 feet to 10 feet to 5 feet, then I cranked the wheel just before we plowed the keel into muck and managed to pull it into deeper waters. There were no less than four dockhands that helped us get docked in the strong wind and current, and they knew exactly what they were doing.

Ana and I walked over to the marina office to get checked in and buy some ice. The super friendly staff gave us the rundown - showers, washrooms and laundry were closed due to COVID, the town centre of Spanish was a 25 minute walk but there might not be much open today, and they did indeed have ice, and sold me two bags then gave me a free tote bag to carry it in. We picked up Angela and Tony and walked into town to see if we could find a grocery store, The town of Spanish is built alongside the Trans-Canada highway and is not the prettiest village, but man are the people friendly here. The grocery store was closed, but we stopped into a surprisingly well stocked outdoors store for a few minutes right before closing time, then the only other places open were a convenience store and the Lucky Snack Bar, whose sign claimed it was “Known Worldwide”. Well, there were about 15 people standing around the place waiting for food and drinks so there must be some truth in that boast. We each got a single scoop cone, which turned out to be about four scoops impossibly balanced on the small cone, and enough for a meal. Ana wasn’t even able to finish hers but I just hate wasting food so consumed all 4000 calories worth of my walnut maple masterpiece.

Back to the marina we went, thinking not too much nor too little about the village of Spanish, and enjoying the long walk. The kids had barely noticed we’d left as they were drawn deeply into their devices, and there really wasn’t much to do there anyway. Tony and I settled into dock chairs and struck up a conversation with a fellow named Rick who owned a hulking, wooden hull 1968 Pacemaker, and he invited us aboard for a tour and a beer. The vessel was enormous inside, and had all the classy oak, brass, and finishings you would expect of that vintage boat. While we were doing that, Stella and Angela set up a little gardening operation on the dock and transplanted the moss and ferns they found the day before into lovely little planters, and displayed them proudly on the stern of HQ2.

Shepherd’s pie was on the menu and we all dined aboard Bella Blue. There were plans made for movie night, but everybody was too exhausted so it was off to bed.

McNeill Cove to the Benjamin Islands

Our bad ideas for today included dinghy drag racing and testing a twin outboard configuration on one of the dinghies. You might think it’s easy coming up with new risky and ill-advised ideas every day on these trips, but it is definitely not and takes some real deep thinking from otherwise shallow thinkers. Tony is an amazing source of bad ideas, and a real inspiration for me because sometimes my bad ideas get a little repetitive and it’s always good to inject some fresh stupidity into the mix.

Before anybody else was up, I sat in the cockpit and listened to the sounds of the morning emerging like a mayfly. The call of the loon. The clicking and chirping of the squirrels. The splash of a bass surfacing for a bug. The buzz of a thousand forest insects. And then, what’s this, a new sound? I listen carefully, trying to identify the source. It’s very hard to discern, but it seems close, very close. Strangely close. Wait a minute, I recognize it - the Portuguese man snore, coming from the window screen of HQ2, tied up securely beside us. So as not to awaken the sleeping beauty, I took the paddle board out for a long ride around the entire bay and out to the larger lake. It was such a beautiful morning, with glassy waters, the smell of forest, the warm water, and a clear sky. It’s easy to see how people fall in love with the North.

Magnus took the lead for team Bella Blue and Tony was leading the HQ2 crew. They lined up the dinghies at the start line, revving their powerful engines (2.5 HP for Magnus versus a beefy 3.5 HP for Tony), igniting the forest with the tortured screams of machine revving tension. The crowd was going into frenzy, with mad cheering and hollering and every single one of us, despite paying for our full seat, were only using the edge of it.

Stella sounded the air horn and the dinghies launched into flight. Tony took an early lead, masterfully maneuvering the dinghy into Magnus’ path and snuffing out his progress with a formidable wake. Tony flipped on his turbo afterburners and the chiseled vessel rocketed ahead, slicing through a family of ducks, and seared through the liquid finish line well ahead of Magnus, sending the poor lad into a prominent position in the annals of dinghy racing underachievers. Tony savoured the win by blowing kisses to the ladies, raising his hands in victory, and imprinting this legendary moment in his mind as a forever keepsake of this magical moment.

