We left our dock in Baie-Comeau fully loaded with diesel, water, food and wine. The weather and wind forecast was not what we wanted, so we decided to do a short hop to Anse St. Pancrace, a deep bay about 10 miles east of the marina. Similar to Thomson Island or CPR docks in Lake Superior (our boating friends will know what this means), the local sailors have a dock that people can use.

The dock is in a deep bay with steep hiking trails and a beautiful waterfall very close by. We spent some time walking around and exploring a bit.

    

The next day we headed east again. Weather and distances between viable anchorages are becoming more of a challenge now, but we’ve got a few mapped out, and are moving along as best we can. By the end of the day we made it to Baie-Trinité and anchored about a mile offshore of a large sandy beach. The shore offered some protection against the predicted west winds, but little from the big rollers coming in from the south and east. It was a rolly, ruckus night. Pretty though, watching the porpoises, distant whales and tons of gannets.

We left shortly after dawn the next morning as the seas were starting to build. The wind piped up to around 30 knots and the seas built from 2 to 3 to 4 or more meters. Our planned anchorage some 30 miles away turned out to be a dud, so we pressed on all the way to Sept-Îles, which was more than double our planned distance that day.

The seas were too large and building as we closed in on the seven islands (which is really only six), but thankfully the wind had been in our favour, and quite strong (hence the large seas), so we made good time. Along the way we saw distant large whale spumes. Never could tell what they were, but they were BIG!

We passed the Sept-Îles entrance shoals just as the sun dipped below the horizon, and managed to find an anchorage and drop the hook in the dying light of dusk. Happily the anchor grabbed right away, so we finished the job using headlamps and crawled into bed after nearly 14 hours of hard travel that day. We were both exhausted.

We woke up to a beautiful protected bay sandwiched between two islands. With seals and whales and beauty all around us. Almost makes you forget how hard it was to get here.

   

But like the Eagles song Hotel California, it seems that we can come to Sept-Îles, but we can never leave. A two day stay turned to three and four as weather remained dubious. Then the wind changed and we had to move anchorages within the seven (six!) islands and we sat for another couple of days. Then wind changed again and we moved back to our first anchorage.

The problem is, we have a long sail to our next safe anchorage (100+ miles), with a long straight fetch (so possibly large waves) and strong currents that sometimes run in opposition. We need a good weather window to do an overnighter, but each time it seems to emerge in the extended forecast, it then gets closed down with the wrong wind or thunderstorms, or huge seas, or thick fog.

So we wait… and wait… and wait… At least the scenery is beautiful

 

At least we’re getting some good reading time in.

 

Heading east from the Saguenay we continued to encounter belugas, seals, loons and even a few minke whales. It’s a beautiful and stunning place — but then it all is now. Rocky granite shorelines covered in thick forests of evergreens and some deciduous. Few signs of urban life. It all looks so familiar…

IT LOOKS AND FEELS JUST LIKE LAKE SUPERIOR!!

Ever since leaving Thunder Bay Ann and I have been somewhat jokingly asking each other: “Remind me again; why did we leave Lake Superior?” This was usually at times when we were surrounded by urban bleck, crowded anchorages, sweltering heat and waters dark and thick with weeds. Lake Superior is cold and clean. It’s shorelines are rugged and mostly empty of Man’s influence. It is a place where you must travel on Nature’s rhythms. And we’ve both been missing it dearly.

But now we’re back. This land feels very much like our old Superior home. It is a little less remote, with a little more urban influences, but in so many ways it looks and feels just like home. It’s wonderful.

Heading east we passed by a shoreline lined with campers and paddlers. The whale watching boats were all over the place. It’s amazing to see the large numbers of tourists, and tourist businesses, given how far away this place is. But whales and wilderness attract people.

We found an anchorage for the night some 20 nm east in a bay used by whale watching boats, with overlooking rental cabins. It was a small bay that shallowed out quickly, and we were still dealing with 12-foot tides, so we had to set our anchor right.

Of course just after we’d settled in for the evening another sailboat came around the corner and took up residence very close to us. Seemed a bit too close, but it all worked out fine, and we exchanged a few broken pleasantries — us in broken French, them in broken English. We then settled in for an evening of boat watching and a dinner of chili, reading and planning for the next day.

