Lake Huron's Georgian Bay

July 2015

 

I was in awe.  We had just anchored La Tasse in 15' of Georgian Bay water.  It was mid-afternoon in early July, sunny and a comfortable 68 degrees.  We were pretty much alone in the quiet anchorage on the northern tip of the Bruce Peninsula, at Cabot Head.  The views around us were breath-taking.  We had been seeing these huge, partially wooded, rock formations since leaving Tobermory on the northern tip of the Bruce Peninsula a few hours earlier.  But in this anchorage, surrounded by land as we were,  these formations, several miles long and wide at the top and rising several hundred feet off the Georgian Bay water surface, were somehow even more spectacular.  We'd been exploring the five Great Lakes by boat for more than a decade, traveling more than 5,000 nm in the process and had never seen anything quite like it.

 

This trip, which began in mid-June from our homeport of Manitowoc, WI, was to take us to the Georgian Bay, the "last" (for us, at least) unexplored large body of water on the Great Lakes.  We crossed Lake Michigan on June 16th and worked our way up and around Michigan's lower peninsula leaving Presque Isle, MI for Tobermory, Ontario on June 28.  We made the 80nm trip across Lake Huron in just 11 1/2 hours benefiting most of the way from a helpful northerly breeze.  Frankly,  we'd never heard much about the Georgian Bay from other sailors.  When we did, they were usually passing through, reporting  on their way to, or from, the better known and more frequently visited North Channel.  We certainly didn't hear about the magic of the Bruce Peninsula.

 

The Bruce, itself, is part of the Niagara escarpment extending about 70 miles north and west from Owen Sound, Ontario on the south to Tobermory at its northern tip.  Generally speaking, the peninsula is 5-10 miles wide and "creates" the Georgian Bay by separating Lake Huron's waters along a mostly north/south plane. Indeed, the only water access from Lake Huron to the Georgian Bay is via the Main Channel at Tobermory. The peninsula's larger towns are concentrated on the Bay side, generally at the head of a long channel or sound.  The marinas at Tobermory, Lion's Head and Wiarton have adequate, even excellent, dockage, are comfortable and very well staffed. We visited them all! The anchorages at Cabot Head (Wingfield Basin), in and around Melville Sound and in Colpoys Bay are protected, have good holding and beautiful scenery. What's not to like? The peninsula's Lake Huron shore, to the west, is rugged and rocky for almost its entire length.  The natural harbors that do exist are generally open to the south or west, exposed to the prevailing winds.

 

The Georgian Bay is sometimes referred to as the "sixth Great Lake."  And, for good reason.  With a surface of 5,800 square miles, roughly 150 miles long and 50 miles wide, it's nearly as large as Lake Ontario (7,300 square miles).  The Bay accounts for about one quarter of Lake Huron's surface area.  And, its deep, particularly to the west and near the Bruce Peninsula.  At 600 feet, the deepest water is to be found off the peninsula's northern coast and near to shore.  That said, our depth sounder was regularly showing 250 feet along that entire coast and often the depths were unreadable.

 

The topography to the east, along Ontario's mainland, is quite different.  Here one finds the Canadian Shield with its very hard, generally flat and often exposed igneous rock. Much like the east side of Lake Huron's North Channel, this coast is littered with typically low-lying islands, big rocks, really.  Collectively, these are known as the "Thirty Thousand Islands" and are part of Georgian Bay Islands National Park.  They are, as you might guess, a haven for gunk-holers!

 

We know, of course that these islands were created by the glacial activity along the Canadian Shield.  But, science can be so sterile!  The Wyandot tell a much more interesting story about their formation. The god Kitchikewna who lived along the Bay's eastern shore as its guardian was a nice guy with a bad temper.  When he was jilted by woman he hoped to marry, he became quite incensed.  Nothing new so far... In an angry fit he went to the far end of Beausoleil Island, picked up a large ball of earth and threw it into the Bay creating the islands.  Smile but don't laugh.  Giant's Tomb Island, where he still sleeps,  is named for the guy!

 

The land along that eastern shore is quite barren with few towns and little industry. The topsoil that might have existed was long ago carried away by the ice sheets that covered the area and then, some 10,000 years ago, melted.  Towns and industry are more common along the Bay's south shore (Wasaga Beach, Pennetanguishene and Midland) where all benefit from their close proximity to Toronto, just 100 miles to the south along a good highway.

 

Historical Significance.

 

Our understanding of early humans in the area is largely from the French, although modern-day archaeological digs have added meaningful information about the "early" periods. We know, of course, that Europeans had ventured to the Grand Banks, Newfoundland and the Gulf of St Lawrence long before Columbus "discovered" the continent.  Cartier recognized that fact in his written accounts as early as 1534.  Champlain enters the picture in 1603, staying mostly along the coast.  In 1608, he traveled up the St Lawrence and established a settlement at what is today Quebec City.  In 1610, after contact with Native Americans from the interior, he sent Etienne Brule up the Ottawa River with Algonquin traders.  Brule's orders were to explore the area and learn from the Natives.  Brule's party most probably reached the Georgian Bay via the Ottawa, Mattawa and French Rivers, a long traveled Native route.  In all likelihood, Etienne Brule, less than 20 years old at the time, was the first European to actually see and explore the Great Lakes. But he failed to record his "discovery!" Even if he had, it's unlikely that his master would have allowed publication.  That honor, you see, went to  Champlain who visited the area for the first time in 1615 using the same water route.  Once in the Georgian Bay, Champlain headed south.  At the south end of the Bay and north of Lake Ontario's western end, in the presence of the First Nations people living there, he attended Mass (celebrated by Joseph Le Caron, a Recollect Friar imported from France by Champlain himself some months earlier).

 

That trip, though, was about more than sightseeing and attending Mass.  Recall that in 1609 Champlain had accompanied a band of Huron south from what is now Montreal, up the Richelieu River and into Lake Champlain (neither were called that then...) to confront the Iroquois. In a battle on July 30, Champlain and one of his men killed three Iroquois chiefs.  That accomplished, and with the boom of Champlain's arquebus still ringing in their ears,  the other two hundred fled.  Is it any wonder why the Iroquois hated the French for the next 100 years?

 

Fast forward six years.

 

After attending Mass on August 12, 1615, Champlain toured Huronia including Lake Simcoe.  He then set out on September 1 with ten Frenchmen and about 300 Huron for yet another meeting with the Iroquois.  They passed Lake Ontario's eastern end and then headed south on foot into upstate New York.  Their raid was a disaster. By October 16, they were on their way back to Hurona with Champlain still nursing wounds from the arrows that somehow found his leg.

 

The rest of the story for the Native population living in this part of the Great Lakes region is all too familiar.  Contact with Europeans led to disease, alcoholism, and an ever increasing reliance on "trade goods."  The ongoing war with the Iroquois only made matters worse, ultimately forcing many of the Algonquin north. Tradition has it that, while fleeing from the advancing Iroquois, the Algonquin actually burned Manitoulin Island as they left in about 1650.  From 1650 until the 1800s there is little recorded history from the area. Many historians think it was sparsely populated, at least in comparison with the earlier years.  The French and their Algonquin allies, of course, continued to use the Ottawa River route for the fur trade during that period. But, generally speaking, after the mid 1600s, upon reaching the Georgian Bay, they went north to Lakes Michigan and Superior or south along the same route back to Montreal and Quebec City.

 

Broken Promises.

 

The British took control of Upper Canada in 1763 at the conclusion of the French and Indian War.  From the outset, they saw the Native population as a problem.  Attempts at "civilization"

and "protection" became, in reality, a series of broken promises as European immigrants rushed to settle "unclaimed" lands without regard to Indian or First Nation rights.  The Bond Head Treaty in 1836, which established Manitoulin Island as Ontario's "reservation," also simultaneously extracted 1.5 million acres of Huron land south and east of the Bruce Peninsula.  In return, the remaining Saugeen Ojibwa who lived there, were relocated north to the poor soil of the Bruce Peninsula where,  the Crown promised to "... forever protect you from the encroachments of the whites."

