S/V AMICUS

Nipigon to Rossport--Sept. 18 to 26

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Sept. 18—Nipigon to Old Man’s Pocket, ON

We left early in the morning, another gorgeous morning with the feeling of fall in the air and the fog rising off the river.  Nipigon was a great town and I’m sure we’ll return there.  We had several chats with the mayor, a super nice guy who told us lots of local lore and history.  One interesting thing he told us was that Nipigon, unlike all surrounding areas, has no history of shipping First Nation kids off to boarding schools.  From the first, white and Native kids were educated together here.  Now, many of the government offices are held by First Nation citizens (of which he is one).  He seemed proud of how people work and live together in Nipigon. 

Mark and I were both struck by the modest size of all the houses in Nipigon.  There were very few that were as big as our house, and most were much smaller.  We hadn’t considered our house huge before, but now we are wondering.  I’ve noted before that Canadians in general seem to have a different standard of how big is big enough (at least with houses—for cars and boats, the standard is similar).  I look at the US and wonder why we all seem to need so much living space?  One thing I enjoy about living on a boat is the fact that we live in a way that is much more normal, globally speaking.  We change our space as the days go by.  We need a place to eat, and sleep, and cook, and hang out—but we don’t need them all at the same time!  When we’re set up to sleep, there’s not room for much else, but when we get up we put away the sleeping set-up and prepare for the day. Eating—same thing.  Waiting for a few seconds to move around is, truly, the most inconvenienced we have been by living in a small space.  Personal space is available here as anywhere; it just takes a little mental effort to get there when the physical distance is impossible.

So anyway, we reached Nipigon Bay and headed east.  After an hour or so we turned off the engine just to see if there was any wind.  Mark didn’t think there was, but to humor me he set up the chute, then the jib, then the main, and then finally set us up wing-and-wing when it appeared that what wind there was was coming from behind us.  Just as we were about to give up it picked up a couple of knots and steadied to the SW, so we sailed gently forward for the rest of the day averaging 2.5 knots until the late afternoon, when it picked up to 10-15 and we flew the last hour.  There was hardly a cloud in the sky the whole day.  The hot days are over, surely, but it was warm when the wind was light.  We went by the north entrance to the Moffat Straits (see blog entry from 2005 to read about our adventure with the reef there) and as we stared—were we dreaming?—a gray tugboat with yellow and red trim appeared to be coming out of there.  Wasn’t that the tug that rescued us???  A few minutes later Mark could wait no longer and radioed the unknown vessel.  Sure enough “Tug of the North” radioed right back.  It was them!  “We were just talking about you—there’s a picture of you right here on the dashboard!” the guy laughed—just as friendly as we remembered. 

 In the late afternoon we reached the end of a row of islands and the big lake was once again in view.  Then we tucked into “old Man’s Pocket,” a tiny cove with a “thumb” where we could anchor for any weather.  It was still and peaceful and getting chilly.  That night even the girls decided not to dip, despite feeling grimy.  But when we hopped outside before going to bed, the stars were…you can imagine.

Breakfast:  oatmeal

Lunch:  ham sandwiches and pea soup

Supper:  southwestern chicken-and-rice/buckwheat, salad, leftover birthday cake

Sept. 19—Old Man’s Pocket

Blue sky, crisp air, bright sunrise.  Mark and I both went fishing for breakfast—no luck.  He has been diligent but the girls have lost interest because no one ever catches anything.  We keep seeing large fish jumping, taunting us.  Mark even bought some new lures, copying the old-timer in Nipigon.

After breakfast, chores, and schooling, we determined to go for a dip in the lake despite the fact that we were all chilled.  Living on a boat can be chilly, but only part of the problem is the temperature.  The other problem is the inactivity.  We danced around on the cabintop and then all JUMPED in together.  It was brief, but exhilarating.  The best antidote to the freezing water is to jump in.  The body suddenly starts warming itself up at a furious pace.  After we were dry and clothed, we were warm for hours.

In the afternoon we determined to put the motor on the dinghy and do some exploring a few miles away.  This took some doing, since the outboard had not been used for a year or more and Mark discovered a leak.  He puttered around, fixed the motor, installed it on the dinghy, and found it wouldn’t start.  Finally, it did and we snapped into action.  We motored out to the big lake and climbed on rocks and picked raspberries.  They were EVERYWHERE and no one else had picked any!  Dinghying with the motor is a whole different experience—enjoyable in a different way.  The sound of the motor and the wind in our ears keeps us silent and in our own little worlds, taking in the world around us.  We spent an entire ½ hour in silence, unheard of for our chatty girls.

Dinner:  tamale pie, salad

Sept. 20—Old Man’s Pocket to Battle Island to Boat Harbor

We left our secluded little spot and motored on Amicus out to the big lake and ducked behind Battle Island.  A lighthouse is perched dramatically on the edge.  We hiked up there, then took a trail down to the beach.  After a quick dip, all attention was diverted when Cedar realized she’d dropped her sunglasses.  They were REAL sunglasses and this was the first time she had pulled them out.  We searched all up and down and miraculously, found them.  We returned to Amicus and Mark confessed that he really wasn’t happy with our anchorage.  The moorings were dropped for the winter and the only anchoring spot was in gravel.  We were protected from all but the E, but strong SE winds were predicted for the night and the group of islands that supposedly protected us were strongly reminiscent of Sinclair Cove where, 4 years ago, we spent a miserable few days bouncing in a big blow.  So, we upped the anchor again and motored a couple of miles across an open channel to Boat Harbor.  I read to the girls in the cockpit and uneasily wished I’d waited to put the rice on the stove.  We bounced through there and somehow the rice stayed connected to the stove.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  Sometimes, you get lucky. 