  

This journey has been an amazing one so far, but sadly it has also mostly been under engine power. Given the demands of locks, then tides and crazy currents, we’ve had to motor more than we’ve ever done. Usually we don’t burn a tank of diesel in many seasons, but on this trip we’ve already refuelled once and are now looking for our next stop. Not only that, the engine oil is looking very black and a bit sludgy. The oil pressure gauge is beginning to act a bit oddly, so it looks like it’s time to change our oil. Where to go… How about Baie-Comeau.

The Club nautique de Baie-Comeau promises 10 transient berths, with water, diesel and access to grocery and booze stores. Plus it claims to have a waste oil service, which is perfect for our needed oil change. So we make our plans and head toward the land that the Right Honourable Brian Mulroney once represented in the House of Commons.

 

The last anchorage before arriving in Baie-Comeau ranks as yet another odd one for us. We’ve been finding places all along the journey, mostly by looking at charts and studying the limited guide material we have (some of it in French!– Merci. Paul et Julie!). But this one had us anchoring more than a nautical mile off shore so we could have enough depth to allow for low tide. Naturally, the wind also came up rather strongly, but our anchor held and we slept well.

That morning we sailed off the anchor (something we’d done a few times recently), and headed towards Baie-Comeau. It was still a long journey, but for once the winds were with us, so we sailed most of the way. Ann, as usual, expertly guided us through the narrow gap of the marina, right to the dock.

As with our last marina, this club nautique was incredibly welcoming and friendly. Most people’s English is better than our French, although it is definitely more French here than further up the river. Somehow we manage though. The restaurant is great — especially the seafood! And the beer and wine taste good.

This place has all we need … all except the oil disposal service which their website claims. When I asked our dock neighbours they immediately offered to take our old oil and dispose of it in town. People are so wonderful everywhere!

Of course, our planned two night stay has now morphed into four. We did our oil change and supplies restock. The diesel and water tanks are full, but a predicted strong east wind did land on us starting on the fourth day. Since we have to head east for the next leg, this was enough to convince us to stay tied to the dock and near the nummy restaurants for the extra nights.

To celebrate our cautious behaviour we walked to a nearby brew-pub restaurant in town and sampled some local beers and regional cheese. Yum, yum.

One final night out on the town (OK, at the marina restaurant) and we were ready to say goodbye to Baie-Comeau.

Tomorrow we begin what will hopefully be the final big push for Newfoundland. The shoreline for our next stretch is a bit less friendly in terms of good anchorages, but we’ve mapped some stuff out and should be fine. I hope…

The storms passed through without too much problem, and our anchor held us through the 15-foot rise and fall of the tides overnight as we overlooked the ski hill of Mont-Sainte-Anne. As Great Lakes sailors we never have to concern ourselves with tides and currents. This stretch of the River has forced us to take a crash course in this new dimension of cruising.

The next morning we realized we’d missed our ebb-tide window to reach our next planned stop, so we scanned our books, charts and guides  and found something about 12 miles away.

As we approached our area we sailed a narrow passage between a few islands, one of which turned out to be the Grosse Île Quarantine Station. Apparently immigrants, mostly from Ireland, were funnelled through this station from 1832 to 1937 as a means of controlling cholera and smallpox. It now operates as a living museum.

When we arrived at our intended stop we quickly concluded the currents were way too strong to anchor there. But sharp eyed Annnneeeeeeeeee noticed another spot on the chart so we dropped there for the night. While there we watched a bunch of local boaters sail/motor over to a shallow area, and anchor in high tide. Then we watched as the tide went out, and the boats were left high and dry. This included sailboats with their keels left stuck in the mud. Amazing, and kinda scary.

The next day was a long sail to our next possible anchorage at Isle-aux-Coudres across from Baie Saint-Paul. Ian Tamblyn, whom we saw live in Belleville a few days before leaving, has a wonderful song called Tiger Lily Road. It traces a summer spent in the area we are now travelling. Needless to say, Ann was all a-swoon as we passed and sighted the various locations named in the song:

• Baie St. Paul
• Les Eboulements
• Mal Baie
• Tadoussac
• Saguenay
• Saint Rose
• Les Escoumins

It was a 60+ nm day, but by catching the early morning ebb tide we were able to travel at around 2 to 3 knots of additional speed. This is a lot for our little boat that usually averages around 5 knots. We’ve been averaging around 7 to 8 knots these days!!