Magnus, furious with the insulting loss, challenged Tony to a rematch, drag racing three rings around the two anchored boats. Tony confidently accepted, and once again lined up against Magnus, but when the sound of the air horn erupted, Magnus got the jump on him, burning him out and nearly swamping him with a monstrous wake, while at the same time flipping him the middle finger, cementing the insult. Tony, forced to the outside, tried in vain to catch up, but was simply outmaneuvered by the wisened Magnus, and sucked his wake the entire match. Magnus cruised through the finish line with his hands in the air, embracing the victory, claiming the throne of ultimate dinghy champion.

After all that excitement it was time to pull anchor and head west 19 miles to the Benjamin Islands - the premier anchorage in all of the North Channel. Navigating through these areas is quite easy as they are well charted and there are marker buoys throughout. We passed by dozens of islands to our north - Eastern, High, Galt, Tupper, and Hog Islands, as well as Louisa Rocks and Belcher Rocks (excuse me). As we approached Croker Island we passed to the south, had a quick look at the anchorage there, then turned north-west and coasted into the north anchorage of South Benjamin, and were soon in the company of 25 other anchored boats, which is actually a slow Saturday in the Benjys. There was enough time for a swim to the island, some snorkeling, some paddle boarding, and bbq burgers for lunch before our HQ2 partners arrived and got tied up alongside us. The anchorage is really stunning, but to really appreciate it you can climb any of the surrounding rock mountains to get the bird’s eye view.

Once settled, we hopped in the dinghies and did a full circumnavigation of the island, stopping to take some pictures on a stunning rock formation, then for a short hike on the smooth rocky surface at the south of the island, and then to grab some firewood on the east side of the island, where we found a beautifully tranquil forest scene with thick moss, deadfall, and a series of small caves naturally cut out of the rock cliffs.

The day was not done yet, for after a spectacular HQ2 dinner of chicken and shrimp pasta, we gathered up our guitar, harmonicas, drinks and bug spray and dinghied into the rock shoreline and sparked up a campfire. We played the intros of a few songs, the choruses of a few others, and Magnus did some nice finger picking, but generally our campfire song skills are really not up to snuff, but hey man, it’s all good in the forested hood.

Little Current to McNeill Cove

Waking up connected to shore power with Dan pumping out the A/C was a real pleasure. The weather has been good and the longer range forecast looks excellent with highs in the mid 20s and a mix of sun and cloud. The sun is full in the sky and the sky is clear as the rest of my crew got mobile and we soon had Tony and Angela over for quiche and fruit in the cockpit of Bella Blue. The ladies then went for coffee while I got things organized on the boat and the kids threw a few casts.

We pull Bella Blue out of the slip and motored over to the busy gas dock. There is a shack at the gas dock called “Wally’s” with handprinted GAS and DIESEL signs and two lads on staff who looked no older than 12, and seemed to spend most of their time being screamed at by Wally, who lost his sense of patience about 75 years ago. The gas dock is a bustling place, the busiest we’ve seen by far, and there are a string of massive boats including a 52 Carver and at least a 50 Sea Ray, complete with a Sea Doo on the powered swim platform, crabby wife, three little rat-like dogs, and a mean husband yelling at the dock hands and his wife and the dogs, all at the same time.

We filled the fuel tank and pumped the sewage then pulled out of that chaotic scene. As we were leaving we had to take a wide berth around three sailboats who were motoring around, following each other in a tight circle, apparently waiting for an available space at the gas dock. It is surprisingly hilarious for some reason.

Our destination for the day was McNeill Cove, a scant 12 miles away, and Magnus and Stella took the helm for a while with the help of Ana while I did some writing. When we reached a deep water channel I got the trolling rod out and tried my luck catching a lake trout, but there was no such luck to be had, even after trying many different depths and speeds. We soon arrived at Sturgeon Bay and made a turn east through a tight channel into McNeill Cove, a lovely and secluded anchorage, with the water temperature at a pleasing 27 degrees. What’s not so pleasing were all the biting deer flies buzzing around taking stabs at our ankles and the crew is nearly ready to pull anchor and go elsewhere, but I convinced them to go on a kill mission and we wiped most of them out.

