2025 Boat Trip Day 2 - Oyster Shucking, Indy Racing, and a Massive Toronto Street Brawl

Mimico to National Yacht Club, Toronto - 4 nautical miles sailed, 11 kilometres walked, 2 miles in dinghy

I awoke at 7 am feeling rested and refreshed. I made a hot barley drink then climbed up into the cockpit for some quiet writing time while my gang enjoyed a sleep in.

Once everybody was up we enjoyed a bountiful breakfast in SeaLight's cockpit, bid goodbye to Mimico, then cruised the four miles to National Yacht Club in Toronto proper. As usual, we were greeted with an orchestra of city noise - helicopters flying overhead, Porter airplanes taking off and landing, police and fire sirens, stereos booming music from passing party boats, and today something new - the radical engine screams from the Indy car racing event happening directly across from the marina, where they had transformed Toronto city streets into a racetrack for the gearhead jamboree. Although we couldn't see the racing cars from the marina, the engines were so loud it seemed as if a car could fly off the track at any minute, take flight, and plunge Dukes of Hazard-style into the lake.

Daryl and Lydia arrived shortly after us, as did a few of Stella's friends who she'd planned to meet up with for the day in the big city. A team meeting ensued and a plan was hatched.

We all left the marina at the same time with Stella and her posse walking in one direction and Ana, Magnus, and I headed in another, with plans to meet up at the boat later in the day. We walked east along the waterfront, beneath a rapidly clearing sky which exposed the hot summer sun. We reached the Wilderness consignment store, and I lounged across the street in a park while my people browsed the treasures. The city was alive with activity, tourists and locals, enjoying a perfect summer Sunday. Magnus left Ana shopping and joined me on a park bench, and we planned our next full Olson family adventure, a backpacking trip to Southeast Asia in the summer of 2027. It seems a long shot that all our schedules will harmoniously connect at that time so far in the future, but every ambitious trip begins with an idea, gels with planning, and is executed as if there were never any doubts.

We had a lovely time throughout our wanderings. We sipped pints of PBR at Duke's on Front Street. We ate authentic Portuguese bifana sandwiches at St. Lawrence Market. We browsed the massive craft sale in the circus tent adjacent to the market. After dropping Magnus off at Union Station to catch a train home, we continued the long walk back to the marina. Along the way we ran into a massive street brawl, the likes of which had never before been seen in Toronto.

Three gangs met at the base of the CN Tower. First were thousands of Jehovah Witnesses, from the convention centre, gathered for some sort of Worship festival, enflamed with the Holy Spirit, determined to spread the word by any means necessary, but preferably through violence. They carried pitchforks, holy lances, and wore brass knuckles.

Second, were the gazillions of Blue Jays baseball fans, elated with their afternoon win over the Giants, all wearing signature blue hats and shirts, carrying bats, shanks, and projectile balls in slings. They chanted and sang, revving up the crowd, looking for a target to release their violent energy.

Last, were the Indy race fans, the gearheads, wearing Kid Rock wife beaters and chugging Coors Light. The smells of burning rubber and explosive exhaust had eradicated their sense of decency and driven them octane wild, delirious for trouble. They carried tire irons, pipe wrenches, and knives and wore race helmets for armour.

These three radicalized armies met and the killing began. Blood spilled as JWs lanced gearheads, and gearheads skewered Jays fans, and Jays fans brained the JWs. Mercy was absent, rage abundant, chaos unstoppable. Those of us non-affiliated stood back to enjoy the rumble. The roar of war attracted the attention of local police and soon uniformed officers were in the killing mob shooting some and beating others, indiscriminantly, enjoying the ruckus, earning their danger pay. The passing helicopters got in on the action, dropping fertilizer bombs from the sky, vaporizing large swaths of combatants. The army was called in and they trained their large calibre weapons on the fighters, taking off heads and limbs, laughing while they did it. A few homeless dudes joined in, throwing sandwiches and Russian vodka botttles, loving the non-typical Toronto afternoon.

It was a lot of fun, but after a while we got a little tired of it all so kept walking.