Once we arrived Mark was MUCH happier and fairly leaped into the water for his daily dip.  The girls joyfully followed, Cedar breaking her own record by jumping in 7 times.

Supper:  rice/bean/chili/cheese goulash.

Sept. 21—Boat Harbor and MARK’S 50^TH BIRTHDAY

The girls woke early, as planned, and in whispers of high excitement managed to get a few balloons and streamers hung over Mark’s head before he obligingly rolled over and woke up.

He had hoped to be the Slate Islands by his birthday, but it was not to be.  The winds were from the SE (just the direction of the Slates) and the southern swell looked prohibitive, judging from the crashing of the waves along the northern shores.  It was drizzly and foggy, though still not particularly cold.  We settled in for the day—chores, schooling.  Cedar now does her chore before breakfast so that she won’t have to think about it.  It was generally a very uninspiring morning, so we put lunch and books and raingear in the dinghy and rowed over to a rocky beach loaded with driftwood.  We ate dahl and cheese sandwiches by a campfire, built a real shelter that semi-protected the girls when it started to rain, and then meandered around to some rocks so Mark could fish and we could dip.  Then I read to the girls, then we all “read” to ourselves (the girls “reading” aloud from memory and imagination, which they do for hours) for a long time.  By the time we returned to Amicus it was time to make a cake and prepare for Mark’s birthday dinner, which was mac and cheese with ground beef.  Not exactly gourmet, but he ate it with gusto and gratitude.  We all told Daddy what we love about him…many good things were mentioned including his delightful way of putting the girls to bed, his excellent sailing skills which keep the boat from tipping over, and the fact that he is not prone to useless chatter (I’m paraphrasing but Cedar came up with that one.).   By the time the festivities were over it was dark and time to get ready for bed.  Pretty soon we’ll be eating supper in the dark.

Sept. 22 Boat Harbor-Slate Islands

Well we left in a state of happy anticipation, strong SW winds in the forecast.  But how often do days like that turn out the way we think they will?  First there was the barest SE breeze and a big southerly swell.  After an hour of bobbing around as Mark attempted to catch any air, I was reduced to sacking out on the cabintop while the girls played in circles around me.  Luckily I was the only one who seemed affected by the motion.   I have finally figured out that food can be a strong antidote to seasickness, and once Mark had tossed me rice cakes and then a whole can of tuna, I felt ready to raise my head and possibly to continue the trip.  We motored for awhile longer, then a southerly wind with a little umph came up and we sailed as close as possible to the wind as the Slates drew near.  The southerly swell picked up also and every 3^rd or 4^th wave stopped us almost cold, so progress was slow.  The girls, oblivious, wrestled and giggled in the cabin, while Mark steered the boat and I kept my eyes on the horizon.  As we got close it became clear that we were not going to make the point, so we motored into the wind to get us around the point, and then sailed again once we were in the islands.  It was drizzly again.  By mid-afternoon we dropped the hook and I was just so grateful to have a family that can take care of itself (and me!) so well when I suddenly become so helpless.  How the heck did I do this with two babies? (I have observed on this trip, as we pass places we went 4 years ago, that I have only the haziest memory of these places.  Clearly, I was taking care of babies, probably inside, while Mark did all the sailing and navigating.)

In the late afternoon we went exploring in the dinghy and searched for caribou.  The signs were everywhere—the woods laden with trails, even the dusky scent of caribou was in the trees.   Just before returning we saw a big old caribou swim across the channel right in front of us!  Close enough to hear it shuffle out and head into the woods.  Mark fished for dinner, to no avail once again.  We are all starting to lose faith.

I was disheartened about dinner before it began, certain that it would be unpopular (not to mention late—it was past 7:00 before we ate) but the girls surprised me once again and RAVED about it (“mom, I remembered that I love chick peas and I love curry!”) Who am I to question?  They downed several plates of the stuff and were in bed ½ hour later, a happy day beginning to end.  Me, I was wiped out.

Sept. 23, 24—Slate Islands

We began our stay at the Slates by considering leaving that afternoon on an overnight to Michipicoten Island—a big and remote island about 80 miles southeast of us.  We had a window of opportunity with unusual northern winds coming up overnight, and had been anticipating this for awhile.  But yesterdays’ bumpy seas had taken its toll and we’d realized/remembered that seas are rarely calm around here, and it would likely be a bumpy ride, one that could easily morph into a motor in light winds and confused swells.  It was my worst day of the month, and I was not feeling on top of my game.  In the end, we decided to stay and enjoy the Slates (which we wanted to do anyway) and see what happened next with the wind.  We had thought this trip could be an opportunity to push the envelope and do some more passage-making.  So far, good opportunities for this had not arisen and when we kissed this one good-bye I felt let down.  Did this mean we were turning around?   But something had told me I wasn’t doing well…within a couple of hours I was laid low for the rest of the day thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t out on bouncy seas.  Mark took care of the girls all afternoon and seemed in perfectly good humor about watching the rare NW wind blow away while he played Little House in an abandoned cabin with his daughters.  What a guy.

By suppertime I was on my feet again and Mark and Cedar went out to catch some fish.  They had a good time, anyway.  Cedar has started rowing to explore by herself in the dinghy.  Once she returned to tell us, with great satisfaction, about the “pickle” she got herself into and out of in the rushes (“First the dinghy ran aground, so I got out and pushed off, then I realized that the oar was in the water, so I had to get out again, then the dinghy was in the shallows again…”)  Another time she saw an otter.

Both days we were in the Slates were gorgeous—sunny and windy and in the 60s.  We dipped, we cooked, we put the motor on the dinghy and explored the islands.  We saw lots of caribou, usually swimming across a channel.  Once we found a beach and were just settling in when a big caribou came out of the brush to drink.  He decided to go somewhere else. 

