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.