We arrived at Drummond Island, Michigan, on the afternoon of July 18. The lady who helped us dock asked us to stay on the boat until the customs agent arrived. Soon a lady from customs arrived, came aboard and filled out a form with our boat registration number and other info. She looked at our passports and welcomed us back into the U.S. On the way from Gore Bay, Ontario, we had gotten a phone call from my niece who told us that my dad had been admitted to the hospital in Brunswick, Georgia. He has lost a lot of weight and was feeling dizzy, so was admitted for tests. We had no cell phone service at Drummond Island, and off and on internet service, which became very frustrating. I was able to call Karla, my niece, from a pay phone at the marina office, but even with a calling card with 70 minutes left on it the phone asked for 25 cents after three minutes and then cut the call off! Gary decided that Drummond Island would be a good place to leave the boat because they have excellent marine facilities, if no cell phone service, so he hired someone to drive him about 40 miles to rent a mini-van and we threw a lot of our stuff into the back, moved Maggie’s cage into the middle seat, and took off through the Michigan wilderness early Friday morning. We drove through some scenery that made us realize why people actually live in Michigan, at least during the summer months, and when we came to Ohio the heat hit us, illustrating another reason for heading north in the summer. We spent Friday night in southern Ohio and got back to Tabor City and the wilting heat about 6:30 p.m. on Saturday. We surprised our friends at Bethany Bible Chapel in Conway, SC, Sunday morning by showing up for church unexpectedly. It was great to be back! Our friends on Our Turn and Li’l David are currently at St. Ignace, Michigan, and were having brunch Sunday morning at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island. They plan to leave their boats at Traverse City, MI, and take a break in another week or so. We will either go back in time to run across the lake and catch up with them, or take a longer break, store the boat at Drummond Island, and take off again next spring. For that reason, my blog will be on hiatus for awhile. Not sure yet if it will be short or long, but I’ll notify those on my mailing list when I put it back up. So far the doctors have not found anything seriously wrong with my dad, so until we know more our plans are up in the air.I will try to post the rest of my pictures later this week. Thanks for all the positive comments. And the prayers and good wishes for Dad mean most of all! Judy and Gary Walker temporarily off Gilraker  

We’re Cruisin’ Along on Georgian Bay

         We have seen more rocks in the last two weeks than probably in our lifetimes previously. In many places they are like icebergs, only a small portion sticks above the water, but there can be a huge piece just below the surface, just waiting for the unwary boater. The channels are pretty well marked, but the buoys are fat at the bottom, skinny at the top, and the numbers are marked on two sides of the skinny little top piece. The blank space is invariably turned toward the person trying to read the thing and it bobs annoyingly around as if it’s teasing, “Can’t read ME! Can’t read ME!” In the meantime the captain can’t read the chart and the plotter at the same time and can’t tell the first mate what the number is supposed to be.

The conversation (in strained voices) goes something like this: “It’s 88! No, 86!”

“What do you mean 86? Its supposed to be 84!”

“Oh, no. Wait, it’s spinning again. Oh! It’s 84 after all! We’re on the right course.”

Then there’s the dreaded . . .

“What happened to 86? I’m telling you there IS no 86. They must have taken it out. No, it really is 88. You have to turn here to stay in the channel. Hurry! There’s a huge rock off to port. Quick, the green buoy is coming up and it’s 91!”

We had an interesting cruise up to Britt in the Byng Channel. It’s narrow, but deep, and as long as we stayed in the marked channel we were fine. Britt had good dockage and a restaurant just steps away from the pier. There is an RV park next to the marina, and on the way up to the bathhouse I had an interesting chat with an African grey sitting in a cage on the patio. The owner said the bird drives their dogs crazy calling them and then barking at them. Next morning, as the fog lifted, we retraced our path down the channel and took a right turn toward Killarney.

Killarney Mountain Lodge is a great place for a getaway. Not so great for getting FedEx packages delivered. Lois and Lorenzo were waiting for their quarterly medicine delivery from North Carolina. The package had been in Sudbury, several miles away for three days when we arrived. Turns out FedEx had charged for next day delivery but didn’t even routinely go to Killarney. The lady in the FedEx office in Sudbury had been trying to contact the Johnsons, but we were out of phone service for several days, so she held the package. When we arrived Friday she said she would have to mail the package and it would arrive Monday. So we stayed till Monday.