 

So much for that promise.  Five years before, in 1831, while sailing north from Goderich, Alexander MacGregor "discovered" that the islands adjacent to Oliphant on the peninsula's Lake Huron coast were teeming with fish.  (To this day, they are called the Fishing or Pishing Islands). About the time the Bond Head Treaty was signed, MacGregor was building a stone building on Main Station Island to support his natural resource "development" activities.  Not only was there an absence of  interference from the Crown at the time, but in about 1840, after involving itself in a commercial dispute,  the Crown granted the exclusive right to such fishing to a competitor of MacGregor!  By 1854, the pressure from white settlers for lumber and fish became so great that, with few exceptions, the entire peninsula was ceded  to the Crown.  The evicted residents were to receive, in payment, the interest earned by the Crown on the sale of these lands.  How do you suppose that worked out?

 

To help make clear my point about attitude, consider the following.  In this writing, I have consistently referred to the peninsula as "the Bruce Peninsula."  I use that name because the peninsula is today the northern end of Bruce county. The county was named, in 1849, for James Bruce, who was then the Governor General of British North America.  After the 1836 Bond Treaty, when the Natives were evicted to the north, the peninsula was commonly referred to as the "Saugeen" or "Indian" peninsula.  It was, after all, their land. With the Treaty of 1854 there was no longer need for a separate name. Particularly one that might suggest yet another broken promise! 

 

With the Crown and the white Europeans now fully in charge, the peninsula became a wasteland within 75 years.  The lumber was clear cut and the brush left behind became fuel for  widespread and intense fires. With little topsoil on this spit of the Niagara escarpment to begin with, the burned land supported little commercial vegetation. Making matters worse, the waste from commercial fishing operations during those years was both sad and, in retrospect, sickening.  Tons of fish that were netted but could not be processed or sold, were left to rot on the shore. By the end of the 19th century, commercial fishing was in significant decline.  Then, in 1932, when the lamprey eel made its appearance in the Great Lakes, commercial fishing essentially ceased.

 

Hope for the future.

 

Human beings do learn.  Tragically, the learning often comes after a disaster so significant that even the hard core cannot ignore it.  Such was apparently the case with the Georgian Bay region.  Despite the damage done by natural resource exploitation, the natural beauty of the place would eventually sink in.  By the 1930s, people from Ontario were beginning to buy plots and build cottages along the south shore and among the islands.  In 1929, the Canadian government established the Georgian Bay Islands National Park by acquiring  63 islands near Port Severn with Beausoleil Island being the largest.  Included in this acquisition was Flowerpot Island on the northern end of the Bay just a short ferry trip from Tobermory.  By the 1970s, Ontario had established a number of Provincial parks on the Bruce peninsula including  Fathom Five (the islands and Bay waters to the north and east of Tobermory).  The crowning achievement, I suppose, came in 1987 when, after nearly a decade of citizen involvement, Parks Canada announced the creation of Bruce Peninsula National Park and the assumption as a national park of Fathom Five (now incorporating Flowerpot Island).   Taken together, these National  parks encompass  more than 100 square miles  of area on the northern end of the Bruce  Peninsula.  The parks not only encourage tourists and their spending but they preserve forever a significant portion of this special place on earth. Helping draw people to the peninsula, the Chi-Cheemaun,  a large ferry, carries about 80,000 vehicles and 250,000 passengers each year between Tobermory and Manitoulin Island.  It, and the highway bridge at Little Current, provide the only commercial access to/fr Manitoulin.

 

Even the Native Americans seem to be a getting a bit of a break recently. There can be no doubt that Native peoples in both Canada and  the United States have been more aggressively asserting their Treaty rights since about 1950. Frequently, their legal complaints are about water, hunting and fishing; their rights to harvest and use natural resources. Often these disputes arise because there is conflict with, or complaints from, non-Native sporting interests. This has certainly been the case in the Georgian Bay in general and on the Bruce Peninsula specifically.

After decades of conflict over fishing rights with the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR) and its allies, sportsmen from the Provence, an Ontario Court judge, David A. Fairgrave, dismissed charges against two members of the Chippewas of Nawash First Nations (the Ojibwa on Cape Croker). They had been charged for taking more lake trout than permitted by the bands commercial fishing license.  The practical effect of this 1993 ruling, following the principles of the earlier 1990 Sparrow decision, gave the Ojibwa First Nations priority access to both commercial and sport fishing in Georgian Bay after conservation needs are met.  The decision led to some violence on the peninsula and left many issues unresolved but the die, it seems, has been cast.  

 

For good reason, the tourists keep coming.

 

While in Tobermory in early and mid-July, the place was teeming with tourists.  It was a mixed blessing.  The town was alive, of course. The shops, restaurants and bars were doing a steady business.  But our berth alongside one of two long docks that provide space for transient boaters was a busy place adjacent as it was to the town's boat ramp.  For a time, we nervously kept watch as the rented kayaks with predominately inexperienced pilots slid past our hull.  Thankfully most, but not all, missed us.  That angst was easily offset, though, by the courteous and friendly transient boaters who shared the dock with us. The marina facilities were close to the docks and quite adequate. The staff at the marina in Little Tug Harbor was outstanding.

 

Lion's Head, we discovered, is a very special place.  The views of the Lion's Head Promontory from the harbor are breathtaking.  The town itself is quite charming with shops and restaurants easily accessible to the marina. The sand beach and park at the head of the harbor just add to natural charm of the place.  While we were docked in the harbor we enjoyed visiting the Farmers Market  then a picnic on the lawn listening to live music in the park.  While the liquor store (LCBO) was a bit of a trek out of town ( a 30 minute walk), we needed the exercise and got to enjoy seeing fields of canola in full bloom!   The marina was surprisingly large, with four main docks and room more than 200 boats.  The facilities were quite good and, once again, the staff was excellent.  Ted, the Harbor Master, teased, asking that we not tell too many boaters about our experience in Lion's Head for fear that more activity would ruin the place!

 

Wiarton, at the head of Colpoys Bay,  is more commercial than either Tobermory or Lion's Head and the marina is more of a "boat yard."  That's not meant to be negative, however.  The marina facilities are charming with a large and comfortable boaters lounge built into an existing  two story frame building.  It even has a wood burning fireplace! The marina has a hoist (not so in either Tobermory or Lion's Head)and a friendly, competent service department.  We had La Tasse "pulled" for a repair while in Wiarton and though it was a stressful experience for us the staff eased our concerns by demonstrating early that they knew what they were doing, cared about our boat and wanted to get us back in the water as quickly as possible.  One can't ask for more than that when you are 700 nm from home.



 

Wiarton has less of a tourist feel than either Tobermory or Lion's Head.  The restaurants serve more of the local trade.  There's no Lion's Head Inn or Tobermory Brewing Company, if you get my drift.  But Wiarton has one thing neither has; Wiarton Willy.  Willy is an albino groundhog.  His job, and that of his many predecessors, has been to forecast an either late or early spring for Ontario by making a much publicized visit each February.  It's a serious business.  Willy's "home" adjacent to the City buildings and the Visitor's Center is a product of the Toronto zoo.  His longstanding significance to the city is literally "etched in stone" as an 8 foot tall  sculpture facing the harbor!   

 

Colpoys Bay, with Wiarton at its head,  is a charming place in its own right.  Sail boaters dot the water daily. And why not? Three beautiful islands (Hay, White Cloud and Griffith) are positioned at the northeast end of the Bay.  Each has lovely anchorages to enjoy, regardless of the wind direction.  A short distance to the north and west of Colpoys Bay is Melville Sound and Cape Croker.  We anchored in MacGregor Harbor at the east end of the Sound but suspect one could spend a week anchoring in Melville Sound without spending two nights in  the same place.

