Thomas Bay (near Killarney)

[Kyle]Speaking of scenery; for some reason we were expecting it to peter out as we approached the end of Collins Inlet. It did not. I feel like a broken record saying it (look it up, kids. They were the thing before CDs), but every new vista is just as beautiful as the last, but in enough of a new way to make it seem as if it is the first time we have gasped in awe of it all.

From Mill Lake we transited through the 'other part' of Collins Inlet

We eventually set our anchor in Thomas Bay, just past where Collins Inlet gives way to open water again. On the way in, we even sighted Manitoulin Island on the horizon for the first time in a month and a half.

From the write-ups, Thomas Bay looks like a very popular spot. Because of this, I think we were expecting it to be both big and full of boats looking to escape the bustle of nearby Killarney for a few days. The reality was that the bay is quite small. Without tying to shore, there is really only room for one or maybe two boats to anchor with reasonable depths.

When we arrived, we were the only boat around. The crowds seem to have been put off by a new cottage that was built relatively recently. It overlooks the bay, diminishing the sense that the bay is private or remote. Since were late in the season, when we showed up in the middle of the week, the cottage appeared to be completely unoccupied.

Recent solar flares were causing lots of Aurora alerts to be sent to us over the next few nights. With the cottage being dark at night, we ended up having a good view of an even better show than we had at Nares Inlet, with lots of undulating curtains and quick-moving flashes of red and green light.

We felt so lucky to see the aurora AGAIN!
(Photos taken from the boat)

Staying up well past midnight like a couple of teenagers put a pretty big dent in our original plan to get an early departure in the kayak the next morning. We decided to change it to early afternoon. Thomas Bay is right on the edge of Killarney Provincial Park. We headed a couple miles into it to the parking lot and trailhead for the Chikanishing River trail.

The 3.5km loop is not long, but it varies from deep woods to boulder scrambles to high viewpoints, which makes it seem suitably athletic. We augmented it by summiting a few of the intervening islets on the kayak home. That gave us even more great stuff upon which to gaze.

Enjoying Chikanishing Trail, Killarney Provincial Park & the shoreline to the east of Begonia

The following day, we went the other direction to the marshy river that feeds Dufois Bay. It turned out to be a lot reedier than we had expected. We pushed our way up the narrowing sliver of water in the middle so far that we ended up without enough room to turn around. We had to back out quite a way, which made for some amusing moments when the stern left the centerline and plunged into the reeds.

Enjoying the marshes around Dufois Bay and the shorelines to the west of our anchorage

The lake was starting to get a little choppy by the time we headed back home. Our kayak is narrow and a bit tippy. Traversing the open stretches in a cross-swell, we had to really concentrate on keeping both of our weights centered through the rolling. With the water getting colder by the day, we were well aware that a capsize wouldn’t allow us the luxury of taking as much time as we needed to get back aboard and paddling again.

We had a couple more days after that to wait around for a weather window for the big, end-of-summer sail out of Lake Huron. Even though we were trying hard to put it out of our minds, there was a looming list of administrative jobs that we needed to dig into to get ready for our impending haulout, not to mention deflating the kayak and stuffing it back into its dark winter hole. That last job made it easier to stay aboard and focus.

Enjoying Thomas Bay

While we were doing that, I would pop out a few times a day to stretch my legs with a lap around the deck or to fiddle with some bit of rigging. On one of my outings, I noticed that the two elderly cottagers had arrived for the weekend. They stayed to themselves and we stayed to ourselves. Their routine looked surprisingly similar to ours. About three times a day, one of them would stroll out on deck, meander for a bit, straighten the patio furniture or twiddle with the knobs on the barbecue, then disappear into the interior for hours. I often wondered what they could possibly have to do all day to keep themselves occupied, then I realized they must be thinking the exact same thing about us, not being privy to our extensive stacks of to-do lists. When we finally mysteriously disappeared from their bay at dawn on Sunday, I was glad to be looking forward to unplugging and spending my days worrying about sail trim and weather forecasts.

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Anchorage location >> On google maps

Mill Lake, Collins Inlet (Georgian Bay)

[Kyle]Despite the plunging air and water temperatures, summer is not over yet. We decided to change things up by moving only a couple miles away (as the crow flies) to Mill Lake, a deep inlet into Philip Edward Island. To get there, we had to enter Collins Inlet, the last narrow passageway before Georgian Bay transitions into the North Channel.

From the open water, Beaverstone Inlet narrows and shallows before taking an abrupt left turn to become Collins Inlet. The location of the name change is a bit nerve-wracking because within the sliver of a channel, the depths reduce and vary wildly as you pass over rocks and weedy areas, never being sure which is which.