We didn’t waste time moping around about the medicine. The Lodge is a beautiful typical rustic lodge. The staff is very attentive, the meals in the dining room excellent (we had spare ribs for dinner and the blueberry pancakes for breakfast). There is a heated pool, which we didn’t avail ourselves of, and kayak and other expeditions could be arranged. Gary decided that since the water at the dock was so clear he could see the bottom of the marina, it would be a good time to check the bottom of the boat. He donned his trunks, grabbed his goggles, nearly broke his neck clambering down the rocks and plunged in. He plunged back up just about as quickly–even if plunge isn’t the right word for swimming up quickly. The boat bottom got a cursory look, was pronounced o.k., and a shivering hulk climbed back into the boat and chattered while getting in dry clothes about as fast as he’d gotten on the trunks.

Gary and Lorenzo had bought fishing licenses a good while back and had never had the opportunity to really use them, so Gary hired a guide at the Lodge for a day’s fishing trip. John, their native American guide didn’t let them down. The guys had a great day. Gary caught the most fish, but Lorenzo caught the biggest. They had several northern pike and a couple of smallmouth bass. We gave the bass away, but Lois cooked the fish, sweet potatoes and cornbread and I added a big pot of grits. We all overate and there is more pike in the freezer.

The village at Killarney is a charming place that reminded Gary and me of places along the eastern shore of Virginia and Maryland. There is a general store with adjacent laundromat, a “trading post” with souvenir and craft items, the ubiquitous ice cream shop (also with hand-knitted mittens and other crafts for sale) and the icing on the cake of a waterfront town: Herbert’s Fisheries Fish and Chips. This establishment, set up in an old red-and-white school bus served the best fish and chips we have eaten anywhere so far. Every day we were there there was a long line that started well before noon and went on until . . . We aren’t quite sure when it closed. It doesn’t get really dark until ten p.m. and we have become early-to-bedders, if not always early risers. I don’t know where all the people came from. Apparently Herbert’s had a reputation that extends far beyond the bounds of Killarney. There are picnic tables set around all over the place, and not a whole lot of talking. Everyone was too busy eating. 

We understand the fish and chips business, but the ice cream thing in Canada is almost puzzling. We have declared that this is our “Year Without a Summer.” It was downright cold several nights and we snugged up with both a blanket and comforter on our bunks. Next morning we wore sweatshirts to breakfast. Even what they call “hot” to us is just “warm.” But everyone eats ice cream. It is definitely not the hot weather that makes it taste so good. After a good meal of fish and chips, the natural thing to do is stroll to the ice cream shop and top off your meal. Not good for the waistline, but it goes down really great.

In case you’re wondering what an inukshuk is: it is a little “man” made of carefully balanced stones and is meant to be a welcoming figure, a sort of good luck charm. Probably began when someone with nothing to do decided to do something with rocks. There are certainly plenty of them around to work with. They are cute when you pull around a point and there one stands with his little rock arms sticking out. 

We pulled out of Killarney a little later than we usually leave, but we need to move on a little to meet our self-imposed deadline of being in Michigan in time to leave the boats while we take a break at home. We only ran about 20 miles, but there was a little wind, so it seemed like a longer trip to Little Current Bay.

We spent a windy night rocked to sleep by the howling winds, but woke to a beautiful sunrise and the weatherman’s promise of less wind on Tuesday. Sure enough. We ran up to Gore Bay on the largest island in fresh water in the world. It is a beautiful place with a great marina. We walked up to the village for lunch, then down the street to the co-op grocery for a few supplies to hold us till we get into the U.S. again and somewhat better prices. If the weather is good tomorrow we plan to go all the way to Drummond Island and U.S. Customs. If the weather doesn’t cooperate we have a couple of days’ leeway in order to make it back home the first week in August.

Orillia to Midland

Orillia is a nice place to spend the weekend. For lunch on Sunday we had smoothies at the Fuzzy Burro. At a stand set up just across from the marina park we had a nice topping to the warm afternoon and a good chat with the proprietor, who had recently moved from Toronto for a simpler, more laid-back life. If the smoothies we had are any indication, she has only good things ahead.

