Selected articles from the Summer 2004 issue

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Howard Williams & Rudi Rauch

      The southeast corner of Georgian Bay is a place of water, rocks of the Canadian Shield and bush, which in many instances, clings to minute rock crevices, obtaining nurture from small amounts of soil. Yet part of Beausoleil Island, the largest island in Georgian Bay Islands National Park (GBINP), has a different geological nature and indeed different vegetation. (The park offers programmes that include hikes through the different parts of this island.)

      An interesting overnight trip of about 40 kilometres takes the paddler from Honey Harbour to Beausoleil Island, through Freddy Channel to the McRea Lake rapids on the McDonald River, then back to Honey Harbour. The waters paddled vary from the protected waters of the Main Channel, Freddy Channel and the Musquash Channel to the open waters northwest of Beausoleil Island. Paddling the shoreline and channels allow you to see variety in residences and natural waterscapes. The protected areas of the GBIN Parks allow you to enjoy places to stretch and relax. Campsites at Honeymoon Bay on Beausoleil Island may be booked with the GBINP in Honey Harbour. Limited camping space may be available at McRea Lake rapids. More campsites are likely available in McRea Lake Provincial Reserve. To reach these sites kayaks must be lifted over the rapids

      Honey Harbour is a tourist-oriented community with many marinas that service cottages and businesses throughout the area plus a large resort, the Delewana Inn. Beyond the park lands and Honey Harbour the area is one of cottages.

      Cottages have been a part of the landscape for 150 years. As the foresters logged the area and fishers fished the waters, families came to the area from the southern part of Canada and the northern areas of the United States. They came initially by rail to Waubaushene and Midland and transferred bag and baggage to steam boats for the final voyage to the "cottage." There were few roads servicing the area. People brought with them everything needed to live during their expected stay. Local residents were contracted to cut and store ice for the summer period. Today, many property owners are able to drive to their locations. Those who can not do so have their own boats at marinas located along the shore. Most, if not all, cottages are now serviced with electricity.

      Despite the population, the area is one of beauty and worth the time spent exploring it.

      A look at either a map or chart gives information about the background of the area. Champlain was the first of many French nationals who came and left place names. The traders and loggers followed and it was not long before the British military made its influence felt with a naval base at Penetanguishene.

      The best time to make this trip is May through September. However, boat traffic in May, June and September is greatly reduced and there are better opportunities for finding camping space at Honeymoon Bay. There are cottages and year round residences along all of the shoreline and islands except the GBINP property on Beausoleil Island, Bone Island and Portage Island. There is extensive motor and sailboat activity in the area on weekends. Some areas are open and exposed to strong northwest winds. Rest and stretch stops must be planned due to the extent of private property ownership of the waterfront land. Poison Ivy can be found on Beausoleil Island

      The best starting point is the dock and launch ramp next to the Georgian Bay Township Library in the village of Honey Harbour. The library is next to the GBINP offices. No launch fee is required. Parking is available for minimal cost per day at a private residence opposite the GBINP offices. Parking space may be limited during July and August. Most of the marinas in the immediate area also offer parking and launching for a fee.

POINTS OF INTEREST
(See Map)

1. Delewana Inn: This is the only surviving large summer hotel in the area. It operates three seasons of the year providing accommodation for individuals and conferences. The space immediately across the narrow channel was once occupied by the Royal Hotel and one can still see artifacts on the shore with careful inspection.

2. Frying Pan Bay: This popular bay on the north shore of Beausoleil Island is used as an anchorage for all manner of sail and power boats.

3. Honeymoon Bay: This bay, on the northeast tip of Beausoleil Island, may provide a convenient rest/stretch stop. Find the gazebo perched on the rocky bluff; it affords a view of the water north of the Island.

4. McRea Lake Provincial Preserve Park: The park may be heavily used during July and August. If campsites below the rapids are not available it is possible to life over 10 metres to launch in McRea Lake. There are many campsites along the shores of the lake.