Here's the great thing about Toronto. As we neared the marina we stopped at a Loblaws grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner. By chance, we ran into Daryl and Lydia there, just like a small town. That's just awesome.

Stella and her buddies were already at the boat when we arrived, having drinks and playing games. I took the dinghy out for a ride into the bay and went for a blisteringly cold and heart-arresting but refreshing swim to wash off the blood and gore that had accumulated in my hair from watching the rumble. I felt like a new man.

Daryl had picked up a box of oysters and demonstrated proper shucking technique as I had somehow in my life never opened an oyster. Ate many, yes. But prepared one? No. I shucked my first oysters and loved it. As we shucked, the ladies played with Zachary, and the kids lounged in the cockpit then left for dinner out then a lakeside fire, allowing us to move into the dining space for fresh buns, chili, and conversation that flowed late into the night.

2025 Boat Trip Day 1 - Craft Beers, Glassy Waters, and Mimico Cruising Club

Newport Yacht Club to Mimico - 25 nautical miles sailed, 8 kilometres walked

Despite spending nearly nine months on SeaLight cruising to the Bahamas and back, after a month at home I was anxious to get back on the boat for a week on Lake Ontario. Small spaces, daily adventures, boat meals, open schedule, new people, and new places to explore - these things I thought of, as Ana and I drove down Highway 403 on Friday evening.

It had been a busy month back in Canada. My two weeks in Saskatoon were packed with fun-seeking and did not disappoint. The subsequent two weeks in Paris were consumed with rebuilding our back deck, working mostly ten and some twelve hour days in the over 30 degree heat, hoping to get it done before our vacation. And get it done we did, with a half day to spare and a decent final product.

Friday night we spent at the marina, doing some yacht club work, then hanging out with friends in SeaLight's cockpit until far too late, catching up on a lot of missed weekends at the boat. It had been a funny summer so far. May and June were so cold and wet and crummy that few people were coming down to their boats. Then an extreme heat wave hit like a hammer in July, and continued to keep people away. Newport had been quiet.

By 6:30 am the next day, we were slicing through the flat, fresh water, pointed towards Mimico, a mere four hours away, which felt like a short walk to the corner store instead of the marathon runs SeaLight had become accustomed to. It was exhilerating to be back on the water and we enjoyed the trip like it was our first time on the boat.

We arrived in Mimico and eased ourselves into our assigned slip then went to find the two other boats from Newport who were already here. This was a club cruise weekend where our club and the Mimico Cruising Club swap boats for two nights, at no charge. The Newport ranks had begun strong with over ten boats, but that number had dwindled to just a few as folks bailed out for various reasons. Mimico sent over a dozen boats our way. We hung out with our Newport friends for a while then set out walking to the Mimico Go Train station to meet the kids, who had chosen to stay home Friday night to host a party. The kids looked surprisingly springy.

The four of us walked together back to the marina, passing through some residential neighbourhoods then a commercial area on Lakeshore Drive, then made lunch back on the boat. Though not a napper, I was fading fast, deprived of sufficient hours of sleep the previous night, so I excused myself and collapsed in the v-berth for a twenty minute nap that lengthened to three hours of deep REM sleep where I dreamed of purple hippos, international espionage, tomato plants, scurvied and black-gummed sailors, talking fish, Rastafarian hair, and the smells of pulp and paper manufacturing. Where these images and odours came from, I know not, but they all seemed to tie together into a magnificent plot.

Our friends Daryl and Lydia and Zach had arrived in their boat while I napped, and I awoke just in time for Stella and I to do a dock walk then meet our friends Matt and Courtney who were joining us for dinner and beer sampling. Everybody needs adventurous friends for inspiration, and this is what Matt and Courtney are to us as they spend three to four months every year traveling. They are divers, climbers, surfers, campers, martial artists, and I'm sure they also do sky diving, bull fighting, caving, wing suits, Houdini-inspired escape stunts, and likely wild boar hunting, but they've never thought to mention these pursuits. We always have a great time with them - especially since Matt never fails to show up with a cooler full of premium beer he's crafted with his brother in their quasi-commercial garage brewery.