The same day that we decided not to head out overnight, we heard a forecast for our first fall gale.  In a few days we might have winds up to 40 knots.   We also heard about a high in the 40s coming up—and it hasn’t even gotten below 50 most nights!  We may change our tune pretty quickly if things start changing fast.  So far it’s felt like an almost miraculous reprieve from the oncoming cold season.

Fresh food is not so fresh anymore and most of what we eat now is cooked.  No one is complaining—well, at least, Mark isn’t complaining.  Cedar made banana muffins which made everyone happy.  We eat oatmeal for breakfast (except now the girls eat pinto beans which they’ve decided is preferable), some kind of bean soup and bread for lunch.  We still eat soft apples and the inevitable cole slaw with carrots and cabbage.

Suppers:  bean/rice/cauliflower frittata and fried potatoes

    Black bean/sweet potato/cabbage hash, Mexican rice

For dessert, Lamar broke open her birthday apple butter (thanks Jen!) which we greatly enjoyed on fresh bread and butter. 

Sept. 25—Slate Islands to Boat Harbor

It was our first loud night—winds moaning in the rigging, and the hull occasionally swinging into a deadfall, sending vibrations up and down.  But we knew the anchor was dug in well and slept pretty soundly.  Halfway through the night the wind dropped.

We woke to cloudy skies and a Strong Wind Warning over eastern Lake Superior.  We were undaunted; going downwind in 20 knots of wind is a joyride and we knew the winds had been NE all night.  We were in the NE corner of the lake, how bad could the waves be?  We were on a new mission to head west to Woodbine Cove, where some friends had struggled mightily with a chain wrapped around a deadfall.  Finally in desperation they had cut off half their chain and left it there.  Mark intended to retrieve that chain.  It was supposedly under 18 feet of water so I had my doubts.  But it would be fun to try.

Just before heading out we had some visitors, the first ones since leaving Nipigon.  They were canoers who had a pickup scheduled for that afternoon.  They were wondering if it was going to come.  We told them what we knew about the weather and tried to radio their charter boat.  They were appreciative, and a tad apprehensive about the state of affairs they’d found themselves in.  Lake Superior is nothing like the Quetico, their stomping grounds.

Leaving the Slate Islands, the sky was ominous and it was drizzly.  We got ready for weather, including the girls who were inspired from above to layer up, including their full raingear and their harnesses.  They’d never done this before voluntarily.  When we first got out there it looked like there wasn’t much wind, but the swells built quickly.  After a frustrating hour of setting various sails in a virtual downwind situation, the wind picked up enough that the jib alone kept us moving along nicely, which was fast becoming crucial as the swells would have tossed us silly otherwise.

Meanwhile, the girls were rapidly getting seasick.  Because they were so well dressed, they could stay in the cockpit, harnessed in.  Soon they were both horizontal.  I could tell it was bad when they didn’t even care about ginger cookies.  I kept my eyes firmly on the horizon and was fine.  But we were ROLLING, and after awhile we Mark and I eyed each other—just how big were these waves going to get? 

BIG.  We began to speak in low voices of where we could pull in.  Woodbine Cove, right up to the entrance, was wide open to the SE where these swells seemed to come clear up from Whitefish Bay, with nothing blocking them.  Mark did a quick check and determined that Boat Harbor, where we’d just been, would be an easy entrance since the swells would be essentially blocked before we had to turn in.  So Boat Harbor it was, about three hours away.

So we were set, and other than peeing, we didn’t budge the next few hours.  It was a reality check after all the gentle sailing we’d done!  The Lake wasn’t messing around today.  If the girls hadn’t been so seasick I think we would have felt a lot more mobile.  Why now, of all times?  They’d played in the cabin while we rolled about before.  Mark wonders if, being allowed in the cockpit for the first time, they were intimidated or afraid.  Usually they just pop their heads out the hatch, comment “Wow, what big waves!” and return below.  I don’t know—they sure didn’t seem nervous, just miserable.  I sang til I was hoarse, and Mark thoroughly enjoyed himself sailing.  He took a few pictures and even made a little movie blip on the digital camera.  As usual, Amicus rolled on the waves like she was made for this (which she was), taking in water every few waves and then letting it all run through.  Our decks and cockpit were soon as clean as they’d been all season.  I felt grateful that Mark is always so thorough, and ties everything down so tightly.  We rarely need to be battened down, but when we do…anything not tied down would have been gone.  By the fourth hour the swells weren’t getting any bigger, except a few “mountains” which we watched with terror, fascination, and awe. They were cresting, broiling, breaking right under us, and big enough that when we were in the trough, land disappeared and sometimes the sails emptied, then filled with a smack when we came up again.  8 feet?  Who knows.  The radio called them 2 meters.  Reminded me of ocean sailing for sure, the way they moved.  Our experience of Eastern Lake Superior has consistently been that the waves have more space to build, and build more quickly and monstrously than in our western end.

When we finally reached our protective island, things got a little worse before they got better.  The water wasn’t as deep, and the waves felt shorter and steeper as we headed into the channel. But then the channel cut the waves short and they lost their punch.  By the time we turned into the anchorage, it was clear sailing.  We carefully jybed and turned and suddenly were in flat water.  The girls started asking what their treats would be, and I knew the worst was over.

I was tired and headachey in the afternoon until I went for a dip.  Talk about a wake-up call.  It’s like a cross between a cup of coffee, a sprint, and a deep breath of the freshest air.

