We took two days of rest at Midland Ontario after our passage through the Trent Severn. There seems to be a rhythm to our cruising. Resting from travel is necessary at least after three days of going.  It's a time to fix stuff, and to write about what we have done.

At Midland we had an Email from Rick and Mary Kortegast on Taliesen. It gave their plans for the next week.  If we hurried we might be able to catch them in two days. We had separated from them and Fine Time back at Orillia. We did our two day stay at Strawberry Island.  It was catch up time.  If we drove hard for two days, we would catch them at the Bustard Islands anchorage.

Snug Harbour

Check your charts for the distance from Midland to Snug Harbour.  By the charts it's 49 miles. Because we took a wrong turn after lunch, and there was no room on the dock at Dillon, we logged 71 miles getting to Snug Harbour. We did get the anchor down before dark. But the engines ran 10 hours getting us there.  Too Long!
 

The scenery changes from well established communities along the Trent  Severn to very isolated cottages on the rocky northern shore small boat passage.  It's tricky navigating. There are lots of winding channels... Many rocks close to the surface...  It's not really physically tiring, just constant attention.

We had lunch at Henry's famous fish restaurant in Sans Soucie. It was very good, but it's probably famous for being the only place in 20 miles where you can eat.  Rating ***$$.

The Bustard Islands

We literally busted our butts getting to the Bustard Islands. The trip takes you offshore into Georgian Bay for about 20 miles before you are back into protected waters.
 

We passed the lighthouse at Pointe Au Baril and headed for Byng Inlet. It did not look bad. The weather report said 2-4 foot seas. When we got off shore the waves were more like 4-6 feet.  It was a twenty bell ringer crossing. (When the boat slams down hard enough to ring our ship's bell, that counts as one bell). The worst previous crossing we had had was a seven bell ringer in the Gulf of Mexico. The Atlantic offshore from Cape May to Atlantic City NJ was only a 3 bell ringer. We were pummeled, but only broke one coffee cup.

We arrived at the Bustard Islands and looked around for Taliesen and Fine Time. They were not there, so we concluded that they had gone on to Killarney.
 

It was a very pleasant anchorage...  well protected... but not much swinging room as you can see.  That evening we had a phone call from Taliesen. They were behind us at Byng Inlet. We had passed them that morning. They had stayed in port while we were out.  We also heard from Don Thomson on AnnTicipation. They were in Killarney, and would wait for us to catch up with them.  Finally we would get to see some of our cruising companions.

Collins Inlet There is a range of light gray granite and white quartz mountains along the north west shore of Georgian Bay.  We could see them twenty miles in the distance as we set out. The range is in Killarney Provincial Park. Our morning would take us 12 miles through open water, then 6 miles north through Beaverton Bay and 12 miles west through Collins Inlet.  The inlet separates the mountain range from Philip Edward Island on the south. It is the most spectacular scenery of the trip so far.

 

Here is a bend in Collins Inlet. We backed down to idle speed just to prolong our passage. Breathtaking! See the high water mark along the granite wall. The bay is down about 2.5 feet from normal.

Killarney The last 6 miles to Killarney is open to Georgian Bay. The coast line is red granite and very rugged. We would experience this coast first hand.  But wait, I'm getting ahead of my story.

We arrived at Mountain Lodge Marina a little after noon.  We were immediately greeted on VHF 68 by Don Thomson. He explained that they had moved further down the channel to Sportsman's Inn Marina and that all conversations on VHF 68 are on a loudspeaker system at the nearby fuel dock. He could hear us checking in with our marina.

We had been traveling for three days and needed a few hours to get the boat picked up, and the dinghy launched. We would be spending three days in Killarney. Don and Ann had hooked up with Jim and Diana Ellsworth of Bankers Hours and had been traveling together since the Trent Severn Waterway. They stayed back and extra day to visit with us and would be leaving the next morning.

After we got settled the three couples went for a dinghy ride to the Lighthouse at the Killarney channel entrance. We climbed the rocks and got to see Georgian Bay from the shore for the first time. It was around four PM when all three dinghies got back to Don's Boat. It was too early for Happy Hour and dinner was planned for after seven.

"There is a very neat wilderness trail," suggested Don, "It starts right over there. If you need some exercise before Happy Hour you might try it. Just head out for and hour then turn around and you will be back here at six."

"Lets do it, we have been riding for three days," said Marion.

"I'm game," I replied, "there is nothing to do on the boat."

Then to Don I said, "We will be back at six."

On the first hundred yards of the trail you walk uphill from lake level to about 50 feet. From there on its mostly a gentle rolling terrain along the trail. The trail is well marked and due to the high and dense canopy of trees there is very little underbrush. At 1 kilometer there was a sign post announcing the distance. Shortly after that we were at the edge of a large pond with lots of cat tails.

"This must be one of the ponds created by the beaver dams that Don mentioned," I said.

"I will keep an eye out for them," replied Marion.

"You'll never see them... ", she added, "You just look down ,and ahead for trail markers... I think you have poor peripheral vision most of the time."

"I think its just that I get focused on where I'm going," I recall saying.

I was in the lead about ten or fifteen yards ahead of her, looking for the trail marks. All she had to do was keep me in sight and follow along.

"Ed, Stop," she called out urgently, "There is a bear over there."

"You got to be kidding."

"It was back over there," she answered. "look to your left, over by the pond."

I looked back, and did not see a bear. "Can you still see it?" I asked.

