Kayak trip DAY 2 – “Halfway to Lonely”

DAY 2 – “Halfway to Lonely” – Georgian Bay - July 2011
PHOTOS: http://tinyurl.com/DAY2-TR-HALFMOONandLONELY

Bob’s “Spirit of Adventure Tour” 2011
Following our wildlife encounter on Bears Rump Island, I was ready to leave the isle of giant arachnids and get started on our second day of paddling. It was going to a big day for us – more than 20 miles across open water with only one small island to offer a place to rest. To save time, before we emerged from our tents in the morning, we started packing up our sleeping gear. Once we all had something to eat (oatmeal, etc.), we packed up our remaining things, carried the kayaks to the water’s edge, loaded the hatches, and prepared for a big day of paddling. My stated goal of rising early and being on the water by 6 A.M. each day fell to the reality of sleeping past sunrise, eating a good breakfast, and taking the time to enjoy the beauty of our surroundings. We launched at 9 O’clock.

HALFMOON
I took a compass bearing from the chart and made visual contact with Halfmoon Island, 10 miles away across the deep water of the great bay. Like the first day, we had just a little wind and mostly calm water for this long crossing. The marine weather forecast was good, with the only rain, wind, or fog being generated off the main land mass across the bay near Killarney Provincial Park, some 50 miles to the east. Waves were about “a half-meter”, as the Canadian NOAA weather forecast put it, and were quite manageable. At our normal cruising speed of just over 3 MPH, we expected to reach tiny Halfmoon Island in 3 hours, the mid-way point of our day’s goal on the north side of the much larger Lonely Island. From 10 miles away, Halfmoon resembled a distant city skyline, with trees forming an irregular outline against the horizon. While doing my research, I read discussions by paddlers and sailors wondering how far away you could see an island with only 12 feet of elevation above the water. People spouted formulas that took into account the island’s height, how tall the trees might be, and the distance of the paddler’s eyes above the water while seated in a kayak. The concern was whether somebody in a kayak could see an island that small from 10 miles away, or if one would have to navigate by compass or GPS alone. I was prepared to do either, but we had no problem establishing visual contact on the horizon, and we simply aimed for it.

SLOW GOING
We all quickly learned a paddler’s perspective of what an island looks like from 5 miles away, and how long it takes to paddle those final 2 miles when it looks like you’re almost there. Because I had the only GPS receiver, I had the advantage (or disadvantage) of knowing how fast we paddled, how far we had traveled, and how much farther we still had to go. We aimed for the right side of Halfmoon and paddled into the bay that was formed by the narrow crescent shape of the apparently misnamed island.

Halfmoon Island landing report (YOUTUBE): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ay4FWJlo2CE&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL


GET OFF MY ISLAND
Dozens of terns flew over the highest crest of the stony ridges, while others were on the rocks, as if nesting. A few tall cottonwood trees dominated the skyline. One of the sleek, black-capped birds flew toward us, as if deployed by the avian residents to look us over and warn us away. We landed on a flat rock shelf in shallow, algae-filled water, as far away from any birds as we could get. We made our way across wet, slippery, weathered rocks, to a flat, pavement-like shelf where it was apparent that a small cabin of some sort once stood. While we sipped water and snacked, a few of the terns continued to protest our presence by flying overhead and emitting a scream that sounded very much like “GET OFF MY ISLAND, GET OFF MY ISLAND!”, while large fish spawned in the shallow water nearby.

FIRST RECORDED VISIT BY A PADDLER!
I’m sure that hundreds of fishermen and pleasure boaters in powered or sail craft have been to Halfmoon Island, and maybe even a Voyageur or two came this far back in the fur-trading days, but in all of my research, the only mention I found in any website or book (trip reports or comments by kayakers, sailors, etc.) of paddling to Halfmoon Island was by 2 men who planned that route but didn’t go, and another man who planned a trip around the bay a couple years ago, but had to cancel. We planned. We went. We conquered. I am claiming THE FIRST DOCUMENTED LANDING ON HALFMOON ISLAND IN MODERN TIMES BY ANYONE IN A HUMAN-POWERED PADDLE CRAFT. Significant, if not newsworthy.

In honor of the occasion, I performed a little sea shanty that I thought up as we paddled, sung to the tune of Andy Williams’ “Moon River”
YOUTUBE video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkwI5193BA0

That probably makes this the “First recorded visit by a paddler”, as well. Entertaining, if not good.