Supper:  black beans with the last of the potatoes, fried eggs, cole slaw

September 26—to Rossport

We woke thinking we would be heading to Woodbine harbor in the afternoon when the swell had a chance to drop.  However it became apparent that the winds weren’t going to drop much and that now might be the best chance we got.  So, reluctantly, we switched modes.  Stomachs were turning, and not just ours.  For the first time the girls dreaded getting out there.  They knew that we wouldn’t go out if conditions were as bad, but when they asked for reassurance that it would be much better, there was a long silence.  Finally I said that we were doing our best, that we needed a good safe spot for the gale coming, and that they would just have to trust us!  Cedar stopped complaining after that.  Lamar was silent and thumb-sucking—her way of dealing with her nerves.  I felt for them; I know what it’s like to head right back into the craziness after reaching a safe harbor.  Our plan was to head east in the semi-protected islands and then decide if we could get to Woodbine.  If not, there was another good hurricane hole to slide into.

We motored out there.  The girls lay down immediately, preparing for the worst.  Cedar had her tape player at her ear and was listening furiously to “Wind in the Willows.”  The swells had lost their mountainous character, but the winds were at least 15 knots forward of the beam, and the waves were confused.  Then a couple of swells came in that would most definitely have made entering Woodbine treacherous.  We decided to stay.  Then it suddenly occurred to us that Rossport was only a few miles away.  If we could get groceries before the gale, we’d be much happier!  So we turned around and sailed downwind all the way to Rossport.  The girls sat up and realized that their worst nightmare had not happened.

By lunchtime we were at Rossport, changing gears yet again.  People?  Civilization?  Immediately a little family arrived to see our boat and say hello.  6-year-old Samantha was in the v-berth within seconds.  Us adults took at least five more minutes to get acquainted.  They were from Thunder Bay and, being the outdoorsy types that we both were, we made several small-world connections.  Darryl drove Mark to the grocery store while Kim and Samantha came onboard for lunch, then a tea party.  By the time they left mid-afternoon we had all contact information and had made some new friends.

Within another hour another friendly guy invited us to his house to use his wireless connection, so here I sit finishing up the blog.  We plan to leave tomorrow morning for Woodbine or the nearest hurricane hole, where we will sit for at least two days since 40 knot winds are predicted for both Monday and Tuesday!

Thanks for all the commentary—it’s great to know that people are thinking of us out here!

Fall 2009: Knife River to Nipigon, ON

Sept. 7—Knife River

 

It was an inauspicious beginning.  Mark and I were exhausted from a week of travel and then a weekend of preparation.  The girls were tired of their own resources.  On the way to the boat Cedar realized she’d left her water shoes at the party we’d just been to.  Instead of thanking her for remembering before it was too late, I snapped at her.  She snapped back.   I pulled it together enough to apologize after shopping for carrots, potatoes, apples, plums, batteries, and film.  We were on the boat by suppertime and left at 7:30 in a calm.  I was reading their bedtime story to the girls in the v-berth when Mark pulled us away from the dock, and instantly I felt the chill breeze blow down.  I looked at my shorts and tank top and thought, “It’s the end of summer for us!”  (I was wrong.) 

 

Once the girls were in bed Mark lay down in a sleepingbag and I donned fleece and windbreaker to stand the first watch.  The motor was running and there was only the gentlest rocking.  Any rocking at all made me nervous because we were in for a long night if it got bouncy, having had no time to acquire sea legs yet.  But the NE wind never got more than about 5 knots.  I managed to stay up until 9:30 which felt like about midnight.  Then I lay down with the timer beside my ear, waking me every 15 minutes to check the horizon.  It was cool and clammy.  At 1:30 Mark took over.  I slept fitfully, or rather I dreamed, as I always do on passage, vivid dreams of AMICUS careening down main streets, up waterfalls, through rapids, along highways—never on big water.

 

Sept. 8—Grand Marais, MN

 

At dawn I woke with my usual early-morning low thoughts.  I lie there half-asleep and slightly woozy, worrying that the girls will awake just one step away from throwing up, me unable to do anything pro-active to avoid it.  I hadn’t planned any passage breakfast, the galley was still an unorganized pile of food…wasn’t the wind picking up?  As usual, Mark had both optimism and action on his side, plus he was fully awake.  He made granola, put up a sail, and acted confident while I bestirred myself, nibbled almonds until I could lift my head and open my eyes.  I got up and stuck my head out—always an upper.  The girls slept in and woke extremely cheerful to be On Our Way.  They were not the least bit seasick.  By 10:00 am we were in Grand Marais, slipping into the harbor just in time to miss the real NE wind that was starting to blow.

 

We weren’t well slept, but we were rested, which was enough.  Our friend Greg waved and boomed out a greeting from the dock.  We docked right next to a much larger schooner built with the same design as Amicus¸ part of the North House Folk School.  Greg made our stay there comfortable and that night he and his wife Jeanne and 3-yr-old Olya came for dinner, bringing their garden veggies.  So far we are not suffering from Vegetable Deprivation.

 

We also officially started homeschooling.  Knock on wood—so far Cedar loves it.  She works diligently on her letters, her form drawings, her recorder.  She scoffs at the notion that her knitting and sewing projects are “work.”  Both girls are developing a trip log book which so far includes a map and our route, weather charts for each day, flora and fauna.  Cedar was so cheerful about this that she announced “By the end of the trip I want to be reading picture books.”  Then she sat down and read the first page of her first reader. She is to have specialized time with dad—navigation, cleating, steering, boat parts, etc. We are on the lookout for opportunities for her to do older, independent stuff, which is a direct antidote to the incessant, “I hate Lammie I’m so ANNOYED at Lammie I HATE having a little sister…” She loves dinghying by herself, pushing off, special chores.  Lamar seems to get that this is something Cedar must do on her own and it is not helpful for Lamar to emulate everything. 

 

Sept. 9—Suzi Islands, MN

 

More light winds, if any wind.  We motored to the Suzi islands.  For some reason there were swells coming from both NE and SE which made for a very rolly ride.  The girls had a blast, with both parents’ attention once again.  I read half of Pippi Longstocking for the 20^th time or so, and Cedar and Mark had a “Connect 4” tournament.  We looked backwards through binoculars and giggled at our expressions.  Somehow the syrup spilt in one of the lockers.  I cleaned it up until I got woozy, then Mark took over.  Lamar and I spent the last hour dozing on the cabintop, unable to rouse ourselves.  It was warm and hazy and cloudy and humid.