As we approached Isle-aux-Coudres around noon a couple of warships (one American and one Canadian) that were docked in Quebec City finally caught up to us. The American one gave me a blast from the horn when it decided to try and run us over by turning directly into our path!

We anchored off the island in about 10 feet of water and 1 knot of current. Later this turned into about 30 feet or water and currents just shy of 4 knots!!! That’s a lot of current. It’s like being in a rushing river. There was little sleep that night as I listened to every scrape and groan of our anchor, fearing it would rip out of the ground and send us hurling into the island.

Later that same day we were also overtaken by the fleet of tall ships that had left Quebec City. We had front row seats to the best tall ship show in town, including watching the Bluenose II under full sail!

 

We did hold through the night … and held good. The next morning it took us about an hour to bring up all the anchor and chain. The anchor had buried itself so deep in the sand that I was afraid we were going to have to abandon it. But we got it up and headed off again.

This part of our journey has been completely dictated by tides and currents. We leave with the ebb tide, which produces an ebb current in our favour. These tidal currents are normally around 2 to 3 knots, which means we can barely make ground when the current turns against us (the flood current). This means leaving with the ebb tide, and stopping when slack turns to flood. The ebb tides have all been starting very early in the morning, which means WE start very early in the morning. The nice thing is the flood starts by early afternoon, so we have to be settled around noon. Short, but fast days…

Checking the charts we found a likely spot about 16 nm south of the Saguenay Fjord off an island in the middle of the river named Iles du Pot à l’Eau-de-vie. Pot of the water of life … sounds wonderfully poetic. And it was. We dropped the hook as close to the small islands as we dared, and watched the birds fly and play all day.

A few hours after anchoring we noticed the same trimaran which had anchored near us off Isle-aux-Coudres come motoring up and anchor nearby. We waved at the couple at the helm, and then noticed, one, two, three and then four small heads appear on deck. Turns out this cute young family from Quebec City was on their first real cruise with their new (to them) boat. The kids were from about eight to three … quite the adventure.

    

The next day we hauled up anchor and headed to the famed Saguenay Fjord, a national park and environmental treasure along these waters. The first few hours under sail went great. We even saw our first beluga whales! But as we neared the mouth of the fjord I (who was on the helm) began getting navigationally confused. I kept pointing across the river to our destination, but all my chart plotters kept telling me we were going in the opposite direction — DIRECTLY TOWARDS AN ISLAND!!!!

Turns out there are these vicious currents called rips that ramp up to 7 knots or more. We were caught in one of them, and no matter what direction I went, we could get no where. The only way forward was to go the long way around the island, and then come back up using the island as a current shadow. We motored for hours to break through, but finally did, only to meet some of the dreaded Saguenay outflow current, swirling whirlpools and large standing waves right at the mouth of the fjord.

If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow, (er… the Pachina Mia), would be lost 😉 . But we got through and made our way up this ecological wonderland. The first thing we noticed was the blast of warm air that hit us as we entered the valley going past Tadoussac. The air on the St. Lawrence had been quite frigid during our sail, but the fjord was funnelling warm air from the land. It was beautiful.

We made our way up the valley to one of the likely anchorages and dropped the hook. It was tricky due to 15 foot tides, strong currents, and steep drop offs that went from 30 feet to 200 feet. We found a spot and spend the next three days relaxing and reading, and watching whales and seals and loons and other various birds as they lived around us.

 

 

After a few days we had to move on. We watched a few more belugas cruise by as we headed out the mouth and back into the St. Lawrence, on to the next steps in our journey towards Terre Neuve.

We left our little anchorage east of Montreal and headed off once again. The river currents remain strong and the boat traffic, large, small and odd, is ever-present. We’re getting used to sharing seemingly narrow channels with all sorts of vessels:

 

 

 

As we approached the city of Sorel the traffic got increasingly large (in size and numbers), and increasingly annoying. Sorel boaters now hold the prize for some of the dickiest people on the water. People zipping every which way, with little regard for others, plus all the large freighter traffic made for some pretty stressful hours. (Later, we met a sailing couple from Sorel: Madeleine & Philippe. They were the sweetest people ever, so Sorel is redeemed!).