 

North to Killarney and Home.

 

We took leave of the Bruce Peninsula on July 13th and headed north, northeast past Flowerpot and Bear's Rump Islands.  The 43 nm trip to Killarney would take us just a bit over 6 hours.  We made good time, of course, but alas, once again it was with the help of the iron jenny. The southerly breeze that day helped but did not propel!

 

As we approached the northeastern coast of the Georgian Bay, we traveled between Club and Lonely Islands, later leaving Squaw Island off our starboard.  During the trip, the eastern coast of Manitoulin Island was almost always in view.  The change in scenery was obvious as we rounded Jackman Rock at Red Rock Point and headed up the channel to the docks in town.

 

This was our first visit to Killarney.  We wish we had come to this charming place sooner.  Killarney is a place of conflicts in many ways.  The town, built on the mainland coast across from George Island, is quite small.  The reported population of 400 seems inflated.  Provisioning services for boaters are limited which seems strange in a place that relied on only water transport until the 1960s.  On the other hand, they have two fine, and rather large resorts; the Sportsman's Inn and Killarney Mountain Lodge.  Both have dockage and the typical marina services.  The Sportsman's Inn offers white tablecloth dining and a spa!  (We chose the resorts' adjacent pub and loved it.)  At the Killarney Mountain Lodge, fine dining is also an option though the setting is more rustic.  They have a great bar and, most nights, Andy Lowe entertains a standing-room only crowd.  The setting and scenery were very "North Channel."

 

The 27 nm trip south and then west to Little Current past Badegley, Centre and Partridge Island was made on a calm and comfortable summer day. The sun was shining and the scenery outstanding.  So, we lolly-gagged and almost missed the noon bridge opening.  But, by 12:30 pm we were docked and settled in Little Current.  Shortly after, the wind began to blow and the current in the channel began to demonstrate why this place should not be called "Little Current!"

 

Our trip back to Manitowoc was uneventful but for the blustery days in Mackinaw City and the day of severe thunderstorms and strong wind in Leland, MI.  Nothing new here...  But our memories of the Bruce Peninsula and the beautiful blue waters of the Georgian Bay traveled with us.  And will always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lake Huron's Georgian Bay

July 2015

 

I was in awe.  We had just anchored La Tasse in 15' of Georgian Bay water.  It was mid-afternoon in early July, sunny and a comfortable 68 degrees.  We were pretty much alone in the quiet anchorage on the northern tip of the Bruce Peninsula, at Cabot Head.  The views around us were breath-taking.  We had been seeing these huge, partially wooded, rock formations since leaving Tobermory on the northern tip of the Bruce Peninsula a few hours earlier.  But in this anchorage, surrounded by land as we were,  these formations, several miles long and wide at the top and rising several hundred feet off the Georgian Bay water surface, were somehow even more spectaular.  We'd been exploring the five Great Lakes by boat for more than a decade, traveling more than 5,000 nm in the process and had never seen anything quite like it.

 

This trip, which began in mid-June from our homeport of Manitowoc, WI, was to take us to the Georgian Bay, the "last" (for us, at least) unexplored large body of water on the Great Lakes.  We crossed Lake Michigan on June 16th and worked our way up and around Michigan's lower peninsula leaving Presque Isle, MI for Tobermory, Ontario on June 28.  We made the 80nm trip across Lake Huron in just 11 1/2 hours benefiting most of the way from a helpful northerly breeze.  Frankly,  we'd never heard much about the Georgian Bay from other sailors.  When we did, they were usually passing through, reporting  on their way to, or from, the better known and more frequently visited North Channel.  We certainly didn't hear about the magic of the Bruce Peninsula.

 

The Bruce, itself, is part of the Niagara escarpment extending about 70 miles north and west from Owen Sound, Ontario on the south to Tobermory at its northern tip.  Generally speaking, the peninsula is 5-10 miles wide and "creates" the Georgian Bay by separating Lake Huron's waters along a mostly north/south plane. Indeed, the only water access from Lake Huron to the Georgian Bay is via the Main Channel at Tobermory. The peninsula's larger towns are concentrated on the Bay side, generally at the head of a long channel or sound.  The marinas at Tobermory, Lion's Head and Wiarton have adequate, even excellent, dockage, are comfortable and very well staffed. We visited them all! The anchorages at Cabot Head (Wingfield Basin), in and around Melville Sound and in Colpoys Bay are protected, have good holding and beautiful scenery. What's not to like? The peninsula's Lake Huron shore, to the west, is rugged and rocky for almost its entire length.  The natural harbors that do exist are generally open to the south or west, exposed to the prevailing winds.

 

The Georgian Bay is sometimes referred to as the "sixth Great Lake."  And, for good reason.  With a surface of 5,800 square miles, roughly 150 miles long and 50 miles wide, it's nearly as large as Lake Ontario (7,300 square miles).  The Bay accounts for about one quarter of Lake Huron's surface area.  And, its deep, particularly to the west and near the Bruce Peninsula.  At 600 feet, the deepest water is to be found off the peninsula's northern coast and near to shore.  That said, our depth sounder was regularly showing 250 feet along that entire coast and often the depths were unreadable.

 

The topography to the east, along Ontario's mainland, is quite different.  Here one finds the Canadian Shield with its very hard, generally flat and often exposed igneous rock. Much like the east side of Lake Huron's North Channel, this coast is littered with typically low-lying islands, big rocks, really.  Collectively, these are known as the "Thirty Thousand Islands" and are part of Georgian Bay Islands National Park.  They are, as you might guess, a haven for gunk-holers!

 

We know, of course that these islands were created by the glacial activity along the Canadian Shield.  But, science can be so sterile!  The Wyandot tell a much more interesting story about their formation. The god Kitchikewna who lived along the Bay's eastern shore as its guardian was a nice guy with a bad temper.  When he was jilted by woman he hoped to marry, he became quite incensed.  Nothing new so far... In an angry fit he went to the far end of Beausoleil Island, picked up a large ball of earth and threw it into the Bay creating the islands.  Smile but don't laugh.  Giant's Tomb Island, where he still sleeps,  is named for the guy!

 

The land along that eastern shore is quite barren with few towns and little industry. The topsoil that might have existed was long ago carried away by the ice sheets that covered the area and then, some 10,000 years ago, melted.  Towns and industry are more common along the Bay's south shore (Wasaga Beach, Pennetanguishene and Midland) where all benefit from their close proximity to Toronto, just 100 miles to the south along a good highway.

 

Historical Significance.

 

Our understanding of early humans in the area is largely from the French, although modern-day archeological digs have added meaningful information about the "early" periods. We know, of course, that Europeans had ventured to the Grand Banks, Newfoundland and the Gulf of St Lawrence long before Columbus "discovered" the continent.  Cartier recognized that fact in his written accounts as early as 1534.  Champlain enters the picture in 1603, staying mostly along the coast.  In 1608, he traveled up the St Lawrence and established a settlement at what is today Quebec City.  In 1610, after contact with Native Americans from the interior, he sent Etienne Brule up the Ottawa River with Algonquin traders.  Brule's orders were to explore the area and learn from the Natives.  Brule's party most probably reached the Georgian Bay via the Ottawa, Mattawa and French Rivers, a long traveled Native route.  In all likelihood, Etienne Brule, less than 20 years old at the time, was the first European to actually see and explore the Great Lakes. But he failed to record his "discovery!" Even if he had, it's unlikely that his master would have allowed publication.  That honor, you see, went to  Champlain who visited the area for the first time in 1615 using the same water route.  Once in the Georgian Bay, Champlain headed south.  At the south end of the Bay and north of Lake Ontario's western end, in the presence of the First Nations people living there, he attended Mass (celebrated by Joseph Le Caron, a Recollect Friar imported from France by Champlain himself some months earlier).

