Alaska or Bust

This story begins years ago with TV programs showing the grandeur of Alaska. And friends were making the trip. Dick Wilds and Sandy drove in tandem with another couple each in their own pickup living in a camper whose top raises up mounted in the bed.  Dick said it was about 13,000 miles that they covered in three months with lots of driving. Joyce and I purchased a similar unit and tested it on a trip to Branson, Missouri and again on a trip to Key West. Joyce claimed we were driving a “cruck” and living in a “cramper.”  We would need dual wheels on the rear axle heavy duty truck to support carry a fixed height camper in the bed for us  to go that route. We have owned several motorhomes previously and we gave that a whirl next with the purchase of a 22’ class B motorhome, one that has both a driver’s and passenger’s side doors.  We liked it a lot for its maneuverability and ability to park in a standard car spot if the “bustle” could hang over a grassy lot perimeter. Because of the enormous driving distance I hatched the plan of taking an older unit one way, figuring if it was cheap enough we could sell it in Alaska and fly home.  No need to ditch the 22’:  that’s what my annex, or the “toy box” as Joyce calls it is for.  It will await our completion of the Alaska trek and serve us well for less ambitious jaunts in the future, or possibly an overnight with the grandkids on the “Ponderosa” portion of the yard overlooking Janet and Duncan’s pier.  There’s even a fire pit where we enjoy sheskabobs, dogs, and S’mores and nobody has to sleep in a tent.

We bought a 1989 27’ class B, a unit that has a van front, for $3,000, put another $1000 into it, and it was ready to go. About that time nephew David was building a house and had to move out of his rental home before the house would be completed. Cheryl and David planned to “camp out” in the unfinished upstairs while finishing the work. I remembered that when Allen built his waterfront house he and Carol bought a camper and used it on site.  I also recalled how much David and Cheryl had admired our little motorhome when we visited previously. Allen, how about it?  Let’s split the cost on this old motorhome and give it to the kids.  Allen was all for it.  On a date that suited both Allen and me we drove to Shannon Farms in Virginia and happened to “drop in” on Cheryl and  David which we usually do when we travel south.  David’s attention strayed back to the tasks yet undone on his construction project as Jim proceeded to show him—in great detail-- “our” latest ride.  To David’s relief we asked to see how their house was coming along which gave David a chance to hit a few licks before the sun set.  Jim even pitched in tacking in place part of the rustic ceiling for the master carpenter to hammer solidly in place later.  Driving back to their rental home we passed another car heading up the hill toward David’s site.  It was Carol and Allen looking for all of us.  They just happened to be coming that way that day too.  We all went back to where the kids were.  Jim quietly removed our Maryland tags and personal affects from the motorhome while David chatted with his Dad. Jim returned, handed the keys to Allen who in turn handed them to David, saying “Here, it’s yours.” Best Christmas present ever!  A napping Indigo on Cheryl’s lap was flung, well laid in a chair and the whole family flew out the door. The kids moved aboard immediately. Cheryl and David have movie “dates” there when they can oust the kids. “Excited” doesn’t encompass the mood.  And Cheryl and David have taken their family on trips, not such an easy thing to do when there are eight in a vehicle with the youngest ones required by law to be in bulky child safeties and boosters:  they took the whole brood camping on the Atlantic coast with their camping friends in Ocracoke that summer.  Couldn’t have turned out better.

Back to Craig’s List to search anew for an old beater that wasn’t yet beaten to death. Most retirees who use motorhomes get a large class A (Greyhound-bus style) of 34’ or better, and with such a long trip I thought a larger unit would be more comfortable (you have to be newlyweds and have a limber body to live for 2+ months with floor space ½ the amount in a powder room as we did in 1969 in our VW.)  With gas prices up and used motorhome prices down we settled on 1995 34’ Bounder from an estate sale with 46,000 miles, well used and dirty, with several mechanical issues, but priced right. Well, the Bounder turned into a money pit, with problem after problem, and about $9,000 later it was more or less ready. Oh, and while advertised as a 34’ it turned out to be the 31’ model. Still huge compared to the 22’ B, and the largest motorhome we have owned, the previous ones being 21’, 24’, 29’, 22’, 27’, and 31’.  I think of it as a “trainer” class A. Since this trip will be a partial re-do of our original trans-continental trip in ’69 in the VW camper that had a 100cc (red) street/trail motorcycle on the rear bumper, I decided to take along a 650cc (red) Kawasaki motorcycle on a rear hitch carrier, and two bicycles, none of which will make it back to the lower 48.

Joyce had just finished with a 50 guest 90th birthday party for Aunt Rosemary, and we had an upcoming baby shower for daughter-in-law Sarah for which she wanted to sew so she stayed home while I took advantage of the good weather and headed south and west on a “shakedown” trip which will also knock off some of the mileage through familiar territory.  It was the official start, Day 1of “Alaska or Bust” on Tuesday January 10, 2012.

Day 1, Tuesday 1/10/12:  First stop was the gym for a last cardio workout before those many hours sitting behind the wheel. Drove over the Potomac and down 95 past Richmond to one of my favorite I-95 stops, the Smithfield Cinema parking lot in mid-North Carolina, fixed some dinner aboard and took in a movie. The free night’s “sleep” was, of course, occasionally disturbed by the mournful whistle of a passing train on the nearby tracks.

Day 2, Wednesday 1/11/12:   Up at 4 a.m., fix coffee, and pound down the highway into South Carolina, then right on I-20 to Columbia where I linked up with niece, Tricia Perrie Durham. She manages an upscale Holiday Inn, and treated the hungry traveler to breakfast and a tour of the facility. Rain was pelting down when I drove into Georgia and stopped near Augusta where I had completed my Basic and Advanced Military Training in the Army in the summer of 1969 at Fort Gordon, leaving a tearful bride of a year behind.  Augusta is located at the headwaters of a canal that was built in the mid 1800’s to bypass the rapids of the Savannah River and provide hydro power for early 19th century industry. The rain let up long enough for a walk along the river. A bicycle path wound seven miles to a visitor center in downtown Augusta, but that will have to wait for a dryer day. Continuing west I spotted a state park sign with camping and by 4 p.m. I was unloading the bikes and motorcycle for a tour of the Alfred H. Stevens State Park. Stevens was a multi-term congressman from Georgia and later Governor who served as the vice-president of the Confederacy with Jefferson Davis. His restored antebellum home is a centerpiece of the park and is open for tours but only on weekends. I was the lone occupant of the campground. An elementary school built in what is now park land is forlornly surrounded by chain link with scruffy trees sprouting on its former lawn.  Too bad the Jefferson Davis memorabilia that had been housed in the house where he sought refuge on the Gulf Coast following the defeat of the south could not have been housed in the abandoned school.  All that remains of the Gulf museum which we toured pre-Katrina is a set of marble steps that once led to a house.  The park is near the town of Crawford which is just about defunct: a couple businesses, bank, post office, police station, senior center, courthouse, numerous vacant structures, and mostly rundown older homes. With the interstate diverting traffic around it it has become the town that time forgot. The railroad tracks run straight through its center but freight largely moves by now by truck.
On the way to Steven’s Park I had passed numerous homemade signs for “Heavy’s Bar-B-Q”. The repeated messages had the desired effect, and I hungrily followed the path four miles back, to find a quaint little place with antique cars and tractors decorating the yard, and two pit bulls snarling and snapping, guarding the property which was, I now learned: only open weekends. Oh well! Back to the camper for dinner, a movie on the VCR, and a lovely, quiet evening sans trains. Safely out of the freeze zone I de-winterized the water system, filled the water tank, turned on the hot water heater which had worked fine last fall:  no hot water! That was then.  This is now.  Oh well, this is what a shakedown trip is about.

Day 3, Thursday 1/12/12: Everyday a surprise. No propane at the stove. Re-switching the electric propane switch seemed to restore the gas flow, but this could be the harbinger of a future problem. Mostly driving today, but stopped near Birmingham, Alabama at a Wal-Mart to get two new batteries for the motorhome interior lights and jumper cables so I could charge them from the engine while driving. Noticed transmission shifter getting recalcitrant, to the point that when I stopped in Eutaw, Alabama for the night  behind a “Piggly-Wiggly” grocery store I left the engine in neutral, jumped out and set wheel chocks rather than shift into park, sprayed WD 40 on the transmission linkage, and hit the sack.

Day 4 Friday the 13th!: No trains but the trucks were noisy so up at 2 a.m., blitzed through Mississippi in the dark and arrived in Shreveport, Louisiana at 9 a.m., and fetched up at a truck repair facility to attend to the shift problem. Got lucky and arrived during a lull in business, so was underway in three hours with a nicely shifting shifter and a shockingly low tariff.