 

Once at our lovely, lonely anchorage, we all took our first dip. The water must be 60 degrees which for us was downright warm.  Then for an hour before dinner I cooked, Mark worked in the cockpit, Cedar in the v-berth and Lamar in the cockpit did projects, and we were all quiet except some random commentary.  All together, all individually engaged.  Bliss!  Such times were unheard of in the early days.  All those baby years really were worth it!

 

I’m going to try to record what we eat, partly because everyone always asks, and partly because I always forget and can’t think what to eat next time we climb aboard.

Breakfast:  oatmeal

Lunch:   tuna sandwiches or burritos

Supper: lentil/potato hash with fried egg and veggies

 

Sept. 10—Suzi Islands to Tee Harbor, Ontario

 

Another day of motoring brought us across the border into the Thunder Bay area.  This time, thank goodness, the seas were glassy.  We sailed with a puff of breeze behind us for about an hour.  Cedar did her letters, read a little, practiced recorder, and began her math.  Lamar learned to write her name with Daddy.  Mark sprained his ankle on the cabintop, but other than a few grunts of pain could not even be bothered to pause in putting up a sail.  He did put his foot in a bucket of cold water afterwards and accept Arnica.

 

In the afternoon, things got a bit slow.  The girls decided to switch sides in the v-berth, which I thought was a bad idea, but moving all their stuff around did entertain them for hours.  They were walking the fine line between “self-entertainment” and “self-destruction”; every half hour Lamar would emerge, crying, with Cedar hollering outrage or forced, condescending patience from behind the green curtain that is their “door.”  One way another, via threats, coercion, or false reassurance, Lamar would be coaxed back behind the green curtain despite all our kindly advice.  Fortunately, unbeknownst to them, the curtain is transparent.

 

We arrived in Tee Harbor, nestled under the 1000-ft. Sleeping Giant that dramatically marks the entrance to Thunder Bay.  The scenery was dulled by the thick haze.  We rowed ashore.  It was hot.  Cedar was rowing.  I was impatient.  “You need a dip, mommy,” she commented, and I shut up.  We swam until our heads were clear again.

 

Mark and I have started to talk about what route we should take on this trip.  We are wary of setting a goal and then forgetting the journey.  We have ideas about hitting the remote islands in the NE corner of the lake, but we also love this part of the lake with its endless islands and cliffs.  We are resolved to take this at the pace we want to, and then see what the date is when we pop out on the other end.  This hot hazy weather sure makes it feel like we have months before the snow flies.

 

Breakfast:  granola (K:  greens and rice)

Lunch: cheese-beans and chips

Supper: sloppy joes (mostly leftover hash) and cole slaw. 

 

Sept. 11—Tee Harbor

 

The conditions were blissful all around today, a fact which was unfortunately missed by Cedar who was inexplicably quarrelsome, pessimistic, and defiant.  We moved forward with our day unbothered, and eventually her outlook improved.  It was sunny and warm, at least 70 degrees.  We announced a new “chore” routine whereby each girl does one chore daily after breakfast.  This elicited a storm of protest that culminated in a mutual chant, “If you wanted us to take care of the boat, you never should have bought it in the first place!”  Cedar actually had to take a break in the dinghy, she was so steamed up.  It was 30 minutes of struggle for a 3 minute chore, 2 minutes of which was done happily, even eagerly.  Lamar hung up some laundry and Cedar wiped some condensation along the hull.

 

Then, on to the big event of the day, a hike up the Sleeping Giant.  Though we framed it as a given, both Mark and I were doubtful that we could actually make it to the top.  We’d never come close before, and it was 3 miles and 800 feet up.  Cedar still had the energy to protest the entire way up, but neither girl stopped, and we actually made it up there!  The view was fabulous and even Cedar was mollified, though she loudly proclaimed that she’d prefer taking an elevator.  The only downer was that I got some poison ivy on my legs.  The hike back down was pleasant, unmarred by the howlings from behind.  The last ½ mile we played the story game (each person telling the story in succession) which we managed to keep together despite a disconnected theme.  With mom and dad, the storyline kept taking the characters on adventures, into canoes, up waterfalls.  The girls brought it around to potty talk, which had them giggling hysterically.  When that failed, the characters inevitably gravitated towards a generous and magic lion (Lamar) or some form of electronics (Cedar).  She doesn’t even know what electronics are but she knows they can enter at any time!  Thanks to Mark’s manipulation, Lamar got to wrap it all up at the end.

 

Then, back to the boat—no beach swimming today; we had a special agenda.  We wanted to jump off the bowsprit.  In the end, the girls settled for leaping from the side of the boat.  We swam so long and joyfully that Mark, as usual, thought the water couldn’t be THAT bad.  So he dove in and sprang out immediately, spluttering How could we swim in such ice?  The girls did another dip just before bed; they love to go straight from the water into their cozy covers.  As usual, by 8:30 Mark and I were ready for bed too.  We have been sleeping a LOT and without the computer, evenings wind down quickly.

 

Food—no leftovers anymore!  I’m getting worried. Every night I set a pot of beans on the stove to soak, and usually a pot of rice as well.  Beans and rice are our safety net, our snacks, our backup meal.  But so hungry—already?

Breakfast:  egg and fried bread

Lunch: burritos, fruit, gorp

Supper: ham and tumeric potatoes, carrot salad

 

Sept. 12—Tee Harbor to Otter Cove

 

With all this hot hazy calm weather, we suddenly decided to take a look at Nipigon.  Maybe this would be the year to take on the Nipigon Straits which are shallow and can be “treacherous” according to the guidebook.  The town of Nipigon, located 6 miles up the Nipigon river at the very northernmost point of the Lake, was farther north than we’d ever traveled by water.  We decided to push all the way to Otter Cove, 35 miles up the shoreline.