 

That trip, though, was about more than sightseeing and attending Mass.  Recall that in 1609 Champlain had accompanied a band of Huron south from what is now Montreal, up the Richelieu River and into Lake Champlain (neither were called that then...) to confront the Iroquois. In a battle on July 30, Champlain and one of his men killed three Iroquois chiefs.  That accomplished, and with the boom of Champlain's arquebus still ringing in their ears,  the other two hundred fled.  Is it any wonder why the Iroquois hated the French for the next 100 years?

 

Fast forward six years.

 

After attending Mass on August 12, 1615, Champlain toured Huronia including Lake Simcoe.  He then set out on September 1 with ten Frenchmen and about 300 Huron for yet another meeting with the Iroquois.  They passed Lake Ontario's eastern end and then headed south on foot into upstate New York.  Their raid was a disaster. By October 16, they were on their way back to Hurona with Champlain still nursing wounds from the arrows that somehow found his leg.

 

The rest of the story for the Native population living in this part of the Great Lakes region is all too familiar.  Contact with Europeans led to disease, alcoholism, and an ever increasing reliance on "trade goods."  The ongoing war with the Iroquois only made matters worse, ultimately forcing many of the Algonquin north. Tradition has it that, while fleeing from the advancing Iroquois, the Algonquin actually burned Manitoulin Island as they left in about 1650.  From 1650 until the 1800s there is little recorded history from the area. Many historians think it was sparsely populated, at least in comparison with the earlier years.  The French and their Algonquin allies, of course, continued to use the Ottawa River route for the fur trade during that period. But, generally speaking, after the mid 1600s, upon reaching the Georgian Bay, they went north to Lakes Michigan and Superior or south along the same route back to Montreal and Quebec City.

 

Broken Promises.

 

The British took control of Upper Canada in 1763 at the conclusion of the French and Indian War.  From the outset, they saw the Native population as a problem.  Attempts at "civilization"

and "protection" became, in reality, a series of broken promises as European immigrants rushed to settle "unclaimed" lands without regard to Indian or First Nation rights.  The Bond Head Treaty in 1836, which established Manitoulin Island as Ontario's "reservation," also simultaneously extracted 1.5 million acres of Huron land south and east of the Bruce Peninsula.  In return, the remaining Saugeen Ojibwa who lived there, were relocated north to the poor soil of the Bruce Peninsula where,  the Crown promised to "... forever protect you from the encroachments of the whites."

 

So much for that promise.  Five years before, in 1831, while sailing north from Goderich, Alexander MacGregor "discovered" that the islands adjacent to Oliphant on the peninsula's Lake Huron coast were teeming with fish.  (To this day, they are called the Fishing or Pishing Islands). About the time the Bond Head Treaty was signed, MacGregor was building a stone building on Main Station Island to support his natural resource "development" activities.  Not only was there an absence of  interference from the Crown at the time, but in about 1840, after involving itself in a commercial dispute,  the Crown granted the exclusive right to such fishing to a competitor of MacGregor!  By 1854, the pressure from white settlers for lumber and fish became so great that, with few exceptions, the entire peninsula was ceded  to the Crown.  The evicted residents were to receive, in payment, the interest earned by the Crown on the sale of these lands.  How do you suppose that worked out?

 

To help make clear my point about attitude, consider the following.  In this writing, I have consistently referred to the peninsula as "the Bruce Peninsula."  I use that name because the peninsula is today the northern end of Bruce county. The county was named, in 1849, for James Bruce, who was then the Governor General of British North America.  After the 1836 Bond Treaty, when the Natives were evicted to the north, the peninsula was commonly referred to as the "Saugeen" or "Indian" peninsula.  It was, after all, their land. With the Treaty of 1854 there was no longer need for a separate name. Particularly one that might suggest yet another broken promise! 

 

With the Crown and the white Europeans now fully in charge, the peninsula became a wasteland within 75 years.  The lumber was clear cut and the brush left behind became fuel for  widespread and intense fires. With little topsoil on this spit of the Niagara escarpment to begin with, the burned land supported little commercial vegetation. Making matters worse, the waste from commercial fishing operations during those years was both sad and, in retrospect, sickening.  Tons of fish that were netted but could not be processed or sold, were left to rot on the shore. By the end of the 19th century, commercial fishing was in significant decline.  Then, in 1932, when the lamprey eel made its appearance in the Great Lakes, commercial fishing essentially ceased.

 

Hope for the future.

 

Human beings do learn.  Tragically, the learning often comes after a disaster so significant that even the hard core cannot ignore it.  Such was apparently the case with the Georgian Bay region.  Despite the damage done by natural resource exploitation, the natural beauty of the place would eventually sink in.  By the 1930s, people from Ontario were beginning to buy plots and build cottages along the south shore and among the islands.  In 1929, the Canadian government established the Georgian Bay Islands National Park by acquiring  63 islands near Port Severn with Beausoleil Island being the largest.  Included in this acquisition was Flowerpot Island on the northern end of the Bay just a short ferry trip from Tobermory.  By the 1970s, Ontario had established a number of Provincial parks on the Bruce peninsula including  Fathom Five (the islands and Bay waters to the north and east of Tobermory).  The crowning achievement, I suppose, came in 1987 when, after nearly a decade of citizen involvement, Parks Canada announced the creation of Bruce Peninsula National Park and the assumption as a national park of Fathom Five (now incorporating Flowerpot Island).   Taken together, these National  parks encompass  more than 100 square miles  of area on the northern end of the Bruce  Peninsula.  The parks not only encourage tourists and their spending but they preserve forever a significant portion of this special place on earth. Helping draw people to the peninsula, the Chi-Cheemaun,  a large ferry, carries about 80,000 vehicles and 250,000 passengers each year between Tobermory and Manitoulin Island.  It, and the highway bridge at Little Current, provide the only commercial access to/fr Manitoulin.

 

Even the Native Americans seem to be a getting a bit of a break recently. There can be no doubt that Native peoples in both Canada and  the United States have been more aggressively asserting their Treaty rights since about 1950. Frequently, their legal complaints are about water, hunting and fishing; their rights to harvest and use natural resources. Often these disputes arise because there is conflict with, or complaints from, non-Native sporting interests. This has certainly been the case in the Georgian Bay in general and on the Bruce Peninsula specifically.

After decades of conflict over fishing rights with the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR) and its allies, sportsmen from the Provence, an Ontario Court judge, David A. Fairgrave, dismissed charges against two members of the Chippewas of Nawash First Nations (the Ojibwa on Cape Croker). They had been charged for taking more lake trout than permitted by the bands commercial fishing license.  The practical effect of this 1993 ruling, following the principles of the earlier 1990 Sparrow decision, gave the Ojibwa First Nations priority access to both commercial and sport fishing in Georgian Bay after conservation needs are met.  The decision led to some violence on the peninsula and left many issues unresolved but the die, it seems, has been cast.  

 

For good reason, the tourists keep coming.

 

While in Tobermory in early and mid-July, the place was teeming with tourists.  It was a mixed blessing.  The town was alive, of course. The shops, restaurants and bars were doing a steady business.  But our berth alongside one of two long docks that provide space for transient boaters was a busy place adjacent as it was to the town's boat ramp.  For a time, we nervously kept watch as the rented kayaks with predominately inexperienced pilots slid past our hull.  Thankfully most, but not all, missed us.  That angst was easily offset, though, by the courteous and friendly transient boaters who shared the dock with us. The marina facilities were close to the docks and quite adequate. The staff at the marina in Little Tug Harbor was outstanding.