Having had luck with the shifter I stopped at an RV dealer to have the hot water heater checked out and a couple other electrical problems besides. Three more hours and $427 later I found the nearest RV park, Diamond Jack’s Casino, ceremoniously hooked up the cable TV for the first time and got what?? two channels? One was Seinfeld re-runs, so it was OK. Whoops! What was that rumble? Typical luck! The picturesque old railroad bridge 100’ behind the camper was the busiest in the state, with a train every 30 minutes. Luckily, they slowed down to a crawl later in the evening and blew no whistles, so I could sleep through it. Frustratingly enough, still no hot water, despite all efforts, so had to make do with a sponge bath with water heated on the stove.

Day 5, Saturday 1/14/12: Up at 6 a.m., tested the toaster, ok, tried to figure out cable TV, but with the cable hookup, antennae, switching box, signal converter, and VCR, all connected to two TV’s it was too complicated to sort out, then played with the hot water heater, trying different wiring when suddenly it dawned on me that this heater had a winterizing bypass valve to allow draining the hot water tank rather than filling it with anti-freeze. I had forgotten to open the valve: there was no water in the heater and the RV technicians didn’t catch on either since this is an uncommon but highly desirable feature. A quick turn of the valve, the tank filled, heated, and “Hooray!”  Hot water at last!

Back on the road and into Texas, left I-20 for Rte. 79 South towards Austin. Lots of flat, fenced ranches with cattle. Finally made it to McKinney Falls State Park near the Austin Airport where I was graciously directed to their overflow lot. Seems the park is popular with locals on the weekend and it was packed. Unloaded the bikes and motorcycle and headed to the local watering hole for a couple beers to celebrate my arrival in Texas.  Recalls memories of a rodeo/stock show we attended in 1969 in which I quizzed members of the Chicken Club if their entries laid more eggs, grew to maturity faster, or had more tender meat.  “Eat them! We don’t eat them.  We breed them for their variety of plumage to enter into competition for recognition at rodeos.  That’s what Chicken Club members do.  All I had heard on the radio for days were quotes on what the various animals at specified ages were bringing at market, or the “Sow Bones Report” as I dubbed it.  Never occurred to me that there were animals bred on ranches just for fun.

Day 6, Sunday 1/15/12:  Happy Birthday!  Jim turns 65 today: “Hello, Medicare.” Used to be a big deal but it has muted somewhat since the “retirement age,” the age at which you could collect full Social Security benefits has been moved up to 66 to avoid penalty. How did I celebrate all on my own? First with a three mile bicycle ride on a paved path, whew! Then over to the airport to check out RV parking and get a ticket home. Being newly 65 did save me some $s on the ticket. With the day to kill I road into Austin and took a meandering ride around town to get a little more familiar. The capitol building looked awesome, then saw the creepy  ”Texas tower” at the University of Texas where on August 1, 1966 Charles Whitman shot 48 innocent students, killing 16 and wounded 32. After a BIG Tex-Mex lunch it was back to the camper for another bicycle ride, this one over three miles over much more difficult terrain, including portaging a rocky streambed. Returned to the camper exhausted; definitely grateful for the hot shower; time to load up the bikes and prepare for an early morning departure flight back to Maryland. The motorhome will await my return to Austin next week, and Joyce’s debut to life aboard the S.S. Bounder. Wait, that name would be for a sea passage. One thing my friend Wally Szot taught me though applies land or sea:  when you are done packing take out half the clothes and put in twice the money.  In fact the word “Boat” is an acronym:  Break Out Another Thousand.  But, I better let Joyce continue telling our tale so I don’t have to keep details like what to name our Conestoga wagon straight.  Say, didn’t our ancestor’s head west on Prairie Schooners?  A good thing or I would be a fish out of water.  With enough duct tape, Wal-Marts, hardware stores, garages and banks, God willin’ and the cricks don’t rise as Paul Svenson was fond of saying, you can sit back and enjoy the ride with us from the comfort of your easy chair.  Mark Talbott will pick us up at 9:45 to head to BWI for our flight to Austin, and we’re on our way.

And in case you are wondering how two “oldly-weds” will fare in 31’ of space for months on end I’ll let you in on Joyce’s secret.  She made me a sign with the two phrases guaranteed to make any marriage hum along:  “Yes, Dear,” and “What else can I do for you, Dear?”  Puts me in mind of the gentlemen who shared his secret for his 50 years of marital longevity thusly, “When we got married we agreed that I would make all the major decisions, and she would make all the minor decisions.  So far nothing major has come up.”

Schooner Cap’t Jim and His Bouncing Bounder Betty

Gemini Catamaran Dual Delivery

Ahoy Sailors - Capt Jim headed down to Pensacola Fla. Veteran's day to help move a 2005 Gemini Cat to St. Petersburg Fla. and retrieve the new 2012 Gemini replacement. With just the owner and I aboard we departed Saturday am with favorable east winds on a closehauled point for St. Pete, 286 miles across the gulf. Favorable conditions lasted 2 hours, then the wind shifted to the SE, right on the nose at 10-15kts. We flogged the engine, pounding into increasing waves, using more fule then planned. Switching tanks, the engine stalled. "I haven't been using the port tank", said the owner, so water and crud partially clogged the fuel filter and pickup, leaving us limping into Apalachicola for fuel and repairs, and a delicious oyster lunch at Caroline's restaurant. Two more days of pounding upwind put us into St. Pete, where we made the switch and headed back ASAP, due to unfavorable weather forecasts. 

The new boat was great, with a generator and dual A/Cheat units. These boat are now built by Hunter Marine at their factory in Alachua, Fla. We had one more day of pleasant SE winds while heading north, but when the wind switched to the NW at 20-25 kts we again bailed out at Apalachicola, arriving in a rainstorm, and anchoring behind a barrier island about 11pm. We stayed inside on the GICW (Gulf inland coastal waterway) for a very pleasant 125 miles back to Pennsacola over the next 3 days, while the Coast Guard weather reported 6-8' seas and small craft advisories out in the Gulf. It's amazing how quickly you recover from the effects of upwind pounding after a couple days of pleasant lake and canal cruising, some of it quite scenic.

I had been joking with the owner about finding a 'Hooters" restaurant "just around the next bend" during the long canal portions through undeveloped areas to goad us into making a few more miles each day before dark, and was happy to find one in Pensacola Beach for our farewell dinner last Saturday evening.

Back home I'm hoping to catch a rockfish or 2 before thanksgiving. I hope everyone has a pleasant Holiday.

Cheers! and happy sailing from Capt. Jim

Philadelphia - Bermuda - Puerto Rico

Ahoy Sailors - Hope everyone has found some time to go sailing, in between torrential rains and beastly heat, and now "early winter". I just returned from a delivery to Puerto Rico on an "old fashioned" 40' monohull, a Tashiba 40 double ender. The owner, his brother, and brother's 22 yr old girlfriend and myself made up the crew. The boat was well made, strong, lots of attention to interior finish and other details. Major shortcoming is small cockpit ( suppossedly safer at sea) and cruelty of cruelties, no cockpit cushions! That teak seat got really hard after a few days!.

A recently installed fleming windvane worked ok in windy conditions, but wandered badly in lighter air. We mostly used the electric autopilot, although it managed to unscrew itself from the quadrant at one point, and had to be reinstalled. We departed in a great rush 10/14 @ 8:30 pm, first time ever for a night departure for me, but we were trying to beat bad weather coming north along the coast. We had 2 days of 15-30 kt winds close to beam reach, almost perfect sailing but choppy and uncomfortable - we survived well thanks to "Mom" for pre cooked dinners and cookies, also thwarting my plan to lose a few pounds on the trip.  Capt Jim got a taste of "Mal de mer" but recovered in a day. Everybody heaved at some point (such fun!) last 2 days to Bermuda were motorsailing in light winds.

The crew partied hard in Bermuda for 3 days, then set off for Puerto Rico in 10-12 kt headwinds, sailing close hauled 30 degrees off course. After a day the winds lightened and switched to exactly on the nose, requiring motorsailing for several days. Then an abrupt 180 degree switch, but only 7-8ts of wind, so still motorsailing. Finally had the best day, day 6 and 7, reaching in 15-20 kts, warm enough to stand night watches in shorts and Tee shirt, but sweaty sleeping below. The younger crew periodically threw themselves overboard (once at 5kts!) and hung onto a line, then pulled hand over hand back to the boat and scrambling up over the rail, not easy. I insisted we slow down after that display of (bravery?).

