Another easy day...

First Light had another day of just riding to her anchor. She swung around a little as the wind apparently couldn't decide just exactly where it was coming from or where it was going. I think it swirls in, around, and out of the anchorage since the boats are not all bow on in the same direction. And all of the boats are constantly swinging around their anchor rode.

The day started out weirdly dark and cloudy after a night of rain.

We did take the dink out for a stroll, putt-putting down the Island a bit just to see what we could see. Which was mostly just more Island. We went ashore for a few minutes and ran across a local couple giving their dogs a chance to do dog stuff. “Dog stuff” seems to include sniffing out every person around. I always try to be friendly to dogs. It isn't that I like dogs that much; it's that there seems little point in offending their people over a sniff or two. The dog's people spent some time chatting and gave us some good info for our next stop. The folks around here know the Bay like most of us land side city dwellers know our local block, which is way too cool. We also saw a sign that stated, “YOU ARE NOW IN BEAR COUNTRY”. There was a list of do's and don'ts including one that said report any bear sightings to a Park Ranger. Haven't seen any Park Rangers. Maybe they walk around looking for human scat figuring that is pretty good evidence of a bear sighting.

If one had any kind of boat that could be "home" over a weekend or even a few weeks, and lived on this bay? One could spend an entire lifetime exploring it and likely still not see it all. Which, one would have to admit, would be a pretty good way to spend a life. Our plan is to pull the hook in the morning and go see some more of this place. 

A very short stroll but Deb's knee is bothering her and we cut it short.

She's a pretty boat but I think she's looking better because of the company she's keeping...

That's a gorgeous Kady Krogen 48 behind her.

The anchorage was pretty empty after all the weekenders went home.

What to say about today...

There isn't a lot to say about today. First Light rode quietly to her anchor all day. The wind blew a bit all day and we had a float plane take off in the bay next to us, skimming over the boat at just a couple hundred feet. I watched a review of a Klos carbon fiber baritone Ukulele that lists for $1,399. If I sold every one of the ten Ukes I own for what I paid for them, I still couldn't afford the Klos. And even if I did, I would only have one Uke to play. (Today I practiced with three different ones. One concert. One tenor. And one Baritone.) I will admit that the Klos is a pretty thing and it sounded really good over the speaker on my iPad. So, in real life, it might sound ten times better than any of my other Ukes...but I doubt it. Particularly since I would be the one playing it and, truth to tell, getting the Klos to sing at its best is way beyond my skill level. Not quite as bad as handing a Stradivarius to a four year old, but Klos. (Sorry, unavoidable pun.) I also barely eeked out enough internet connection to watch the Moto GP race in Silverstone. It was a good race won by a rider who beat four World Champions to the finish line. I'll bet he and his team are still at the party. 

Deb was a bit more productive than I, defrosting the freezer and cleaning the fridge, and washing rags, but other than brushing away a few cobwebs I did absolutely no maintenance on the boat. None. Nada. Never even thought about changing into my work clothes or putting on any shoes. We did spend some time trying to decide where we would be going next and how we could get there without running into anything or bumping the bottom. As seems to be normal in these parts, the charts are not particularly trustworthy with “preferred routes” running over shallow spots and rocks while deeper water is shown just a couple of hundred feet to port or starboard. When we get to those bits we will go slow, keep an eye out, and hope for the best. (I really don't like having to “hope for the best”. It feels too much like gambling to me.)

With a bit of rain due in tonight and tomorrow we are thinking about having another day without a lot to say, then putting in a longish day on Tuesday. That will have us at the same place that two shorter days would have gotten us to.

And that about wraps it up for today. No drama. No scares. No broken bits. The way a day on a boat should be.

It's amazing how quickly the sky changes. these photos were within minutes of each other.

Days like this...

We are spending all of today in Chimney Bay. It filled up with locals who are here for the weekend and truth to tell, it has been kind of fun. We are surrounded by anchored boats and dinks on the move. Several of the bigger boats are rafted up. There was even an Ice Boat that came by and asked if we needed to buy any.

First light is truly amazing in these anchorages

Since most of our destinations will also be spots locals tend to flock to on weekends, we have decided to wait until Monday to move again. It seems anywhere we head will be full until late Sunday afternoon. Finding a spot to land might be a hassle and this trip has already filled the “hassle” quota. 

We took the dink over to the island to walk some of the trails. Not being sure where to land, we pulled up to a dock that was pretty well packed with trawlers. When asked where we should park the dink, a gentleman on the dock made a gesture that we interpreted as meaning on the back side of the dock. After tying up, we chatted with folks on the boats for quite a while. They were all locals and shared a bunch of information of possible destinations and places of which to be aware. They also gave us the local take on some of the restaurants mentioned  by the guide books. I don't much care about restaurants unless ice cream or rum are involved. We are about out of ice cream, and rum. The availability of such essentials may well determine our route over the next few days. (The ice boat carried neither, a business opportunity lost in my humble opinion.)