 

Lion's Head, we discovered, is a very special place.  The views of the Lion's Head Promontory from the harbor are breathtaking.  The town itself is quite charming with shops and restaurants easily accessible to the marina. The sand beach and park at the head of the harbor just add to natural charm of the place.  While we were docked in the harbor we enjoyed visiting the Farmers Market  then a picnic on the lawn listening to live music in the park.  While the liquor store (LCBO) was a bit of a trek out of town ( a 30 minute walk), we needed the exercise and got to enjoy seeing fields of canola in full bloom!   The marina was surprisingly large, with four main docks and room more than 200 boats.  The facilities were quite good and, once again, the staff was excellent.  Ted, the Harbor Master, teased, asking that we not tell too many boaters about our experience in Lion's Head for fear that more activity would ruin the place!

 

Wiarton, at the head of Colpoys Bay,  is more commercial than either Tobermory or Lion's Head and the marina is more of a "boat yard."  That's not meant to be negative, however.  The marina facilities are charming with a large and comfortable boaters lounge built into an existing  two story frame building.  It even has a wood burning fireplace! The marina has a hoist (not so in either Tobermory or Lion's Head)and a friendly, competent service department.  We had La Tasse "pulled" for a repair while in Wiarton and though it was a stressful experience for us the staff eased our concerns by demonstrating early that they knew what they were doing, cared about our boat and wanted to get us back in the water as quickly as possible.  One can't ask for more than that when you are 700 nm from home.

 

Wiarton has less of a tourist feel than either Tobermory or Lion's Head.  The restaurants serve more of the local trade.  There's no Lion's Head Inn or Tobermory Brewing Company, if you get my drift.  But Wiarton has one thing neither has; Wiarton Willy.  Willy is an albino groundhog.  His job, and that of his many predecessors, has been to forecast an either late or early spring for Ontario by making a much publicized visit each February.  It's a serious business.  Willy's "home" adjacent to the City buildings and the Visitor's Center is a product of the Toronto zoo.  His longstanding significance to the city is literally "etched in stone" as an 8 foot tall  sculpture facing the harbor!   

 

Colpoys Bay, with Wiarton at its head,  is a charming place in its own right.  Sail boaters dot the water daily. And why not? Three beautiful islands (Hay, White Cloud and Griffith) are positioned at the northeast end of the Bay.  Each has lovely anchorages to enjoy, regardless of the wind direction.  A short distance to the north and west of Colpoys Bay is Melville Sound and Cape Croker.  We anchored in MacGregor Harbor at the east end of the Sound but suspect one could spend a week anchoring in Melville Sound without spending two nights in  the same place.

 

North to Killarney and Home.

 

We took leave of the Bruce Peninsula on July 13th and headed north, northeast past Flowerpot and Bear's Rump Islands.  The 43 nm trip to Killarney would take us just a bit over 6 hours.  We made good time, of course, but alas, once again it was with the help of the iron jenny. The southerly breeze that day helped but did not propel!

 

As we approached the northeastern coast of the Georgian Bay, we traveled between Club and Lonely Islands, later leaving Squaw Island off our starboard.  During the trip, the eastern coast of Manitoulin Island was almost always in view.  The change in scenery was obvious as we rounded Jackman Rock at Red Rock Point and headed up the channel to the docks in town.

 

This was our first visit to Killarney.  We wish we had come to this charming place sooner.  Killarney is a place of conflicts in many ways.  The town, built on the mainland coast across from George Island, is quite small.  The reported population of 400 seems inflated.  Provisioning services for boaters are limited which seems strange in a place that relied on only water transport until the 1960s.  On the other hand, they have two fine, and rather large resorts; the Sportsman's Inn and Killarney Mountain Lodge.  Both have dockage and the typical marina services.  The Sportsman's Inn offers white tablecloth dining and a spa!  (We chose the resorts' adjacent pub and loved it.)  At the Killarney Mountain Lodge, fine dining is also an option though the setting is more rustic.  They have a great bar and, most nights, Andy Lowe entertains a standing-room only crowd.  The setting and scenery were very "North Channel."

 

The 27 nm trip south and then west to Little Current past Badegley, Centre and Partridge Island was made on a calm and comfortable summer day. The sun was shining and the scenery outstanding.  So, we lolly-gagged and almost missed the noon bridge opening.  But, by 12:30 pm we were docked and settled in Little Current.  Shortly after, the wind began to blow and the current in the channel began to demonstrate why this place should not be called "Little Current!"

 

Our trip back to Manitowoc was uneventful but for the blustery days in Mackinaw City and the day of severe thunderstorms and strong wind in Leland, MI.  Nothing new here...  But our memories of the Bruce Peninsula and the beautiful blue waters of the Georgian Bay traveled with us.  And will always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The North Channel - Lake Huron

Lake Huron’s North Channel

William T Boehm

July 2013

For some reason, cruising Lake Huron’s North Channel had always been an intimidating prospect for Deb and me.  Over the years, we’ve talked ourselves into believing that marinas are somehow safer; more comfortable than anchorages.  Never mind the fact that we both “tense up” every time we leave a dock or enter a marina.  Maybe it was that one time, back in the 1990s, when a drunk rammed us while at anchor in Put In Bay harbor….

We shouldn’t have these reservations.  I know that.  Our IP380, La Tasse, anchors easily and was outfitted for that purpose.  She has ground tackle to handle a hurricane, a windlass to raise and lower the “hook” and a diesel generator to provide juice when needed. She’s heavy, 13 tons, so she lies still at anchor in anything but a gale!  Besides, we know what we’re doing.  Well, most of the time anyway.  It’s not like we haven’t anchored a time or two over the years.

Still we resisted.  The North Channel that everybody said we “must do” seemed like a high hill for us to climb.  But the time for resisting was running out.  After spending five summers living aboard and logging about 4,000 Great Lakes nautical miles, we both agreed that 2013 would be our year to “do” the North Channel.  We left our home port of Manitowoc, WI in mid-June and slowly worked our way east to Michigan’s De Tour Village at the mouth of the St. Mary’s River.  We’d been there before, in 2010.  This time, rather than heading north to the Soo and Lake Superior, we were heading east.  The North Channel loons were calling.

 We decided against a night at near-by Drummond Island Marina and readied ourselves and La Tasse for a night at anchor.  Our plan was to anchor that first night at Harbor Island about 6 nm from De Tour.  But, the wind was blowing from the south and Harbor Island’s anchorage is open to the south.  So, we searched the charts for an alternative that was in U.S. waters, easy to navigate and reasonably close to De Tour.  We found Burnt Island.

After an easy 10nm trip north, there we were, comfortably anchored in sung Burnt Island anchorage.  Loons had greeted us upon our arrival earlier in the day.  We were securely anchored in soft, clean sand in about 12 feet of water. A soft breeze was blowing from the south leaving hardly a ripple on the water surface.  Our tummies were full. Grilled steak and vegetables with sweet corn on the side had done that trick.   I had a Jameson in my hand. We were experiencing one of the prettiest sunsets on earth.

Cruising the North Channel was going to be a great and enjoyable experience.  I just knew it!

North Channel Overview

Lake Huron’s North Channel is big water.  The Channel, at Lake Huron’s northern end, is formed by the Ontario mainland on the north and three large islands, Drummond (U.S.), Cockburn (Canadian) and Manitoulin, to the south.  At approximately 75 miles long and 30 miles wide (east end), Manitoulin Island is the largest fresh water island in the world. The waterway itself, stretching from DeTour Village on the west to Little Current on the east,  is 100 miles long by about 15 miles wide.  The Channel interior, particularly on the north, is dotted with hundreds of uninhabited islands and protected anchorages.  There are no large cities on either the Ontario coast or on the islands.  Communication with the outside world, particularly telephone, is a challenge.  The North Channel is remote but beautiful!