We hustled the last bit motorsailing at 8 kts to make it to an anchorage at Palomino Island at dusk, a few miles from the reef in Fahardo Bay, and stopped at Puerto del Rey Marina next morning, 7 days, for a total of 11 1/2 days at sea. The young folk are still there, but old Cap't Jim had other things to do besides sit next to a sweet thing on a beach and drink rum (what things???) so came back a few days early ( at great additional expense, damn the airlines!) in time for yesterdays weather to cancel the flight from Miami ( oh well). When the bar tab equalled the room bill, I figured I had drowned my sorrows enough.

There might still be a delivery or two left, and maybe a little rock fishing before thie winter sets in in earnest.. Cheers, Happy Sailing and Happy Halloween from Capt Jim and first mate Joyce ( who hung out and kept the home fires burning this time)

Great Loop Completion

Ahoy Sailors - Joyce and I just returned from 2 weeks on Lakes Michigan and Huron, thereby completing the 6700 mile "Great Loop" around the eastern and middle states. We trailered the 24' Bayliner, sporting a new engine and rebuilt outdrive, about 600 miles up to a convenient launch ramp in Portage, Indiana, about 24 miles SE of Chicago. Turned out to be one of the few bargains on the trip, $10. to launch the boat and store the truck and trailer for 2 weeks.

    The bright lights of Chicago beckoned, and our first taste of Lake Michican awaited. Calm enough at first, the early afternoon breeze built to about 15kts, giving us a rough, slow ride with spray into Chicago. Stopping again at Burnside Harbor, (where we began last fall's trip down the rivers to Tampa, Fla.) we got a slip and set off by bike to explore. The Navy Pier shops and eats, art galleries, botannical garden, landscaped pathways and competing evening free band concerts are what makes big cities special.

    Back at the boat we were amazed by the parade of yachts leaving the harbor after dark, then learned they were all anchoring in front of the concert venue just a mile away. The late evening breeze nearly caused a problem when a cabin cruiser returned on one engine, then turned sideways and stalled out, drifting towards us while a crewmember was frantically pouring fuel into the tank.

Restarting just in the nick, they managed, with difficulty, to maneuver back to their slip.

    Departing early am, which was to become our modis operandi, as the calmest hours were at dawn, we motored next 29 miles to Waukegan, Ill. Having been a Johnson outboard motor dealer for 19 years, it was interesting to finally see the factory, now owned by the Sea-Doo jetski folks, and maker of Evinrude e-tec engines. Then 24 miles to Racine, Wisconsin for lunch, and 22 miles to Milwaukee. We learned of the 'German Fest" beginning that evening, so hung around for German music , beer, and ethnic foods. Most of these small towns are useful mainly as a break from the lake, but all were unique and worth visiting. In calm conditions about an hour seperated them, 24 miles to port Washington, 25 to Sheboygan, 30 miles to Twin Rivers, and 34 to Algoma. The salmon fishing tournament in Algoma attracted dozens of boats and space was tight at the marina. The launch ramp opened at 4am and continued to 11pm. Up at 4 Saturday 7/30, we had plans to cross the 75 miles to Leland on the Michigan side of the lake, and had just popped up on a plane in perfect, calm conditions when a sudden screeching noise and nasty grinding sound locked up the outdrive, just 20 hours after the rebuild!! Lucky it happened then and not an hour later in the middle of the Lake. 

    We anchored to await rescue, which came in the form of a Dad and son team on a small aluminum boat, who were kind enough to tow us back to Algoma. So now we had to get back to the truck so we could retrieve the boat and find a mechanic in the nearby town of Kewaunee. This involved a cab ride 40 miles to Green Bay, one way rental car back to Indiana, and 200 miles back to Algoma. 6 days later all is well ($2300) and we are again heading across Lake Michican to the other side. But this time it proves too rough, so we go further up the coast to Sturgeon Bay instead, which has a canal connecting lake Michigan with Green Bay itself. This is a very busy boating area. We stayed at a luxury resort type marina, beautifully landscaped, and tried again next day, this time sucessfully, to South Manitou Island, now a park, then the tiny fishing village of Leland, then to the amazing port of Charlevoiux, with its entry canal into a small natural lake, which opens to a much larger inland lake (over 10 miles long) with its own cruising and fishing areas and destinations. Then off to Beaver Island, another 15 miles out into the lake.

    Beaver Island, the largest Island in Lake Michigan, was once claimed as an independant kingdom in the 1850's by "King" Stang, and his band of Morman followers. The Kingdom lasted 5 years, when a US gunboat was sent to arrest him, but he was shot by disgruntled islanders, who preferred to take the law into their own hands.

    Blessed with continued calm conditions, we buzzed the 35 or so miles to Mackinaw straits, and Michigan City, where we purchased charts for Lake Huron, the north Channel, and Georgian Bay.

The continued calm allowed us to zoom past Mackinaw island and enter Canadian waters at the little port of Meldrum, on Manitobin Island (largest in lake Huron, over 100 miles long). Next day the wind was up so we slogged at 6 kts many hours to the next few parts, ending at Killarny on the north shore. There are numerous islands, many with "cottages", and an entire industry supporting the hermit-like lifestyle of these"cottagers".

    Next day we entered the unique Collins inlet, a very narrow slit about 25 miles long, and only a hundred feet wide at its most narrow. Then back out on the lake another 25 miles to Byng harbor ( named after a British revolutionary war general- these were loyalists, after all) and finally to aptly named "Snug Harbor", with well known and packed fish restaurant. It certainly looked like all the inhabitants were there, we just squeezed in and there was a line out the door when we left!

    We followed the "small boat channel" the remainder of the way through Georgian Bay. They call it the thirty thousand Island area ( to differentiate it from the thousand Island area of Lake Ontario) but who's counting. At times the well marked channel was only yards wide, twisting and turning among the rocks, with deep water right next to granite. You can anchor anyplace, but we worried about uncharted rocks. We were probably in a trickier place than I had prepared for. I would not go back without a backup engine, or twin engine boat.

    But in due course we made it to Midland, on a rainy day, just a few miles from where we ended the prevoius trip through the Trent-Severn waterway, and where it was reported we could get a rental car to go back for the truck and trailer, now in Kewaunee, Wisconsin. Alas, no rentals available, nearest airport was Toronto, 2 hours by car. I thought of buying a motorcycle, which could be put into the truck bed after the 600 mile trip back, but purchased a small, 10 year old Mazda instead, for $1000., which we used with no problems to retrieve the truck. We planned to sell it in Kewaunee, but found out there were some details to importing a car legally into the US, the most inconvenient was an inspection during which the customs people kept the car for up to 72 hours (looking for drugs, no doubt) So we had to return it to Canada, which Joyce did by following me back. We sold it to a used car dealer in Sault St. Marie for $500. This guy and his son (two Randys) could have been on TV like the 'Pawn Stars" crew. They were really funny.

    Back in midland we retrieved the boat and set out for Toronto, traveled along the north shore of Lake Ontario, then back down interstate 81 through New York and Pennsylvania. Very nice drive, arrived back home before dark, with two trailer tires almost down to the cords, just worn out since bought new in January of '09. Truck milage was about 2750, boat about 375 on Lake Michican and 300-400 on Lake Huron. We burned up a frightfull amount of fuel, enough to make me reconsider those Macgregor powersailors we used to sell. Maybe one 4th the expense, with a little sailing thrown in. There are charter boat available at several locations along this route and I greatly recommend a summer sailing trip among the many and varied islands and cities of our wondrous Great Lakes.- Cheers and Happy Sailing from Capt Jim and First Mate Joyce

2011 Lagoon 400 Cat delivery

Ahoy Sailors - Capt Jim and First Mate Joyce set out for sunny, hot Ft. Lauderdale last Friday, picked up a new Lagoon 400 ( I think the 400 stands for the price, in thousands) 39 ft long and an astounding 23.5' wide, that had recently completed the transatlantic trip from france, and headed north amid the rain bursts on Saturday, 4/30. I didn't find out until we got there that the mast height was 69.5 ft, too tall for the ICW. We had expected to do some time offshore, but not the whole way!

The trip started well, beam reaching in 15kts, hitting speeds over 10 kts in the gulfstream just west of West Palm Beach, Fla., but the choppy motion when the wind shifted more to the north east made sleep difficult and we each got only about an hour the first night. Joyce had a can of cold soup for dinner, really deluxe!Feel rugged the next day, I abandoned the gulfstream and headed for the St. Johns River. Once out of the stream, you run into a counter current, so we went from 10 kts to 6-7kts with an 8 kt boatspeed. Conditions improved, we got more sleep, so skipped St. Johns and aimed for Charleston. Still more sleep and we skipped past Charleston and around Cape Fear and made for Beaufort. With fuel down to 1/4 tank it was time to fill up, and dinner at Clawsons in Beaufort(since 1905) was a hit.

