Pike Bay

[Kyle]Since we had already done the full circuit of the Fort Drummond area on the kayak, and since rain was forecast the next day, we decided to leave a day early in the hopes of avoiding it enroute.

Pike Bay (also on Drummond Island) is large and lined with nice homes along its heavily wooded shore as well as the adjacent small islands. We were the only boat around that wasn’t obviously attached to one of the properties, so we dropped anchor right in the middle with the hope that we may be far enough from the forest to avoid the worst of any bugs.

The rain never came! The birds are Merganser (ducks), and the deer locally are all white-tailed deer

A belted kingfisher, a monarch butterfly on milkweed and evidence of a tree felling 'in progress' by a local beaver

Again, there was probably too much new construction going on to keep from not scaring most of the native fauna deep into the woods, but we still had a pleasant couple of days kayaking between and around all the area’s shallow bays and islets, and taking any opportunity to hop ashore on the few short trails available.

Kyle and the green frog agree to terms of residency

Once, we arrived back home to find that nature had come to us. A little green frog had taken refuge on one of our stern steps. We thought it would be skittish of us as we passed over it to climb back aboard, but it stayed put in its little spot in the sun. The next morning it was back (or still there?). I was worried it would get squished when we climbed into the kayak, so I went to nudge it over to safety out of the way to the side. Instead, it just climbed up on my hand and seemed to really enjoy my relative warmth. It took quite a bit of coaxing to convince it to return to the cold gelcoat.

More birds: A blue-jay bathing, Osprey flying, a solitary sandpiper on the rocks, and a loon swimming by at a distance

We spent the balance of our time at Pike Bay enjoying the long views of the far reaches of the bay and the islands scattered across the entrance, which made for a nice foreground at sunset. We even spotted what we think was an otter swimming back to shore one morning.

The beauty and tranquility are helping us understand why the locals suffer the harsh winters

Fort Drummond

[Kyle]Okay, so Fort Drummond was the last British fort on American soil following the War of 1812. This was basically because the mail was really slow back then. Once everyone figured out Drummond Island was United States territory, per the Treaty of Ghent, the Americans promptly demanded the British vacate the island, which they did without further argument. By then it was November of 1828.

This post is not about that because, by the time we showed up 195 years later, there was no sign whatsoever of the aforementioned fort in the bay that still bears its name, as the new locals quickly dismantled and repurposed all that buildling material into new structures. We had seen the layout of the original fort buildings back in the museum in Yacht Haven, and any remnants are now scattered across privately owned lands.

It was a bit smokey and hazy on the passage but we did get to see this distinctive lighthouse on the way through the De Tour Passage

When we arrived, we anchored in the middle of the shallow bay, which was sparsely lined with lakefront homes of every level from little fishing shacks to fancy, stone dream homes. Just up the bay from us was a rather derelict-looking marina that, because of the shallow access, seems to mostly cater to pontoon boats.

There didn’t seem to be a whole lot to see of interest, but we were here, so we set out in the kayak for a lap of the shoreline. Once we got going, though, we found the bay to be much larger than expected. We spent hours paddling through the reeds at the edges and through every narrow feeder stream. The area is probably too built-up for there to be too much wildlife, but we did spot a few interesting birds along the way. Once we were around the corner from the marina, the place was very picturesque.

Another fun trip with the kayak on a sunny day
The bird is a Belted kingfisher and the Painted Turtle speaks for itself

We popped into the marina on the way home and found they did at least have the redeeming feature of a freezer full of ice cream bars. The owner was pretty friendly, too.

Drummond Island - Yacht Haven

[Kyle]Since our check-in to the U.S. while underway had allowed us to skip stopping at the Drummond Island Yacht Haven (DIYH), I had intended to bypass any marina stay altogether. Then I started thinking about our windlass. It has been misbehaving the last few times. Specifically, the wires have been getting hot enough to smoke a little sometimes when it's straining to retrieve a well-buried anchor. The windlass is relatively new, and we had the connection trimmed and remade just a year ago. Now the problem has returned, we think the but the whole wire between the boat and the windlass is old, and needs fully replacing - they are older and may be getting brittle. That would leave fewer good strands to carry the current, which would heat them up more. That's one of the reasons I haven't minded cranking the anchor up manually so much while departing under sail. The windlass wires are necessarily heavy-gauge, making them one of the few things aboard for which we do not carry spares, since the crimping tool for making connections is the size and weight of bolt cutters. We already have one of those for the rigging. We don't have space for two.

DIYH has real electricians on staff. They have the big wire, connectors and tools, along with a big truck in which to carry them all. I decided that perhaps a day there wasn't such a bad idea after all.

To save the unnecessary dock fees, we anchored out and I rowed in to make inquiries. I located DIYH's marine electrician, who said he would be able to see us tomorrow. On the way back, I stopped at the marina office, who said they would be happy to find space for us. Great, now we have a plan.

It worked out pretty much the same as it always does. Once I got Begonia disassembled to where all the guy had to do was sit on our deck with his feet in the anchor locker and splice in the new wire, I went to go retrieve him. He was busy at the moment, but promised to come by as soon as he was finished with his current job.

Meanwhile, Maryanne was getting kind of antsy to see the local museum and walk some of the local trails. Both of those sounded a lot more fun to me than waiting for some guy to show up, but what could I do? Maryanne helpfully offered to go to the laundromat with a load to help pass the time while I waited.

Then lunch happened. It was starting to seem like our whole stay would be eaten up waiting for our guy. It wasn't. He showed up right after lunch and finished the job within a few minutes. Oh, if we had only had that tool...