The North Channel is an important part of the waterway connecting the upper lakes.  For well over 100 miles, water-based travelers heading to/from the Soo and Lake Superior or the Straits of Mackinac and Lake Michigan are protected from the open waters of Lake Huron. Native Americans used this waterway with regularity, of course, long before the Europeans arrived.  For the Europeans, particularly the French, it was an important part of the trade route between Montreal and the upper lakes.

On to Meldrum Bay

Up early that mid-July morning, we charged the house batteries, made some coffee and listened to the loons complain about the noisy generator.  We pulled anchor and headed out weaving our way past several small islands with rocky outcroppings and shallow water.  Good practice, I thought!  Our destination, about 40 nm east, was Meldrum Bay, Ontario.  The wind which was light from the south was also mostly blanketed by the string of large islands to our south; Drummond, Cockburn and Manitoulin.  So, we motor sailed making good about 6 ½ knots per nm.  We arrived at Meldrum Bay about 12:30 pm.  It was a beautiful mid-summer day!

 Meldrum Bay is the most westerly village on Manitoulin Island and is about 60 miles west of Little Current.  The harbor itself is formed by a 2 mile long and 1 mile wide “bay” with a northern exposure to the Channel. Talk about quaint; Meldrum Bay is the very definition of the word.  The people were welcoming, cheerful, unassuming but confident.  The village docks were more than adequate, newly placed over the past few years.  The docks had potable water for the first time in 2013.  The boater services building which is also relatively new, was very basic.  It did, however, have a small, private and window-less room with a phone!  We used that space without incident to clear Canadian Customs. There was no internet service at the marina and no cell phone coverage in the harbor. But it was an undeniably beautiful place.

And it was home to the Meldrum Bay Inn!  The Inn was just a few hundred feet up the hill from the harbor.  The place was charming and the food was excellent. Customers, mostly the boaters, were allowed to access the Inn’s Wi-Fi service. The family that owns and operates the Inn also owns and operates the General Store next to it.  Those are the only two commercial buildings in town.

The town itself was settled in the 1870s, mostly as a fishing center.  The village was named after a town in Scotland.  It’s estimated that 50 hearty souls live in Meldrum Bay year-round but the immediate area is home to about 200 people.  The principle employer  is the large Lafarge dolomite quarry that is situated on the Mississagi Strait, the waterway separating Cockburn and Manitoulin Island, about 5 miles west of town.  Mostly, though, the people there “fend for themselves.” 

The boaters stopping here were all on their way to, or from, “the North Channel.” But first, everyone dined with Shirin and Bob Glover at the Meldrum Bay Inn! Many also picked up fresh pastries from Elena, the Glover’s daughter, at the General Store. We did…..

With two wonderful Meldrum Bay dinners under our belt (literally), we headed northeast about 25nm to John Island harbor. The trip was uneventful.  With a light 5knot south breeze, we had little choice but to motor.

John Island is on the north end of the Channel, at the western end of the Whalesback Channel.

John Island harbor is as “North Channel” as it gets.  Huge, naked rock formations are passed as one heads east toward the narrow and winding entrance to the harbor.  As first-timers we had little trouble entering the harbor on a calm day but the huge bolder just below the surface and well inside the harbor almost got us!  The rock, which is uncharacteristically marked on the nautical chart, was also characteristically marked with a bobbing white milk jug.  Thank God for the jug!

The day was hot, in the 90s.  But the evening sunset was spectacular.

I sat in the cockpit that evening thinking about the land and waterscape we had experienced over the past few days; huge naked rocks, high tree covered mountains in the distance, large and small islands of both rock and trees, very deep and very shallow water within feet of each other.  The diversity in this rather small geography was striking.  I wondered why…

The early days

That story begins about 3.8 billion years ago.  Don’t fret; we aren’t going there in very much detail.  Suffice it to say that the Great Lakes region generally and the North Channel specifically have a rather interesting geological history.

Continental land masses drift across the surface of the planet. They have been doing it for hundreds of millions of years and are still doing it today. In the process, they sometimes collide with each other, creating enormous mountain ranges and then volcanoes along the impact zone. Such collisions have also left significant climate changes in their wake giving rise to but also destroying entire life systems on the planet. Continental land masses also break apart along “fault lines” that are part of their “under belly.” When they break apart, new, smaller land masses are set adrift.  

Five hundred million years ago what was eventually to become the North American land mass was much further south. Its shape didn’t really resemble the continent we know today.   Its south eastern coastline, essentially at the equator, ran roughly along the St Lawrence and the Great Lakes basin.   Marine life in the warm and rather shallow water along that tropical coast worked magic for about 50 million years depositing calcium rich shells that mixed with layers of eroded shoreline to create sand and limestone formations  that are still visible in the Great lakes region today particularly along the Niagara escarpment.  

The Niagara escarpment itself is the result of continental collision.  When the “North American” plate slid beneath the “European” plate some 450 million years ago it triggered mountain building and volcanoes along the impact zone, North America’s east coast.  Volcanic ash covered much of Ontario and the northeastern U.S. Eventually, through erosion, the ash became mud and covered the limestone deposits left over from the regions “coastal” days.  The collision also reheated the bedrock and created the hardened form of limestone we call dolomite.  The Niagara escarpment is essentially dolomite-capped limestone. The escarpment, which begins in the area of Niagara Falls, arches across southern Ontario up the Bruce Peninsula and Manitoulin Island to northern Michigan and the Door Peninsula in Wisconsin.  From there it heads generally west through southern Wisconsin before fading out and becoming hardly traceable across the Mississippi River.  The dolomite creating the escarpment is hard, so hard that it has been able to resist erosion by wind, water and ice for more than 400 million years.  It has left us with many of the awesome views we enjoy in the Great Lakes region today.

But, there’s more to the story.

Between the North Channel’s north shore and Manitoulin Island, North America’s “core,” the Canadian or Precambrian Shield, is in evidence. The Shield itself is a broad region of very old, mostly volcanic rock that encircles Hudson Bay and includes the land area around much of Lake Superior.  Its southern end roughly tracks the St Lawrence and northern Great Lakes including, of course, the North Channel.  Like dolomite, the “Shield” rock is very hard. It, too, has withstood Mother Nature’s attacks for hundreds of millions of years.  

About 50 million years ago, North America looked pretty much as we know her today.  The continent was situated with Manitoulin Island at about 45 degrees north.  In its “new“ location on the globe, things cooled down for The North Channel region and indeed most of what is now North America.  I mean, really cooled down.  On and off  for about the last million years, an eye blink in geological time, advancing and retreating glaciers have moved across the Great Lakes region scraping and digging the water basins we observe today. The hardened dolomite–capped limestone of the Niagara escarpment and the volcanic rock of the Canadian Shield, for the most part, resisted the glaciers. Together they teamed up to give us the global treasure we call America’s Great Lakes.

 I was sitting in a spot that reflected it all!

On to Gore Bay

We left John Island harbor the next morning.  The weather forecast for the day was fine but conditions were deteriorating.  We wanted to be safely settled in Gore Bay marina before we had to worry about the weather.

The 18 nm trip southeast to Gore Bay was a treat.  After clearing the well marked passage between Scott and Mills Island, we hoisted all sail and took advantage of an 8 knot northeasterly breeze on our beam.  To be under sail was gratifying to say the least!  We made short work of the distance and arrived in Gore Bay about 1:30 pm.  To our surprise and delight, we were greeted by our friends Jim Monson and Frances Lee.  Dock mates in Manitowoc Marina, they have extensive North Channel cruising experience and, like us, they live aboard in the summer months.  Earlier that summer, in Leland, Michigan harbor, they shared their time and experience helping us prepare for the trip.  It’s always good to see familiar faces when you’re cruising.  It’s particularly nice when they help with the docking!