Filled up next am, and with a tip from a local marina owner that Ocracoke inlet was ok , we set out against 20-25 NW, around Cape Lookout and into rediculous seas, bang crash, motoring the 10 miles back into 20' close to shore, where it was some calmer. Attempting ocracoke inlet, and lined up with the entrance bouys, I watched with growing concern the depth dropping. We were amidst breaking waves from the surge when, at 7', I bailed out and returned to deeper water. Calling the coast guard for some info, we were discouraged from both Ocracoke and Hatteras inlets, due to low tide and rough conditions. So I just said to hell with it and pulled close to shore in 20' and anchored. The 3-4' swell from astern gave us a gentle motion, and the 20kts west wind held us stern to, so we were comfortable enough. We gave our position to the coast guard and asked not to be disturbed bu "rescue' efforts.

Next day we soldiered on, bashing around Cape Hatteras,with gradually improving conditions untill about 6pm I had to drop the sails and motor along the coast. Jouce woke me at 2:45 am to announce " we are surrounded by ships!". We were indeed at the mouth of the Bay, 11 miles from the Chesapeake Bay Bridge tunnel. As the wind was picking up I hoisted the main, and we blasted up the bay with 20 kts from the southwest, making Solomons Island about 4:30 pm Friday evening, intime for dinner with friends at "Le Bistro" At Calvert Marina. They were having a wedding rehersal dinner for 70 guests, but managed to squeeze the 6 of us in.

Up at 4:30 am and packing, I noticed boats heading out about 5, so we got underway at 5:30 with the first streaks of dawn appearing. By then the outflux of fishing boarts was in full swing, with over 20 passing by with rolling wakes ( fortunately the big Cat was not fazed). We motored about halfway back to Annapolis before enough wind picked up to sail, shutting off the engines at one point for a pleasant 2 hours, then pulled into my daughters dock on lake Ogleton to unloasd our gear and clean the boat. Good thing we did. Arriving back at Performance Cruising on back creek, we had barely tied up when the sales staff boarded with prospect eager to look at the newest addition to their lineup. The trip was about 1150 miles and took 7 days, pretty good for a couple of oldies. I'm sure the young french crew could have shaved 2 days off by staying in the gulfstream and running non-stop to Annapolis. Anyway, thats the most recent adventure. Cheers and happy sailing to you all. - Jim and Joyce

Bahamas January 2007 26M Getaway

In 2000 my wife, Joyce, and I took a Macgregor 26X on a 17 day jaunt to Georgetown in the Bahamas. That trip is chronicled on this list as the “Millennium tour 2000”. It was a great trip so we set out to duplicate it, with a bit more time included to enjoy the Bahamas. Packing and equipping the boat took a couple of days, so all that’s left is our personal items and clean out the refrigerator. It was with high hopes that we set forth on our adventure.

12/28/06 Packed up and on the road at 1pm, traffic bad on I-95, eventually gave up and called friends who live in Fredericksburg, Va. Stopped by for tour of their new home and communal dinner. Back in I-95 crush, stopped at midnight for very cold nap. Frost on boat at 4.pm departure. Brrrr..

12/29/06 15 hours driving to Ft. Lauderdale – provisioned – crashed, exhausted from long day driving. 1:30am Joyce doesn’t like the “neighbors’, noisy youths with souped up cars and pre-new years fireworks, so off to Miami – back in bed at 2:30am at Crandon Park Marina, with plenty of security and peace and quiet.

12/30/06 Rig boat – purchase season pass ($160.50) no more free launch here – headed to No Name Harbor, arrive 11am, too late and too windy (15-25) for Bimini today – lunch at the Boaters Grill Restaurant, then nice walk to lighthouse and trek up 190 steps to top, view worth the trek – back to boat for stores organizing and lounging in true cruiser fashion. Bimini or Bust tomorrow!

12/31/06 up dutifully at 06:30 – Wind East – 15-20 – rough – hoisted main in 400’ water – crash, bash – wind on nose, made poor time, 12 miles in 4 hours, bailed out at 10am, wild ride back to marina in 4-6’ seas, rinse cockpit, shower, dinner at Boater’s Grill. Relaxing evening aboard with champagne, HAPPY NEW YEAR! Try again tomorrow.

1/1/07 Back out at 06:30, winds down a bit, better – Miami disappeared at 11.00am, Bimini appeared at 1:30 – trolling rod in the water – arrive 3:pm - $150. Check in went smoothly, $70 fuel, Oh No! – The Complete Angler, Hemmingway’s favorite place, burned to the ground a year ago, and the “Red Lion Restaurant”, my favorite here, was closed on Monday, so it was ham sandwiches in the cockpit. Anchored with twin anchors in strong current, and hope they hold.

 1/2/07 – Last night there was a big parade, with the loudest drums I ever heard, which started and ended at a community building RIGHT NEXT TO OUR BOAT! Anchors held thank God, back out through the Bimini channel at 0650, past the concrete ship and on to Chub! Perfect day, light S.E wind 5-10, speed 12mph (10kts) Past Russel “light” ( lights in the Bahamas generally do not work) 1:45pm, out of gas 2pm, glad we brought the spare 5 gallon can, into Chub and fueled up with 3 gallons to spare, back out on the ocean at 4:30, not bad going and hoping for wind to die off, BAD CHOICE no such luck- steadily rougher and slower, deployed the “windshield, a piece of plexiglass c-clamped to the hatch, worked well as a dodger for one person, except caused salt water to drip into the hatch and onto my bed. Fortunately we had spare “boat towels” covering the area just in case. Finally arriving very salt soaked at 8:30. Tied to piling near shore, with barking sea lions? Boat jerked on bowline and when the tide turned the boat bumped the piling, we had enough by 3am and moved the boat to the anchorage, where a shoreside marina guard yelled at us “Don’t anchor there” so we moved a bit. Damn! – Had some problems anchoring correctly with the wind and current, finally settled down about 4am for some much needed sleep. Then noticed loud mast hum, caused by tight shrouds. Easily quieted by loosening the mainsheet. Jeez!
What a day! Bimini to Nassau in 13.5 hours.

1/3/07- Quick tour of Atlantis Harbor, home of the largest superyachts. We could have been someone’s dinghy. Entrance to the harbor apparently is by slip reservation only as we were shooed away. Hey, we could have rented a slip, if we got a mortgage on the house. We just moved to Nassau Yacht Harbor ($1.85 per ft). The inexpensive ($75.)marina motel with endless hot water showers beckoned so we splurged on a room. Pleasant day drying the boat and reading by the (chilly) pool. Lunch at “Sailor’s Choice” and Dinner at the “Poop Deck” restaurants. Off to the Exumas tomorrow.

1/4/07 – The “Starbucks” across the street had free wireless internet so we hauled the old laptop over for a session, fueled by Venti Mocha. The Island’s largest grocery store is there also so shopping is a must. After fueling and Ice we headed out directly into SE 15-20. It was a nasty chop, with a fair amount of crashing and bashing and the 30 miles took 7 hours. These are the prevailing conditions this time of year, and it does make one wish for a May or June visit. Drenched with salt spray (again!) we arrived at Ship Channel Cay at 4pm, negotiated the tricky low tide entrance (with the help of an exiting powerboat who showed us the way). We gratefully anchored for drinks and dinner. As the tide changed the stern anchor dragged and, as we were close to a rocky shoal, we moved the boat and rafted alongside a moored barge. The watchman noticed our change in position and came out in a dinghy to investigate, but allowed us to stay the night. At high tide the barge floated and jostled us a bit, but that was minor compared to the feeling of security we had being tied alongside. Yawn!

 1/5/07 –  Leisurely am watching the tide come in- finally departed and hoisted sail for the close reach to Allen’s Cay for Iguana feeding on the beach. Joyce was frightened by the aggressive behavior as the Iguanas fought over the breadcrumbs. We quickly departed for Highborne Cay for fuel. This is a very nice stop, first class marina. There are no restaurants, but locally cooked meals can be delivered to your boat. Then it was off to Norman’s Cay, looking for Murphy’s Bar. Sadly, we could not go back. Murphy’s was now “McDuffs” and closed for renovation. There were to be other minor disappointments on this trip compared to our 2000 trip, but the real reason we come here is the natural beauty of the water and the remote beaches, and the distances. In the Virgin Islands, you never feel like you go anywhere because everything is so close. The sails went up again for the close reach to Elbow Cay, and we settled in for the evening on a beautiful ½ mile deserted beach on Hawksbill Cay. We took a stroll, picked up a bag of beach trash, had dinner aboard, and watched an unbelievable Sunset with rum ‘n coke. Life is good! Little wavelets lap the shore, and little no-see-ums start eating us, so the doubled over screening came out and we hastened below for a quiet night’s sleep.