LONELY PADDLE
After about 30 minutes of rest, we accommodated our host’s request, and got off their island. We slipped back into our boats and paddled out of the lagoon, while the terns continued to scold us until were a safe distance away from their home. I reset my GPS to “go to” the north shore of Lonely Island, another 12 miles away. Weather continued to favor us, with little wind, a mostly sunny sky, and half-meter waves. After another 3 hours, we approached the southern tip of Lonely Island and paddled to the right, up the eastern shore. After an hour more of paddling, we could see the lighthouse high above the water on a hill that overlooked the rocky beach. We landed on the rounded stones that occupied a wide expanse of shoreline, or “beach”, as we all began to explore. The lighthouse on the hill and its companion building are the only structures remaining from the complex of wood-frame houses that once stood near the shore and concrete dock. Now, all that remains is concrete pads and the overgrown sidewalks that once linked all of the buildings.

"WOODEN" YOU RATHER SLEEP ON THE DECK?
As I walked around, Joe and Patti determined that the concrete pad by the dock and haul-out slip would make a suitable campsite. My research showed that there was a wooden deck somewhere, and I eventually found it. Apparently, the people who lived there and tended to the lighthouse prior to its automation in 1987 had made things comfortable by constructing a deck on the stony beach, complete with cedar trees all around the edge (most of the buildings were destroyed in 1995). The deck, approximately 10’x15’, was originally built around a large cedar tree, now merely a stump to be used as a table. The small trees planted around the perimeter had grown large enough to shade the entire deck under an aromatic canopy of green, making the deck area resemble an oasis in the otherwise barren, rocky ground. A sod-filled walkway led from the deck to a low, arched footbridge made of small cedar logs that was more ornamental than functional. Like most of the islands around there, a thick cedar forest covered most of the land, providing ample building materials for the residents. We decided that a shady wooden deck was more hospitable than a concrete slab, so we set up camp below the old cedars.

UPHILL BATTLE
Further exploration led us back over the quaint footbridge and up a very wide, rolling path through the forest that paralleled a set of power cables laid on the ground – perhaps from generators that used to be situated on the empty slabs. The path climbed up a gentle grade that obviously served the former residents as a promenade connecting the lower buildings with the beacon on the hill. Just below the lighthouse, the hill steepened and thick vegetation blocked our path. Pushing through the shrubs would have been a sweaty, uphill bushwhack, and the thought of disturbing more large spiders and rattlesnakes made the prospect of reaching the top very unappealing. We turned back. (Note: Once we had returned home, further research showed that the automatic light is now serviced by helicopter, and there is a helipad on the hill). With the only access to the top now abandoned and unmaintained, it would be quite an effort to reach top, with minimal benefit. We walked back down and explored the wooded area at the edge of the beach. Joe found the graves of 2 pets, dogs I think. I knew about them; the beloved pets were in a tiny 2-grave cemetery that was fenced in by low pickets, and marked by wooded signs bearing the animals’ names, as well as their years of birth and death. That put a human touch on the abandoned homestead, and made us realize that people and their pets lived their lives on that remote island. Joe brought a large water filtration bag, and he hung it from a tree so the gravity-feed system would let us fill our water bottles without pumping. Once he fired up his stove, we boiled water for “cooking” (rehydrating). As the sun dipped toward the horizon, biting flies came out. It was time for bed. With another good weather forecast overnight, we did without the tent’s rainfly. The wide expanse of our mostly screen-mesh shelter kept the bugs out and let the grand views in. The near perfect east-west orientation of the island’s north shore afforded us a very unique vantage point. In the evening, we watched the sunset from our deck, and in the morning, we could see the sunrise; all without leaving our tents. Another great campsite. Next up: Day 3 & 4 trip report with a final wrap-up, and more photos.

Georgian Bay Kayak Trip - July 2011

Day #1 PHOTOS:
http://tinyurl.com/DayOne-GeorgianBayJuly2011

DAY 1 - Preparation, Launching, and Camp - Bob’s “Spirit of Adventure Tour 2011”
The plan was to launch our kayaks in Tobermory and paddle out onto the deep waters of Georgian Bay while we island-hopped for 4 to 5 days, camping on islands of various sizes and covering about 65 miles. The reality of it is that we did exactly that, except we had to improvise on our first night‘s campsite. In previous years, the 6 campsites on Flowerpot Island were “first come - first served”. You would walk up to the harbormaster or the cruise line ticket booth and pay for a campsite; some books, literature, and websites still proclaim that fact. With the recent construction of a National Park Visitor Center in town, campsites now can be reserved in advance at that center, or on line. The harbormaster told us to go to the ticket booth, and the ticket booth attendant told us to go to the visitor center where we were informed that a man had reserved ALL 6 campsites because he was going to be proposing to his girlfriend that weekend. I propose that letting one person reserve 6 campsites is not fair. We wouldn’t be camping on Flowerpot Island ($9.50 per person per day to camp on a primitive site), so we were forced to save $28.50 (plus GST & PST) and camp for free somewhere else. If you’ve ever gone camping r paddling in Ontario, you know that nothing is free there because there are fees to walk, visit, launch a kayak, take out a kayak, park, and camp anywhere….. unless you do it the way we did. We parked for free, and because all the islands were uninhabited and very remote, we also camped for free all 3 nights.