We had a lovely dinner and visit on the boat then moved over to the Mimico garden and restaurant where there was a surprisingly good band pumping out the hits, completing the perfect summer evening vibe under the glow of patio lanterns with folks enjoying dinner and kids kicking soccer balls around. We joined up with Daryl and Lydia and sat visiting for a very long time as we took turns holding baby Zach and Magnus snuggled with their wiener dog Willy. Lydia and Daryl have also lived a life of extreme adventure with a recreational repetoire very similar to Matt and Courtney's, but their time recently has been focused on far more harrowing and difficult pursuits, namely, raising a child.

It was a great day and fitting start to our week on the water.

Last Day in Saskatoon

My Sunday afternoon Porter flight was right on time and as I sat back in my seat and looked out the window to a picture perfect prairie day I reflected on my trip.

It felt as if I'd been here for months. The pace had been just right - not a frenzy of visiting, trying to pack it all into a week, but a leisurely two week stretch where I was busy with events and activities every day, though not in a rush. It gave me time to rediscover Saskatoon, and this Saskatoon is not the same city I grew up in. It had become far more interesting, incredibly diverse, larger, more confident, more beautiful, and busier. Yet, some of what I remember was still there - the significant Indigenous population, the perpetually beaten up (but improving) 20th and 22nd Streets, the Swiss Cheese roads pitted with potholes and some craters capable of swallowing a scootering child whole, the buxum summer foliage, the terrible drivers, the oldies radio stations.

The greatest surprise of all was the diversity. On Canada Day we walked along the River Landing area where crowds had gathered for the fireworks. I felt like I could have been in Toronto's Harbourfront Centre, or old Montreal, or Vancouver's waterfront. The faces ranged from Saskatchewan Ukrainian white to African black and every possible shade between these. There were Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Indigenous, Christians and I can only assume dozens of other religions. There were straights, gays, lesbians, and two-spirits. Despite these differences, everybody was wearing or carrying Canada swag and what I saw in front of me was a proud and joyful community of newcomers, oldcomers, family, and friends. I am quite sure I wiped a tear away from my eye at one point. It was magnificent, as were the fireworks later that night and the roars of approval from the crowd of United Nations.

In contrast, small town Saskatchewan had hardly changed. I had a chance to travel out to Foam Lake and Fishing Lake with my dad and step-mom Loretta for two days and was warped backwards in time about forty years. Yes, some minor things had changed but really, it was the same. I visited with many friends from birth - the Ford Foundation, Leah Laxdal, Guy Mumford, as well as family - Nicola Martin, Shannon and Jody Latimer, and neighbours. Dad toured me around the grid roads where I'd had so many adventures as a teenager, ripping around in my beat up vehicles, sometimes with weaponry, sometimes just booze, usually both, skirting disaster by swerving through soft gravel, tempting a ditching, always with a carload of farm boys and girls. These grid roads were the same, except for more moose now (Dad tells me).

The days in Saskatoon were fun and the nights were long, rarely finding myself in bed before 1 am. We had several magical nights in Curtis's backyard oasis, laughing and drinking, story telling, goofing around, with the brothers and wives, and this is when I missed Ana the most. During the days I played basketball with my nephews, rode around the city on my dad's amazing e-bike, went for long walks, had drinks on patios. Most mornings were spent with my mom, enjoying leisurely tea and toast, then in the afternoons we'd go for a swim or lay in the sun.

I reconnected with so many people. My aunts Lynn and Tammy and cousin Isabella were in town for a few days so I spent a lot of time with them, catching up on life after not seeing them for many years. I spent a day and night with my cousin Jason and his family and got to know his lovely twin girls who I hadn't seen since they were babies. I spent an evening with my uncle Don and aunt Donnie at their home in Warman, a rapidly growing town just outside of Saskatoon. He showed me his jeep project. He's the only guy I know who can buy two junky classic Jeeps, reduce them to a pile of pieces them assemble from scratch, rebuild two engines into one, disassemble then reassemble transmissions and gears, completely rewire it, paint it, and somehow figure out how to put it all back together after a project span of five years. Maybe ten. Actually, there is one other guy who does this - my uncle Blaine, but I didn't get to see him this time. He and Don are mechanical geniuses. Lastly, I spend a couple hours with my high school buddy Wenona and her husband Steve and daughter Chloe, on their deck. It had been more than a decade. They haven't changed.