 1/6/07 – 7am motor putting outside our window was a friendly but early visit by the Park Police. We took a high speed run in the morning calm past Warderick Wells Cay to Halls Pond Cay. The landmark Exuma Keys Club, a long defunct resort, has now been totally wiped from the earth and the pier is gone. Oh, Well! It exists now only in our memories and photos of earlier cruises. On to Belle and Little Belle islands for a brief lunch stop and swim, then a quick tour of the Sampson Yacht club, a very well manicured marina/resort located, where else, on Sampson Cay, but just a few miles from Staniel Cay, which I prefer. At Staniel Cay we tied up at the Happy People Marina, but it too has fallen on hard times. No water, no showers, and right next to the town dock with commercial traffic. No thanks! Back to the Staniel Cay Yacht club for a tasty dinner and anchor out in the calm bay for a quiet and free night.

1/7/07 – Fueled up 9am and headed for Black Point, windy and choppy. We hugged the shoreline for some protection where we could. We bypassed Black Point, a dreary settlement with little to offer the visiting Yachtsman, except one burger joint, and slogged doggedly towards Little Farmer’s Cay. We followed another boat, a trawler, and after rounding White point he turned back. Too rough! Maybe he needed a MacGregor! As long as we are dead upwind with no water ballast, other than an occasional crash over a particularly large wave, we are fine. The boat sheds spray well out to the sides and the cockpit remains dry. We ducked into a little nook with a sandy beach but were unable to get the anchor to hold in the strong winds and after several tries gave up and continued on. Docking at Little Farmers was challenging, with 25kt winds, shallow water, and other boats at the dock. We backed up into the wind and grabbed a piling.
Terry Bain’s “Ocean Cabin” restaurant opened a bit early for us and we joined the locals for burgers and fries and Kalik, the local Bahamian beer. Then it was off to Cave Cay, scene of last trips Dog encounter. This time there was a beautiful new marina and clubhouse. We hurriedly departed the potentially expensive spot, past Rudder Cut Cay with another prominent landmark, a hilltop home with circular master suite on the top floor, blown away by a hurricane. As expensive as it is to build here, it must be devastating to lose your house. We ended up in Little/Big Darby cays, in an anchorage that appeared snug but was a highway for local commuter boats, which buzzed past at high speeds (not much wake) as late as 10pm in pitch darkness, often with no running lights. Needless to say we had our anchor light and used the third anchor to pull the boat over to one side of the anchorage.

1/8/07 Out at 7am and around Big Darby Cay, staring into the sun, and promptly ran aground on a soft sand bore, our only grounding this trip. Throttling down and raising the motor with the power tilt got us over the thin spot. Sped past more islands to Barraterre, on the tip of Great Exuma. We had a nice meal at the Fisherman’s Inn in 1995, but hard times hit again , their electricity was out and the restaurant was closed. Continued on past Rolleville to Steventon, very nice beach with popular local conch house “Big D’s”, but no dock. We fixed lunch aboard, then motored directly over the reef (5-6’ depths) onto the Exuma sound and headed for Georgetown, at last. The 15kts SE wind produced only mild crashing during the 8 mile trip but we were still happy to reach the famed “Chat’nChill" bar on beautiful Volleyball Beach. After a couple beers and needing ice we puttered over to Georgetown and anchored on the small town beach. We had cleaned it up in 2000 and it needed a good cleaning again. Usually I limit my efforts to one bag of trash a day but we got 4 which was most of it. We walked around the town lake with a stop at the Protestant church on the hill, resplendent with flowers and colorful trees, and stopped in at the Peace and Plenty for drinks. The original building was built in the 1700’s and has the 3’ thick walls and ancient hinged windows, still working a decent dinner could be had at Sam’s on the water overlooking the marina. The little town beach proved a bad spot to spend the night, as the commercial wharf is nearby and the ships operate with the tides, so if high tide is 1am there is a lot of truck and boat activity at that time. Live and learn! There are many secluded coves but few venture out after dark in these waters, so you need to be land based or use a dinghy to have dinner and then make it back to your boat.

1/9/07 – Very calm morning, a welcome relief. We got sweet rolls from Mama’s Mobile bakery truck. Yum! Then headed to Master’s Harbor where we have leased a waterfront cottage starting on the 13th, to check it out. Very cute, but with barely adequate water depth at low tide for the boat. Found another beautiful beach on Crab Cay, did our 1 bag of trash and took the first snorkel of the trip. It was a perfect, calm day, and, with all the nearby cruisers we could not believe we had the place to ourselves. Later we headed back to Georgetown for ice cream and the internet café, then back to the Chat’n Chill for chicken dinners and more Kalik. We stayed on the beach and watched a movie on our little 8” DVD player, then turned in.

1/10/07 - About 3am the wind shifted to the North and picked up to 25kts as a front roared through. It might have been a good idea to pay a little closer attention to the weather forecast. Our beach anchors dragged and we were pushed further up on the beach, very peaceful at low tide, hard aground on the sand. No use to fuss, just put out the main anchor and wait for high tide. We got off with some assistance from a nearby boat. They winched us out into deeper water and another yachtie retrieved our anchor for us. The next couple of days were spent pleasantly in and around Georgetown enjoying the cruising lifestyle, chatting with other sailors, lazing in the hammocks etc. The windy weather continued, thwarting our plans to sail to Long Island and Rum Cay , but we were ok right here. On the 12th we moved to the rental cottage dock and settled in ashore. Our daughter, son-in-law and 2 grandchildren flew in on the 14th to spend a week. The weather improved and we went sailing, snorkeling, and beaching almost every day. A rental car made for convenient local trips. It was one of the best family vacations ever, and too soon we were packing up the relatives for the airport and repacking the boat to head for home ourselves.

1/23/07 - Joyce returned the rental car and I met her at the Georgetown Marina. What! No Gas?? It could have caused a delay but the “downtown” station still had gas so we ferried our fuel in 5 gallon cans to the boat. Departing 10:45 for Staniel Cay we headed north with favorable winds. The boat felt a bit sluggish so we anchored for lunch and I snorkeled the bottom. Little barnacles and sea grass was appearing, requiring an hours scrubbing to clean off. 2mph faster now, we sped to Staniel Cay, arriving before dark and enjoying another delicious meal, with Key Lime pie! We anchored again in the calm, shallow bay.

1/24/07 – Fueled up ($102 @ $4.35/gallon) and headed straight across the banks for Nassau. The weather forecast was for another front to come through the next day so we took advantage of the calm weather and blasted the 75 miles to Nassau in 6.5 hours. Only a powersailor can do this trip in one daylight day. The “Sailor’s Choice” provides a free overnight tie-up for dinner guests (shallow draft boats only) and is fast becoming our favorite place in Nassau. Owner Willie is a friendly local sailor who races a traditional Bahamian sloop, the “Pieces of Eight”, and has many trophies on display.

1/25/07 – Despite the forecast it was pretty calm so we hightailed it for Chub Cay and would have made it easily, too, if we had left at 6am instead of 9am. As it was the wind shifted towards the west and picked up to 25-30kts, leaving us with about 8 miles to go against mounting seas and the worst spray ever, almost impossible to breathe. I should have worn my snorkel mask. Turning downwind into the Chub channel the waves were huge, coming off the ocean into the shallow bay. It was scary but we sped up faster to match the speed of the waves and scooted into the protected marina. The all new marina was a blessing and we certainly enjoyed the amenities and restaurant. Other sailors were waiting for better weather to go to Nassau, one in a Benateau 41. Hell, Nassau was DOWNWIND! It would have been a great sail in that boat. Many cruisers do not push themselves or their boats at all, preferring to wait for calm conditions. One of these days, when we are full time retirees, that may be us, too!

 1/26/07 – Depart 7am 75 miles to Cat Cay, winds N 20kts, course NW. We hugged the banks to keep the waves smaller and the spray lower. Made NW light about 10am and changed course more westerly. It was lumpy with occasional crashes and some spray but nothing like the previous day. Towards the afternoon we got a break as winds diminished and shifter more NE. Our arrival in Cat Cay was ahead of schedule at 4:30pm. After fueling we went over to nearby Gun Cay, which had a nice little beach, Honeymoon Beach. Again, sad to say, the hurricanes had washed away the beach and made the anchorage less appealing. With the swell coming in we headed back to the marina for an expensive ($2.50’) 30’ minimum but peaceful night. We cooked aboard, trying to use up some of our provisions.