"No, it must have moved. But there was a bear over there. Wait a minute and watch."

I looked but saw nothing.  Then it moved from behind a tree.

"There it is... I told you there was a bear... " said Marion.

"Yes," I admitted, "that is a bear... that is a real bear... that is a black bear."

The bear was far enough away that it posed no immanent danger. It was back 50 yards or so along the trail, but only 30 yards directly across an elbow of the pond we had rounded.

"Let's just continue along the trail," I suggested, "He's behind us and does not appear to be following us."

"Look there is another one," she observed quite calmly.

I looked, saw nothing and said, "Let's just head on out."

"Pick up the pace, too," she requested.

We both found walking sticks and discussed what to do if a bear started toward us. We ruled out running, because they can run faster. We ruled out tree climbing, because they do that better as well.

"I think you just have to act tough with them, shout real loud, and wave your walking stick menacingly. That might scare them off." I said.

"Well you can do that, but I'm not getting tough with bears."

We did agree that moving on was the best immediate thing to do. I practiced swinging my stick as we went. I also chanted the monkey chant from the Wizard of Oz, "Yo Hee Hoe... Yo, Hoe..... Yo Hee Hoe... Yo, Hoe.."

It worked, we never saw another bear. As we approached the 2 km trail marker it started to rain lightly. We had been gone less than an hour. Marion made it clear that she did not want to go back where the bears were. I agreed with that.

We had not seen the map of the trail so we had no information but the trail markers to guide us, and the once per km signs. I felt that a good wilderness trail ought to form a loop that gets you back to the start. Somehow the number 4.7 km stuck in my head.

At the 3 km mark we were atop a high rock and could see Georgian Bay to the south of us. We were more than an hour out, but going back was ruled out.

We found the 4 km marker down on the shore. Just around the bend we could not see any more markers.
We were Lost.

With darkness approaching we decided not to go back on the trail but return along the Georgian Bay shore line. Sooner or later we would make it back, and we would be much easier to find on the shore. We had been gone almost 2 hours. Darkness would be in a little more than two hours.

We were both poorly dressed for the occasion. Marion was wearing rubber sandals and a light nylon warm-up suit. I wore jeans, a short sleeved shirt and boat shoes without socks. We had no map, no VHF, no GPS, no Compass, no matches and no whistle.

As we set out counter clockwise around the island we could see a large sailboat about a mile away obviously headed for the Killarney channel. I scrambled to the highest nearby rock, took off my shirt and made a flag of it on a long walking stick.  I waved and shouted but the sailboat kept on its way.

There was a high rocky point along the coast about 1 km away. Surely when we rounded that point we would see the Killarney Lighthouse, and would be within sight of safety. It took about 30 minutes to make it along the shore.  Sometimes we could bound along on smooth flat rocks along the shore. Sometimes we would have to scale the 30 foot high rock face to get around the shallow coves along the coast. The scenery was spectacular but treacherous. A fall could spoil your day.

As we neared the point I rushed ahead to get a look.  No Lighthouse, but there was another point of rock a few hundred yards along the coast.

"Sorry, Marion, no lighthouse," I called back to her, "but there is another point just ahead."

By now we had invested a half hour on the coastline and could not consider returning to the trail.

"I'm afraid we will be spending the night on these rocks," she said. "But better here than in the woods with the bears." she added bravely.

"Don't worry, there is two more hours of daylight, and we will make it back before dark," I insisted.

And so we continued... Up the cliffs, along the cliffs...  Down the cliffs, along the shore... There is a new point ahead... BUT No lighthouse... Next a repeat of the "night on the rocks" conversation... This is followed by a new estimate of remaining daylight.

We knew that by now that people would be searching for us, we were an hour overdue. We stopped and listened... we shouted out for help, and then pressed on. Sometimes Marion could hear people calling, sometimes we could both hear outboard motor noises.  We would shout again and press on.

Along the way Marion slipped several times, never a bad fall, but she had lots of scratches on her hands.  I fell once pretty hard as my shoe slipped on a mossy rock. In catching myself I got a two inch cut on my hand from the rough granite. Shortly after that fall we rounded another point and could see the Killarney lighthouse.

Marion heard it first... then I did... It was an outboard engine nearby.

"We are saved," she called.

I ran to a high point and began to wave... It was not needed. Clayton, our rescuer, had seen us and was driving our dinghy right up to the shore. Marion sat down and cried from relief. Clayton rush up to her before I could clamber down from my rock.

"Are you all right, Mam?" Clayton asked.

"Yes, yes... thank you, thank you," she was regaining her composure.

"You are a most welcome sight, thanks for coming to rescue us," was the best I could offer.

"I hope it was all right for me to take your dinghy," he said.

"It most certainly was, I'm glad you did," I said.

We got into the dinghy and sped to safety just a mile around the bend. Marion went straight to a hot shower to warm up and dry off.  I returned Clayton to the fuel dock. He's a young man in his early teens. He had set out in the boat counterclockwise around the island when the other two members of the search party went inland on the trails.
 

The map shows the routes we took and where we were Lost and Found. We were gone from 4 to 8:30. Later, fortified by a few stout drinks, we told the story to our friends Don, Ann, Jim and Diane. They had been most worried about us and set the rescue team into action.  Thanks to all we were safe and sound, and did not spend the night on the rocky shore of Georgian Bay. Needless to say we slept in late the next morning.