The fact that there was a tall ship event going on, plus it was the weekend, all added to the mayhem no doubt. But it was wonderful to finally find our anchorage and settle in for the night. We shared it with perhaps a 1/2 dozen other boats, but there was lots of space.

We settled in beside a reed bed that night and were treated to a chorus of bull frog croaking all night long. Ann was most amused…

From there the river widens to what they call Lac St. Pierre. It is large, but quite shallow off the dredged channel so we spent the whole day hopping from one buoy to another on our way to Trois Rivières. We once again arrived in the midst of Tall Ship revelries, which certainly added to the traffic and the excitement.

We found an anchorage up a branch of the Rivière St-Maurice which is one of the “trois” rivers. Our view included a public beach on one side, and a couple of fancy condos on the other. Lots of other boats were anchored and moored, although oddly none as close to shore as we. Hmmmm, I wonder why 😉 .

Trois Rivières is the place where tides first make themselves known. They started small — only a 1/2 foot here — but quickly built in range and water speed. In fact our next steps were to traverse the mighty Richelieu Rapids, which is a marked danger zone with currents reaching over 5 knots in normal times. We’ve consistently been seeing currents running at least a knot over normal, so we expected the worst. We decided to stay two nights so we could learn how to read tide and current tables.

Most boaters reach Quebec City from Trois Rivières in one day even though it is about 70 nm distance. We could have done this, but given the Tall Ship event, we’ve decided to have to bypass the City all together. So we made our plans to stop about 1/2 way along in a place called Portneuf. And glad we did b/c the trip down did not disappoint.

 

We did indeed hit over 5 knots of current. Here you can see our boat speed over water (right) at 3.6 knots and our speed over ground at 8.7 knots … and this was when we were trying to slow down! Here the tides average 10-12 feet. This drives very fast currents at times, which can either speed you on your way, or slow boats like ours to a stop. We arrived in Portneuf after a short and fast run down the river.

Portneuf is our first marina stop in 23 days. We decided to make this our re-provisioning stop, so we stayed three nights and filled our diesel and water tanks, dumped the garbage and recycling, cleaned up the head (emptied the compost), and made it to the local grocery store for a restock of essential additions: mostly coffee and wine 😉 .

The marina has a wonderful restaurant which we’ve been enjoying a bit too much. And the people of the marina and town are friendly and so very helpful to us poor Anglos. After learning the nearby grocery/booze store had recently burned down, leaving the only place many km away, we not only got a ride up there from a friendly marina member, but we also got a ride back from the store by a store employee. Incredible people!!

Tomorrow we make our run past Quebec City. The plan is to ride the ebb tide all the way past the city. Early start: 5 am!

 

… And so we did. Left Portneuf at 5:30 am about one hour ahead of high tide. We motored into a slackening, but quickly turning current, and rode the big wave all the way down. Zipping underneath the Quebec City bridge we hit a top speed of 12 knots, while showing 5 knots on the water. That’s 7 knots of current!! Our boat’s top speed is supposed to be 7 knots!!! That’s Trans-Warp Speed Scottie!!!!!

 

We bypassed Quebec City b/c the Tall Ship event, while pretty cool, also meant the city was a zoo. It would have been pretty impossible to find a berth for our boat at this late date, so waved and moved on.

  

We arrived at an anchorage some 15 nm further east from QC and dropped the hook. This would be our first major tidal anchoring with over 15 feet. To top it off, a major squall system rolled through the whole area, and lasted for hours. The squawking radio kept issuing WARNINGS, DANGEROUS SQUALL APPROACHING. Over 50 knots of wind was possible. Talk to you soon… I hope 😉 .

We moved down past the first bridge and picked up speed as we went. The current is regularly around 2 knots through here. We saw at least 3 knots at times, and 4 lower down. Pachina Mia (who’s top speed is around 7 knots) has never travelled so fast!