We made it to the museum with more than enough time to study its contents carefully. Afterwards, Maryanne even treated me to dinner at a much-recommended local Mexican restaurant, Esther's. The food there was very good, much better than I would have expected in such a remote place, and the décor was wonderfully fanciful and humorous. We were even entertained by our server, who was getting to the age where memory might start being a problem. She initially brought us other people's dinners before we had even ordered. When we did finally get our own food, Maryanne's was ridiculously spicy, while mine was just medium. Each of our dinners included a knife, but no fork. When she asked us if we wanted dessert, we knew there was probably not enough daylight left to make that come to fruition and demurred. Besides, there was an ice cream place just down the street...

Kyle managed the treat of both Mexican for lunch AND an ice cream (no suprise there!), and I squeezed in a visit to the local museum and pushed Kyle to visit some trails

I realize I was being unfair with my patience. Had our server been an earnest seventeen-year-old, learning to wait tables for the first time, I would have thought she was not cut out for it and should find another vocation. I've been there myself, after all. Each of Granny's mistakes, on the other hand, just made me want to jump up and help her out. The poor thing had so much to keep track of.

The next morning, rather than leave right away, we decided to take a walk to, and then through, a local nature reserve. Maryanne left first, while I was still finishing my first cup of coffee. She was keen. I met her as she was coming back. She immediately agreed to join me for another lap.

The area around DIYH is also really nice, the family that owns them has a whole complex on this area of the island that, in addition to the marina, also includes holiday rental cabins and an RV campground. We met several people who have been coming for decades for their tranquil two weeks in the woods. It really is very rejuvenating. I can certainly see the appeal of sitting on the cabin porch by the fire, waiting for the sunset to turn everything orange.

As we were doing all of this walking around, we noticed that every single driver gives a full-hand wave as they pass. We also saw that several people not only leave their doors unlocked, but leave their windows wide open when they leave their cars or houses unattended. The woman who works at the museum, even though she was going the other way, recognized us and turned around to give us a ride back to the boat, even though it was miles out of her way. Drummond Island certainly seems like a special little bubble, where the harsher outside world seems far, far away.

Around the Marina

{Maryanne:On the island there is a large area of the rare alvar biome, a dry grassland over especially thin soil atop limestone 'pavement', and host to some amazing plants, etc. I was really hoping to rent a car and get to to see them, but cars were unavailable and the full day was lost waiting for our turn with the electrician, and we made do with more local sites. There is a chance we may get to see smaller Alvar patches back on the Canadian side of Lake Huron, and we'll see if we can make that work. We are too late in the season to see the grass like 'prairie smoke' so I wasn't too crushed, but ... you know ... birds!!!}

Harbor Island

[Kyle]Harbor Island turned out to be just wonderful. Our first morning there, Begonia sat still atop the perfect mirror of the lagoon. A very loud set of bird calls echoed from one shore to the other. Canada Geese had nothing on this racket. We followed the sound and found half a dozen really big birds heading for the meadow, which is the island’s only clearing. After we lost sight of them, we still knew exactly where they were and when they had finally decided to leave, just from the noise. The birds turned out to be Sandhill Cranes, which are listed as common, but they are the first we have ever seen.

Over a breakfast of soda farls with jam, the noise of the passing sandhill cranes was unmissable! We hopped in the dinghy and started to explore the bay and felt gifted when a pair land nearby

We got in the kayak for a lap around both the outside of the island and the inside perimeter of the lagoon. We decided to have a quick walk around the meadow before starting the bulk of the paddle. It was prettier than we had expected from the distance at Begonia. Up close, it is a lovely kaleidoscope of different wildflowers and grasses. In the middle is a giant, dead tree whose big branches all fell off straight down, leaving the logs like giant spokes radiating out of the hub at the trunk. This has the effect of partitioning the flowers into discreet gardens, each a little different than the next because of the slope of the hill or the accessibility of sunlight, etc.

We poked into the trees at the far end, optimistically hoping for some sort of trail that would take us further into the interior. It wasn’t long before thick undergrowth halted our progress, so we turned back.

When we re-emerged back into the meadow, we stopped in our tracks when we were faced with two giant birds almost as tall as we were. We expected them to flee as we were only about fifteen meters apart, but instead they stayed put and kept an eye on us as we fumbled for our cameras. Sandhill Cranes are pretty comical. When scanning, they have a tendency to move in unison when looking right and left. It’s like watching synchronized swimmers practice their routine.

After watching us for a while, they apparently decided our presence warranted an alarm call, shattering the peaceful silence of the meadow. Again, we thought this would be a prelude to a hasty takeoff, but they just stayed, honking away in in harmony. Actually, honking isn’t quite the right word. Their calls sound more like the third or fourth lowest notes on a big church organ. It’s actually quite pleasant once you get used to the volume. Afterward, hearing it always made us smile. They treated us to a couple of long choruses, then did another synchronized dance for us before gracefully taking flight toward Begonia. That was pretty cool.

We resumed our big circuits around the inside and outside of the island. Before we climbed back aboard Begonia, sore from miles and miles of paddling, we had seen big Blue Herons, White-Tailed Deer, Bald Eagles, plus lots of other less famous birds, grasses and flowers, in addition to the ubiquitous North American Weekend Fisho.

There was plenty of other wildlife - keeping us motivated to keep paddling along to see what might be next

And the sunny day and great setting made for stunning scenery

We liked both the nature and the peace and quiet of Harbor Island so much after our ambitious day that we both decided we wanted to stick around for another. After all, that flexibility to relax and enjoy ourselves was supposed to be the point of the summer after pushing so hard to get here from Australia.

More boats arrived the next day, bringing the overnight total to three. One of them turned out to be Larry, one of the guys we had met at the cruiser’s get-together in Little Current. We were each heading different directions from here, but it was nice to have a long chat and catch up with someone we knew from way back to what already seems like ages ago.