We left Orillia early Monday morning and headed for the “Big Chute,” a marine railway lock. Big Chute lifts the boat 57 feet and travels across a roadway in a seven-minute “train” ride. We had heard several stories about this lock: that we needed lines bow and stern, that only one person could stay on the boat, etc. Not true. We didn’t have to do anything but make sure our fenders were pulled up and sit back and enjoy the ride. We found that the stories we’d heard were true of the former Big Chute, built in 1917. This one is much larger and was built in 1978. It can handle a boat as large as 100 feet long, 27 feet wide and the car itself is three stories high.

We watched Our Turn go up, up and over, then gawked as we watched a smaller boat “shoot” through the chute from the other side. Then the lockmaster called for us to enter the lock and pull up into the first set of slings. He then arranged Li’l David in the second set behind us. I sat on the bow clutching my camera and away we went! With the slings holding the boat steady and level the frame rose out of the lock, the gates went down across the road, we were set on the railroad tracks, crossed the road and WOW! There we were, looking at the other side of the world. I yelled at two of the lockwatchers to tell my children I loved them, then down we went. The lockmaster gently deposited us in the water on the other side of the hill and we chugged away. Yes, that’s my foot sticking up in the bottom of one of the pictures.

Late in the afternoon we pulled into Port Severn. Everyone was tired, not from doing the locks this time, but from watching the channel, which is very narrow and shallow. We spent the night at Driftwood Cove Marina, a beautiful place to spend the night. There was a big clubhouse with a screened porch on the second floor for sitting and sipping while enjoying the view. We were all so tired after eating dinner in the small cafe we went on back to our respective boats for an early turn-in.

Early Tuesday morning we set out for Midland. It was a short run, and a not very merry one as we transited our last lock until Illinois. Mary Anne and Bill ceremoniously threw away the covers from their fenders, which had gotten yucky and irredeemably soiled from lock slime. Lorenzo is hauling in the exercise balls that we just knew would burst from the pressure of bumping lock walls, but didn’t. He had the last laugh because he only paid about $8.00 apiece for the things, inflated them and hung them in netting all around Li’l David. Ball-shaped fenders from a marine supply store cost from $25.00 up. We watched those exercise balls go from round to donut-shaped as the boat swung, then they’d bounce right back. In the meantime, one of the more expensive balls is nearly deflated. Laugh, Lorenzo, laugh!

We didn’t run very far to Midland, but had just finished tying up to the town dock when a thunderstorm struck. We heard a radio call from a 32-foot boat caught in 12-foot waves on the Bay. Another good call by our captains. We’ll live to cruise another day. Another milestone reached today: Maggie started asking, “Where’s Kilby?” Tomorrow, weather permitting, we’ll be off for our scenic adventure in Georgian Bay.

Peterborough to Orillia

We had a wonderful time in Peterborough. The marina was excellent and everyone there went out of his or her way to help us. There was a festive air as everyone was preparing for Canada Day. The morning after our arrival got off to an early start as the vendors set up for the day. There were ethnic food tents from all over the world and the smells alone made you hungry. There were crafters exhibiting their wares also and the park began filling up early in the day. The ice cream stand at the marina did the most thriving business of all, beginning about nine o’clock and running until well after ten that night. There was a constant line in front of it. Gary kept watch and about four, when the line thinned out momentarily, he ran over and bought each of us a cone of mint chocolate chip.

People everywhere were dressed in red and white and the large “cat in the hat” type hats were everywhere, along with huge jesters’ caps. Kids had their faces painted with the maple leaf. It was a real family affair.

After breakfast Lorenzo called a cab to take us over to the lift lock so we could get a look at it from “the ground up.” Unbelievable! The lift lock at Peterborough is the largest in the world. It is like a huge concrete bathtub with a door at either end. The tub, poured from one piece of concrete with no re-bar, is on a huge piston and is full of water. There are actually two tubs and they counterbalance one another. The lock was built over a hundred years ago and is a marvel of engineering. The man who designed it went and looked at one in England and one in France, returned to Canada and designed a larger one. We looked at it and went through the museum, but didn’t get to see a boat in it. That had to wait until the next day.

Right after Lorenzo called the cab the thousands of people who had been milling around the park began lining up along the street. It was time for the Canada Day parade! Of course the street was blocked, but the marina manager called the cab company and told them where they could meet us, then took the trouble to walk with us and hail the cab as it drove up to make sure we wouldn’t miss it. The cabbie was very friendly and told us a few things about the lock on the way over. He took us by another route back to the marina since the parade was over by then “and it would be a little cheaper.”