Our first night was Brockville area. We managed to find a little nook off the channel and tucked in near a graveyard — the residents didn’t seem to mind us being there. From there it was a quick trip past Prescott down to the edge of our first locks at Iroquois.

 

Along the way we passed some notable landmarks that we’ve driven past many times. This included finding the icebreaker Samuel Risley at its home berth in Prescott. We would see ‘the Ris’ every Spring breaking up the ice in Thunder Bay, and re-setting all the buoys. Kinda neat…

Finding a beautiful anchorage in sight of the first lock, we decided to stay and plan our next steps. We got to watch the Big Ships as they moved through the lock, often with the assist of the local tug boat.

   

Our time came, and we ventured into out first set of locks since doing the Welland some three years ago. We were both feeling rusty and a bit trepidatious, but as is often the case, the imagining was far worse than the actual event. We managed without a hitch. That day we moved through three locks.

 

Down below these locks we got into the outflow from the Cornwall damn, and experienced our highest currents to date; at least 4 knots! We hit nearly 10 knots (speed over ground). Way Too Fast!! But a long day. We found an island down below the dam and settled in for the night. We woke to squally weather so made the easy decision to stay an extra night. Storms, bread and puttering…

 

… and Ann gave me a little trim:

  

The next day we crossed Lac St. Francois and anchored next to Salaberry-de-Valleyfield. This is a very busy little water town on the river. We came in with a gale building behind us, and squeezed through a narrow buoyed passage which held dire consequences to anyone daring to ignore the channel (foreshadow alert!).

 

 

Rain and storms and kinda crappy winds gave us a nice excuse to hang out there for a few days, so we read, fixed a few things, and took in the scenery  . After a particularly stormy period our boat was swinging out so we could see the narrow channel. And we saw this scene (right).

A passing boater said this big power yacht had cut the channel, and ran hard on the reef. Said they were looking at $250,000 damage. THAT’S a bad day on the water…

The next day took us though one lift bridge and two more locks. That evening we anchored off the Kahnawake Reserve near the start of a canal around Montreal. “Is that the sound of a goat?” says I… Yes indeed. Goats and funny cows and all manner of farm critters were roaming the shore nearby. I became Man who Speaks with Goats.

Our anchorage was once again just off the main channel, so we had a great view of passing vessels. This included the first of the tall ships travelling the Seaway this season.

   

The next morning we entered the fairly narrow canal, negotiated past a lift bridge and some passing freighters (that would suck the water right out of the channel with them!), and came through the last of the locks. After some minor excitement that included Ann having to make a docking Mike couldn’t, and Mike making a leap onto a dock that Mike shouldn’t, we managed to get through and relatively unscathed … I’m sure that ding will buff out of the hull 😉 .

And with that we flushed out of the final lock, just downstream of Montreal.

 

 

The currents were very fast once again, but so was the head wind. We bashed against standing waves for a couple more hours before finding a nice little place to drop the hook behind some islands east of the big city. Urbanness is all around us, so it’s hard to find complete solitude. Lots of zippy boats, but the bird life is amazing. And the main Seaway channel is right across the flat island, so we get to watch the ships go by while enjoying the birds and other wildlife.

Belleville was to be a one-season stop over. But as is so often the case, the best laid plans are like a lint to the vacuum cleaner of life, and so our time was sucked away on various events (both big and small).

But finally all the ducks aligned and the planets were in a row 😉 And so, we spent our final days preparing, provisioning and saying goodbye to our many new, good friends.

But finally, we were off!

    

Thank you Belleville, thank you Stillwater. And thank you to all the wonderful people we’ve gotten to know there. There is sadness in parting, but pleasure in the people we’ve gotten to know. You’ve given us plenty of reasons to come back.

We headed out and pointed the bow east, following now-familiar waters of the Bay of Quinte and the Thousand Islands. Our first day out we (naturally) hit some very high winds; a fresh gale for all our sailing buddies (37 knots!). We anchored and rode out our first night of storms. But it was great to be off!

The next few days were spent getting re-aquainted with Pachina Mia the sailboat (as opposed to simply a house boat). We sailed  and fought more storms  . We saw, once again, some beautiful places , and did some fun and funny things  & .