The park dock

The "Ice Boat"

When we asked where we should go to pay for entering the park, we were told the only fee involved comes with putting your boat on one of the docks. When we asked about the dink they smiled and offered that, if a park ranger came by, they would claim the dink as one of their own. No worries. We were also told to be careful of rattle snakes along the way. Cool. It's been a while since I have seen a snake in the wild.

It was a pretty good hike. The watch I wear tells me a little bit about me being fit. It tracks my heat's BPMs, counts the steps I take, and does a bunch of other stuff I don't pay any attention to. According to it, we took 11,474 steps. It even buzzed a little when we got to 10,000. I guess that is some kind of a goal it has set for me, not that I care. But in all those steps we didn't see a single rattle snake. We did see a porcupine. When it heard us coming up behind, it puffed out into a volleyball-sized walking prickly bush. I'm pretty sure it was the only one I have ever seen outside of a zoo. We also saw several piles of bear scat. I didn't know they had bears on the island but we didn't see one of those either. Still, it was a fun walk on a path that barely earned the name. There were a few small bridges and steps but, for the most part, it was pretty raw going with lots of rocks and some steep bits that required care. My two mountain bike racing grand sons in St. Louis would likely hoot with joy and head down them at full song. For us slower moving types, walking sticks are recommended; both for footing and for fending off snakes. Not sure it would help much with a bear.

When we got back to the dink we found ten or so folks all sitting around on the dock chatting. They were all locals. We were informed by one that parking a dink on the dock could result in a ticket. One is supposed to beach one's dink when accessing shore. I didn't see any beaches around but I have seen a couple of dinks tied up near shore rocks. I'm also told one isn't allowed to tie your dink to a tree so I guess one putts around until a suitable rock can be found. Since I am way more fond of trees than I am of most people, I'm kind of okay with that rule. And if I do find a ticket on the dink some day?  l live on a boat. I don't live in Canada. Good luck trying to figure out where I am. Doing so will likely cost more than the ticket. But give it your best shot if you feel you must.

All it all this has been a really interesting, low key day of exploring a new place and meeting some nice folks. Days like this are why we came this way. 

So many interesting mushrooms on the trail

Nature's artwork

A little contentment is a lot of good...

This will be our second night in a row on the anchor. Something that hasn't happened very often on this trip. In fact this may be the first time. Since we didn't have a lock or swing bridge to wait on (something else that hasn't happened very often on this trip) we got moving well before 0900. It was less than a two hour jaunt from Midland to Chimney Bay so we beat the expected weekend crowd. When we got here there were three or four boats already hooked to the bottom. Now, including First Light, there are fourteen. There is room for a few more. Beausoleil Island appears to be a popular spot. We are planning to spend at least one more full day and a second night here, maybe more. It seems like it has been a while since we just relaxed and enjoyed being on the boat and this looks like a good place to practice that skill again. Hanging out for a whole weekend might be just what we need.

We haven't been on the island yet. First Light was showing the miles and battle scars of the last few weeks. After grinding up and down in more locks then I ever care to see again, the dirt from the fenders was ground into her flanks both port and starboard. The locks also meant constant traffic up and down the side decks, making for more ground in dirt. But the thing that was irking me the most was the spider poop spots peppering every surface of the exterior cabin. That stuff must be little blotches of near pure acid. It eats its way down into the paint making for some serious scrubbing. Even then it often leaves a mark. I appreciate that the little buggers prey on the flying/biting insect population which has been a constant irritation (literally) for much of this trip. But their deposits offset that contribution. Nor am I a fan of running into one of their webs first thing in the morning when I am up and about but not really with it yet. 

Then there was the port side aft cockpit scupper that came out a little the worse when I bounced it off the dock during the aborted wind gusting attempt to tie up in the Big Chute Marina. Some sanding, fiberglass putty, a bit more sanding, and a little paint made for an okay-it-will-keep-until-St. Louis repair. 

While I scrubbed the upper surface, Deb donned flippers, mask, and snorkel and brushed away some of the fuzz below the water line. One thing about fresh water boating, the bottom doesn't get fouled near as quickly and the zincs last a lot longer as compared to playing in salt water. At some point in there, I slipped into the water myself. I've heard lots of raves about the clear water in Canada but we must not be there yet. The vis here is maybe 10 feet of really green water. Still, this is a pretty place that is somewhat protected and, now that the day boaters have gone home, pretty calm. Add in a low key approach, enough room for a bunch of boats, nothing to stress over (for now anyway), and a boat that looks like someone actually cares for it? We are pretty content this evening.