And parties. On my second day in Saskatoon Curt hosted a party for his wife Carrie's 50th and my mom's 71st. It was amazing. Ghosts from the past appeared. Sheldon Olsen and his gorgeous family. The troubadour Arron Adair. Andy and Rachel and their beautiful baby Archie. Aunts and uncles and cousins. Mom had an afternoon party in the luxurious clubhouse of their apartment complex. The step-siblings were there - Jay and Sherry and Lana, and we had a wonderful catch up. My aunt Hazel and uncle Ian hosted a Wednesday night soiree in their backyard oasis. Everybody showed up. The food was incredible, drinks aplenty, and the entertainment consisted of three pugs (one white, one grey, one black) chasing around a Pitbull Boxer shepherd hybrid big dog. They went crazy. We cheered them on.

Other moments.

Touring the University of Saskatchewan grounds with Mom, Tammy, and Isabella and visiting the grain and flour exhibition at the agriculture building, the dinosaur skeleton and fish tanks in the biology building, and watching gophers chasing each other in the Bowl.

Playing golf with Mom on the putting green and swimming in their fantastic new pool.

Playing 21 with my nephews on Curtis backyard basketball court.

Riding Dad's electric bike at 34 kph down Wilson Avenue then doing a huge river loop up and down the South Saskatchewan.

Buying Carrie a gift for her 50th birthday I know she would use - a vegetable platter!

Being dazzled by the July 1st fireworks display.

Taking a selfie with my mom, dad, and two brothers outside of Christie's bakery - our first time together in years.

Playing pool with the brothers and nephews in Mom and Rick's clubhouse.

Visiting the Remi Modern and being surprised to find a huge Shelley Nero exhibit, then moving onto rooftop cocktails with the brothers and wives.

Grooving to the Thundercats hip hop show at the Roxy Theatre on 20th.

Hanging out on the deck at the Ford cabin at Fishing Lake, where the only change in 40 years is everybody's a bit older.

Hanging out on the deck at the old Olson's Oasis cabin at Fishing Lake with cousin Nicola and family.

Having a fire at the Althing and watching the ominous skies threatening rain.

Watching a mile long CP Rail train passing through an enormous canola field.

Getting an excellent haircut...but it took three stylist - first pass by Mom ("How's it look, Mom?" I ask. "It will grow back", she says.), second pass by Curt (drunk on his patio), and final pass by Carrie (sober fine tuning).

Enjoying a chili pepper then hot dog eating contest at the Gather Local Market.

Picking haskap berries and sour cherries with my dad at my stepsister Angie's place.

Watching the AC/DC cover band rip it up at Bud's on Broadway...which also has not changed in 40 years.

Helping Curt out with a completely unplanned kitchen renovation at his commercial building The Two Twenty.

Having a beer with Dad on the patio of Winston's in downtown Saskatoon.

I rarely do any journaling when on visits to Saskatoon. There's just never any time. But I did take quite a few pictures to remind me of this visit and to be able to piece together a few of the memories.

Thanks Saskatoon. We'll be back soon!

First Day in Saskatoon

I was going back to the homeland. The land of bunny hugs and beardos. Cow tipping and puddle jumping. Coulees and sloughs. Dust and wind and sunshine and living skies. My family. Saskatchewan.

After a short and hectic week at home after finally bringing SeaLight home from our epic adventure, I was back on the move and headed for Saskatoon. Sadly, it would be just me as Ana was back at work and unable to take any time off and the kids were both starting their summer jobs the following week. The plan was always for me to spend a decent chunk of time back in Saskatoon (my previous visit was an embarrasing eight years ago), but I was expecting to have a month at home in Paris between trips instead of a week.

Ana dropped me off at Pearson in Toronto and we had to say goodbye yet again. We are hardly ever apart, but we've been away from each other more in the last nine months than in the entire 25 years since we first met. This was never going to be a normal year for us so I guess it's okay and we'll have to trust in the old adage of absence making the heart grow fonder.