At the anchorage near Gananoque we finally caught up with friends Deb and Chris on Windover. They left a few days ahead of us, and we’d been hoping to connect one last time on the water (at least, until they chase us down in Newfoundland). They joined us in Beaurivage anchorage for one last meal and evening, and then they headed back west, while we continued east.

… eventually. 

 

We lingered more than a few days in Beaurivage, spending Canada Day (yay Canada 150!), and then we moved a whole 10 nm down to our other favourite 1000 Islands anchorage and spent another four days getting ready to take the plunge. Of course Ann took a few plunges while there (a good thing too, can someone say Peppy Le Pew 😉 ).

 

After more than a week lingering in places we’d already been, we finally weighed anchor and headed out into the great beyond. We past under the Ivy Lea bridge. At long last we ventured into places unknown; over the edge of our known world…

 

Here Be Dragons!

As the adage goes, the best laid plans of mice and men so often go awry … and so it was with Ann’s tooth saga. After much backing and forthing, along with the constant draining of our little bank account, it was finally determined that the odious and vexatious tooth had to come out.

And so it did.

Of course this left a rather large hole in Ann’s head (and no, I’m not going to crack a joke here 😉 ). Luckily the dentist had a skeleton or two in her closet, so now Ann carries with her part of Bob-the-Cadaver as a bone graft to fill that big space between her ears (… must resist making any wise cracks 🙂 😉 ).

In all seriousness, it has been quite an ordeal for Ann. Happily the graft seems to have taken, and she is on the mend. The next steps are months away, so after a couple more days of convalescences at the Kathy/Mom hotel we were able to get back to the boat and get on with getting on.

In between another quick trip back to Ottawa to remove the dental stitches we worked on sorting and organizing the boat, and getting a few more projects done. This included a climb to the top of our mast (~50 ft off the water) to install our wind instrument and set up the lazy jacks.

In setting up the lazy jacks Ann found the early stages of new wasp nest being built. “Clearly we’ve been stationary for too long!” says Ann.

With the boat in descent shape we loaded our motorcycles and headed north to deliver them to our friends’ place near Rossport (Selim to be exact) on the north shore of Lake Superior. It was a 1,600 km ride from Belleville to Rossport, but we took our time and had a great trip. We stopped in Huntsville, Sudbury, Sault Ste. Marie and finally Rossport. It was great to get in one final long ride, and travelling the north shore of Lake Superior on our bikes was stunning and emotional — as usual.

    

We got to Cathie and Joe’s place which is a true slice of heaven on earth. Their house is right on the shores of the Big Lake, with a great view of some of the Rossport islands. It is stunning, graceful and peaceful — just like the owners. We both love spending time in that place, and with those folks — especially the one with four legs. Maggie Muggins is always so cute and so fun.

 

While in Selim we tried to earn our keep by moving some wood, playing with Maggie, paddle boarding (Ann), and playing crokinole (the boys whooped the gals three games in a row 🙂 ). So now our bikes are all tucked away, safe and sound. Thanks so much C, J and Maggie!

Sadly our time passed all too quickly and we were on the plane, back to Ottawa. Kathy picked us up at the airport and drove us back to her place. There we were greeted with this!

Apparently my 50th birthday has been noticed by others … and thanks to this display, pretty much everyone in their condo. Thanks ;-).

We spent a few more days hanging out in Ottawa. I was gifted some cards for Apple and MEC, so I got to play consumer buying new stuff. At MEC I got a new pair of pants, which I needed. And at Apple I got a new drone which I did not need, but like very much — although Hammi was less impressed.

 

Mom and Kathy took me out for a wonderful dinner, and the next day drove us back to Belleville and the boat. As always, it was so great to spend time with you both. You do so much for us. Thank you!

We came back to Belleville to get to back to the boat, but also to attend a small concert by folk singer extraordinaire Ian Tamblyn. The show was put together, in part, by Marvin, a new Belleville friend and someone well connected to the local art scene. But most amazing, our great friends from London days: Claudia and Ward — people we haven’t seen for many years (me) and nearly two decades (Ann) made the trek from Toronto just to see us. It was wonderful to reconnect!

We don’t deserve such good friends (and family is good too 😉 )…

So now we’re working hard to get the heck off this dock. The list of things to do before we can leave is long, but there is an end in sight. We are within a week, if not days, to heading off. Getting exciting, and kinda scary — just as life should be, right…???