 

Anticipating chores continues to be a loud and ugly process, while actually doing chores is fun.  Lamar is usually sad to see her chores end.  She spends most of her days in dresses and prairie “skirts” wrapped around her waist that swirl out properly when she bustles about.  Halfway through scrubbing the cockpit Cedar unabashedly commented, “Chores are SO much fun!”  I sighed, having long ago given up the Lecture in Logic.  I know that the next day, the protest will start all over again.  Maybe it’s a necessary ritual involved in being a kid.

 

After her regular lunch Cedar decided to make a second lunch her own way.  She consented to let me watch and caution from the hatch steps.  She grated carrot, sauted it with rice, nuts, raisins, and carefully spooned it into her bowl.  She cleaned up the galley and ate on the cabintop.  She pronounced it fabulous.  We all took bites and agreed.  She decided to become her own cook.  I hedged on that one.

 

Cedar also taught Lamar to finger-knit.  All it took was 30 seconds of focus for Lamar.  They sat on the cabintop, knitted together, cuddled their dollies, and chatted non-stop for much of the afternoon.  Lamar has been dying to actually learn a craft and soon had plans to make all of the decorations for daddy’s birthday.  Cedar had a crafty day too.  First she hid herself in the v-berth and made Lamar a birthday present:  a tiny doll’s purse, filled with doll’s cell phone, credit card, library card…then she started knitting and couldn’t stop until she had made a recorder case.  She finished up the handle just as we were coming in. 

 

However all that positive energy was bound to rebound, and rebound it did.  On the dinghy ride to a nearby waterfall she got all geared up for a good protest.  Mark cut it short by taking her back to the boat so Lamar and I could enjoy the waterfall in peace.  And we did—it was really something.   Way out in the middle of nowhere, the size of Gooseberry Falls.  After we returned, Cedar and Mark went out in the dinghy fishing.  It was picture-perfect—until supper when mom’s inedible cooking was offered once again.  But then we recovered for an evening dip in the warm, murky water.  Swimming is a great way to get ourselves going in a good way again.

 

Despite these difficulties with Cedar, it’s easy to see that the girls are thriving.  Slowly things like bellbottoms and nailpolish are receding; what we are doing is starting to matter more than what we are wearing.  The girls are the dream homeschoolers—they make up songs that count in different languages; they perform instant comedies, they “read” to each other and their dolls by the hour.  Our family rhythm is influenced by so few factors:  weather, individual moods, travel plans—rather than being swamped by outside influences.  It’s easy to imagine why the kids like it so much. 

 

Breakfast:  oats

Lunch:  grilled cheese, or burrito, or beans and rice

Supper:  one pot veggie, buckwheat, ham, rice, quick yogurt custard dessert

 

Sept. 13:  Otter Cove to Moss Island

 

I swam to shore and back before breakfast.   Sunday worship was all about Native plant tales and appreciation of the plants around us.  We have started memorizing as much flora as we can.  I was sure we’d see a moose or otter in there, but only bald eagles.  Mark caught a fish within minutes—a small northern—but decided to throw it back.  Now we can’t believe he did that as no one has been able to catch a fish since.

 

We returned to the waterfall and Cedar was just getting going when Mark cut her short again, telling her that if she fussed she was done with desserts for a week.  She was silent and sniffing for about two minutes and then allowed as how she might make wraps with cranberry sauce and large leaf aster leaves, which Mark said were edible.  Dutifully we picked cranberries and asters and when we got back she really did make wraps. 

 

In the afternoon we sailed to Moss Island in a gentle SW wind.  Unfortunately there was a swell out there and we were all woozy.  “These treacherous waves,” Cedar grumbled while Lamar just wanted to lie with her head in my lap.  Mark was tense because we’d gotten complacent; we were pulling our dinghy instead of stowing it on the cabintop—something he normally NEVER does but the trip was so short and there didn’t seem to be any wind…when some waves started sloshing around in the cockpit Cedar got helpful and set things to rights down in the cabin.  How miraculous to have a daughter old enough to manage!  Soon, we were back in a protected channel between islands.  Moss Island was at the beginning of the Nipigon strait where we wanted to be poised for a trip up to Nipigon.  It was also gorgeous anchorage, with relatively warm water.  After dinner we all took another swim. The girls even jumped off the bowsprit.  I went out in the dinghy after dark and marveled at the access we have to these truly wild places.  We are really out there.

 

Sept.  14:  Moss Island to CPR

 

In the morning, the gentle winds and calms looked like they were ending a day early.  Our planned trip up to Nipigon wasn’t going to happen, at least not right away, and we had to get out of our anchorage which was open to N winds. Disappointed, we headed straight east.  Out of nowhere the wind piped up to 15 knots and we suddenly had to hop to and pay attention as we went through a bunch of shoals, heading for the famed CPR slip—a cove with a strong but vague history of the Canadian Pacific Railway.  It was HOT—even in a tank top.  Luckily the girls were again preoccupied; they had two weddings, each getting to be a bride. By mid-afternoon we were at CPR.  The protection comes from a little peninsula that appears to be made of gravel.  Inside were docks, cabins, trails, the whole set-up.   Obviously some families had put in a lot of work.  Mark and I weren’t wild about staying at a dock, but the girls discovered raspberries everywhere and more important, a water pump that really worked.  They disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving us actually bored without them.  They had their prairie skirts, two buckets, and they were doing chores.  They pumped out water, fed the chickens and horses, picked berries, and did what? I have no idea but it lasted all afternoon and most of the next morning.  The only thing they would break for was to take off all their clothes, put on their lifejackets, count to three, and jump off the dock over and over again.

