OFF the GRID

There is very little “connectivity” in this anchorage. An occasional text message and some spotty weather information is about it. The spotty weather information suggests we need to move tomorrow and the next day. Where ever we stop the day after tomorrow is were we will be for a couple of days. Dock or anchor is yet to be determined.

This morning we watched a parade of boats motor in to drop an anchor. We went exploring in the dink and just happened to run across a collection of dinks from the boats that had just arrived heading out together. They invited us along to go shoot some rapids. In a dink? I don't much care for the dink in calm water. There is zero chance I will willingly ride one into some rapids. We let them go and went off on our own. Even then we ran across a couple of spots where the water flowing around the rocks was pretty much a match for the dink's motor and steering. We got a little too far down one little channel where the water was moving faster than I thought. In a couple of spots it took near full power against the current to make any progress getting back to the bay the boat was in. There was also one little slot though some rocks we had to pass through that wasn't quite “a rapid” but was still moving fast and going noticeably down hill. We blasted through with rock walls within reach off both sides. I'm not exactly sure how we got through there with the prop intact. We stopped by First Light to change into hiking shoes, grab our walking sticks and some water, and headed out again to beach the dink and go for a walk on one of the islands. We ended up clambering over some good-sized rocks trying to get to the top. It was a gallant effort but the way up proved too steep. I was following Deb back along the way we had come. She crossed over a collection of sizable rocks about 10 feet ahead of me. I took a couple of steps and had to stop. About six feet of snake was sliding across my path. It was black but had the head and markings of a rattler. There was no buzzing sound so I'm not sure just what it was, probably just a big black snake. I was careful not to bother it. It did't bother with me. But Deb must have just about stepped on the thing, which is probably why it was moving. But I did get to see a snake, so that was cool even if we didn't make it to the top.

On the way back to First Light we stopped to chat with some folks on a boat whose name suggested another retired airplane driver was at the helm. Turned out he was career Air Force pilot, A10 and F16 driver. We chatted for a bit. They had been out in their dink, hit a rock, shattered the plastic prop on their electric motor, and rowed back to the boat. They will be rowing until they can get a new prop shipped to them somewhere down the road. There are two things that can really make things difficult this far out on the edge, things one really can not afford to do. The first is damage any fundamental support equipment (like the dink). The second is to get injured. We might have strayed a bit too close to one or both of those today. A pretty place can still bite. And we are a long way from parts and medical support.

One of the cruiser's dog - she has never actually caught a fish but stands there patiently for hours every day looking for one to get.

This lichen is all over the pink granite. It has some fascinating designs.

Three hundred and twenty-two

...degrees that is. That was the heading I needed to hold to get to the next waypoint roughly 19nm away. First Light was six miles offshore in Georgian Bay heading for an anchorage in the Bustard Islands. We made the decision to go after looking at the weather as soon as we climbed out of the berth this morning. The winds had laid down more than expected. There was nothing on the Radar. We collected the anchor and headed out, noting on NEBO that pretty much everyone we knew was on the move as well. Waiting to see what other people are doing is never a good way to make a decision. But once the decision is made, seeing that a whole bunch of people made the same decision seems to matter. (It really doesn't.)

The inside passage from the anchorage to the Bay was calm and quiet. As we passed the lighthouse heading into more open waters we didn't see any whitecaps out there that would suggest a second thought might be called for. But once through the shoals we were met with rolling waves of 1 to 3 feet, occasionally 4. For the most part they flowed out of the WNW but there was an undertone of confusion with oddball random waves rolling in from just about every point on the compass. There was also a bit of confusion when it came to the wave period. Some were one foot waves with a three second period. Some were three foot waves with a one second period. It was lumped up enough that First Light was, occasionally, tossing water up her foredeck. All this in spite of the fact there was very little wind blowing? 

Ahh grasshopper...air settles down a lot faster than water. The wind had been blowing over that water at 10 to 20 for almost four days and nights. The wind faded but the waves? They keep bouncing around reflecting off of shores, rocks, and other waves. But actually laying down to something comfortable takes longer. Maybe even a day or two longer.

