Another basically rain free rain. Maybe half an hour of medium light precip, enough to make outdoor showers showery, but not enough to soak the ground.
Kids so busy they fell asleep within the first paragraph of our current chapter the BFG.
Sunny and HOT. The only place to be was in the water.
The Windrider is back in the water with the mast pointing up.
The best place to be today. Very hot. And very windy (which made it bearable). Lots of swimming; morning, noon, and night.
Hot and humid, with a severe thunderstorm warning. Ten minutes of rain as the system split around Manitoulin. At least the kids got a drink.
Full day—swimming in town and hanging out at the marina, swimming off our pier, picking peas, playing in the sandbox, catching raindrops (while they lasted).
Family has arrived, bearing gifts, foremost among them glasses.
An enthusiastic start to a fun time, with the kids remembering everything, and wanting to do everything, all at once. Pax, too, is glad for the company. And at bedtime, the first chapter of the BFG. I think perhaps my favodrite thing in all the world is reading good book to little kids.
...and very few mosquitoes.
Lots of milkweed and little moisture. Another day of perfect weather. Morning spent on puttering projects, with an afternoon triathlon—walk the dog, ride the bike, paddle the kayak. A pair of goldeneyes making themselves at home on the boulders in front of Pinebox.
Some rain last night, at least enough to bother Pax, and a few claps of thunder (even more bothersome). But overall a wimpy storm, which is all we've had this year. Ten years ago last week we experienced the infamous Manitoulin micro-burst which knocked out power for, what, a week, and leveled hundreds of old white pines on the Benjamins. Plenty of wind today, though, ripping over the bluff and racing across the bay. Nearly lost my hat when Pax and I went to the marina to check the boat and buy ice. And before I could do that I had to remove a sizable dead balsam that had fallen across the driveway. (It's not easy being a tree around here.)
Otherwise, the weather delightful and perfect for puttering.
Maybe. Moderate rain for the past half hour, and maybe it will continue.
Sailing with Mark on Heliotrope this forenoon. It was supposed to be Mark and his wife and two kids, which I was looking forward to, but only Mark was able to come. Maybe good, because the wind kept building. Given the situation, we turned the sail into a lesson on reading the wind, tacking and gybing, docking, and reading charts and plotting courses. It is fun to go out with someone avid to learn and more than capable of it.
Tacos tonight at Pinebox. Home-made corn tortillas and home grown cilantro. Pretty high yum factor. Afterward, with the rain, Pax was not desirous of coming home so he is having a sleepover at Lacy's. Rain at Pinebox is almost inaudible whereas here it is loud.
Picture postcard perfect. Maybe too perfect. Moderate crowd in the lower village and very few individuals interested in the dunk tank, or flush your friend apparatus, which was my bailiwick. Actually chilly when the sun went behind a cloud. No parade this year and no pony rides. But quite a noisy firetruck.
Concert on the dock tonight, which I think I won't attend. This afternoon as Pax and I were taking our bike ride over toward Sandy Beach one of the lower level Topazzini life-forms shot off a few bottle rockets—in spite of the fire ban. That pretty much wrecked the balance of Pax's afternoon, and I don't think he'd like me gone this evening. Perfect, chilly night for sleeping—assuming no more rockets, and other noise levels remain under control.
Above, some of the excavation occurring along Highway 540 between Kagawong and Gore Bay. For some reason, the contractor felt the need to dig into the shoulders on the hill rising up on the west side of Ice Lake. But what a beautiful revelation—millions and millions of years of Earth history and climate change. The top layer, the blocky gray and brownish layer, is the limestone of the Niagara escarpment, laid down over millions of years by bits of shell falling to the bottom of a warm, shallow sea.
Striking change in the weather. But not enough real precipitation to ease the drought or cancel the fire ban.
More rough conditions at the marina making life uncomfortable for an older couple in a motion sensitive, patched together aluminum cruiser. We seasoned dock hands tried to help with additional lines and adjusted positioning.
Dinner at Pinebox, with Murray and Elaine in attendance. Just your everyday sartu di riso as the main course. Translated from the Italian it comes out as "stuffed rice cake."
Another day of high and gusty winds, slowly backing from south to west. If one ignores the Manitoulin drought it was a very pleasant day—hot in the sun but perfectly fine elsewhere. Even some clouds after noon.
All the high wind seems to have piled up the water in the North Channel. The Wood Duck canoe thought about taking itself for a swim, and the estuaries along the beach where spring runoff cuts through to the lake were flowing backwards.
John and I took a stab at the outboard, changing the oil, replacing the gas, squirting WD40 into the cylinder, etc., but no go. So, up to Oliver at Berry boats. Email from there a few hours later (since I have no phone) that the little engine that couldn't now could.
Hauled the boat and towed it back to the driveway where it underwent considerable pumping, swabbing, and reassembling. Only one broken piece of rigging, but an easy workaround seems quite doable. Tomorrow John and I are going to tackle the motor.
Evaluating the situation.
Towing helpers to shore. BTW, this is what the underside of a Windrider looks like.
Another day of honking south wind, with extreme gusts. Perfect day for tipping over if one were so inclined. Wiltingly hot in the sun and out of the wind. But transcendental on the lower deck where occasionally it was necessary to grab the woodwork to avoid being blown to Tysons.
