A wild night!  The waves were washing over the dock and rocking us badly.  1129 bumped 866 during the night, and Tom and Pete got up and moved her to the end of the dock.

0730    Breakfast on the dock.  Don's anemometer says 8-9k, but everyone agrees it looks more like 12.  Someone comes and tells us that 1129 is tied up in the spot the ferry uses, and the ferry-boat is half-way across the bay on its way in.  We wake Tom and Pete in a hurry, and their boat is out of the ferry's docking-space by the time the ferry gets in.

A Tanzer comes in, single handed by a man who looks familiar, but I can't think where I've seen him.  After washing dishes, I went to join the others, and immediately he said, "I've seen you before somewhere."  Neither of us could remember where, for  sure.  Very unsatisfactory.

Agreed on main only.


1005    Away from dock.  Close/beam reach on port tack, wind Force 3.  Heading 035, going to lee of Giant's Tomb.  Speed 4kts.

1138    Changed from working jib to genoa.  Wind slightly calmer - some shelter from islands.  Everyone else has had genoas on, since our working jib went up.

1148    Passed Vic Searles on Aku Aku again.  Much waving.

1153    Light (FL. R.)  off Sawlog Point abeam on starboard side.  2 ½ miles in 29 mins.  Speed 5kts.

1211    Quick flashing red light between Adams Point and Smooth Island abeam, starboard side.  1 ½ miles in 18 minutes - speed down to 4kts.

1215    Turned up to beam reach.  Skipper remarks "Lickety splittus"

1235    Into channel.  This is about two miles further on than the quick-flashing red in 24 minutes.  Speed 5k again.  Lickety split is right!

1313    Into Frying Pan Bay. Although the log has no entries for the last forty minutes or so, we were extremely busy. This is where we joined the Small Craft Channel again. It is well-buoyed, and it needs to be. There are dozens of islands and at this point, except for Beausoleil Island itself, they are mostly very small;  some are just named rocks. The names indicate the history of this area.  Some are Indian - Minnicognashene Island, Penetang Rock; some are French - Beausoleil and Breboeuf Islands; some English - Blueberry Point and Cherry Point sound distinctly attractive. Some suggest an intriguing history - Gin Islands are all very well, but what disaster happened on Gin Rocks?  As we went through this part of the channel it was a glorious, sunny afternoon.  The water was blue, the islands green and gray and there are other people sailing. In particular, we noticed a Fireball with a spinnaker, and the crew out on a trapeze, just flying along.

After tying up, we spent the afternoon swimming, housecleaning and cooking supper. Once more, with ample time, we did ourselves proud - corned beef fritters, mixed veg., stewed apples with evaporated milk, and coffee. There were some boats with whose crews we had instant affinity - our immediate neighbor was from Detroit, and a little further along was Eric Blythe, in his Wayfarer.  At last, news of Hugh - he came to Beausoleil, but his crew had other commitments, so Hugh went back. It is a relief to know what happened;  thoughts of Hugh have been nagging us every time we got one port nearer Beausoleil, and every time we saw a lone boat on the horizon.  Pity he couldn't join us.

After supper, Don, Pete and Jim went to talk to Eric Blythe, his charming wife and delightful boys, Jonathan and Christopher. They had been based on Fryingpan Bay for nine days.  Tom went to talk to our Detroit neighbors, and Connie and I stayed around camp, cleaning up supper, swimming and getting the boats ready for night.

A problem is beginning to loom;  our drinking water supply is very low.  The last time we could drink the lake was just off Vail Point, and I filled up the drinking water jug on Thursday morning in one of the slack spells when there wasn't much sailing to do. (In fact, I think Don took a movie sequence of me apparently bailing the lake into the boat;  actually I was filling the water jug, one cup at a time, after it reached a level too heavy to dunk overboard and fill that way.) There was no drinking water at Meaford docks, and the Reef Boat Club at Thornbury bring plastic bottles of drinking water in, so I didn't feel we could ask them. Here at Beausoleil is a Government Camp Site, where we were counting on finding drinking water in a pump;  but the pump has a sign around its neck to say that its water is for washing and cooking only. We have less than a quart left, which will do for breakfast, but what then?

2130    866 almost asleep. Tonight, we are in such a protected spot that none of us put out a stern anchor. We are pulled up a little, on the beach, and tied to a tree. This looked better for sleeping head-to-bows and we tried it that way. Having heads higher than feet had looked sensible, but we found our hips completely fastened down by the center thwart, and we couldn't move - except to wriggle out, which we did after an hour or so, and turn head-to-stern.  This was not much better.


