When we finally reached Lake Huron, I confess I looked forward to the Georgian Bay. A place of thirty thousand islands carved from pink rock and covered with trees, it and the North Channel were the northernmost destinations of our trip in 2015.
We planned to anchor out a lot. Did that mean we were finally on vacation? Absolutely.
Traveling over three thousand miles in a small boat had been tiring. Except for the three-week break when we flew home, we’d slugged on. By then I had experienced a thunderstorm while on a shallow lake, one hundred locks, two groundings, and several rough rides. When we hit Port Severn I remember looking at the charts and breathing a sigh of relief. It looked like lots of scenic protected anchorages…just like the summer we cruised in British Columbia.
Our first stop was a three-day layover in Midland Bay, doing the normal things one does to get ready for a “camping” vacation…laundry, groceries, and a good tidying up of the boat. Then we headed out to a group of islands near Beausoleil National Park, a mere two-hour ride. We anchored in a beautiful spot along with fifty other boaters. The water churned with their toys. But hey, that’s camping, right?
Gorgeous scenery was around every corner. If the channel was narrow or din’t have markers, you kept an eye on your chart and depth sounder and felt your way in. The vacation part meant we wouldn’t be traveling every day, or if we did, it would only be a few hours and then the anchor would go down.
The dinghy had remained in its bag from the first lock. Finally we could take it out and blow it up and do a little exploring in those inlets. Captain Mark could take his kayak off the roof. The closest it had been to water is when it fell off the rack back in South Carolina, hanging by its straps over the port window, as if saying “remember me?”
We would still make our way north hoping to end up in Drummond Island in two weeks, the only island in a string of Canadian Islands that is part of the U.S. Bet there’s a story there. Then we’d go down to Mackinaw City, hopefully on a good weather day.
I had it all planned. I’d be sitting on the back deck in a chair, a book in one hand, a rum and tonic in the other. Chocolate? No. That would be for the 477-mile run down the east side of Lake Michigan with its long fetch and heavy chop.
Vacation definitely would be over then, but for now I was looking forward to pretty scenes and lots of rest. I’ll let you know how it turned out next week.