I’d been planning this trip for a year - since I completed a 30 mile 1-way trip across the mouth of the bay last July. Planning pays off! We drove to a narrow strip of public access beach on Dunks Bay where Joe could park his car for 3 or 4 nights without getting a ticket. I checked all the signage, and there was no restriction on the time we could leave a car there, so game on! Joe, Patti, and I began shuttling all of our gear between the car and the sandy beach, and finally carried our 3 sea kayaks to the water, squeezing the boats into a small public area of the beach that was also occupied by many other people using the beach for more traditional purposes, such as laying on towels, swimming, and building sand castles. We crammed all of our camping gear and food into the hatches, and without ceremony, we were on the water and began paddling. I zeroed the trip computer settings on my GPS receiver and made certain that I had a waypoint set for the beach.

A few days earlier, I sat in front of my desktop computer with “Google Earth” on screen and transferred the coordinates of all the islands into my handheld GPS unit, so we could aim for an island even if we couldn’t see it - a cautionary step in case of fog or other weather conditions that could obscure our visual points of reference. Last year, the water was so calm and flat, that it was almost boring; I hoped for similar conditions for Joe. My buddy Joe was on his first-ever trip on big water. We would have several open water crossings between islands that were 5 to 10 miles each, and rough water could make it interesting. Patti has paddled extensively on the Niagara River, with several near-shore trips on lakes Erie and Ontario as well, and has previously paddled on Georgian Bay.

We had enough experience among us that I wasn’t too worried about this large step I was taking by more than doubling the mileage of last year’s outing. As for safety, we all are experienced paddlers and know what can happen in a kayak, so the wearing of life jackets is a normal part of our paddling attire. Inexperienced people who don’t know enough about the sport are the ones who often opt to not wear a life jacket. By my mandate, as well as common sense, we all wore neoprene shirts (wet suit tops) in case if accidental immersion in the cold Great Lakes water. The rest of our clothing consisted of quick-dry shorts, water shoes, wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and plenty of sunscreen. I neglected to use lip balm with some sort of sun protection factor, and I regretted that (Note to self: use a high SPF sunscreen when paddling in the sun for 4 days!). We all carried a whistle, light, throw rope, and paddle float, and Patti also carried a tow line in case one of us became incapacitated and couldn’t paddle (illness, shoulder, arm, or hand injury, etc.). In addition to all of that, I carried aerial flares, signal flag, strobe light, small air horn, handheld VHF radio, a SPOT satellite rescue message device, and a navigation chart of the section of Georgian Bay we were in, sealed in a waterproof chart case. All of that was either on deck or in the cockpit behind my seat. Being the expedition photographer, I also carried 3 cameras; one in a waterproof case stowed with my gear, one in a waterproof case on deck, and a small waterproof Kodak “PlaySport” video camera attached to a little flexible tripod where I could reach it on the deck in front of me. I also transmitted a twice daily “I’m OK” message from my satellite device that relayed an e-mail to select people with a link to a map that showed my exact location. That same device could also send a “Please send help” message or a “911” (send the chopper!) message. My main source of help would have been the waterproof handheld VHF radio I bought recently. With that, I could listen to NOAA weather reports, status reports from the Coast Guard or other boaters about navigation hazards, and could also contact nearby boaters or the Tobermory Coast Guard station in case we needed immediate assistance. They call me the “Safety Nazi”. I do a lot of things that prompt people to say I’m crazy and take too many risks, but I minimize risk by planning, preparation, and by carrying the right gear. I wasn’t worried.