   

5. Wooden Cross: It is said that a canoe tripper lost a child in the rapids at McRea Lake and erected this cross on the rocks below the rapids in memory.

6. Bone Island: This island is part of GBINP and may be accessed on either side for rest/stretch stops. (The GBINP property on Portage Island is not readily accessible due to rocks and bush.)

7. Muskoka Mills: A company village, with a school and twenty houses, existed here between 1869 and 1895. There were many docks plus one structure which extended 720 m into the Bay. There is still refuse along the shore. The current low water levels allow you to see the extent of mill refuse along both shores of the lower Musquash River. Environmental concerns led to charges against the Muskoka Milling and Lumber Company. The success of the legal action is attested to by the condition of the area.

8. Lumber Barge: On the north shore of the Musquash River is the remains of what could have been a lumber barge. Once again the ribs of the vessel are visible due to lower water levels in recent years.

9. Community Open Church: This open church, on the south shore of Freddy Channel, features a covered altar, washrooms and many docks. If you stop at the appropriate time you could take part in a service being held there. One of the residents donated the land and the Cognashene Cottagers Association assisted in the construction.

10. Marina: This marina, on the north shore of Burnt Island, includes a restaurant and motel (botel?). In the summer months it stocks ice cream and serves as a possible rest/stretch stop. Landing at the docks may be a challenge for kayaks, but it can be done.

11. Houseboat: Look for an unusual 2-story structure on the north shore of Freddy Channel. It is one of two remaining houseboats in the area, which have been beached and transferred to timbers and pilings on the shore. The other is located on Keating Island.

12. Maxwell Island: This island is also known as Whalen Island. The latter name derives from a Mrs. Whalen from Penetanguishene who came in the summer to escape allergy problems on the mainland and provided tourist accommodation. By 1912, the tourist area on the island was known as Cognashene. A post office, farm animals and a store to supply food for the island and area residents soon followed. The Whalen Island Summer House was destroyed by fire in 1942. All that remains of Grandma Whalen’s business ventures are her descendants’ summer residences. The island was also used for open-air church services by cottagers in the area.

13. YMCA Camp: As you move from Muskoka Landing Channel towards Beausoleil Island you will see the long, low buildings of the London YMCA Camp. The red coloured shingles on the buildings provide a good piloting feature for the return trip to Beausoleil Island.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

Maps: 1:50,000 Penetanguishene (31 D/13).  (Note: Georgian Bay water levels in 2003 made passage by kayak between Burnt Island and Portage Island impossible unless you are prepared for a 100-metre lift-over.)

Camping: For further information and campsite reservations contact the Georgian Bay Islands National Park at (505) 756-2415.

REJUVENATION

Wendy Killoran

      Spring warmth had thawed open Lake Huron. A week previously, hundreds of metres from shore, the lake had looked like a placid lake basking under an azure sky and a brilliant sun, but in reality, it had been frozen, still imprisoned by winter’s icy grip. The ice had resembled a sheet of glass, encasing the lake like it was inside an aquarium. The ice had been too thick to ram through, yet too thin to walk across.

      I arrived at Grand Bend, a town embroiled in controversy just two and a half weeks earlier as Maynard T. George, a native from Kettle-Stony Point First Nation, had laid claim to the Pinery and Grand Bend. Although it appears that his claims are unsubstantiated, unrest and an element of doubt clouded me, as my paddling destination could possibly be closed off. It would have been just one more blow in a series of paddling "set backs" I’d experienced over the previous weeks.

      I walked in a thin sweater to the tip of the pier to survey the state of the lake. A gentle roll of small waves assured me that the ice had liquefied and that a paddling opportunity, the first of the season on Lake Huron, was presenting itself.

      I drove to the Grand Bend Yacht Club, situated on the south side of the Ausable River. It resembles a 4-sided, white clapboard lighthouse with colourful red trim. The Mitoi, a dredge boat, sat dry docked next to the quaint lighthouse.

      A westerly breeze was blowing, though the weather forecast had predicted a northeasterly offshore breeze at 10 kilometres per hour. I unloaded the kayak off my car, carried it to the water’s edge of the boat launch, and loaded my gear and plenty of food and water.