Tony and Angela arrived, rafted up to us, and we spent the afternoon swimming, snorkeling, rope swinging, paddle boarding, and then got the bright idea of towing the paddle board behind a dinghy, which was loads of fun. As we were enjoying a lovely happy hour on the bows of the boats, the kids got out a Costco-sized bag of jube-jubes and started tossing them at us to catch in our mouths, like show seals at MarineLand. Magnus fires a black one at Tony and he discovers the black ones are three times as hard as the rest and it pings off his sunglasses and nearly knocks him off the boat.

We enjoyed a nice dinner then assembled in the cockpits for some fishing (Stella caught a perch), a sundowner, and to listen to all the animal sounds coming from the forest. Ana is convinced there are moose calling to each other, so the kids pull up a moose call from the trusty internet and it’s quite unlike anything we are hearing, so we assume it must be frogs. The mosquitos make their appearance right on schedule so we lathered on some repellant, continued our conversations for a while, then retired to our respective boats for a nice northern sleep.

Heywood Island to Little Current

Waking up in a quiet Northern anchorage was what we had been waiting for, and why we travelled all this way. The North Channel has probably the best fresh water anchorages in the world so the cruisers here typically stay in anchorage as much as possible and just head into the marinas to stock up on supplies, fuel, water, and get pump outs. HQ2 was rafted up with us and there were two other sailboats rafted up together across the bay. We began the day with a swim in the surprisingly warm water then I put on a mask and fins to see if I could find the shackle that one of the kids dropped off the boat yesterday, which I did after Stella spotted it from stand-up paddle board as Magnus was propelling them with his feet and hands while she leaned off the front wearing a mask scanning the bottom. While I was snorkeling I found two discarded beer cans on the bottom, and when I brought the second one up and started emptying the water the can began shaking; something was thrashing around inside. Magnus used a can opener to pop the top and out dropped a gigantic goby…or some sort of fish like that, which was much too big to fit through he hole so I imagine he’s been in there since he was a guppy.

After goofing around in the water I hopped on HQ2 to give Tony a hand with a boat problem. Using my sail boater yoga techniques, I squirmed into the dark depths of the engine compartment with my multi meter to test the alternator and do my best engine gremlin impression. The alternator was putting out 12 volts as expected so we went up to the fly bridge and disassembled the panel. As we were taking the panel out, the port engine stopped running. We put it back in and it started again. Then it quit when we took it out. It turns out the engine problem a marine mechanic would have thrown three thousand bucks of parts and labour at was just a loose wire from the ignition. Same problem with the alternator gauge. So we tightened up the screws, did a happy chappy dance, and carried on like nothing had happened.

After striking gold with the boat fix, we detached ourselves from HQ2 and started the 10 mile run for the town of Little Current, with Magnus at the helm doing the navigation and piloting. A swing bridge is the only road access onto Manitoulin Island, and they open it for 15 minutes at the top of every hour to allow boats to pass. By sheer luck we arrived right at the top of the hour and the bridge opened for us, then we passed through the strong current and then just a short way into the Little Current marina, where we had a rather awful docking and made every mistake in the book - didn’t test the current, didn’t have fenders ready, didn’t have all lines attached, came in too hot. Fortunately we just banged into the dock but didn’t damage anything.

We all went for a walk downtown and checked out a few of the shops. I got taking to a lovely lady working at Turners (the oldest marine chart dealer in Canada) and she pointed out an area of the North Channel called McGregor Bay we hadn’t considered visiting, but she rated it to be one of the best cruising grounds. While walking around Ana received a text from Tony asking if we could stop at Napa Auto parts if we were in the neighbourhood to pick up an engine coil he had ordered. I had seen a Napa store right across from the marina, but I noticed another one just up the street, so I went in and asked for the part. Joe Mechanic told me they just fixed vehicles so I had to go to the parts store which was near the arena.