When we got back to the park we looked around at the food tents, but there were lines everywhere and L&L decided to eat back at their boat. Gary and I found there wasn’t much of a line at the Dutch tent and had some great sausage dogs with sauerkraut as we wandered around. Soon the park really began filling up and the music started. There was a band shell and a big expanse of lawn where people sat, listened, milled around and generally had a good time. It was very much like our Fourth—but cooler.

After dinner on Li’l David I went to take a picture of the crowd and ended up talking for quite awhile to a couple who are retired educators. They asked about my opinions on American politics, and of course, I shared some of my conservative views. Ken told me that he had been a pacifist until 9/11. At the time he was teaching an eighth grade class and he said that someone came in and said he should turn on the television, that the U.S. had been attacked. When he did, and a re-run was shown of the planes going into the towers, several Muslim students stood and cheered. He said that at that moment he ceased to be a pacifist. “I realized that if they attacked you, they would attack us. We’re one people,” he said. Most Canadians we’ve met have the attitude that the border is a line on a map and not a division of basic values and culture. About that time everyone stood for the Canadian national anthem and I was proud to stand and salute their country that is such near kin to ours.

Next morning it was off to the lift lock. That is for us and half the boats in the country. There were a lot of people on their way back up the river that day. Each lock has a blue line painted along a portion of the wall so that waiting boats can tie up there and the lockmaster can look out and see that he has boats waiting to enter the lock. If a boat is tied up other than on the blue line it might be just passing time, or in some cases, spending the night or a few days. A lot of people in this area camp out this way. We saw several families with boats tied to the lock wall while they stayed in tents on the grassy area along the lock. All are very friendly and most will run over to help handle lines and chat awhile.

We had to wait at nearly every lock we went through and sometimes had a chance to socialize with others waiting for their turn at the lock. I saw a book by J.I Packer on the dash of one boat and began a conversation with the lady in it. She teaches in a Christian school in St. Catherines, Ontario. I asked if she knew anything about Child Evangelism Fellowship. She didn’t, but said she was familiar with Young Life, Navigators, and Intervarsity Fellowship. I gave her some literature about CEF and a “flipper-flapper” that we use to present the gospel to children. We went through several locks with the couple, then lost contact, but saw them again as we did our last lock for the day. It’s like meeting family again.

The lift lock was an exciting and new experience. We pulled into the huge “bathtub” with several other boats and could see the tub for the “down” lockers opposite us. It is hard to imagine something like this, but I hope the pictures will give you some idea of what it was like. We could see people standing at the top taking pictures of us as we sat waiting for the tub to lift. When both were full, up we rose, slowly rising above the trees growing next to the lock. It’s eerie to be sitting next to a tree trunk one minute, then see it slide by till you see the bushy top, then—bingo! Suddenly you are 65 feet above where you started. You’re above the tree and ready to unhook and float out of the tub. And off to the next lock.

We went through eleven locks that day and our boats were lifted a total of 179 feet again as we entered more lovely scenery and passed through Peterborough and its suburbs. Mistress and Li’l David had gotten ahead of us as the lockmasters juggled how many boats they could get into a lock at one time. Several times we were one of seven boats as the smaller “go-fast” boats could crowd in three abreast behind us and another cruiser. We had to pull to the very front of the lock, which made Gary uncomfortable, but wasn’t really a problem in most cases. Our Turn had stayed at Peterborough as Mary Anne and Bill were still waiting to get prescriptions sent to them.

We had decided to go to Buckhorn to spend the night and get through a large number of locks and be done with them. It was another rough day, but we felt like we had accomplished a lot and we need to press on somewhat in order to be in Michigan before we leave the boats to go home in August.

We stayed at a great marina in Buckhorn. A good hot shower to wash off the sunscreen and a wonderful dinner at the Cody Inn almost topped off the day—but in walked Ruth, Steve and their friend Pete from Mistress. We had seen her as we passed out of the last lock of the day and they had come to dinner at the same restaurant. We had a reunion of sorts and swapped stories of events of the day. They told about one incident where a houseboater was having such a time that the lockmaster took over, maneuvered the boat into the lock himself and kept all other boats out while the houseboat went through. Luckily everyone is in a good mood and as long as someone isn’t drunk and just acting foolish they’re pretty patient about such things. After all, we all had to learn to drive and it’s not something that comes easily to everyone. Current and wind are important components in dealing with boats, so it’s not as simple a matter as driving a car, either.

