An early start and a transit via "Pointe au Baril" (or "Barrel Point") where a barrel was used back in the 1870s to mark the treacherous entrance
That lasted until just before we squeezed between Pointe au Baril and Lockout Island. Suddenly, there were a dozen powerboats charging right at us like they were trying to beat us through the gap. It was as if somewhere well astern of us, someone fired a starting gun to begin the big holiday fishing tournament. What followed was rush-hour chaos where everyone seemed to be driven by some strong but inexplicable need to be the one in front, using any means necessary. There were big wakes everywhere and boats zigzagging back and forth trying to get ahead that were flying off wakes while adding their own to the maelstrom.
We were lucky to be mostly done with our day by then. We only had to deal with it for a couple of miles before we turned off into the Hangdog Channel, known locally as the dreaded, deadly, killer Hangdog Channel. They were afraid to follow us.
Many consider this part of Georgian Bay's Small Craft Route (alternate) to be the most treacherous. There are many shallow and narrow spots, including ninety-degree turns that need to be completed within a boat length, making anything above dead slow a suicidal speed. Add to that the fact that there are many, many uncharted rocks just inches on either side for almost its entire length. Hangdog Channel is primarily here for the area's cottagers. For typical cottager-sized launches and tenders, it's just fine if navigated with care. Larger boats do go through occasionally, like the Great Loop crowd with their generally forty-something-foot trawlers. Most emerge on the other side vowing, "Never again!"
Around these parts, Begonia is considered a particularly large boat. She is shorter than most of the Great Loop crowd and the super-fast racing boats, but those are only three-quarters as wide. Catamarans are still pretty rare up here. Width (boaties call it ‘beam') is often the limiting factor in navigating the tightest parts of the tightest channels. I'm sure anyone seeing us making the turn to enter Hangdog Channel must've thought we were either completely nuts or extremely daft.
Maybe, but there was no way we were going to risk actually trying to navigate the length of Hangdog Channel in a twenty-one-foot-wide (6.4m) catamaran that draws a whole meter. Instead, our plan was to transit the initial wide bit, which still seemed very scary and narrow to us, so that we could get to a fairly well-protected anchorage within.
Since the charts are unnervingly vague about the area, we inched our way in very slowly until we were in a wide spot just above and out of the main channel. Since it was still fairly narrow here, we put out the least chain we could. When we tried to back down and dig in the anchor, it wouldn't hold, so we eventually put out the usual amount, which held well, but took up the whole width of the inlet.
All of this lifting and lowering of chain and revving the engines to test the holding eventually brought out the occupants of the adjacent cottage, who came down to the dock to ask if we were okay. They must have thought we had grounded or fouled our anchor on something.
We told them we were fine and later, when we were settled, we paddled over in the kayak to thank them for their concern. A man who introduced himself as "The Old Man of the House" welcomed us and assured us that he was very happy to have such a capable-looking boat as Begonia improving the view out the big picture windows. Once we answered a few of his questions about what we have been up to, he became even more adamant. Well, that was nice.
Out in the open lake, strong winds were being forecast for the next day or so, beginning at sunset. Since the winds weren't here yet and since we tended to have winds in the anchorage that were about half of the open-water strength, we decided to have a shortish kayak of our immediate area while things were still calm enough to do so.
It is very pretty here. We now understand why so many people are willing to brave the dangers of the Hangdog Channel for the amazing scenery. At the last little inlet before turning for home, we spotted a big platform netted in with chicken wire. Closer inspection revealed it to be a community pickleball court, complete with a dockbox full of paddles and balls. What a great surprise! We thought our only available form of exercise would be kayaking.
More stunning scenery on another sunny day
We found a community pickleball court (a mini-tennis like game)
Now, I haven't played tennis since I was a teenager well over five years ago, and then it was just the one time. Maryanne apparently used to play all the time and much more recently at that {Maryanne: Actually I've never had tennis lessons, used to 'play' about once a year, and haven't played for 20 years plus... Hmm}. This explains why, in addition to my having a bad paddle, worn-out tennis balls, the wrong footwear, the sun in my eyes, serving into a headwind, no binocular depth perception, a general lack of conditioning, and not knowing any of the rules, she beat me handily. In all the games we played against each other, I managed to score only a single point. That's total, not each. When I did, though, boy did I GLOAT!
It rained that night and into the morning. Then the skies cleared and the wind blew hard for the rest of the day. Maryanne's phone started blowing up with all sorts of Aurora alerts that were saying tonight would be our best chance at seeing them since her tragic miss in Tobermory. The crisp, clear skies would make for perfect viewing. The only real hitch was that the big, gibbous moon was supposed to come up and wash everything out almost as soon as the sky was fully dark. That gave us about a one-hour window to see it.
All we could see was a slight glow on the horizon. That could have been the Northen Lights or could have just been wishful thinking. Just as we were giving up and heading inside, the whole northern sky filled with bright red, yellow and green undulating streaks. They were bright enough that we could still see them even after the moon rose and washed them out a bit. Maryanne was so happy after missing her chance the last time and I was happy for her. The Aurora is an amazing spectacle. Between clouds, full moons and city lights, it's rare enough to see that it is always special when we do get to see it. It certainly ended our day on a high note.
The Northern lights (aurora borealis) put on a show for us at anchor
In the morning, after the wind died back down, we set out on an epic explore of the rest of Nares Inlet by kayak that was intended to make up for the lost weather day. We poked into every narrow channel and inlet that we could find.
At the farthest point from Begonia, we came to the Nares Lodge. It was closed for one and not really a public facility for another, but it did give us a chance to limber up our legs a bit. What was interesting about it was that it allowed a peek into the lives of the cottagers. The lodge is where they park their cars in a giant lot and tie their tenders to docks that are not numbered, but labeled by name. The contents of full vehicles are transferred into empty boats here and vice versa.
After getting back in the kayak and taking a different scenic route back home, we were finally rounding the last corner before returning to Begonia for the evening. I couldn't help but notice that Maryanne was paddling hard on her left side. I had to compensate by paddling almost entirely on my right. I knew she was getting tired because she had been slowing down a bit over the last mile, so why was she making steering a straight line so difficult?
It's because she wasn't trying to go home after all. Even though she was worn out from a long day, she wanted to top it off with another paddleball tournament. How humiliating! – not for me, for her! I mean, who has to stroke their ego by picking on such a hopeless opponent?
Anchorage location On google maps
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