Collins Inlet

Turning the sharp corner, the depth increased somewhat, which allowed us to breathe a little easier as we took in the fjord-like views along the way. Mill Lake is approximately perpendicular, approximately halfway along. The land around the lake is all Provincial Park, apart from four cottages. I cleverly planned our anchorage to be out of sight of all of them in just two meters water and surrounded by islets. That way, if we saw the Aurora again, their lights wouldn't interfere.

That turned out to be a bad idea. There's too much sunlight at two meters. Our anchor wouldn't set. When Maryanne retrieved it, it was covered in a ball of weed the size of Begonia. Maryanne grabbed a dive knife and started slashing away at it while I kept us off the shallows. By the time she cleared me to start moving again, she looked like she had just barely won a battle with the Swamp Thing. She suggested we try a little deeper water next time.

We could see two cottages from our next choice, but they have likely already been vacated for the winter. We dropped the anchor in seven meters this time and it held fast right away. It looks like a fine location for a weed fight, but Maryanne had already tossed it overboard after cutting it free.

We did the usual kayak tours during our stay, making sure they aggregated into a comprehensive survey of all the shoreline within the lake by the time we were finished.

Kayak about Mill Lake

On the last day, we landed at a trailhead just before the owner of the cottage on the southernmost island on the lake in her launch. She correctly surmised we were the "catamaran people" and welcomed us to the area. We joined her and her two friends for the short walk to the beautiful Manzanazing river system just over the ridge. Along the way, as the five of us were chatting, she pointed out unmistakable evidence of a bear that had recently been on the trail. Rather than being nervous at such a sight, Maryanne and I were buoyed by the thought that we might have a chance to see another one from a safe distance. Our new companions also directed us to a small waterfall a short kayak away (on the Mehzenazing River).

Ashore to stretch the legs and see (another) lake. We didn't take the kayak with us on this portage trail

Despite scanning miles of shoreline in the coming days, we never did see another bear. Still, we enjoyed all the scenery along the way.

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Anchorage location >> On google maps

Beaverstone Inlet (Georgian Bay)

[Kyle]We could have happily stayed at our anchorage in the Bustard Islands for a few more days, but there were a few days of rain in the forecast. My only way to avoid a good drenching at the helm would be to leave the next morning. That way we could be tucked safely away in the cabin when the deluge started.

Bustard island Lights as we depart

Good anchorages are kind of thin in this section. We had further to go to the next spot than we have usually been doing recently. After an initial few narrow miles, we entered the open lake for the bulk of the leg. That gave us the welcome chance to let the sails do some of the work of getting us there.

When we arrived at our intended anchorage, just to the north of Noble Island, in Beaverstone Bay, we both felt it didn’t allow enough swinging room for our stay. We then decided to go with a different strategy and set our anchor in the middle of big, wide spot between Burnt Island and Phillip Edward Island. That way, we had both plenty of room to swing and long views of the surrounding islands while we took a couple of rain days.

When the weather cleared, we had a short paddle around the closest island groups. On Burnt Island, the biggest in the area, we were hoping to get in a decent walk. The eastern side of the island is dominated by a twenty-something-meter rock face. The top is relatively uniform in height and we thought if we could find our way up there, we should be able to stroll almost the entire length of the island on smooth, bald rock.

Exploring the area

Alas, it was not to be. The western shore of the island turned out to be mostly reeds and thick marsh. We did find a rocky ledge that we could free climb to get access to some of the larger boulders in the interior, but we could never find a passable route through to the eastern wall. We had to content ourselves with the views our increased elevation could provide.

One thing we have started to notice that the long views confirmed is that maybe one in every fifty trees is starting to change to Autumn colors. It seems to be happening everywhere now, not just in isolated clumps. We have also noticed that most of the animals seem to be gone, as if all the fauna in the area went extinct over the summer (hopefully not). Surrounded by all this wilderness, we are lucky to spot one or two critters a day. There are beaver lodges everywhere, but no beavers.

Even birds are pretty rare. Hearing the occasional far-off call is often the only evidence we have that there are any around at all. The silence in between can be a little eerie. Two mornings in a row, we saw a couple of large flocks of Canada Geese high above, honking to each other with confident purpose. They were heading south this time. We would expect the skies to start filling with them, but we haven’t seen or heard any since.

On our last day in Beaverstone Inlet, I thought I would top off our not-too-strenuous kayak/rock scramble with a cooling afternoon dip in the pool. I must admit I was forcing it a bit, since the air was barely past lukewarm, but it was helped by cloudless, bright sunshine. The water, however, has been receiving hours less sun per day than at its peak at the solstice. That, plus the sun is also at a shallower angle. It is starting to cool quickly. This time, I never acclimated to the temperature after that first, bracing dunk. Before I could get used to it, I was shivering and had to get out to warm up. It seems my recreational swimming season has come to a close.

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Anchorage location On google maps