 Gore Bay, about 30 miles east of Meldrum Bay was, we discovered, the commercial center of Manitoulin Island. The marina facilities were among the best we have experienced anywhere on the Great Lakes. They had every service you would want or need, partly because they operate a rather large sailboat charter fleet out of the harbor. We had 3G Sprint coverage for the first time in weeks which meant we had both telephone and internet service.  The free marina internet coverage was also quite adequate.  Provisioning was easy in Gore Bay with groceries, pharmaceuticals, hardware and liquor all within easy walking distance from the docks.  Like Meldrum Bay, Gore Bay is an indentation from the main Channel, but smaller.  It, too, is open to the north.

The weather changed as predicted while we were in Gore Bay.  Indeed it did.  The good Lord dropped 4” of rain overnight and additional 2” the next morning.  I should have left the dinghy in the davits.  Now, and after finding the hand pump, I had work to do! But the rain did help cool things down as daily highs moved from the 90s to the mid-70s.  That’s one reason people like us love the Great Lakes!

While in Gore Bay, we were joined by Kathy and Mike Cooper, friends from South Carolina.  Kathy was on a quest.  Her Indiana family had vacationed on Manitoulin Island when she was a child, at a property on Mindemoya Lake. She hadn’t been back in years and wasn’t even sure she would recall the property.  After spending time with us aboard La Tasse, they planned to fill in the empty pieces to that puzzle.

Clapperton and Kagawong

We left Gore Bay after enjoying their annual harbor festival.   The weekend festival, typical of the area, included cardboard boat races, a more aggressive motorized dinghy race and, of course, the Elks Club fish fry, complete with a band and locally caught, and fresh, Whitefish! The weather was cool that Sunday morning, just 58 degrees at 7 am.  The wind was east at about 6 knots giving us an opportunity to sail the 3 miles down the bay back to the Channel.  After that, we were headed east about 12 nm to Clapperton Island and the wind was mostly on our nose.  The “iron jenny” was again called into action. 

Part of the challenge with Clapperton Island’s harbor is getting there, particularly from the west.  Transiting the North Channel from west to east along Manitoulin’s coast requires a successful navigation of the Clapperton Channel.  The Clapperton Channel is a 4 mile long maze; a water passage through boulders and shallows. It’s narrow, so much so that at times it feels like you’re going to touch the adjacent red and green channel markers.  Its crooked requiring sharp turns to stay in good water.  It’s shallow, seldom more than 8’.  On the positive side, the water is incredibly clear meaning you can easily see the huge boulders on either side or 3’ below your keel! (I can still hear Kathy saying, in a startled tone, “my God, Bill, look at the size of those rocks!” Just then, I really didn’t need to hear that…). Even the locals avoid the Clapperton Channel in anything but good weather.  So, why use it at all, you ask?  The alternative around the north end of Clapperton Island adds about 15nm to the trip.

Clapperton Harbor, created by Clapperton Island and Harbour Island is, or more appropriately was, a cruisers play-pen.  The harbor itself is huge, has generally good protection from most winds, good holding and, we’re told, great fishing.  (We tried the fishing thing but had no luck!).

 Nearly dead center in Clapperton’s south-facing crescent is Harbour Island. For many years beginning in the 1930s, the island was a resort retreat for the wealthy.  Following a shut-down during World War II, the resort re-opened in 1949 as the Harbour Island Yacht and Fishing Club.  The developer, Harold Hutchings, sought to create an oasis in the cruising “wilderness.”  He did just that.  In 1962, the Club had over 2,000 members. Some of its many visitors had names like John Wayne and Bob Hope!  The large buildings and substantial docks were a testament to both the wealth that supported the place and its popularity.  In 1962, Harold Hutchings died unexpectedly and continued operation of the Club became a challenge.  After years of disuse, the resort got new starts in the 1970s and 1980s but never quite caught on.  The now badly damaged property was used for the last time in 1989.

After an enjoyable overnight in Clapperton Harbor, we raised anchor and headed 6 nm south back to Manitoulin Island and the town of Kagawong.  

Kagawong, at the southern end of Mudge Bay, and about 16nm east of Gore Bay (9 nm as the crow flies) was an experience of contrasts.  This rather large bay is also unprotected from the north.  The town of 64 people has few services. The marina is small, very tight and has poorly constructed docks. In retrospect, we had no business being in there overnight with a 40’ sailboat.  When the wind shifted unexpectedly and blew 30 plus knots from the northwest it created a surge in the marina that was nearly untenable.  I was honestly, and I think appropriately, concerned that the docks might break loose and take our boat with them.  Thankfully, that didn’t happen. 

But after all that, this place is a keeper.  The 2 mile walk along the Kagawong River to the Bridal Falls was well worth the effort.  Our visit to the “Mariner’s Church in town was special.  Inside the church one finds the bow of a pleasure boat being used as the pulpit.  That bow is what’s left of a boat carrying six passengers west bound through the Clapperton Channel in a summer storm in August 1965. Four people, including two children, died that day when their vessel struck rocks in the turbulent channel. The bow was salvaged two years later by church members and now serves their church as a memorial. The town Museum and Art Gallery, once the town’s extensive pulp mill and then later the source of electrical power for Manitoulin Island, was also very good. 

Kagawong bills itself as “Ontario’s Prettiest Village.”  While that may be a stretch, it is worth a visit.

Leaving Kagawong required a little creativity.  The wind was still blowing from the northwest but just 10 knots.  We had to back to port, our left, to safely leave the small marina.  Luckily, we were tied to starboard.  We knew La Tasse wouldn’t back to port by herself under those conditions. Applying Mike’s casting skills, we were able to fetch and then attach a line from the adjacent dock to our stern, portside cleat and “spring” La Tasse into position.  We cheered our success as we left Kagawong harbor!

The trip east to Little Current was without incident but I must admit, I needed some time to gather myself.  The night before was a learning experience, to say the least.  Luckily, nothing bad happened.  For that and the fact that I always carry a ton of extra dock lines, I was thankful.  While I chilled out, and despite favorable wind conditions, we motor sailed to Little Current.  I’m not sure my crew understood.     

Little Current, the gateway city between North Channel and the Georgian Bay, is considered by many as the hub of North Channel cruising.  We can’t be counted with that crowd.  While the Government Dock has adequate slips and wall space, its facilities are only adequate.  We were warned that the current in the channel could be a serious docking problem.  For us, on those days, it wasn’t. Cell coverage in the city of 2,500 was non-existent unless you count the “cell phone booster” advertised in the window at Turner’s (the local, and terrific, department store).  The marina Wi-Fi was overwhelmed most of the time so I used the local bakery in town instead.  Great compromise, I think.

 In truth, Little Current is the primary place for North Channel cruisers to dump garbage, pump-out holding tanks, take on fuel, water and supplies, and take off-the-boat showers. All are necessary, of course, when you’re spending most of your time on the hook.  We didn’t dislike Little Current at all.  In fact, we enjoyed our time there.  It just wasn’t what we had been expecting.

And, that’s really the point, I guess.  We’re so spoiled by our modern conveniences.  For most of us, communication is instantaneous.  We expect that to be the case everywhere.  Services are ubiquitous.  In our smallish, rural village of 3,000, Kewaunee, WI, we fuss over the fact that we don’t have chain fast food or take-out pizza.  Our roads are paved and, in the winter months, plowed while it snows!  We seldom lose electricity.  The propane man comes without being called because he’s monitoring our usage by watching the thermometer.  Garbage pick-up is curb-side, every Thursday, even in the country.

It’s not like that for the people who live and raise their families in the North Channel, on Manitoulin Island.  They don’t have all those conveniences.  They do without. And they are doing just fine as far as I could tell.  So, too, apparently did their ancestors.  But, who were they?  Where did they come from?

Here come the Homo sapiens!