 

Meanwhile, Mark and I were struggling with our direction again.  What is it about destinations and goals anyhow?  How to get excited about a goal, and work towards it, but then remain ready to let it go if it’s not going to happen?  Seems impossible to me.  So we were feeling let down.  Then an older couple showed up who help manage CPR.  They were from Nipigon and told us all about the Paddle to the Sea playground there.  They also assured us that the Blind Channel (cutting off 15 miles) was very manageable and that locals had put in buoys in the shoals.  They also told us that the marina was closed so we’d stay at the dock for free!  They clearly wanted to sell their town, and it worked.  We started to plan how to go up there again.

 

If there was one quality that makes for a happy sailor, I’d say it’s “Never look back.”  The amount of energy I waste being disappointed, wistful, wondering if the right decision was made, re-checking the forecast to see how we played the odds…all while a perfectly enjoyable day is going on in the meantime.  If we hadn’t been sidetracked to CPR, we wouldn’t have known all we knew about getting to Nipigon, or felt like it was so manageable after all.

 

Supper:  mac and cheese, cabbage and carrots, 3-berry cornbread

 

Sept. 15 CPR

 

Again Cedar made her own breakfast, and declared her own scrambled eggs delectable.  Lamar wavers between loyalty to Cedar and fear of what kind of meal she might be committing to.  The energy for cleaning up the galley is already falling.

 

 NE winds made the choice to stay easy.  The girls had all the prairie chore time they wanted and even seemed a little more capable of boat chores.  Cedar commented,” I’m learning to think of chores in a different way!”  Let’s hope so.  Sometimes she is hard to keep up with.  Are we being firm and consistent?  Or are we trying to keep up with her enthusiasm?  Her energy for homeschooling fell off the map; she spent the short time we requested losing crayons through the dock boards so she’d have to go diving to get them.  Mark confounded these efforts by adeptly leaning out and retrieving all items.  Soon we gave up the ghost and went back to prairie chores, fishing, and swimming.  I cannot believe we are getting in so much swimming.  Who says Lake Superior is too cold to swim?

 

We hiked up to a lookout point a couple of miles away—another climb, another beautiful view.  We had discovered the trick to stop the whining:  every day without whining each girl earns .25 towards a trip to Savers (thrift store with great kids clothes) after our return.  If you knew how much they care about clothing you would know how powerful this would be!  It has worked like a charm—Cedar has decided she’s going to be “perfect” and will hopefully have over $7 by the end of the trip.  If it works it will be the best $15 we ever spend.  The hike was really fun; both girls are turning into great hikers, despite themselves.  When we returned Cedar set to work making cranberry tarts.  Start to finish, and they were pretty good!  After dinner we cuddled on the gravel beach and read Paddle to the Sea in preparation for our trip to Nipigon.  We felt the first chill we’d felt for days, enough to put a damper on the mosquitos.  Then in the night it got cloudy and humid again.  Neither Mark or I slept much, keyed up as we were to head out at the crack of dawn the next day.

 

Supper:  (B and L are always the same)  fish cakes, oat cakes, rice, beets.  Tarts.

 

Sept. 16—CPR to Nipigon, ON

 

Should we try the Blind Channel or not?  Without it, our trip to Nipigon would be a lot longer and we might be fighting for daylight.  Our experience on the reef in the Moffat Straits just a few miles away (4 years ago) have left an indelible mark.  We determined that we need not shy away from every reef in this part of the lake; we just need to use good sense and tread carefully and not be too rigid to turn back.  At least, that’s what we decided right before going to bed.  Then we lost a bunch of sleep worrying about it .  We woke at 6:30 and headed out at 6:45.  It was cloudy so we would not have good visibility in the water, but the wind was pretty light.  Sometimes you just gotta get out there.  Anything was better than worrying about it.

 

We got through the shoals around Agate Island just fine, mostly due to having memorized them by their colors from the high view the day before.  Rounding St. Ignace Island with a SE swell coming from the Keewenaw woke up the girls in a hurry!  I was anxious that I’d hear wretching, but every time Mark went below he reported giggles.  Thankfully it didn’t last too long and soon we were heading for the Blind Channel.  We had been assured that it was well marked, and to our relief it really was.  We crept through at about 7-8 feet and thanked whatever locals really did a good job making it clear how to get through there.  By 8:30 in the morning we were on our way north to Nipigon and I was downstairs cooking a big breakfast.  The winds were light so we motorsailed the whole way.  By 11:00 we were entering the Nipigon river.  We put-putted by pictographs, passed two bald eagles fishing from a submerged log, crossed the 49^th parallel, and generally had a peak experience coming into the town of Nipigon, 6 miles up the river.  The northernmost port of the Great Lakes!  And by the end of the day we had a certificate to prove it, made to order by the mayor of Nipigon who had watched us come in on webcam (whatever that is) and who promptly showed up on the dock to welcome us.  

 

The first thing we did (other than make arrangements for diesel and propane) was to play in the brand-new, as-yet-unfinished Paddle to the Sea playground series that boasts 12 different sites around the town—including maps and explanations at each site for which part of the journey it represents!  Paddle to the Sea is Nipigon’s claim to fame, of course.   The day turned sunny and crisp (leaves are still green up here!)  so we ate a leisurely lunch, plutzed around and in the late afternoon walked partway to Red Rock on a lovely trail that runs along the shoreline.  We picked more plants for the girls’ trip logs (Mark turns out to be a plethora of information, as usual—did you know that you can make pancake batter out of cattails?)  saw a massive dead salmon, a dead mole and shrew, a live muskrat, pheasant…no bear on the trail, though we were cautioned to look out.  The berries have been so late this year that the bears are encroaching.  We also got a few black fly bites.  So far the Savers Plan is working great—the girls managed to get through the tortuous time between hearing about the hike and actually being on it—and even consented to take off their prairie skirts and don shoes and pants.