“Marina?” I asked.

“No, arena,” he confirmed. “Just go up highway 6, you can’t miss it.”

Thinking I still heard him wrong, I walked back to the Napa store by the marina and found it to be empty, so walked up a big headed out of town and spotted an auto parts sign indeed on highway 6. But it was called North Auto Parts. Wondering how many damn auto parts stores a town of a couple thousand people needs, I walked in and asked if this was Napa Auto Parts. The guy I asked looked at the North Auto Parts signs everywhere in the store and said, “Uh no. This is not Napa. You need to go further up highway 6.” I thanked him and started walking. And walked. And walked a bit more, far enough to doubt myself again so I stopped at the Shell station and asked again and was pointed to keep on going. But I did find it, right before the area, a big brand new Napa Auto Parts store. They had Tony’s part ready to go and I picked up a tube of silicone for a small window repair we needed to do. Fortunately the path back to the marina led me right by the Manitoulin Brewing Company so I stopped and grabbed a dozen tall cans of several varieties for an extra special happy hour tonight.

I returned to the boat and met up with the ladies after their shopping excursion downtown where Stella found herself a fine new hooded sweatshirt at a consignment shop. Ana, Magnus and I went grocery shopping to stock up on food, then it was time for dockside happy hour. We cracked the craft beers, sat down on Tony’s deck chairs, and fired up some stogies while the kids put fishing lines in the water and started bringing up one bass after the other. Small ones, but when you are catching, it’s all good! We spent a good long while on that dock having drinks, fishing, and chatting and decided that this town of Little Current is a fine place indeed.

To make the trip more interesting, Tony and Angela have also decided to sell their boat; in fact they were considering this even before we were. So we thought it would be fun to make a contest of it - whoever sells their boat first has to treat the other to a fine meal out! So could somebody please buy our so we can score free steaks?

Bella Blue is For Sale!

At 5:30 am Tobermory strikes an impressive pose. Flat water reflecting boats and trees, streets void of humanity, sounds only of toads and birds, and a refreshingly cool nip in the air. The weather looks to be unsettled today until about 3pm so we decide on an early start to Heywood Island, which will be our entry point into the North Channel. After today’s run, our daily routine will switch from trying to gain as many miles a possible, to doing as few and spending a lot of time exploring hidden anchorages, islands and bays, fishing, and generally goofing around and enjoying ourselves to the max.

One evening last week I was awakened at 1am by this little blue light beside me. I turned to see Ana’s face aglow and her fingers swiping across the screen of her phone. I said, “What the hell are you doing? Go to sleep!”

“I’m looking at boats,” she replied.

The next morning at dinnertime she announced to the family, “I have a new plan to propose. I think we should sell Bella Blue and buy a Gemini catamaran.”

“OK,” I said, after briefly exchanging glances with the kids.

We have now owned Bella Blue for over ten years, and what a time it’s been! She has taken us throughout three of the five Great Lakes and we’ve had so many amazing experiences on her that it’s almost hard to believe. In fact, I never thought that buying a sailboat could have had such an impact on our lives. Because of sailing we’ve made so many lifelong friends and our gang at Port Dover are like family to us. Stella was just 2 years old when we bought this boat so both the kids have been raised as dock rats, and that’s tough to get out of your system! Every penny we have spent on this boat has been worth it (although dropping $300 every time I walk into a marine store never gets less painful) and though there’s admittedly been some challenging times like boat breakdowns and storms, even those have given us a chance to become more self-reliant, more resilient, and better prepared for next time. I’ve learned more about boat systems and diesel engines than I thought I ever could, which is something you simply have to do if you want to own a boat.

Simply put, I think we have outgrown Bella Blue. With Magnus now as big as me, and Stella catching up fast, our once luxurious space is becoming cramped, and while the kids used to sleep together in one of the closed cabins, now Magnus sleeps on the dinette table and in the early morning while I’m making coffee I’m treated to the sight of a long, white, gangly mess of knees, elbows, and hair in strange places. Stella is a different story - she just leaves a trail of personal items wherever she goes - long black hairs, hair ties, books, cords, clothes. Ana and I pick up after both of them constantly, but the fact is they don’t have any decent space to store any of their things, and certainly no privacy.