The earliest documented histories we have of the people who lived in the area are from the French, starting around 1615.  Europeans had been fishing and trading in the Gulf of St Lawrence since John Cabot sailed to area from England in 1497.  In 1534 and shortly after his arrival Jacques Cartier “claimed” New France for his King, despite objections from the locals, by posting a sign on the edge of the St Lawrence! Cartier’s own record makes it clear that he knew full well that the region had been previously visited/discovered by other Europeans and that the property was already claimed by the current inhabitants. Champlain, who enters the picture in 1603, sent his emissary, Etienne Brule, to the interior of Ontario in 1610.  Living among the Native Algonquin, it’s almost a certainty that Brule left Montreal with his escorts by canoe following the Ottawa River to Lake Nipissing and then up the French River to the Georgian Bay and North Channel.  While Champlain takes the credit, it’s quite likely that Brule was the first European to actually see America’s “sweet water seas.”  Little did he know, I suppose, that such a trip would establish a trade and communication route that would be extensively traveled by European fur traders for the next 200 years.

Champlain met with the Odawa in Georgian Bay in 1615.  Those Anishnaabe (“first people”) told Champlain that Manitoulin Island was their homeland.  From that point forward, the written record, mostly French, is pretty clear that the islands and waters of the North Channel were occupied, fished, farmed and settled long before the Europeans arrived.  Initially, it didn’t matter since the importance of the area to the Europeans was the protection it afforded their voyageurs and “coureurs des bois” from Lake Huron and the access to furs from lakes Michigan and Superior.

The historical record from the time of Champlain’s visit to about 1800 is sketchy.   We do know that a Jesuit, Father Joseph Poncet, established and served a Mission on Manitoulin Island from 1648-50. By consensus, he is believed to be the first European to settle on the island. His stay was short-lived.  Over the years, the natives on the Island had been decimated by the diseases induced by European contact.  Perhaps as important, beginning in the 1600s, the Iroquois had moved their war with the Algonquin north eventually forcing them off their North Channel islands.  Tradition has it that the Algonquin burned Manitoulin Island as they left in about 1650.  From 1650 until the 1800s there is little recorded history from the area.  The islands of the North Channel, including Manitoulin, remained essentially uninhabited for about 150 years.

The War of 1812 was a significant turning point for the area in many ways.  First, the English and the upstart Americans had to sort out a boundary, really arguing over lands that weren’t theirs in the first place. The North Channel was at the heart of it all since both countries needed water access to the Soo and Lake Superior. Then, with boundaries pretty well established and completion of the Erie Canal in 1825, European immigrants from the east had relatively easy access to the Great Lakes.

Both the US and Canadian governments looked for ways to make room for the on-rush of white settlers. The Indians had to go. The US did it mostly by force, continually chasing the Native Americans to newly created reservations in the west.  Canada took a more creative route.  In 1836 the Bond Head Treaty established Manitoulin Island as the nation’s (really Ontario’s) “reservation.”  The Indians of Upper Canada were to remove themselves to the “safety” of Manitoulin Island where they would be protected from white encroachment.  Never mind that the relatively poor soil on the island could hardly support what was there already.  Even so, the Native Americans on the island agreed to accept any tribes or clans that wished to make the island their home.

The plan didn’t work.  Few of Canada’s native population voluntarily relocated to the island. Around 1860, the Canadian Government went looking for more land for the newly arriving white settlers.  Besides, and to the disgust of enterprising immigrants, the natives on Manitoulin Island were beginning to set up business ventures to serve the growing water-based trade with food, fuel and other supplies. Indians weren’t supposed to be able to do that.  

The Canadian government, in a strange interpretation, concluded that the Treaty of 1836 had actually given them title to Manitoulin Island!  It was now their right to open the island to white settlement.  The Indians on Manitoulin Island aggressively resisted.  Throughout the summer and fall of 1862, force was threatened by representatives of the Crown.  Still, the natives resisted, even as late as October 4th.  In what remains a cloud of unknowns, a “signed” Treaty was presented on October 6^th and the way opened for white settlement on the island. Historians generally accept the Treaty as a fraud.  All in the name of progress, I suppose.  Whatever it takes…..

There is one exception to this story however.  In an effort to quell the anger created by a fake treaty, and do so without bloodshed, the Government made a concession.  As it turns out, the Treaty bore no signature from the Chief of a settlement on the far eastern end of the island, Wikwemikong. As a result, that property was never ceded to the Federal Government.  The reserve remains unceded to this very day. It’s the only such property in all of Canada.

The period from about 1845-1900 was the “industrial” age for the North Channel.  First, early in the period, came the discovery of copper on Lake Superior’s Keweenaw Peninsula and then at Bruce Mines in the North Channel.  Later, as the mines played out and the lumber resources from Michigan and Wisconsin were being depleted, American firms set up camp in the North Channel and began extensive logging operations.  In the 1890s, North Channel fishing reached its high point.  Along the way, these industries supported a number of communities and a water transport system through the North Channel that even included passenger voyages from the population centers on the lower lakes to the Soo and beyond.

Setting aside the beaver, it only took the enterprising Europeans about 50 years to harvest the commercially “useful” natural resources of the North Channel region. When the resources were depleted, the people left and “growth” stagnated.

Thankfully, the natural beauty that exists in this corner of the Great Lakes has largely withstood man’s onslaught.  Without commercially viable mines, timber or fisheries, the area has been essentially “left alone” for the past 100 years.  Only about 15,000 people live year-round in the region with about 5,000 of them on the approximately 10 reservations.  Traffic jams are rare. The summers are cool and the days are long.  This large body of fresh water with its hundreds of anchorages is still very much protected from open Lake Huron. Today’s affordable electronics including depth sounders, chart plotters,  radar, GPS and the VHF radio have made the areas navigational challenges much easier to tackle.  And, that’s what attracts the pleasure boaters to the area and cottage industry to serve them!

Eagle Island

We said good-by to the Coopers.  They were off to solve “the mystery of Mindemoya Lake.”  We, on the other hand, had a date with an anchorage on the eastern end of the Whalesback Channel.  And, we had to travel past the Benjamins to get there! From there we would start the trip homeward.

We left Little Current on an overcast morning.  The wind was blowing about 10 knots from the south, just enough for us to motor sail along our generally northwestern heading.  The trip to Eagle Island anchorage was about 25nm.

Eagle Island harbor is about 5nm NW of Clapperton, on the eastern end of the Whalesback Channel. The harbor is a natural crescent with its “open” ends facing NE.  The “open” side of the harbor is, however, protected by Frechette Island making it essentially closed to all winds. The Island itself is wooded. Dead center in the anchorage is one of the prettiest small islands to be found in the Great Lakes.

Eagle Island’s neighbor to the east is the Benjamin Islands Group, a circular pattern of islands formed by the two Benjamins (North and South), Fox and Croker.  This large harbor, difficult to get into, is one of the more popular in the North Channel.  The concentric pattern created by this island group is actually a 1,450 million year old molten rock formation that has eroded  to create the harbor.  The islands in this group are mostly exposed, pink granite.  We didn’t anchor in the Benjamins but were able to admire its charm on the way to and from Eagle.

Concluding Thoughts

We left Eagle Island anchorage on an overcast and misty morning.  On the 18nm trip back to Gore Bay it would rain, hard at times.  That didn’t seem to be a problem for either of us. In spite of the rain, we could see clearly, both literally and figuratively.  Our North Channel adventure was coming to an end.  Within a number of days we would be back in the good old USA with cell phones, internet and TV.  Certainly, we looked forward to the unhurried trip home.  But a part of us, even for Deb, would remain in the North Channel. 

Recreational boaters come in droves, every summer, to enjoy this “Midwestern Caribbean.”   Many come back year after year.  In the summer of 2013, we joined them.  We’re very glad we did!