I arrived in Saskatoon to a cold and blustery day - very strange for this time of year. Fortunately, I did not come for the weather. My dad and mom and step-dad Rick were there to meet me, and after a tour of Circle Drive (where I was instantaneously transported back to my 11 year old self choking and gagging and complaining from the backseat after Mom sparked up a dart in the car), we arrived at Mom's for a tour of their recently constructed and spectacular new apartment complex - resort style living with a huge outdoor pool, gym, putting green, and a common lounge area with a pool table, comfy couches, and giant televisions. It is located in the Stonebridge neighbourhood, which barely existed the last time I was here but is now nearly a city on its own with every store you could imagine, cafes and restaurants, a wide variety of residential towers and houses, and commercial offices. I could not believe what I was seeing, as the typically stupid city zoning regulations seemed to have been ignored, which allowed a beautiful and efficient community to emerge where you can actually get to all the shops you need and even your workplace without the use of a car. And in a strange twist of fate, my dad and step-mom Loretta had just moved into an apartment complex that is directly across the street from Mom and Rick's! So if the beer and wine runs out at one place, it's a mere two-minute walk to fresh supply.

We had lunch and hung out for a long time visiting then hopped in the car and drove to my brother Curtis and sister-in-law Carrie's place for dinner. I also had not seen their house - a hundred year old groove-dome in the Nutana neighbourhood just steps from the riverfront - as they had moved fairly recently, so they gave me the grand tour then I had a lovely visit with my nephews Lukas and Eliot.

Dinner was spectacular, but speedy, as we had to be at the Cosmo Senior's Centre by 6:45 pm for the Prairie Pro Wrestling extravaganza, for which Curtis had fenangled four tickets. My cousin Jason (a legend of a man, historically known as "Skinnahhhhh!!") and my dad arrived for a quick beer then we drove to the venue.

I'm sure glad I wore my bunny hug (that's a "hooded sweatshirt with a pocket in the front" for those of you not familiar with the Saskatchewaneeze dialect) because that was the outfit of choice for those gathered. But I was missing the shaggy beard.

The wrestling was spectacular. We cheered for the good guys. We boo'd the bad ones. We joined the frenzy of the crown, yelling, shrieking, heckling, and watching the incredible dexterity of the athletes as they beat each other in the ring. It brought Skinnah, Curt, and me back to our childhood where all we did and all we cared about was wrestling and regularly delivered beatings to each other in the basement, the living room, but most frequently on the trampoline, where we sometimes squared off in sleeping bags. Prairie Pro Wrestling delievered it all - we saw a camel clutch, piledrivers, head kicks, heart punches, suplexes, body slams, and there were at least a dozen blows to the solar plexis. There were seven matches, both tag teams and individuals, and we were stunned when there was even a matchup between a girl and dude. She beat his ass for most of the match but he ended it by connecting a boot to her face and dropping her for three count.

Jacked with adreneline, we strutted over to Broadway after the final match, looking for a fight of our own, hoping to ruin some thugs with a clothesline or DDT or elbow smash off the top rope, but by the time we'd removed our clothing and were standing there in front of the Broadway Theatre in our tighty whities looking like clowns instead of fearsome Kings of the Ring, our jets had cooled and we instead re-robed and went for a pint at the Yard and Flagon pub. As we chatted over our beers I glanced around the bar, expecting to see high school buddies or ex co-workers or old neighbours. But everyone in there was at least twenty years younger than me and I didn't recognize anybody.

Curt received a text from a realtor buddy who was across the street at a cocktail bar called The Cocktail Bar so we strolled over there to have a boo. It was a groovy joint and on top of the fancy tables, fine glassware, sexy patrons, elaborate drink menu, whiffs of French perfumes and studly colognes, and coiffed bartenders, an infinite loop of Bob Ross painting videos manifested on a large screen mounted in the upper corner of the bar. While Curtis mingled with his chums, Jason and I were mesmerized by Bob Ross and we stood transfixed, sipping our drinks, watching the trees and mountains and clouds and grasses and ponds take shape from Bob's magical brushes.

It was a fine first day.