Errands in Gore Bay caused a late start. Luckily, gazpacho at Pine Box this evening. Sunny, warm, and dry. Had to water the garden AGAIN.
But the day started with an early morning dip, just a little after sunrise. And that's the way to start any day. I'm thinking an early morning dip should be part of every camper's routine.
The garden, dry as it is, is starting to produce.
Light wind, intense sun. Heard from George Gaiser that he heard at church that Ed Burt has not yet irrigated but is harvesting decent crops--which shows that you can't believe everything you hear at church.
While not the best day for crops, it was a fine day for a bike ride. Above is the ride back from the marina, which is majority up, including a bit of Lebar hill. This is the new record.
Actually, a swim, a tasty lunch, and a nap.
Close hauled on the way out, with a fitful wind—sometimes slack, sometimes enough to almost bury the rail. Overall, a quick trip, and an enjoyable one, because of the need to pay attention and make adjustments.
After lunch, a luxurious nap as the boat swung to anchor in the lee of Harbor Island. But then a gust, and then another, sneaking around to the protected anchorage, inciting the boat to heel at anchor. Time to get up said the elements. So we did.
And the ride back was lively, with just one-third jib along with the mizzen, but with the boat still hitting seven knots, from time to time. Heliotrope's new, very accurate, wind gauge showed 25 knots of true wind, with gusts occasionally higher (and all that is just short of a gale). Experienced as we are, we battened the hatches in advance to avoid the sheets of spray slicing across the boat from sneaking down below.
The trip home was quick. We fell back to our old routine of heavy weather sailing. And it was fun.
At the moment, as we are sitting shoreside, occasional violent gusts come ripping down from the bluff. We are hoping all those anchored out are enjoying them as much as we are.
P.S. —Cheetos make a delicious side for an off-shore lunch.
An odd night with two power outages (and attendant screeching of detectors), the rain which was forecast not showing up, considerable dog nervousness, and finally a belated shower.
Over to Providence Bay (with the next door neighbors) to check out the new coffee shop/art gallery and for fish and chips at Lake Huron Fish and Chip (or whatever it's called—the sign has weathered away pretty much). Illustrated below, the mural on the side of what used to be a hardware store back when Prov was more of a town, but which now sells lattes and lithographs.
Mighty west wind all day blowing some of the humidity away and cooling things down a bit. Garden in desperate need of water, AGAIN.
We did see several today but they quickly vanished in the desert air. If Wordsworth can say "rocks and stones and trees," I'll say "wind and sun and heat." But I know it is worse elsewhere. Here a dip in the lake and a sit in the breeze, and climate change seems bearable.
Wolf in the Tango as we sailed by.
Too hot, and, of course, too dry.
The kind of day when you either had to crawl under a rock or slither into the water.
But, the Falls were overrun, with cars parked everywhere. Apparently people are willing to suffer extremes for a little natural wonder (which at present is the merest trickle). Marina also filled beyond capacity (one anchored out), this time with big sailboats. It must be the height of the season.
An odd little shower this morning with drops few enough to count. And this afternoon a few cumulo-nimbus sailing past to the west and north. Once again the tomatoes look painfully wilted.
No wind in the morning, rambunctious wind in the afternoon.
Note the monarch.
Continuous watering necessary of garden, flowers, and herbs. Lively sail on Windrider, with all systems fine with a blow.
Cicadas buzzing in the trees.
We had to hide from the sun from 9 to 5.
More dog vomit fungus, this time on the chip pile at the bottom of the driveway.
Mimi taking an 8 pm dip to cool off after our cruise.
Lovely cruise on Heliotrope from 5:30 to 7:30. John and ME, Murray and Elaine, and us. Just the right breeze for snacks and cocktails. Good fun silently buzzing a yacht anchored a short bit off Donna and Al's. These fine cruisers invited us to breakfast, I'm pretty sure.
Time for goldenrod.
Yes, we have thistle. Although I control it on our stretch of the road, others don't. In some ways the plant is attractive, and butterflies seem to love it.
Goldenrod, queen anne's lace, tansy, and thistle. I can never resist picking a tansy leaf, rolling it up, and squeezing for the fabulous, pungent smell. I don't eat it, but back in the day it was thought to control flatulence brought on by eating too many fish or too many beans.
Unlimited sun, almost no wind, warm water. Beaches thronged. Plans to sail the Windrider thwarted by lack of air.
But the swimming was good.
A family of young Jay's hopping about and making strange mewling sounds on the north side of the house, by the sawed-off cedars.
And, Gooseberry Island is back. Two days after my third chat with chart-plotter manufacturer, Garmin, a FED-X truck showed up on the driveway and supplied me with a micro-sd card, supposedly loaded with the proper charts. It took over four hours for the contents of the card to be uploaded to the chart-plotter, but once done, Gooseberry was back in this world, along with the Clapperton channel, Kittiwake Rock, and a host of nav aides, depth contours, and hazards to navigation. This is what the device was supposed to display at the outset. Working properly, the plotter (combined with the new wind gauge and depth transponder} will be remarkably useful.
Sue's strings have kept the mergansers off the dock (because mergansers leap up from the water) but now the gulls have moved in and become squatters (they fly in), and,so, a vigorous scrubbing is occasionally required. Pinwheels are back up in the vain hope the gulls will be scared off, but how ridiculous is that?
And, another capsize today. This time—the worlds' greatest sailor—P.D. Perhaps more accurately, the world's self -proclaimed greatest sailor. And this capsize done with very little wind. Great merriment and much hilarity on the dock.
In these hot, dry times Pax has become an avid swimmer. He even goes out over his head.
Visitors away this morning (but coming back soon). Afternoon spent hauling brush from Serendipity Lane to the dump (remains of tree trimming).
Fine sail.
Fine sail.
Swimming and boating. Boating and swimming.
Huge wind, but warm and sunny. Fun everywhere: marina, pier, lower deck.
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).