July 30th Monday

0330    Clatter, clatter, clatter! Rousing ourselves from sleep, we heard the dixies and the garbage scattering around. This could mean only one thing - my old friends (?) raccoons. I once lost a slab of fruitcake the size of a roasting pan to raccoons, and have been insensible to their charms ever since. This time, I had taken care to leave nothing attractive except garbage available to them.  Everything was either in the boat with us, or fastened in the cooler.  We heard Pete get up and shine a flashlight on them, and sure enough, there were five raccoons, one staring right into the tent.  Whether it was Pete's flashlight or Pete's comments, I don't know, but they scattered and didn't come back.  There was a short discussion (from under the respective tents) about the cooler.  I felt it was more or less raccoon-proof;  Tom felt that the rascals are quite clever enough to get in.  Anyway, they didn't and in the morning all we had to do was collect our garbage from an area of approximately half an acre.

0645    Woke and got up.  It was very pleasant to be the only person around in the early morning sun.  I swam, washed a pair of shorts, aired my sleeping bag and cooked breakfast - all because sleeping was so uncomfortable with the boat pulled up on the shore!

1007    Passed Ardiluan Light.  This brings us into a rather more open part of the channel than Frying Pan Bay, but still not out on to the open Bay.

1115   Passed Newton Island Light.  This is two miles from Kindersley Island, and is at the beginning of a long (almost seven miles) stretch of open water.

1137    Red Rock abeam.  Two miles from Newton Island.  Speed about 5kts.  Jim thinks we have been planing a little - with all this gear on board!

1142    Passed the red marker on Felix Rock - nearly half a mile from Red Rock in 5 mins.  Everything is shades of gray - blue-gray sky, steel-gray water.


1146    Hove to on port tack by black buoy;  here we have to decide whether to go outside for the rest of the way to the spot where the channel goes inside, or to take an alternative passage inside, through Monument Channel.  It is pretty wild by now, but Tom has taken the outside passage.  That will certainly be quicker, but the weather is getting wilder and we still have full sail up.  Everyone is beginning to be a little restless;  I think that if we had planned to sail for a month, everyone would be perfectly content, but the planned cruise is now nearing its end and we are restless to get back to Parry Sound.  Anyway, we shall consult Don about going inside Monument Channel or outside all the way.

After a brief discussion, we decided to stick together and go outside.  As soon as 866's jib was drawing again, she took off like a seagull, with the skipper (I should remind you that Jim was now skipper, not Alan) exulting  "And off we go!  Get a load of that! Man, this is really sailing!"

From 1154 to 1215, the log records the passing of various red and black marks, and at 1215 we passed the black buoy 107, where the other end of Monument Channel comes out to join the outside passage nearly 2 ½ miles from the black buoy where we hove to, and where Monument Channel goes inside.  We certainly couldn't have gone inside in 21 minutes!  Speed over this last bit was 7 knots.

In the next ten minutes, the log notes a daymark and two buoys, only one of which is on the chart.  This happened many times along this part of the Small Craft Channel, as our chart is two years old.

1242    Between red 98 and black 109.  This is the pair that is staggered on the chart;  it is the first pair by Peacock Island, and is nearly 1-2 miles from One Tree Island, so we are slowing down a little.

1246    As we came between 113 and 100, the pair by the NE corner of Peacock Island, two powerboats passed us.  One slowed down very courteously and the other didn't slow at all.  What a difference!

Ever since One-Tree Island we have been coming very slightly east of north.  Now we cut a little inside the marked channel, which seems to take an unnecessarily wide curve, and turn just a shade north of west.

1400    Arrived in a beautiful little basin at O'Donnell Point, extremely well protected, after ghosting through a channel with rocks just below the surface, reminiscent of Vail Point.  Tom and Pete had gone to the picnic ground nearby, which did not entail going through the narrow channel over the rocks, but it is much less well protected and camping is not allowed there.  We hoped they would join us soon - they could not have failed to see us.  Our spot is completely wild - not an official camping or picnic place at all.  It is just a basin, protected on all sides, with rocks and trees.

A few minutes after we had landed, Tom and Pete did join us.   There was some discussion about going further, even though we had reached the spot we intended to.  It was so early, and the wind was favorable, but it had been quite a wild ride, and most of us wanted to stay, camp, swim and explore.  We did all these, and cooked on an open fire, which Connie got going in no time flat. There were some logs and pieces of tree across the basin which had obviously been cut down, and Pete was curious to know whether it was human or beaver work.  Connie and I swam across and fetched some samples, which were beaver-chewed.  The men tried fishing once more, with the same luck as before - zero.  They did get their lures snagged in water-lily stems more than once, so the 'Swimming Messenger Maids' had to go and release them.  In the course of exploring, Tom and Jim decided that the water off the point looked drinkable (the water in the little basin was too earthy and weedy and still) so they went and filled our water-jug.  First drinking water for four and a half days.