      While standing on a wooden dock changing into my full dry suit, I noticed a man on the far side of the river intently watching me, through his binoculars, from a balcony of a waterfront home with huge windows. I tried to ignore his stare, but felt uneasy, on "display."

      I was ready to launch. I placed the kayak parallel to water’s edge in a couple of decimetres of water and settled into the cockpit, seat lined with a foam gardening pad for extra insulation. I paddled a few strokes away from the cement ramp, closed my spray skirt, nibbled on gorp and donned my headband and neoprene gloves.

      I was off, paddling with vigour and happiness to my beloved Lake Huron. I followed the river for approximately 200 metres and turned southward, towards the Pinery, my special place, a jewel of a provincial park in southwestern Ontario. The shoreline was a continuous rampart of vertical walls of sand-caked ice. There would be no possibility of landing the kayak. Next to the icy rim, was a soup of chunks of ice, undulating in the water’s movement. When I drifted into this mush of ice chunks, I felt like I was in a punch bowl swirling with ice cubes.

      The small waves rolled into these grounded cliffs of ice, settled onto the shallow sandbars, and rebounded, creating clapotis. I gazed at the artistry of these walls of ice, reaching skywards in sharp pinnacles, scoured into curving amphitheatres, and occasionally, delicate arches. Westward the lake was a pearly grey to the horizon, as soft, diffused light bathed the lake and shore. Where the southern shore converged with the watery horizon, an enticing white glow whispered and beckoned me onwards.

      I felt elated and content to be on the water, the big open lake. It was mine alone! A peacefulness returned to me, something which had eluded me recently. Although I’d paddled throughout the winter on a flowing river and a small, inland lake, this was my first visit of the season to the spacious, open realm of endless water. It’s where I belong. My last visit on the lake had been in early December, a cold, snowy, but calm day that had ended with large swells crashing onto the beach in a fury of sandy waterfalls, pitch-poling me into the icy surf zone.

      I remembered the incident vividly as my heart began to thump at the memory. I decided that as much as I enjoyed hugging the sculpted shore, with the occasional glimpse of tundra swans, Canada geese, Arctic terns, merganser ducks, buffleheads and squawking gulls, I would return. The lake had welcomed me with a serene, relatively mild day, but I would not overstay my welcome.

      As I headed northwards, having reached the southern picnic areas of the Pinery, the wind picked up from the northwest. Perky waves sent my kayak dancing lively towards a hazy Grand Bend far off in the distance. The waves were definitely building and the quiet murmur along the ice wall became an incessant hissing of waves, chewing into the wall of ice at the water’s line. I focussed on the waves, rather than the wonder of the icy landscape. A swim in the lake did not appeal to me. I moved farther from the frozen shore to avoid the rebounding waves, which jostled the kayak.

      I felt the wind blowing coolly across my cheeks. I felt invigorated and rejuvenated. I was quite content to savour the solitude. Being on the water is liquid therapy, washing away all worries and cares, far removed from land based issues. I focussed on the moment and absorbed the sights, sounds, smells and breezes.

      The lighthouse on the pier’s tip at Grand Bend approached. I noticed that the waves had built considerably since my departure, and now rolled with power and energy into the Ausable River, unfurling rumbles which triggered my adrenaline to flow. I carefully avoided the driftwood logs and floating chunks of ice, choosing a path that seemed to have the smallest surf, nearest the cement pier. My heart was pounding. The last time I’d paddled through surf, I’d pitch-poled. I let my thighs grab the inner coaming and paddled with concentration, surging forward into the sheltered haven of the river. I released a great sigh, sat quietly and took several deep breaths.

      Landing at the launch ramp, the owner of the dredge boat was there, and from him I learned that the entrance to the river is only about 1.3 metres deep, requiring dredging following every storm.

      Although I’d only paddled for three hours, I felt tired but rejuvenated. The lake had been my friend and the liquid magic of my late March paddle permeated my soul.

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