1/27/07 Conditions improved, with 10kt East winds and our course almost due west. We hoisted full sail and sailed for an hour, making about 4 miles. In the old days, before the powersailor, we would have left at 4am and sailed across in 10-14 hours. With 40 miles to go, we again elected to drain the ballast and motor. The trip across the Gulf Stream was fast and fun, and a little exciting, as speeds hit 19mph surfing down the sides of the northerly 6-8’swells. The 3’ easterly waves were almost ignored. There was very little spray and the boat only “spun out” on a wave top (with engine cavitation and 90degree swings) a few times. We averaged 10kts or 12mph and arrived in No Name Harbor about 1pm for a 4-5hr crossing. The fresh fish cooking at the Boater’s Grill beckoned us for lunch. Later, we rescued the Astro van from the catamaran regatta boats surrounding it and hauled the Macgregor back aboard for de-rigging. I should have brought my powerwasher along but the salt encrustation was so bad I decided to purchase another one at a home depot north of Miami. Like we have done before, we stopped at a campground in Georgia to wash and wax the boat. Considering the beating we gave it from time to time it came through in good shape. These are remarkable little boats, tough, versatile, and surprisingly comfortable for extended cruises. We’re already thinking of the next trip.


--Cheers and happy sailing ( and powering) from Capt Jim and first mate Joyce!

Oh Canada! The Trent-Severn Waterway July – Aug 2006

Thursday, July 27: An uncharacteristic 2 p.m. departure and a route straight through York, PA coincided thus allowing us to join Doris and Jerry for dinner. They were to commence diets on the morrow, and an evening of wild abandon ensued: we each ordered our OWN entrees! It will be meal sharing for the altar bound Jim and Joyce. Our first day’s drive ended at the Fracksville Comfort Inn that featured capacious truck parking, perfect for our rig in tow behind the Astro van.
 Friday, July 28: After an easy drive to New York’s Wellesley Island State Park Captain rigged and launched our MacGregor 26 M, "A1SAILBOATS.COM. The park rents native American style dugout canoes and invites vacationers to duplicate the pace of the original paddlers: 60 strokes a minute. We demurred in favor of the Perch Fillet dinner at Nut ‘N’ Fancy Restaurant before turning in for the night berthed by the launch ramp.

Saturday, July 29: A flock of 50 Canada Geese in flight noisily coming in for a landing finally roused First Mate Joyce. Netting over the fore deck and companionway hatches kept out the insects that all look benign, and the cool night air was prime sleeping. Captain graciously fore bore his signature 6 a.m. motor ignition in favor of relaxation, of all things. En route to Gananoque to phone in to Canadian Customs on the opposite shore we had a go at tacking under Genoa alone: our boom and mailsail were home in Mayo. In the quiet morning at a pleasant heel along the boulder strewn shores of the Thousand Islands we spied nesting Eagles and ack! rocky obstacles athwart our path. We'll sail our muddy bottomed Chesapeake when we get home, and enjoy Mr. Honda’s smooth 50 horses in the channels.

This year’s Seaway Getaway starts at Trenton, near the extreme eastern end of Lake Ontario by the St Lawrence River above the US border. Having toured both Gananoque and Kingston on previous trips our shore leave in Kingston was limited to lunch where we were serenaded by the Ft George Bagpipers and Fife and Drum Corp. Winds on the nose of 15 knots and a few showers encouraged Captain to tuck into Kerr Bay off Amherst Island by 3:30 in an anchorage of 2 dozen sailboats nestled between a farm and a wooded shore.

Just as offshore reefs buffer Caribbean Coast from ocean , the large mass of islands on Ontario’s northeast corner creates narrow, deep passages threading through the islands for protection from waves across the whole lake’s fetch.

 Sunday, July 30: Near glassy calm at rosy skied dawn greeted us as we weighed anchor to make our way at 12 knots along North Channel and Adolphus Reach to the small town of Picton. Boulders of Ocean Quartz have been replaced by granite that sports shocks of trees. Our "land dinghies", bicycles, unused since last summer’s "Sea Chant" tour were launched to tackle gently rolling hills. Jim’s dream of enjoying the splendor of his brand new model was dashed by the collusion of the trailer ladder, a loose rack, and a sharp turn. His rear brake cable will have to be repaired. Picton satisfied all our needs in short order. Touring the tidy streets and floral beds, dining at the marina restaurant, showering steps away from our shady slip. This will be a hard spot to top! We resumed heading north on Long Reach to a left at the Bay of Quinte that will carry us all the way to Trenton. Our mid-afternoon tie-up at Belleview was cut short by Picton’s haunting charm. Belleview, it turns o ut is the only place to repair a bicycle, but its ordinary sprawl failed to beckon us to linger. After a passage of 67 miles today we handed our dock lines to Craig, the congenial dockmaster at the municipal dock at Trenton.

 Trenton’s bridge proclaims it to be the "Gateway to the Trent-Severn Waterway" and its waterfront park, jazz band concert, riverwalk, and great restaurants made our stay delightful. Our compact MacGregor is serving quite nicely, thank you. Comfy beds, cold beer, hot morning coffee, Bimini shade, flow through ventilation, smooth 12 knot cruising, and no squawks about fuel costs. Our evening in Trenton was put to good use. A quick horse-trade with a down-locker just completing his passage supplied all our charts. We met our morrow’s up-locker, "Grecian Pride", a 35’ Chris-Craft, and Captain un-stepped our mast.

The Trent-Severn links its two namesake rivers that flow in opposite directions with other lakes and rivers to form a 240 mile long system that takes the voyager to the highest waters navigable from sea level. It was designed to serve the commercial needs of Canada’s heartland farmers and loggers who envisioned shipping their goods from Lake Huron’s upper lobe, Georgian Bay, through the waterway to Lake Ontario. By the time the concept gained steam in the campaign to elect MacDonald Prime Minister the growing railway system was making it obsolete as it was being built. Its canals would have been filled for railroad right-of-ways but were spared by post-war prosperity and the rise of pleasure boating. Trent-Severn is a tourism boon, and we reckon to join in.

 Monday, July 31: At the 8:30 a.m. opening of Lock 1 we are the first vessel tied to the port wall just behind the sill impatiently awaiting "Grecian Pride’s" arrival. Guide books advise us that a diligent captain can complete the waterway in 6 days, so naturally, Captain buys a 5 day one way pass at $4.50/ft intent on bettering the time. Lock 1 is part of a 6 flight series spaced about a mile apart. No need to signal; each lockmaster calls ahead and gates creak open on our approach with a locktender on each side circling "mule fashion" around a moveable turnstile. The turnstile handle bars also double as floodgate controls. Lift heights vary with the terrain with most about 20 feet.

We parted company with "Grecian Pride" who pressed on while we elected to bike around Frankford for lunch and ice. Alas, Captain rearranged the mast from its hinge point at the mast tabernacle to its trailering configuration suspended from the bow pulpit. This minimizes the projection of the mast beyond the transom. However, First Mate had been reliving her childhood dangling her legs over the bow, and resting her head on the point of the pulpit as we motored between our six morning locks. We have an 11 mile run between Locks 7 and 8 passing summer cottages and children squealing with delight as our wake supplies waves in the 81 degree water. A broad marsh of cat tails replaces our narrow river and the banks are lined by layers of shale. I wish you hadn’t sent us that damn Yankee heat and humidity with threats of thundershowers. That’s what we came north to escape! The steady breezes keep us comfortable as we continue on at 5 p.m. spying "Grecian Pride" snug in her berth a long t he seawall in Campbelford at Lock 13. It is a tempting town but we have learned that the lock day now ends at 7 p.m. instead of 8:30 proclaimed in last year’s tour book. Oh those indolent captains of yore who dallied in towns after 7! This light twilight usage will confound Jim’s goal of shaving a day off "diligent passage." Our afternoon lockmate is a speedy ski boat with a youngster aboard anxious to reach lake country. They tear off after every lock and impatiently await the lock tender’s gate openings and his slower companion’s arrival.

 Both at Rainey Falls at Locks 11 & 12, and Locks 16 & 17 the locks are in tandem sharing a common lock gate in the middle to accomplish steep lifting of 40’. Our ski boat companion locked through #18 and the lake beyond, but we straggled into Hastings as the last Fish and Chippery was sweeping its floors as they served us. The corner ice cream shop unlocked its doors for the last customers of the night at 9:15. The only folk to pass A1 SAILBOATS.COM lying on the town sea wall were fishermen. It was a warm night.