Yes, it’s true. After years of planning and effort, and much fretting and stressing, Pachina Mia has the eyes of Superman!

OK, that’s a bit of an exaggeration (as Ann would point out and insist on correcting 😉 ). We can’t see through brick walls or see what underwear people have on, but we can peer through fog and darkness to see boats and other hard things. And we can even see rain clouds approaching, so pretty cool!

And not to toot my own horn, but the problem was almost exactly what I’d suspected it was all along. The connection between two data cables was the problem. One side had somehow got mangled (probably my fault when pulling the cable through a tight hole). Ann un-mangled it and voila! Instant on!

Of course, now that we have functioning radar we have to learn how to use it. It still mostly looks like blurps on a screen, but I’m sure with practice we’ll begin to understand how to interpret it all.

In the meantime the water keeps rising, and work continues on our little floating home. Lake Ontario is still inching up, but more slowly now. The current prediction only calls for a few more inches of rise by mid-June, but it will remain high for the rest of the season. This should make our down-stream run even faster (and scarier in some places!).

 

The boat/home job list is both shrinking and growing. Our head sink is turning out to be a bigger challenge than previously thought, and we’re still waiting for better weather to climb the mast, but things are progressing. The big thing is we now have a plan for Ann’s tooth, and we know what we’re doing with our bikes. The tooth is being scraped out and repaired, and the bikes are headed for our friend’s place in Rossport (Selim to be exact), on the north shore of Lake Superior. Cathie and Joe (and Maggie Muffins) are the sweetest people ever. It will be great to make the drive up to their place, and to spend some time with them.

The tooth thing meant a trip to Ottawa, which was great. We drove our bikes, and I re-discovered all the muscles I used to know so well, but have not used in a long time; in other words, I got quite sore ;-). But it was a great ride and a great trip. Mom and Kathy were fun to hang out with as always. And we got our cat fix in too!

We head back to Ottawa in a day or so for Root Canal, round II. Then it’s back here for a few days before beginning our run up north. Our plan is to have the boat ready to go before we head to Rossport. We’ll see…

It’s been a few weeks now since Pachina’s launch, and we’re slowly getting all things ready for the big journey east. Projects and small repairs are working out, and logistics are coming together. Two things we didn’t bank on though are the flood waters in Lake Ontario, and Ann’s tooth problems.

Yes, the waters around here keep rising. Our little marina’s outer basin is already awash, with the outer wall flooded by the Bay of Quinte’s rising tide. Normally this wall is 10’ to 15’ above the water level. Water now washes over the walkway.

Our space in the inner basin is still relatively protected; it has another 6” to go before it disappears beneath Neptune’s grasp, so hopefully this won’t happen. Our biggest challenge has been the large step require to get up to our boat. At the end of last season we were stepping three feet up to reach the dock from our boat’s deck. Today we are stepping at least three feet down.

   

Last fall, notice where the concrete dock is.                                     Now…

 

But the other major pain (literally … for Ann) is tooth problems. She’s been ignoring a molar for too long, and after much cajoling and threatening (mainly from Middle Sister), she’s agreed to have it dealt with. Looks like a root canal, and tooth reconstruction is now in order. All this takes time, but at least it’s underway. We’ll know in a few days how long the process will take, and how may appointments with the endodontist.

We still have about a month before we have to get going, so we should be OK. Getting this tooth sorted is the most important thing right now. Whatever shall be shall be… At least we have Donna the Tooth Fairy looking after us. Thanks Donna!

Aside from the boat work, we’ve been having fun visiting, and being visited. We made a trek to Ottawa shortly after the boat was launched, and spent a few days hanging out with Mom and Sis/Kathy (and friend Dorothy). As always, the time was well spent relaxing, talking and eating. So much good food, and perhaps a little too much good beer (Kathy’s such a bad influence 😉 ).

While we were in Ottawa we also got to spend a few hours with niece Colleen and son Connor. Connor is really doing well. He’s growing up to be quite the special boy. Ann, as always, manages to make good connections with him. It’s fun to watch them play together.