I suspect Deb was thinking about suggesting we turn around and try again another day. I know I was. But neither of us said anything so we kept going. And sure enough, the longer we went, the more things did settled down. Still, it was a couple of hours before we reached that 19nm away waypoint and headed back into more protected waters. It seemed longer.

A long time ago, back when we were first learning about boats, I made a statement along the lines of “A sailboat under power handles like a loaf of wet bread.” The same is true of First Light. The autopilot works way too hard when when the boat is rolling and still does a lousy job of holding a heading. When hand steering, the hydraulic system gives no feedback as to the pressure on the rudders, nor is zero rudder a specific place on the wheel. And, not to put it too delicately, First Light wallows like a pig in its favorite mud pit in confused seas. (I suppose all semi-displacement or displacement boats do. But First Light is the only one I have helmed in these kinds of conditions.) Without touching anything, the heading would slew back and forth some 30 degrees. Up ahead was open water to the horizon so there was nothing to aim the bow at to hold a course. The projected route line on the Navionics chart doesn't update often enough to hand steer the heading using it. All that remained to steer by was the whiskey compass, which was doing its own little dance. So the drill became—check the compass then wrestle the helm, check the chart and the compass then wrestle the helm, check the horizon for traffic and the compass then wrestle the helm, check the radar for traffic and the compass then wrestle the helm, and don't forget to keep an eye on the engine gauges...rinse and repeat for nearly three hours.

Nineteen miles...it definitely seemed like more. 

Once out of big water and back among the islands, we nosed into the anchorage that was the goal for the day. It was really narrow and already pretty full. We motored about a bit and talked about dropping the hook in a couple of different places but decided it was too narrow and already too crowded. We headed off to our alternate and are really glad we did.

It took a little over an additional hour of travel to get to it to this place called “Bad River”. Twenty seconds after entering the alternate anchorage we were both all smiles. This is another near magical place, just as good as the one we spent the last several nights enjoying. We will spend at least one day just to enjoy the sheer beauty of the place.

The 19nm were worth it.

Plan to make a plan

This was our fourth day, third full day, in the anchorage at Shawanaga Island. Though relatively quiet here for most of the day, there were some thick clouds and heavy rain out over the inlet earlier. The waterspout warning is still in effect and the heavy cloud out past the inlet had some ominous looking trail clouds hanging out. The radar suggested that we would be getting some pretty heavy rain falling on us before the day was out. It never really showed. First Light is still swinging back and forth like a giant wind vane on a stormy day. Come to think of it that is exactly what she is and, if I am honest, the motion is getting a bit tiresome. Still, it was a good day to be riding to a well-set anchor in a protected inlet.

Tomorrow was looking like the day to be on the move again. But the latest weather reports are looking less promising with the winds not fading as much as first thought. Right now, as the sun is setting, the wind is still blowing and cold enough to make it feel much closer to winter than it actually is. So at the moment our plan to deviate from is to not have a plan. We will see what we see in the morning.

Go or not go, this has been a good, if forced, stop. When living as close to the weather as all full-time boaters do, the weather makes the plans.

Two Cup Day

Mmm...not sure what to say about today. It rained last night. This morning we got a sprinkle and a few more are inbound. First Light is swinging port and starboard in the shifting winds tumbling over the island and into the anchorage with occasional gusts to near 20 knots. There is little fetch so the ride is easy. Just try to ignore the scenery sliding relentlessly past the windows, though, forward...aft...starboard...port. It will mess with your head and have you wondering which way is which. But it is calm enough to have one thinking that we should be on the move.

The Windy app shows a solid twenty knots blowing outside of our cove here. After making the turn out of the Shawanaga inlet into Georgian Bay it would be right on the beam. And with a fetch of more than 50 miles? There is an old pilot's saying, “It is better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air than in the air wishing you were on the ground”. Same idea for boats.