 

So far the people have been extremely friendly.  Mark got diesel and propane.  The marina is closed and therefore free.  One old-timer who drove Mark up into town had a fishing boat that he would take out Nov. 1 and return just before Christmas, loaded to the gils with herring.  I shivered just thinking about the November gales, the coating of ice that surely covers everything…No one knows the lake like the fisherman.

 

At lunch today Cedar and Lamar ate on-the-edge black beans without comment.  For supper they argued about what shape of noodle they would eat.  Go figure.

 

Sept. 17—Nipigon, ON and LAMAR’S BIRTHDAY

 

I was exhausted before the day began.  Birthdays are too much for me.  Cedar was all set to stay up late and decorate the cabin with us the night before, but then she fell asleep.  I made cinnamon rolls (first request).  We sang to Lamar as she and Cedar emerged from the v-berth and a very sweet little girl came beaming out and exclaiming about the lovely balloons.  She opened her biggest present right before breakfast—a whole bin of American doll clothes, hand-made by her dear Grandma Gordon.  She kind of knew it was coming, and so did Cedar, but this gift really is quite something—a tradition for all Gordon granddaughters.  Cedar handled it well until she began to suspect that Lamar might have gotten more outfits than she did on her 5^th birthday…and thence began the saga of the day.  Cedar TRIED to manage when Lamar received all kinds of presents, but she just isn’t used to being deprived!  And Lamar isn’t used to it either—by the end of the morning she had lent Cedar several of her new outfits and written her a love letter and assigned her the babysitter of her new doll carrier.  What do parents do when both children assume that one child is the most deserving???  Even so, Cedar wept off and on all day.

 

After breakfast we attempted normalcy but school just wasn’t happening.  We got word that the local museum was open and so we spent the morning there.  The staff there had lots of bear stories to tell and by the time we left the girls were afraid to sit alone in the cockpit.  “She doesn’t even go out on her yard anymore except to mow the lawn!”  Apparently bears are overpopulated right now and losing their fear of humans.

 

At lunch we had ham sandwiches (Mark took a quick trip to the store—birthdays are all about food in this family) and then cake and presents.  Cedar ended up wailing in the v-berth but Lamar managed unperturbed and we continued on with the afternoon.  By evening, things were mostly back to normal.  Pizza was the final request. 

 

What is it like to be a 5-year-old Lamar?  She is giggly and dancy, even a trip to the biffi turns into a performance as she flutters along the dock, singing passionately whatever words come to mind (usually a mixture of nautical lore, Little House story, and last nights dinner), and gesturing like a true stage performer.  When she gets lost in a performance even Cedar knows better than to disturb her with the “real world.” 

 

Lamar is also extremely particular.  Last night just as she should have been falling asleep I heard a commotion in the v-berth.  She was upset with daddy because he was not setting up her dollies properly for the night.  She got the headlamp out and dictated his every move until the dolly blanket was folded just so, the dollies placed just so on top, and the whole thing propped at the right angle to herself.  Only then did she grant him a “hmpf” and lie back down.

 

She is (I think) extremely good with words.  One of our favorite games is making up puns.  “What’s a bun that has nothing to do with hair?”  The first few times we looked at her suspiciously—did she really come up with that?  We don’t doubt her anymore but are motivated to outdo one another.  At the same time, she still can’t (or hasn’t bothered to) say “v” or “l” properly, which can make the pun game confusing. 

 

She has a few obsessions that are new to us:  she loves potty humor, and she loves guns.  We are not sure what to make of this but so far have just ridden it.  She is a girl of extremes.  Her artwork is either the joy of her life—hung delicately in the place of honor--or the bane of her existence, to be thrown in the garbage while she wails on the settee.  There isn’t much in between.  If Cedar asks to borrow a skirt, Lamar may reply in a most grown-up, generous voice, “Sure—that would work just fine.”  Or she may stomp over to Cedar and clock her in the back without explanation. Or she may let out a piercing noise of some sort, undecipherable to all but extremely satisfactory for her.  You never know, one moment to the next, what you are going to get.  Yet I can see what she derives from this edgy game—without it, will she ever get noticed or appreciated?  In the end, she is predictably good for a cuddle, a giggle, a song, or a dance.  Ah, Lammie, how much we love her!

 

We may leave Nipigon tomorrow, so I’m trying to get this blog out before we go.  We are headed east and south and may not be in internet range again for weeks, so don’t worry about us if you don’t hear for awhile.

 

 

Taking off Again--Fall 2009

Hi Everyone!  If you have been diligently checking, you will now be rewarded.  After another (snowy) year in Two Harbors and a BUSY summer working fulltime-plus, we are heading out again on Amicus, our 34-ft. steel ketch that has been patiently waiting in Knife River, MN, along the northeastern shore of Lake Superior.  We have neither a set timeline nor a destination (we've learned a thing or two about the process) but hope to explore the far reaches of Lake Superior and beat the November gales home.  There is a bit of wistfulness about this trip--Two Harbors is gorgeous right now, the leaves are beginning to turn, and the gardens are finally producing in bushels.  So it is hard to leave.  On the other hand, the last couple of falls we've noticed how primo the sailing conditions are, and this year we are set to take advantage and stay out as long as we can.

We are going to try to continue this blog, but know that our access to the internet will be extremely limited.  In fact, if all goes well we may be out of cell phone and wireless range for weeks by tomorrow night! 

Hopefully we will have many adventures but what the girls are really looking forward to is "sleeping in the v-berth."  That, and Lamar's 5th birthday, will be the big events.  Think of us out on the Big Lake--we will be thinking of you!