The idea is to try and find a Gemini catamaran. We’ve had our eye on these boats for a long time and they check off many of the things we are looking for in a boat - three closed cabins, two engines instead of one, flat sailing, more space, suitability for installing dinghy davits and solar panels, and best of all these catamarans only have a 14 foot beam, which means they can fit into the standard marina boat slips, which is not the case for larger catamarans. This is the sort of boat we could use to cruise to the Caribbean and live aboard for long stretches of time. Our ultimate goal is to have a large catamaran, but for the current stage of life the Gemini Legacy seems like the right transition boat for us that will serve our purposes on the Great Lakes for the next five years, and allow us to expand our reach more comfortably than we could with Bella Blue.

So that’s our big plan. Ana just posted Bella Blue for sale on a few websites yesterday so we will see what sort of interest we get. If we don’t sell it, that’s perfectly okay and we’d be happy to use her for another season next year in Sarnia. If we do sell her quickly, and it takes us a while to find a replacement, that’s fine too - we will know the right boat when we see it. So for now we are enjoying this beautiful boat while we can, and look forward to being able to sell it to somebody who will have as much fun on her as we did.

After an eight hour sail we made it 59 miles to a beautiful, secluded anchorage on Heywood Island and got ourselves anchored then went for a swim. The water was surprisingly warm at 25 degrees and the plunge felt glorious. HQ2 showed up a few hours later just in time for happy hour, then we joined forces and cooked an amazing meal of beef medallion steaks, port tenderloin, spinach salad, roasted carrots and potatoes, and grilled broccoli. The full bellies and full day put us to bed early and we fully enjoyed our first night in the North Channel.

Exploring Kincardine

It’s 9 o’clock and time to get up after a few hours of sleep. We get dockage sorted with the office and move into a slip that has power so we can fire up Dan the air conditioner to combat the humidity and heat building in the cabin. Once that chilly air starts to flow Magnus proclaims Dan to be the coolest crew member…followed closely by him in second place. We have toast and cereal for breakfast and as we’re eating Stella hits us with some trivia. “See this cereal I’m eating,” she asks. “How do you spell it?”

“F-R-U-I-T  L-O-O-P-S, “ I spell out.

“Nope, it’s F-R-O-O-T  L-O-O-P-S. You lose!” Stella says triumphantly.

“Wow. Not only do they poison your kids, they also teach them to spell incorrectly,” adds Ana.

This is the first time any of us have ever been to Kincardine - a place known for its Scottish heritage. The marina is a little beaten up, but it is in a very nice location with easy access to downtown and the public beaches. It is a warm and muggy day and we depart for a walking tour of the town to see what we can find. The downtown area is nice but there is not much open, although we do find a couple of shops to browse in and a mobile food wagon where we order a poutine and deep fried pickles for a snack. The poutine is excellent but the second item really should have been called “Deep Fried Pickle” as five bucks bought us a single pickle sliced into quarters - nice margin on that one buddy.

We walk north of the marina across a public beach and then along a beautiful shoreline trail that had quant cottages, many of which looked to be original. There are also a number of cute painted rock gardens and then a larger community garden area that lead into another path called “Lover’s Lane”, and I immediately fall in love with my wife all over again because she is DA BOMBA PORTUGUESA! During the walk we did see many other couples in love and people walking and biking, many wearing masks and all keeping their distance.

Dinner is served back on Bella Blue then we all mix up drinks and walk down to the beach to enjoy a sundowner. The sunsets all along the Lake Huron shoreline are incredible and there are often hundreds of people there to enjoy it. Along the way we hear the sounds of a bagpiper and would learn that a bagpiper appears and plays at the top of the lighthouse every evening to bring down the sun and chase out any accordion players. Along the beach we find some giant oversized metal beach chars which we climb and settle into to watch the sun dip into the lake and disappear for another day. Shortly after that, we too disappear for another day, hoping for an early start tomorrow up to Tobermory. We had thought we may leave tonight but the winds are simply too high and we aren’t that keen to face an angry lake after yesterday’s trip.

