Georgian Bay: Immense, Rocky Beyond Measure, and Home to Summer Traditions

Monday, the Admiral and I hoisted the proverbial anchor, negotiated not only the last lock on the Trent-Severn Waterway but also the last lock on our Great Loop journey, and

cruised into Georgian Bay. We quickly traversed the narrow, winding, rock-bound channel immediately below the lock, ducked under the Trans Canada Highway Bridge, and emerged in Potato Island Channel which bounded the home we had rented for the family last week. As it had on land, it looked pretty good from the water!

We didn't yet really grasp the immensity of Georgian Bay--geographically part of Lake Huron. It is HUGE. In fact, Georgian Bay by itself is almost as large as Lake Ontario. Subject of myth and legend and a definitive feature of the Canadian Shield, it defines the term, "rocky". If Maine has a rock bound coast, Georgian Bay has that and rock studded waters too. They are everywhere. Most books about the Bay carry well-deserved and dire warnings of barely submerged rocks along with stories of mariners who have bent props and much worse. However, the Bay is well charted and the "small boat channel" is exceedingly well marked. While we have marveled at the rocks lying just to either side of the route, so far we are finding our way without incident. Knock on wood.

In any event, Monday late morning we arrived at Beausoleil Island, a large island entirely owned by Parks Canada. The dock area was busy and we chose to anchor about a half mile away. Once settled, we took the dinghy ashore and walked a sweaty half mile in humid, 90 degree weather to the Lookout--a platform situated high in the forest canopy that might possibly have a slight glimpse of a view in winter. The bugs quickly found us and we retreated to the park beach where we soaked in pleasantly cool water for the better part of an hour. We might not have stayed that long but we ran into our friends Kevin and Tina from m/v Cross Rhodes. We have seen them off and on since Lake Champlain and docked adjacent to them in Montreal. Still, bathing together in the soothing waters of Georgian Bay led to a deeper understanding of both families' backgrounds and proved to be quite enjoyable.

We grilled hot dogs for lunch and spent a relaxed afternoon on the boat until the wind shifted and two anchor alarms sounded off. The Aqua Maps klaxon would wake the dead. Both the Admiral and I doubted that the anchor had actually dragged (we think it just swung in the new direction just outside the area I'd set to alarm) but, the wind shift suggested a move to the other side of the small island that had been sheltering us would be a good idea and so we did. Hauling the anchor introduced us to the rich abundance of bottom flora in the shallow waters of the Bay. It probably took 40 minutes to raise the anchor as copious weed clung to nearly every inch of the 140 feet or so of chain that we had out. It had to be picked off and at times even cut with a dive knife before we could put the chain through the windlass.

Nonetheless, we succeeded in repositioning ourselves and resetting the hook. Confident that the boat was secure, we took the dinghy ashore and explored a bit more of Beausoleil Island and some of its adjacent small rocky island outcroppings. We capped that adventure with a quarter mile stroll through knee deep water along the hypotenuse back to the dinghy--good healthy exercise for aging joints.

Having had a hearty and healthy lunch of hot dogs and chips, the Admiral decided we would have five layer dip, more chips, and gin and tonics for dinner. Sometimes the decadence you imagine on Katahdin actually does occur!

Our night at anchor proved quiet and peaceful. Our chartplotter's capture of the boat's movement through the night shows a tight pattern well inside the 150 foot circular

boundary set for the anchor alarm. Would that every night at anchor would be that "tidy". In the morning, having checked the anchor and made my coffee, I noticed that sunrise would likely offer a good photo op. And it did. I got a lot of good pics. It was hard to choose just one:

Tuesday morning, we left Beausoleil Island and, for the most part, followed the Canadian Coast Guard's small boat channel 33 miles to Henry's Restaurant on Sans Souci Island. The trip, winding through narrow, rock-bound channels and crossing large expanses of open water, again drove home the immensity and rockiness of Georgian Bay. For my Maine friends, Georgian Bay covers 50 times the area of Moosehead Lake. And, it's just as remote.

We arrived at Henry's and made fast to one of their docks where we would spend the

night. I started the long and thankless task of cleaning up mud and weed from both last night and this morning's anchor hauls--a thorough and tedious effort required. Before I could finish though, the Admiral called an audible and we headed to lunch where we discovered yet another back country legend.

We had watched numerous "pickerel and chips" boats come in for lunch. Like "ice cream" boats on the lock walls and "wings" boats at the Riverhouse Restaurant at Severn Falls, these waterborne chariots of every size and description from kayaks to vessels larger than Katahdin brought hordes of hungry folks seeking Tuesday lunch of pickerel (walleye) and chips or white fish on a bun. The Admiral decreed that we would order both and split them. I liked them both. The Admiral found the white fish a bit, well, fishy, but did enjoy the fried pickerel

While we have to admit that we enjoy marinas for their character and especially shore power with the opportunity to run most of our appliances without the quiet hum of the generator, tomorrow we head to another remote anchorage where we can swim, cavort in the dinghy, and escape from crowds.