The grand finale for Peterborough was the fireworks, which started about 10:30. We are far enough north that it doesn’t get really dark until about 10:00 p.m. We put our folding chairs out on the dock, poured coffee all ‘round and sat back and enjoyed the show. Next morning it was off to the lift lock.

We left Peterborough fairly early Wednesday morning, but we weren’t in a great rush. We knew the boat traffic would be heavy and there’s just no sense getting in an uproar about it. Sure enough, we had to wait a few times at various locks, but we enjoyed the scenery and finally wound up at Buckhorn for the night. We left Buckhorn early and most of the boat traffic of the day before had disappeared. We went through some tense moments because all the grass in the water threw off the fathometer, but several people had told us to stay in the channel and we wouldn’t have to worry. That proved to be excellent advice and we chugged up the river and canal system to Lake Balsam. We anchored for the night in a beautiful area that reminded us of the Alligator River and Gum Neck back in North Carolina. The only difference was that we could hear loons calling. It is an eerie sound that I had never heard before, but having read about it in various books, I guessed what it was as soon as I heard the call. It is beautiful and authors over the years have described it in many ways. I’m not that “flowery” a writer, but trust me, if you’re ever in the northern reaches out on a lake and hear it, you will know what it is.

We spent a serene night rafted to Li’l David as she swung to her anchor. Next morning we were off to Orillia, which is at the northern end of Lake Simcoe. On the way we passed through the Wakefield Lift Lock, which is similar to the one at Peterborough, but not as large, but operates on the same principle. It was a down lock for us as we had reached the pinnacle of the Trent-Severn and began our descent towards Georgian Bay. It reminded me of my trip down the Rampage water slide at Myrtle Beach. At first you sort of feel like you’re going to fall off the face of the earth, but of course, gravity kicks in, and it was a pleasant experience.

Orillia has a great marina bordered by a park and within walking distance of all sorts of amenities: a 24-hour A&P (which will let you use the carts to bring your groceries to the boat if you promise to bring it back, which everyone must do, because I’ve seen several folks bringing them loaded down, but not a one sitting idle in the marina); restaurants galore; a farmer’s market on Saturdays; a barber/beauty shop; and two bakeries. I hear there is a laundromat, but haven’t availed myself of it yet.

One of the first things you notice about the Orillia Marina is the lack of seagulls. They have a unique way of getting them to leave the area and congregate in the A&P parking lot. A guy comes by twice a day with two Harris hawks and flies them. Then he stands around in the marina letting people take pictures of him feeding them dead baby chicks. I didn’t realize what he was giving them till I saw the little chicken feet hanging from the hawks beak a millisecond before he swallowed them. Sort of grisly, but works on the seagulls.

We have had great fun with the lockwatchers on this end of the trip. When we passed through a town called Bobcaygeon (think Bob, the Cajun) both walls were lined with people taking pictures, asking about our trip and acting generally like we were all sitting around having tea together. We talked to one fellow who had a South Carolina logo on his cap. He and his wife go to Myrtle Beach every year in November. He said in the U.S. that people love to give things away that time of year. And condo rent is cheaper. He said everyone around them is cold, but they think it’s springtime. Many of them wished us a happy Fourth as we passed through. One told us to send all our friends up to spend money in Canada. We saw a T-shirt today with the slogan: “What is the definition of a Canadian?” On the back: “An unarmed American with healthcare.” They didn’t have one in my size, but I did get one that says: “Canada, Eh?”

Mary Anne and Bill are on the way to Orillia now. They have finally gotten their prescriptions. Their medication problems have probably been the worst part of the trip for them. We’re thankful to be from a small town where we can call and get ours sent to the next marina. It hasn’t been a problem for us at all. Thanks, David!

Monday we will begin the last leg of the Trent-Severn. We have to pass through the Big Chute, a marine railway that actually hauls the boat out of the water and puts it down on the other side of the passage. Only the captain stays aboard. Everyone else gets out and walks over the obstacles. We plan to anchor out more in Georgian Bay as it is a remote area. We have been told it has some of the most beautiful scenery on the Loop. That’s hard to imagine, but I’ll send pictures! I hope. I just downloaded my pictures for this blog and found I’ve somehow lost all the pictures from Peterborough, including some great ones of the fireworks and the big lift lock. I will try to get some from Lorenzo and include them in my next blog. Sorry.