Saying goodbye to Ottawa folk, we headed back to Belleville in time to meet Donna and Sam. They were in Toronto for a doc’s conference, and to visit daughter Tasha. They then took the train down our way to spend a few hours driving Prince Edward County, sampling craft beer, and eating dinner before hopping the VIA back to TO. Lots of fun! Great to see you both.

   

Meanwhile, work carries on back on Pachina Mia. We got the boom and sails on right away. The new charge controller for the solar panels seems to be working. The windmill is installed, and the outboard is ready. The water system seems to be working OK, as does the head. We do have a leak in the head sink, but that’s easily solved (right Ann???). Some day soon one of us will head to the top of the mast to mount the wind instrument, and we also have to install the windvane, but it’s all coming together nicely.

Last evening we finally got to see Marvin and Pita. We met Marvin last year when we rented a room from him for a month last year. And Pita (Pain In The Ass) is another cute cat in our lives. Going to Marvin’s was like coming home … it felt so familiar and comfortable. Marvin cooked us a wonderful supper, and we spent a few hours catching up and petting the cat. Best of all, Marvin is seriously considering driving our car to Newfoundland for us. This would be awesome!

The one remaining unknown project on the boat is the radar… I’m kinda delaying getting down to it. The problem is either really simple, or virtually impossible, and I don’t want to find out it’s the latter 😉 . In the meantime, life goes on down at the little marina. We get visited by Smoky the marina cat, and Maddy the marina child. We eat well (including having eggs Benny and mimosas in Sue’s honour), drink well, and watch the waters rise all around us.

It’s a good thing we live on a boat 😉 .

 

We arrived home to Pachina Mia a little over a week ago, and spent the ensuing days getting her ready for launch. As most people in the yard noted (often in surly and grumpy tones), launch day seems way too early this year. Throughout the week winter kept trying to make a comeback as we worked to get the boat ready. So in between sub-zero temperatures, howling winds, and too many days of rain, we managed to get the cover off, get the bottom painted with new anti-foul, and get a seacock operating once more.

Living on a boat that is on land (on “the hard” as we sailors say) is, in the words of Ann’s favourite sailing bardess: “A hard hard life. Life hard, life on the hard.” But despite the challenges and cramped space we managed to sleep and eat some of our meals on board. And we found time to raise a glass or two (or three, or four… 😉 ) to our good fortune.

      

Timmies and then Panera Bread became our morning brecky ritual, with take-out deli or the occasional finer restaurant filling in the dinner menu. Not too hard I suppose. And of course there is always time to spend chatting with fellow boaters here in our little Stillwater home. In fact, someone claims that I spend more time chatting than working … harrumph I say. I can’t help it if everyone wants to talk to me … all the time 😉

 

[Ann here. Consider this. In the two pictures in the middle above, Mike was on his way to the bathroom on the other side of the marina. The time between the first picture and the second is 15 minutes, the distance is about 20 feet!]

Just over a week since we arrived back in Belleville, the day we worked for and utterly dreaded was upon us:

Launch Day!!

The morning started out beautiful, calm and cool; a perfect day for “drop down” as Donna put it — something we hoped wouldn’t happen 😉 . Last year we nearly had a ‘drop down’ when the crane started tipping over while lifting us. As it was coming to our turn I gently reminded the operator that we weigh 30,000 pounds.

Not only do we weigh in as one of the heaviest boats in the yard, we also had the added challenge of keeping our mast up over winter. To get the slings around our boat we had to remove the back-stay. No biggy … except this is the wire that keeps the mast from falling down . I managed to rig some temporary supports though, so we were pretty sure no one would have to yell: TIMBER!

Stillwater is more like a self-help yacht club than a normal marina. There is no staff, just the owner and fellow boaters to do all the work. So we all pitch in to help everyone. Since Pachina Mia was one of the last in line, Ann and I helped launch most of the other boats first. But it was finally our turn. Did I mention:  .

 

In the end it all worked beautifully. No problems at all. Pachina Mia is now happily floating back in her element, and Ann and I are breathing easy. Now the work begins to really get her, and us, ready for the big journey. We have a few projects to get done on the boat, and a lot of logistics to still work out, but it’s all coming together. Most importantly, it feels SOOO GOOOD to be floating once again.