Tomorrow the Windy app shows the wind laying down a little, blowing right at the edge of what we normally find comfortable. But it will still be almost directly on our beam if we head out and with that same 50 mile fetch. Perfect day for a sailboat. Not so perfect for a trawler with a roundish bottom, small keel, and no stabilizers. Sticking to our original plan of waiting until Monday to move still looks like the best choice. That has just been reinforced by a waterspout warning being issued for today and tomorrow in the Georgian Bay. 

Deb did the engine room checks yesterday. (I know, I'm a putz.) There was a minor glitch with the generator that took all of two minutes to find and fix. I was going to wash spider poop from the boat but with the rain forecast I let it go. With no one else in the anchorage I took to pounding on the djembe for a while. I've been told that its sound carries a long way over the water, so I don't usually get it out if there are any other people in sight. In the last little town we explored, we ran across xylophones permanently mounted near a walking path. I tried them all and they sounded pretty cool. Mmm...I may have to look into getting one of those when we get back to land. I know, I already have 10 ukuleles. But I only have three kinds of percussion instruments.  Four is a nice, round number. 

The hours float by filled with music practice, iPad games, reading, and writing. We are right on the edge of having internet access so most evenings we pull out the old DVD player, shuffle through our collection of discs, and watch a movie over dinner. And, since it is a bit chilly in these parts along with it being wet and windy, coffee hits the spot. So today has been a two cup day. However, whoever, or whatever you think about how the universe works, it is sometimes hard to understand why we have the chance to live this way. However, whoever, whatever...thank you.

What a great way to start the morning...

And what a great way to end the day.

Choices

There were four other boats in the anchorage with First Light last night. All of them sailboats. The wind has arrived and is blowing a pretty steady ten knots or so and we are seeing gusts to 15. All the sailboats are gone. When I look around all 360 degrees there is only one other hint of human kind besides our boat. It is a small cottage tucked into the trees along the edge of the inlet. At the moment I don't think anyone is in it.

Daughter middle called a little while ago. She got a call from a Canadian number and no one answered when she picked it up. Spam of course. But with us pretty far out of touch she called just to make sure all was well. Surely it has been years, since the last time we were in the Bahama Islands, that there has been this much room between us and the rest of the human family. I have to admit that I am enjoying the solitude. Sometimes I think the entire human family could use a break from itself. Everyone needs a chance to remember that we are all self aware, conscious beings. At least to some degree we are all responsible for the choices that we make, and have no responsibility for the choices others make. A choice we might make may not be the same someone else would make. As long as no one is injured, no one is oppressed or taken advantage of, and no one is coerced solely for the benefit of another, different choices are just that, different choices. It would be pretty boring if we all made the same choices about everything. It would be pretty depressing if we weren't allowed to make choices, being forced to live at the dictates of others. Others who, let's be honest, may not have our best interests in heart.

It may well be that we will not be the only one in the anchorage tonight. The forecast is back to twenty knots of wind for tomorrow with an 80% chance of rain. There are piles of billowing clouds filling the sky to the East. Those are associated with the low that was once a hurricane and is weather moving away from us. The low to our NW is dragging a cold front over us this afternoon. That low will bring the rain forecast for tomorrow. As a place to bail out for someone who is finding the ride less than comfortable out on bigger water or who is trying to get some miles in before the worst of the weather arrives? This would be a good choice.

Deb's Take:

This morning dawned clear and calm, the proverbial calm before the storm. Given that my knee has been acting up and hiking isn't all that pleasant, I decided to launch the dink and go for a row for some exercise. The bay that we are in has a bunch of really neat coves tucked all around its sides that beckon.

An hour and a half passed without my even noticing as I rowed into all the little coves and just sat there in the quiet. It's true—we all need a break from the human family once in awhile, a chance to float along in solitude in the quiet and smell the fresh pine and listen to the mating calls of the herons and to watch the antics of the river otter on the rocks. I am incredibly blessed to be here and to be able to experience this and I just needed a reminder this morning that in the large scope of things I'm really only a very very small part. It's a good thing to be reminded of once in a while.

OK so look at the rock in the picture...and turn you head sideways...and tell me you don't see...

A Pug face!