Tuesday, August 1: Forecast temperatures are for 115 year record breaking heat and humidity. Our fore ward hatch is suspended open to funnel an evaporative flow of air through the cabin. We conserved our melted cooler water in a bucket, and voila: we are as cool as cucumbers. Even Captain slept until 8 today: it must be a vacation. We can see the lock tenders releasing the chamber that had been flooded overnight in preparation for our passage into Rice Lake 57 miles from our start in Trenton. Before the waterway was built the lake’s water level fluctuations were ideal for the growth of wild rice. Rice today is limited to the fringes but still draws migratory water fowl to this, the second largest lake in the system. It is 20 miles long and 3 miles wide flanked by rolling hills. Some are cleared for pasture studded with rocky outcroppings, and are interspersed with stands of woods and tidy farms followed by strings of cottages at water’s edge. Winds are on the nose at 15 – 20 but we’ll be gone before any serious chop sets in. Mid-lake islands also break its fetch. The now submerged foundations of a former railway bridge , called a "crib", have Captain keeping a sharp watch on our markers. Rice Lake runs from Mile 57 – 69, and at 68.5 we enter the Otonobee River that leads to the bright lights of Peterborough.

It is a might warm. Funny, our Fahrenheit to Celsius conversion chart stops at 90F degrees equals 32.2C. There was talk along the locks yesterday of heat indexes of 41 degrees that were to soar to 45 today. That would be 105 to 115 by my math. Yikes! We’ll have to immerse ourselves up to our necks as the natives all along the river are doing this morning. That does it. We’re heading for the Holiday Inn at Peterborough after lunch and hunkering down in a/c for the rest of the day. Our ice is holding out remarkably well since First Mate deployed the 2 dinette back rest cushions to full time use on top and in front of our Coleman cooler plus a PFD in the rear.

 Wednesday, Aug 2: Peterborough is a marvelous town tailor made for bicycling. The river widens into a lake around which businesses and homes are arrayed. The city marina’s floating docks extend behind the Holiday Inn’s waterfront, and dockage is waived with room rental. A family on a rental houseboat and A1 SAILBOATS.COM took the city up on its offer. Embarrassing to say but the blandishments of soft shore life so bedazzled us that we never left our refuge from 1:30 Tuesday until check-out at 8:30 today. Refreshed and back aboard we were trailed into the lock by Mallards assured of 5 minutes of soulful begging. I caved; I didn’t want that Rye heel anyhow. We’ve spotted two Snapping Turtles locking through as well, but they didn’t pay us any never mind. Thankfully today the sky is overcast with the odd sprinkle, cooler temperatures and steady breezes. Downtown Peterborough lies between two conventional locks, the piece de resistance is a 66’ hydraulic lifting lock arranged like twin lift racks in a garage. While we are up-locking along with the rental houseboat family other boats were down-locking. We passed each other in mid-air. A large piston lifts boats, water and all, and very little additional water is needed to equalize at the top before we are on our way. The up-lock view varied from the ecologically conscious Trent University Campus split by the waterway with its "green roofs", slopes with sod and growing plants, and a width just able to accommodate two way traffic to broad marshes of rushes, cat tails and blooming white water lilies. A Loon gave call at our passing. All morning locks came in quick succession and First Mate kept her side saddle perch on starboard bow. Lock 26 at Lakefield looks inviting for lunch but our feast of omelets and waffles stood us in good stead. First Mate did scamper across the footbridge, alas sans wallet, while waiting on the Blue Wall for entry into Lock 27 to the fabled shopping at Young’s Point Lockside Trading Company. One expects ice cream and souvenirs but a plasma TV and full sets of furniture? It was a mini Sears & Roebuck offering homespun wisdom on a plaque: Mosquitoes Suck. No longer do lock tenders call ahead to forecast our arrival; we’ve entered Kawartha Lake country, and boaters are apt to dawdle fishing, swimming and such like.

Our first lake was Clear Lake, the epitome of a summer camp site, where rental cottages abound. After a twisty passage it gives way to Stony Lake with scenery akin to The Thousand Islands. Its pine covered boulder islands put one in mind of Bonsai dish gardens on a giant’s scale, and the larger ones have homes tucked discreetly into the greenery. Gulls perch on rocks that are awash keeping their toes cool and a watchful eye out for fish. They are supplements to the aids to navigation marking submerged hazards. Guides must have made a fortune here before charts: the intricate isles and coves are a nautical maze. Captain pays strict attention to our channel on this large lake lest we blunder off the path to the exit spellbound by the vistas.

 Burleigh Falls at Lock 28 marks the beginning of modern metal door locks operated hydraulically. Previous gates were hand cranked and formed of squared tree trunks held down in the frame structures by stacks of weights. Modern technology spelled the demise of Lock 29 since one lock could perform the total lifting task. We popped right around the corner into Lock 30, entrance to Lovesick Lake. Legends vary as to who was originally lovesick, but the spurned one retreated to a suitably isolated outcrop and pined; happily, a full recovery is reported. We celebrated at Lovesick Café with delicately fried Pickeral and warm-from-the-oven Apple Crisp and Bumble Berry Pie, rhubarb plus 3 seasonal berries. Teens fresh from cavorting among the Falls ate ice cream outside our window. These plus others we saw today swinging from tree ropes to splash in the lake or jump down from disused railway swing bridges complete a Norman Rockwell image of youth in summer.

There is talk at the lock of a coming THUNDERSTORM. Must be a rarity here because locals view it as we would a pending hurricane. Lock 31 into Buckhorn Lake is our last for the day. This is the mid-way point on the waterway 120 miles from Trenton. Captain has fallen under Kawarth’s spell: did he say 5 days to transit? Ha! Why we could anchor for the night and swim off the transom in the company of these three fishing boats. SPLASH! Captain! You swim back here, captain!

Black skies let forth a torrent of rain, but our anchor held fast. The storm’s fury gave way to steady rain—and snores. What is that bright beacon I see while opening the foredeck hatch about 2 a.m.? The water version of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police convinced we may need rescuing. Brrr! Blankets! I need rescuing from this change in the air. Oh Canada! This is what we came for!

Thursday, August 3: Captain hauled in a boon, a 10 lb Hooker Economy "lunch hook" anchor lost by some previous fisherman. No wonder our anchor held; it dragged into a companion. We’re underway through the heart of Lake Country ogling our way past mansions, yachts, and a 4 story retirement home the size of a hotel complex. We thread our way through Buckhorn’s narrows to emerge into Pigeon Lake. It boasts a sailing yacht club that sponsors races in this obstacle-free open water.

Pigeon is separated from Bobcaygeon Lake by Lock 32, the oldest lock in the waterway, but now modernized. Bobcaygeon is a Mississauga Indian name meaning "shallow rapids." It has enjoyed a one day high of 370 vessel transits, and close to 9000 in a season. Lock tenders are busy raking downed limbs off the island on which the lock perches. The invigorating air had us aboard the land dinghies, that is until Captain spied "Full Cup Café" offering Peameal Bacon and Eggs in a 50’s retro setting. Peameal bacon is an inch thick center loin ham slice dipped lightly in a pea meal batter for you Lower 48ers. Jackets and long pants are put by after brunch for our blitz through Sturgeon Lake, a v-shaped, narrow body fed by the Fenelon River. Early on the Canadian Tourism Bureau declared this THE ideal summer vacation.  No argument here. Its popularity provided us with a peanut gallery of on-lookers as we up-locked 4’ past Fenelon Falls to the pinnacle of our journey on Balsam Lake. It is shape d like a rough butterfly with a massive central island for a body. A narrow canal opens into Mitchell Lake, and onward to Lock 36 at Kirkfield, our 2nd hydraulic lift lock. Only this time we will descend 49’ for the first time from our peak elevation of 840.6’. Since before the lock gate was beneath us as we entered we didn’t notice that it folds down flat on the front and lies underneath us at exit. Hooray! From now on First Mate, and Captain, too, will be pampered by the lock staff who take our bow and stern lines we hand to them and they thread them beneath the stationary black wall tether cables. Marker colors are reversed for the balance of our down-locking to Port Severn. Liquid Sunshine prevailed for our final 5 locks of the day with just enough breeze that First Mate remained dry when we tied up for the night along the Lock Wall outside Lake Simcoe. 62 miles made good today. Hot soup aboard warmed Mate who snoozed from dark until an early morning boater off the lake for gas passed leaving a mighty wake. Where is the RCMP now?

