Dick Grota (Nite 60) and his wife Janet from Sturgeon Bay sailed into Kagawong today onboard their Tartan 35, looking for us. They have done this in years past, but we have always failed to connect. This year they found us on the dock, and later came over for dinner and sequence, and talk of sailing and iceboating.
Asclepias, starting to flower.
A day or two ago Sue discovered that when she turned on the fresh water aboard Heliotrope she heard a gushing sound. This was not music to my ears; a gushing sound is a bad sound. After putting research off for a few days, we faced the music today, only to discover the worst—a major leak inside the domestic hot water system.
And, there is only one solution for a problem like this (caused by inadequate winterization, or the fact that the system is now very old)—extraction, and then replacement. And the only way to do that is down the hatch, the little cockpit hatch on port side. When diagnosing the problem I leaned well into that hatch up side down and, as it turned out, leaned a little too far, needing to call Sue for help in extracting—me.
That’s when I decided to hire help. Patrick spent an hour and a half, working mostly at my direction but also contributing good ideas, scrunched down in that very small space. Ultimately we prevailed, and the wonderful old water heater has been removed.
As of this moment, Heliotrope is completely non-functional with a broken toilet and a discombobulated water system. So. There is lots to look forward to.
Gore Bay, where Pax and I had to go to get the whipper-snipper (aka weed-whacker) tuned up.
The town is getting busy. Parking at the Falls is becoming scarce. Patrick has had a number of Tango and kayak rentals (one first timer who sailed all the way over to Sandy Beach). Most of the cottages are now occupied. We have traffic. The pulled-pork barbecue chuck wagon is in place opposite the Chocolate Factory. Ku-Ku Hut is open. The staff is in place at the marina (but without much to do since there has been only one transient so far). Tomorrow is Canada Day. The weather is faultless (if you are not a bean or radish or tomato).
David Brooks had a column in the New York Times today called "The Next Culture War." Mediocre thinking and writing, as usual. But a subject of interest and importance. As of now 1,564 comments, most of them brilliant and insightful. What I appreciate about Brooks is his ability generate discussion, with the comments far surpassing his original offering.
Over to Little Current this morning, as an outing, or a bit of holiday. Breakfast at the Anchor Inn. A walk along the waterfront. A drive by Low Island and a peek at Boyles' (where Heliotrope spent a number of years). A little poking around in a few of the new stores.
But, somehow work reasserted itself in the afternoon with Sue taking on the long-suffering garage, and me first trying to weed-whack but giving up in frustration with the whacker and then resorting to beach work, which involved enduring the indignities of wading, rowing, and swimming. I think Sue ended up on the short end of these assignments.
We are, apparently, under the center of a high pressure, and the past few days have been mostly calm. This afternoon, though, a good breeze from the south, so perhaps things are changing. The need to water the garden and the herb garden makes me hope for rain.
And, finally, I got some photos of the marina concert up on this website. A slow internet connection (such as ours) results in a certain lack of timeliness, but nonetheless, a selection of photos has now been posted. To view, go Home on this website, and then go to Images.
Today we declared an end to construction (at least as a primary focus), and cleaned all the tools, scrap and detritus from the house, and even made progress stowing things away in the garage , and then getting it back into order. After work we took to the water, clearing rocks around the pier and even swimming for seconds at a time.
Last evening, Earl and Karen were unable to attend, so we went without them. Cars lined along the street in front of Hunt's store and around the church. Boats at anchor and in almost all the slips. Half a dozen occupied stand-up paddle boards holding stationary in the harbor (occupants sitting down) and the finger docks well lined with people on chairs or sprawling on the hardwood. And Heliotrope providing the best seat in the house.
As we were settling in we noticed a boat new to the harbor tied opposite us across the finger—a Bayfield 29 that I had seen coming in earlier in the afternoon as I was sailing the Windrider. Sometime during the usual extended pre-concert preparation/tuneup, a couple about our age stepped aboard and and began to set up for some listening. That's when I stepped across the finger, introduced ourselves, and invited them over for a glass of wine, a slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie, and an even more luxurious seat. Now it looks like we have new friends, with interesting backstories and similar interests—Jean and Dave, who spend six months on Manioulin and six months at their house on the Pacific coast of Mexico.
At last. The long-dreaded project has been completed and the stairs are trimmed out. It took many days longer than it should have, and completely maxed out my carpenterial skills, but it did get done, to at least an acceptable ISO level (though far less than 9,000).
You never know when you are really done, but shortly after we declared victory, I shrugged off all concerns and went sailing, while Sue took a nap and went to the Esso. In the photo above is a boat I chased down and raced back to the marina. I am embarrassed to say that he won by about 30 seconds, but that's because the winds were intermittent and on the nose. (I will rectify this ignominy at my earliest convenience.)
Tonight, about 8:30, we are heading down to the dock for an open air concert by a supposedly pretty good Celtic folk/rock band out of Sudbury. With Heliotrope being in a slip, we should have good seats. And old, old friends Earl and Karen are coming with us.
Of crows, that is. We have a murder living right here—more than five, probably less than 10. It's quite clear that they own the property—were here first, and expect to be here long after. They are quite demonstrative of their opprobrium when we have the temerity to walk around or do any yard work. And, they are early risers, extremely vocal in their morning discussions.
High summer here now. No more vernal pools. No more swales overflowing. Orange hawkweed joining the flowering daisies. Water warm enough to swim, which I did today (taking my feet off the ground but not, using discretion, dunking under).
And, as depicted in the photo above, the first transient yacht in the marina, this trawler making an early morning departure after a tranquil night.
This afternoon, after projects, the recreational opportunities were narrowed down to swimming and/or kayaking.
Overnight, yesterday's wild wind gave way to calm and quiet. Perfectly still at sunrise. A cool and misty morning slowly morphing into a sunny and warm afternoon. Then a gentle breeze coming back from opposite of where it used to be.
Paxton heading out to sea. He has become quite a swimming dog, and on warmish days is reluctant to get out and shake off .
Baby water snake heading for dry land, possibly for a little sunbathing.
Fortunately, the marina was somewhat sheltered, and both Heliotrope and the Windrider are doing fine. But, enough wind today to blow all the pine pollen out to Maine. Also, enough to blow all the cottonwood fluff to Cleveland, or beyond. And, probably, enough to blow the quills off any porcupine foolish enough to go beach combing. Pax and I got sandblasted on our waterfront walk.
And all that wind has caused a bit of a seiche. The water level right now is higher than we have ever seen it since we have had had property. The newly built pier, set high above the waves, was getting baptized, so we had to raise it. And the ramp, which seemed more than adequate when installed, had to be extended.
A little rain last night—enough to put off garden watering. And we have had our first harvest— a few radishes, which seems kind of minimal for this time of year.
AND! The strawberry are ripe! Today we harvested 1.7 ounces of somewhat sour berries.