After I had watched the wind forecasts all summer, suddenly everything fell into place. Wind from the north quadrant for two days followed by two days of southerlies. That would let me go SE to the US from Kingston, followed by Main Duck Island to the west and then NE back to Kingston.  

I packed the car, put Peregrine on the trailer and was off to Kingston on Sunday afternoon, August 20th.  I rigged the boat and my homemade boom tent and slept on the boat in the parking lot.  Very stable and quiet, and with a fine view of the penitentiary just across Portsmouth Olympic Harbour.  

I left Kingston at 10 am Monday, with a 25 to 30 kmph N wind dead behind me until Nine Mile Point Lighthouse.  I was soloing and had a couple of heart-in-mouth moments running with a fairly rough swell.  I was reassured by my newest piece of equipment, a mast head float, hopefully guaranteeing that the boat wouldn’t turn turtle if it dumped.

I turned to the south east, the wind settled in at 20 to 30 and I reefed.  I’m nowhere near Uncle Al’s one-minute reef (per Whiffle) but I’m cutting my time down every time.  I didn’t stop broad reach planing most of the way to the islands that form the 5-kilometre long funnel shaped entrance to Henderson Harbour where I planned to use the Yacht Club’s reciprocal privileges to shower and have a beer.  It’s a very satisfying, high pitched hum that sets up when you’re planing and well trimmed.  

As I rounded the first of the islets that form one edge of the funnel, I caught my breath, thinking I’d been teleported to a deserted isle in the Caribbean.  The islet was crescent shaped, about 200 meters long and between 10 and 40 meters wide, with a gently sloping pebble beach and completely uninhabited.  Overnight perfection.

I tied the bow to a log on the beach, waded out and set a stern anchor. It was now 3:15, I’d averaged over 10 kmph including a lunch stop and a reefing pause.  Looking up at the beach I saw a fox trot into the woods.  After a swim, dinner was freeze dried Smokehouse Chicken with Rice and Beans, best before March 2049.  The wind was still blowing, so no mosquitoes in the forecast and I set out my sleeping bag at the top of the beach. At dusk I was disturbed by a deer about 30 meters down the beach making decidedly “get off my island” snorting noises.

On Tuesday morning the 22nd, I was treated to an osprey flyby at tree top height followed by two yappy eagles that landed in the tall poplars behind the beach.  My destination was a place I’d heard much about over the years, Main Duck Island, about 30 km. westward.

The first half of the day was more a trial of my patience than my seamanship.  The wind was from the north east, but falling quickly.  I was headed west and about half way to Main Duck the wind dropped to nothing (echoes of the Bronte trip’s calm and wind direction change).  Bring a whisker pole next time.  I thought I might have to use Galloo Island’s Harbour of Refuge (that’s it’s real name) although it probably wasn’t often used as a refuge from the absence of wind.  Decision time.  

The good news was that the wind started up after half an hour, but the bad news was that it finally settled between W and SW, necessitating beating.  It was 11:15, 3 hours in and halfway there, so I reasoned that I still had at least eight hours of daylight, and the wind wouldn’t fail would it?  As I left Galloo I had the long forgotten feeling of seeing nothing in front, just open water.  A feeling of sailing into the unknown spiced with a little trepidation.  

I finally beat into Main Duck’s harbour at 4 p.m.  That was a long day.  There were four large boats anchored outside my destination, School House Bay.  There were four more mid-sized boats tied up, along with my Wayfarer in the bay.  There was an interesting mix of sailors.  Two boats were from Quebec, taking 6 weeks to sail the St. Lawrence and Lake Ontario and one each from Toronto and Collins Bay.  One was an American who very kindly offered his V berth for me to overnight in to prevent me from being eaten alive by the mosquitoes.  He was in tears as he explained he was on a memorial trip, mourning the very recent, very sudden death of his longtime sailing partner and co-owner.  

As I docked after tacking up the very narrow channel, the sailors on the dock wanted to know if I’d been there before because I didn’t ground on the sides of the channel.  I didn’t tell them that I could see the edges of the channel because the water was gin clear.  When they heard of my voyage so far they had the grace not to ask outright if I was crazy, they just asked how old I was.  The answer was 73.

Main Duck is part of the Thousand Islands National Park but gets little use due to its remoteness, 35 km. from Kingston.  It has variously been summer fishing grounds for an indigenous tribe, a fishing station, grazing land, graveyard of many ships, was once owned by John Foster Dulles, picnicked on by Queen Elizabeth in the Britannia, the turning mark for the Lake Ontario 300 race and home to a species of black snake that grows somewhat larger than its brethren on the mainland.  Those snakes may account for the absence of a cormorant colony on the island.  To complete the picture, Main Duck was the site of clashes between the British and French navies, and, later, the British and American navies.  During it’s fishing and farming decades it had a seasonal population of about 200 and needed a school for its children, hence School House Bay. 

I’d hoped to stay for a full day to explore the island (lighthouse, two derelict houses and those snakes) and leave the following day but the forecast predicted very strong winds on Thursday so I cut my visit short.  Wednesday morning arrived with the wind blowing about 15 kmph from the SW.  That meant a straight run into Kingston.  The waves were confused and the boat swung like a drunken pendulum going downwind. I was thankful for the masthead float’s reassurance. I learned that the Wayfarer likes a very broad reach rather than a dead run. Bring a whisker pole next time.  

I left with the S2 from Collins Bay and kept pace for most of the ride into Kingston.  I’d started at 9:30 from Main Duck and arrived at 2 pm, averaging about 8 kmph.

How to sum it up?  I’m going back to Main Duck next summer.