Friday, August 4: We are advised to tackle Lake Simcoe’s 20’ length by 16’ width in the early morning before winds pick up. Actually, there’s a great sailing breeze for those headed in the opposite direction as we get underway. Our 320 degree NW passage across a corner of Simcoe into the Narrows puts the wind smack on the nose with a light chop. Spray is thrown over the bow, and the light mist evaporates as fast as it flies: No Salt! As we cleared the third marker in the open lake with a course change ahead Captain pined for his "windshield", a 2.5’ square of thin plexiglass with corner holes drilled through for small twine. "Done," said First Mate who watched in fascination as twine was interlaced over the Bimini frame and a windshield supplemented by a cockpit cushion on edge indeed became a windshield. The course change to 0, due North brought a drenching blast of water. Simcoe blew, spray flew, and Captain was as snug as before in his improvised pilothouse. At The Narrows water calmed, then led us into Lake Couchiching. We made a bee-line along the base of the lake to the town bulkhead of Orillia, the first town in Canada to enjoy electric lighting thanks to its hydro-electric dam. Many Provinces are enjoying the start of a 3 day weekend, Civic Holiday.

Captain has rented a "land yacht", a bright red Suzuki Swift to retrace our passage along Rt 401 to retrieve our tow rig and move it ahead to Port Severn. We have little down-locking left. Our final elevation exiting Lock 45 on Severn Bay that opens into Georgian Bay, the northern lobe of Lake Huron will be 594’. Environment concerns precluded the completion of Lock 44: fear that the Lamprey Eel would spread beyond the St Lawrence system. In lieu of Lock 44 the "temporary" railway will haul us down what is dubbed "Big Chute."

Our drive passes through bucolic countryside, and we share the roadway with harvesting equipment on the way to reap and bale hay. At sunset with rays passing over fresh rolled bales they are transformed into gold coins standing on edge sharply defined against the sky. 401 also passes near Lake Ontario which we have paralleled in the protection of the chain of finger lakes and rivers.

Saturday, August 5:  By mid-day we are back from retrieving our van now awaiting us at Bush’s Marina. Quiet Lake Couchiching (Coo-itching) with its waterside park is bursting at the seams. No wind today but the lake is awash in power boat wakes; beaches and coves resemble seal colonies. The upper end of the lake narrows into what is known locally as "The Bowling Alley." Captain has reprised my Wednesday evening raceboat role as Rear Observer to advise him when cruisers are about to blast past him. At the end of the canal to the lock vessels too numerous to fit on the official Blue Waiting Wall are idling. Captain’s free booty lunch hook is just the ticket to hold A1 SAILBOATS.COM’s place in line. This busy lock merits a yellow signal well in front of the light that changes from red to green when it is time to enter Lock 42.

 Lock 42 is locking as we have never seen it before. Vessels are tied on each lock wall, and a third boat nuzzles along side a mate of equal height. Four rows of three abreast is the goal. At our locking a 43’ Present Flying Bridge Trawler with 15’ beam left just enough space for A1 SAILBOATS.COM to glide in the middle of row 3, and we locked through with 11 vessels. No one was short enough to fit behind the Present.

Our chanel opens onto Sparrow Lake, as diminutive as its name suggests. Beyond it is a gorge of pink and gray granite boulders rising steeply beside us. Wednesday’s storm toppled many a pine off its rocky sub-strata, its root mass a smooth plane that found no purchase in the rock below. Many cottagers are still without power here where a tornado accompanied the thunder and rain.

Just when we thought we had seen it all, Rapid Rapids Lock built in 1965 bowled us over with its 47’ descent. In addition to the ordinary black tether cables, Mate enjoyed the luxury of being tied at the bow to a floating bollard that descended as we did. From the bowels of "Giant Lock" emanated sounds akin to what Noah must have heard when swallowed by the Whale. As like Noah, we too, were mercifully spit forth unharmed when the towering lock gate opened to seek a secluded overnight anchorage on the Severn River in Wood’s Creek.

 Cast fishing is an obsession in these parts. From docks along the route, in open boats, even from a boat tethered to a marker in the wake tossed Bowling Alley, from daybreak past dusk, they cast. Oddly, we see no creels for their catch, just minnow baskets suspended in the water. When we over-nighted on the lock wall at Gamebridge a grizzled retiree was there trying his luck when First Mate retired for the night. He was there when we arose in the morning. For all we know he could have been our overnight Guardian Gnome. With a nearly full moon, it was no surprise to have half-a-dozen open boats with 2 to 3 young men apiece earnestly casting long past sunset. A family in a paddle boat: mom, dad and 9 year old daughter, rods akimbo, slowly pass by. A father with 2 young sons canoed nearby. The tyke on the bow did his best to hold his paddle over the side; the coordination of stroking awaits another year. Miss Pumpkin turned in by 9:00 anticipating the morrow’s excitement of descending on the world’s only marine railway lowering and lifting vessels 57’.

 Sunday, August 6: Big doings Saturday at Big Chute. An electrical cable frayed through emitting sparks and flame. The down bound vessels had to back off creating a bit of a backlog today for us to observe before its our turn. A staff of 4 supervise loading the "lock", again with 3 abreast in the front. A large vessel with twin screws completed the first load. The aft vessel looked as if an excess of stern protruded beyond the lift. But as this giant "St Christopher" pulled its load onto its straps fully out of the water we could see the props safely jutting beyond the back edge. As the stern vessel’s weight shifted to the straps it listed to port much as a sailboat heels in the wind. The innards of the lift building resemble a ski lift mechanism with huge cable drums lowering this oversized travel lift downhill like a skiing gondola, except the lift is guided from below rather than the lift being in suspension. The complete round trip cycle takes 45 minutes. Now First Mate is accustomed to heeling, but having our bow head down a 25 degree slope is as close as "Chicken Little" cares to come to pitch-poling head over heels. And at the base Little Chute’s 5 knot flow awaits us when we pull out of Big Chute


After two down bound loads our narrow girth garnered us a place in the port forward corner.  No lines for First Mate to monitor, but she needed to grip a steel handrail with the boat hook to keep the bow from blowing into another boat’s loading space as morning breezes built. Mate had visions of descending astride the mast and furled genoa on the bow fore peak akin to Slim Pickin’s riding a falling atom bomb in the movie Dr. Strangelove. Once a large aft vessel completed our load the giant tugged by 4 cables imperceptibly commenced lumbering up hill until the slings held all aboard snuggly. We stopped for inspection in front of the dam overlook road. Lights flashed and bars to halt traffic lowered to clear the path ahead of us to cross the road before plunging over the precipice. Oddly the bars raised, and we stayed put. Twice more the operators had a running go at lowering us before announcing that we were all to be off loaded. Too many electrical gremlins were triggering safety warnings to the computer operating system. We did observe the solution to the 25 degree grade of descent. Dual tracks for the lift wheels with the inner track elevated to compensate for the slope allows vessel to ride down nearly level. The aft wheels are wider spaced and follow the incline.

While a repairman is on his way we have no way of knowing how long the delay will last. Fellow disappointed Big Chuters, Lynn and Scott aboard a 25’ Baja had been pent up since yesterday. Captain put Plan B into effect. He tied up at a floating dock beside a shallow launch ramp and deployed the land dinghies. Captain and Mate, helmeted and poised to set out were dissuaded by Lynn's earnest entreaties. They were now separated from their boating buddies who had been lowered just ahead of them with all the food while they remained above with all the charts. We all trekked down the staircase and whistled up Bev and David aboard their 19’ Cuddy Cabin Winker. The men went aboard to head for Bush’s Marina while we girls like ants at a picnic toted the food back to the Baja to await Captain’s return with van and trailer. As a bonus, Captain was able to haul out and re-launch the Winker reuniting the friends. Since they are based on Lake Simcoe they have lost interest in Big Chute s ince t hey would be dependent on being able to return again on Monday. It was a win-win partnership: Jim got a ride to his van; Dave got his boat back up the Chute to rejoin his friends.

Like a cat licking cream from her whiskers I had just finished ice cream when I spotted A1 SAILBOATS.COM loaded on the trailer in the parking lot above the dam with Captain completing preparations for the road. The loud speaker announced restoration of service and called for the MacGregor to return for priority in line. Better to have locked and aborted than never to have locked at all. We had only one last lock beyond to go to complete this premier waterway. And I saw it all from the bow of our MacGregor.

By land it was 331 miles one way for our tow rig in Port Severn. Our journey home halted for the night in a campground, still aboard, in Cobourg East Campground in Grafton. We are beside a field of wildflowers: Queen Anne’s Lace and magenta flower spikes with shady trees. Monday and Tuesday will bring us easily back to Mayo to dream about the lakes we’ll head back to next summer.

The Trent-Severn Veterans