So, I'm in the Windrider with the main reefed, shilling back and forth in front of the marina waiting for Wolf to be ready to come sailing. It's a powerful wind and very gusty but I decide to roll out the jib and have a little excitement. That's when the turnbuckle on the reacher sail parts and the whole contraption, including the black pipe extension, starts flogging wildly. I try to roll in the jib but it's not coming easily. Then a violent gust slams me from the side. I'm struggling with the headsails. I can't point up. and I don't react quickly enough to point down. I grab for the main sheet but by then the impossible is happening—a Windrider is tipping over.
When I know I'm a goner I dive out of the cockpit working to keep clear of the mainsheet. I dive and then swim up aft. In swimming I don't think about my glasses, but when I come up I notice that, in spite of the strap, they are gone. That's when I think about my phone which was not in the dry bag.
So now the boat has turned turtle, with the mast pointing at the bottom. A guy in a jetski is alongside within minutes, but I'm fine. I'm less than a hundred yards off the high dock and a crowd is gathering, although I can't really see who is there. Ken in the jetski helps gather stuff that is floating away and tows me in closer. David (from the big house) comes out in his big powerboat and we attach lines to the amas and try flip the boat back over, without success. Finally we tie the boat to the high dock and, since I had ridden my bike to the marina, Patrick gives me a ride back home.
I change out of my sopping clothes and begin to warm up a bit, and then John and ME drive me back to the marina, with me figuring the boat will probably spend the night upside down. But when I get there a crowd has gathered…Wolf, Patrick, Rachel, David, and somehow, Mike Coombs, in his wet suit.
Rachel and Mike jump in the water and pull the pins on the akas, which takes pressure off the shrouds (John's idea) and then Rachel dives repeatedly with a pliers to disconnect the forestay. She spends a lot of time under water, but finally the pin comes out and the mast is free to swing backward and stop sticking in the mud. Meanwhile, I've got the 2.5 Merc onto Geode and I am able to tow the hulk in to the beach.
Once on the beach a whole group of folks help pull one of the amas out of the aka; lines are attached, and the boat is heaved over. Rachel pumps the boat dry using the handle of a pliers since the pump handle is in the briny deep, while Mike and I get the brand new motor off the motor mount and haul it ashore where it can begin to drain. Everyone helps untangle the rigging mess, and I paddle the boat back to the dock.
So, should the blame for this fiasco be placed on the rigging failure, or somewhere else? I blame Wolf for not being ready to go sailing when I was. No major damage to the boat—and it got a god rinsing. I am, however, missing my glasses and cell phone. These spare glasses I found are cloudy and scratched. And without the phone my blog will be limited, I won't be able to finish the e-book I was just getting into, and I will be somewhat incommunicado. Still, It was an adventure, and things could have been worse.
Pitcher's Thistle and pot luck.
Countless carapaces...or larval shuck. One of nature's profligate extravagances. Like a thick soup along the shore, providing an aroma reminiscent of crayfish. Each of these relatively simple creatures has a precise built-in clock, so they emerge en masse over a few nights. I'm thinking last night, with its wind and waves, was bad timing for the nuptial dance. Tonight, with its absolute calm, would be perfect. Perhaps the emergence will continue for a third night, and future generations will be as extravagant as those past.
Bountiful sweet pea
Shadfly soup.
Making for an interesting day.
Sue on the road before real light...back to Wisconsin for a week. Wild rocking and rolling in the marina, with a willing crew adding multiple lines to all the tossing boats.
Heliotrope well secured and going nowhere.
The Bay getting well churned.
Evening shower sailing by Gooseberry.
Serious goose problem.
Quite a few leopard frogs bored out of their minds, just waiting for kids who like to chase amphibians..
And, for a time mid-afternoon, it was hot and humid—almost too hot to work.
First of the year.
Severe thunderstorm warning, but our storm proved to be rather less than severe. It eased in slowly, with no squall line, and rained only moderately—although the thunder was good, ricocheting around the bay. About an hour of rain, perhaps enough to do some good. Then as the storm moved out a tempest from the north-east lasting about half an hour. Not the greatest bit of weather, but still interesting. And, of course, enough to cause two power outages.
Last night the first night of the shadfly hatch. Boats in the marina littered with leftover flies. Phalanxes of gulls so over-stuffed they can hardly get airborne. With the storm gone, the sky clear, and the wind dropping, tonight might be the shadfly dream.
A nice long noontime dip and then an even longer aperitif splash. Very light breeze blowing in.
Gold-plater and duct-taper. The main thing is to get on the water, one way or another.
The Habes have pulled up stakes and are headed back to Michigan. Interestingly, Bri had Bob as his 6th grade teacher, and Abby (and Bri too for that matter) had Cathy as school librarian.
...and visit to Kagawong Museum and Edwards Gallery.
Asclepias
Early morning kayak
Heading back to the trailer for the haul out
A brief shower this evening.
Lively reach both ways.
What a great boat
Cathy and Bob
The old lodge.
And, when we got back, we found the Texas contingent here.They've got the water system up and running, and are happily flushing their new toilet into their new septic.