Sarnia to Tobermory…Not Quite

The crew awakes to a clear, hot, and sunny morning in Sarnia with Dan pumping out delicious cold air into the cabin. Rick had been out to Timmy’s and set up morning breakfast on the dock with coffee, muffins, doughnuts, and Bailey’s for good measure. After enjoying a leisurely coffee on the dock, I took my leaking fuel filter out of the boat, disassembled it, and discovered that two of the fittings were the wrong size and had shredded the threads, which was the obvious culprit for the leak. I took it over to the chandlery shop at the marina and they hooked me up with new fittings and a few other spare parts for the boat and I was able to reassemble the filter, prime it, run the engine for a while and confirm it was finally fixed. Great joy!

We pulled away from the dock around 1:30 and motored out into the raging water of the St. Clair River. As we passed under the Bluewater Bridge, the current was charging through at 5 to 6 knots, stopping our progress to a slow crawl, but we eventually made it through and out into the big lake. And Lake Huron is a big lake indeed and behaves and looks much more like an ocean. We are so incredibly fortunate to live near these amazing Great Lakes and I often think about how many Canadians have only ever experienced them by seeing them on a map. I really think they are our country’s greatest asset and one of the best places in the world to sail and explore.

21 degrees is our heading on the compass as we lock in the autopilot and kick back to enjoy the ride 150 miles northward to Tobermory. After an hour or two of sailing we pull in the sails, slowly glide to a halt, and jump in for the morning shower. The water is a surprisingly warm 26 degrees and with a mask I’m able to see the bottom fifty feet down. As we’re swimming Stella says, “Magnus, what’s that black thing floating around by you?” I see it and swim over as Magnus is craning his neck around trying to figure out what she’s talking about. It looks like a piece of fabric so I reach out and grab it. It’s a ladies’ g-string! And it looks to have floated up from Magnus’ shorts. I lift it up out of the water and say, “Magnus, is there something you want to tell us? Have you met somebody special?” Then I realize they are Ana’s and must have gotten tangled up in his shorts during the dry cycle. I fling them up onto the boat and Ana pins them onto the lifeline to dry, happy to have not lost a pair of fine undies.

We goof around in the water for quite a while then get back underway. The wind is blowing directly from the south, which is pretty good for sailing, but leaves us with very little apparent wind on the boat, making it hot and sticky. I pull out the heavy-duty trolling rod that my buddy Pat loaned to me and drop a line. To make it feel more like fishing I crack a beer and a cigar and prop myself on one of the stern overhang seats and enjoy that beautiful sun. I’m not even too bothered when I don’t get a bite after an hour.

VHF radios have channels for continuous marine weather broadcasts so we monitor that as the hours pass by and we make our way north. There are wind and squall warnings on northern Lake Huron but we hope they will pass by the time we get there. As darkness falls the seas get rougher and rougher and the forecast deteriorates. I head down below for a sleep and when I wake up for my shift just after midnight, there are sheet lightning flashes around us and the crew has seen some lightening hits towards the shoreline. Ana and I listen to the weather and make the decision to cut northeast to find shelter at Kincardine, the closest harbour, but still four hours away. Once we are on course and the sails are set, Ana heads down below to sleep and I stay on watch. It is a moonless night and completely dark except for the stars peeking out from the increasing density of cloud. The winds are strong, but not overpowering, and we still have a bumpy ride and everything gets tossed around inside the boat, including the people.

The last few miles are a killer (they always are in bad weather) but we finally arrive at the entrance to the Kincardine channel and it is small, dark and rough as hell as the river pouring out collides with the waves being pushed in, creating big standing waves. Ana perches on the bow of the boat and helps guide me into the boiling water and we get through it okay and find a dock inside the nicely protected harbour and get the boat securely tied. The 5 am sunlight is starting to pour in, so we jump into bed to catch a few hours of sleep.