Back to paddling - We paddled from Dunks Bay into the big open waters of Georgian Bay and began our adventure. Joe had never been up there before, so I decided to detour over to Flowerpot Island to let Joe get a close view of the 2 sea stacks that give the island its name. Later, I learned that we were supposed to pay a fee to land there and walk around. We paddled up onto a rock shelf and pulled the boats farther up while we walked around (see photos of the “flowerpots“). I’d been there several times before, so I just hung back and took pictures. After our exploration break, we headed to the next island, Bears Rump, about 5 miles from shore, where we hoped to find a suitable place to camp. We had paddled nearly all the way around the rocky shoreline when we spotted a good landing zone and flat rock shelf that would hold our tents. We hauled our gear onto the shelf, carried the boats up and mostly out of sight behind the rocks (free camping is illegal), and attached our cockpit covers. Before we carried Patti’s kayak up from the water, I picked up a rock to get it out of the way, and standing where the rock had been was the BIGGEST SPIDER I HAVE EVER SEEN (other than in a zoo or in my cousin Louie’s bedroom)!!! I’m glad that I had a complete change of clothes with me. The spider growled and snapped at me (perhaps a slight exaggeration)… the spider just stood there silently while I screamed like a little girl (not as exaggerated). It was 3 to 4 inches across, and I later identified it as a Wolf Spider, which can have a body over 1 inch long and a leg spread of 4 inches. We set up our tents and made sure the screen doors were always zipped shut. Once the boats were stowed and tents set up, it was time to eat. Joe had his stove ready and we boiled water - that’s as close as cooking as I get. The island was covered with a thick cedar forest. Between the density of the vegetation and the size of the spiders, further exploration was not possible.

We laid our wet clothes across the rocks, watched the sun set, and zipped ourselves into our tents. Biting flies, gnats, and mosquitoes buzzed about, while giant mutant spiders lurked unseen. Since the weather forecast for the weekend was all good, we didn’t use the rain fly on our tents, allowing for good air flow all night, and good sleeping once it cooled down. In the morning, Patti told us she had heard a woodpecker in the distance; all I did was sleep. We rose in the dawn’s early light and had breakfast-with-a-view.
While we were loading our boats, Patti noticed that one of the island’s inhabitants had been busy overnight and left something attached to her neoprene top. At first I said it was a cocoon, but quickly realized that it was an egg sack - spider eggs, and Mama Spider was still close by on the shirt! Luckily for me, it was a smaller (1” across) spider. I assisted the spider’s exit and scraped off the egg sack; a web-encased bundle of bright red eggs (ick). Time to move on.

Georgian Bay Kayak Trip - Part 1

Introduction and Background - Bob’s “Spirit of Adventure Tour 2011”

In the 1980’s, I began driving up to Ontario’s Bruce Peninsula with my friend, Olaf, every June to photograph the wide variety of orchids that grow in that unique geographic climate zone - a long and relatively narrow peninsula jutting into the center of a Great Lake. To the west, Lake Huron caresses the land via beautiful, wide, sandy beaches, while Georgian Bay’s deep waters crash onto the eastern shore’s rocky cliffs formed by the Niagara Escarpment. Most of the clear waters of Georgian Bay are 100 to 300 feet deep, but the bay is over 500 feet deep near shore not too far south of Tobermory.

Georgian Bay offers some of the finest and most scenic sea kayaking on the continent, with over 30,000 rocky islands along its shores. Most of those are along the eastern coastline, but the islands between Tobermory and Manitoulin Island are very remote and offer a challenge to paddlers because of their distance from shore. In 2006, I bought my first kayak, and have been paddling the deep waters near Tobermory for 4 years.

Tobermory is a small, scenic, former commercial fishing village now known mostly for tourism. It draws not only paddlers, but photographers and naturalists come to see the small wild orchids that grow in the area. Scuba divers come to dive in the clean, clear waters and view some of the 26 documented shipwrecks that are scattered along the bottom of the surrounding area in Canada’s only underwater park, “Fathom Five National Marine Park”. Other visitors drive up Highway 6 to catch the huge 365-foot long ferry, the “MS Chi-Cheemaun” that can take cars, trucks, and passengers to Manitoulin Island, which connects with mainland Ontario west of Sudbury.

The kayak trips I’ve done on Georgian Bay have been progressively farther and more difficult each year. Way back in 1991, I drove up with 3 co-workers for an overnight camping trip. They went scuba diving (I actually donned scuba gear and dived to 40 feet - briefly), and also brought my canoe. My paddling experience on that trip consisted of an hour or so of canoeing in the harbor. Fast-forward to 2008 when I kayaked all the way out to Flowerpot Island, a full 4 miles from town. The next year, some friends and I ventured out a bit farther and paddled around Flowerpot Island, out to the Cove Island lighthouse, around that large island, and back to town (finishing in 3 to 4-foot swells) to complete a 20-mile round-trip. Last year saw us doing an overnight 1-way 30 mile kayak trip to South Baymouth on Manitoulin Island, a route that paralleled the path of the big ferry (we returned via the ferry). That brings me to this year’s great adventure - a planned island-hopping excursion of approximately 60 miles that would have us visit several small uninhabited islands, and included multiple open water crossings of up to 10 miles. I’ll write this trip report and post my story & photos one day at a time. Visit this site again tomorrow to read about “Day 1”.

PHOTOS: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2332357832474.2138314.1355629679&l=a9cc8a5a3d&type=1