Northern Michigan – Mackinac Island to Mackinaw City and Charlevoix

One has to accept that occasionally, someone might misinterpret the weather forecast, and decide on a course of action that in retrospect, might have been better left for another day.

The hop from Mackinac Island to Mackinaw City only took 90 minutes, but it was deeply unpleasant. The wind whipped up 2 ft waves and combined with the wake from the numerous ferries, caused Carina to pitch and roll very uncomfortably. Logic and reason told me that having survived Lake Ontario, we would probably survive the Straits of Mackinac too, but it was not much comfort and the Captain knew that he was seriously out of favour.

We did some grocery shopping and then, as an indication of true penitence, he suggested that I might like him to accompany me round the shopping mall, which contained the sort of shops that he normally regards with disdain.

In the evening, after a cold grey day, the sun came out and shone on the boats in the marina.

IMG_0001Evening sun on the boats, Mackinaw City

Evening sun on the boats at Mackinaw City

IMG_0003Evening sun on the boats, Mackinaw City

Evening sun on the boats at Mackinaw City

Several people had recommended Charlevoix, 40 miles away, and as the next day was much calmer we decided to press on.

Mackinac Island to Charlevoix

The Mackinac Bridge , just outside Mackinaw City, links the Upper and Lower peninsulas of the State of Michigan, and is known locally as Big Mac. Built in 1957, the bridge is 5 miles long and separates Lake Huron and Lake Michigan.

Approaching Big Mac

Mackinac Bridge

Mackinac Bridge

The marina at Charlevoix, and the downtown, actually face Round Lake and to get there you have to pass from Lake Michigan through a narrow channel and a bascule bridge which opens every half-hour.

The community at Charlevoix have gone to a lot of trouble to make the downtown and the area surrounding the marina very attractive, with landscaped parkland separating the marina and the main street.

Charlevoix City Marina

The good weather didn’t last and we woke at 5am to a bright flash and a resounding clap of thunder, followed by torrential rain. In those circumstances, all you can do is get up and make a cup of tea. The rain continued for most of the day, so it was a good day to get the laundry done and catch up with other jobs.

Although we’ve had some beautiful days, overall the weather hasn’t been good this trip. Shorts and sleeveless tops haven’t yet ventured out of the wardrobe, and other things like thermal leggings and fleeces, brought along ‘just in case’ have been in almost constant use. The prize for this year’s Most Useful Garment goes to my Uniqlo Heattech trousers which are comfortable, warm, and cost less than £20.

The next day it was still cloudy, but there was a Farmers’ Market on the waterfront, and the stallholders who sold me things were kind enough to let me practise photography on them.

Mike’s Mustard

Michigan strawberries

Vegetable stall

Charlevoix was lively and lit up at night.

On Saturday afternoon, the winds dropped enough for us to move on, but before that we walked through the town to the beach on the shores of Lake Michigan.

Charlevoix Beach

Charlevoix South Pier Light Tower

Charlevoix Beach

Northern Michigan: Drummond Island to Mackinac Island

Posted by Jane Ainsworth

Ian had become increasingly concerned that whenever we went above 5 knots, Carina would make an unwelcome knocking noise. He sought advice on the various online fora that he frequents and the consensus of advice was that there could be a serious problem with the propeller shaft, and the only way to avert disaster was to get it looked at as soon as possible.

The staff at the boatyard at Drummond Island Yacht Haven were clearly very busy getting boats ready for the start of the season, but they kindly made time for us, and after an investigative trip round the bay, they advised lifting Carina out of the water so that a proper diagnosis could be made. To our relief, there were no serious deficiencies in the prop shaft and the probable cause of the noise a worn cutlass bearing, which could safely be left until we leave Carina for 2 weeks to go to Virginia.

For any fellow pedants who may be wondering, there is controversy about the spelling of ‘propeller’, explained nicely here.

We had to wait for the weather to settle. Unfortunately we woke to dense fog on the day we planned to leave Drummond Island, and had to wait for it to lift.

Drummond Island to Mackinac Island

Leaving Drummond Island

The sky gradually brightened, but a layer of mist remained. This was a concern, because the Detour Channel forms part of the main shipping route between Lake Michigan, Lake Superior, Lake Huron and Lake Erie. We could hear the foghorns of the big ships without being able to see them, but eventually it cleared enough for us to proceed safely.

SS James R. Barker near Detour Passage

We saw SS James R. Barker several times going back and forth through the lake.

Detour Reef Lighthouse in the haze

We decided to anchor out on the way to Mackinac Island and encountered another difficulty. My patience is sometimes tested when we are looking for somewhere to park the car, and we have to try out several spaces before a suitable one is found. A similar scenario occasionally manifests itself when we are trying to anchor. Apparently, we have the wrong sort of anchor for weedy bottoms, and on this occasion had five attempts in different locations before the Captain was satisfied that we wouldn’t drift off in the middle of the night. Nice scenery, though.

Cedarville

Dollar Island

Les Cheneaux Islands

Sunset at Hessell

We crossed to Mackinac Island the next day. Steeped in history, it has a fort which overlooks the harbour area, and which was built by the British during the Revolutionary War. The island is both a State Park and a National Historic Landmark.

In 1898 the town took the decision to ban the newly-emergent automobile. The only forms of transport around the island are horse-drawn coaches and bicycles. There’s a small airstrip, but most visitors arrive by boat, either their own, or one of the many ferries that ply the waters between Mackinac and Mackinaw City and St. Ignace. The main street was always busy with people and horses, and if most of the shops, apart from the impressive Doud’s Grocery Store, seemed to sell mainly t-shirts with Mackinac Island emblazoned on them, or several varieties of fudge, it still wasn’t difficult to imagine that the streets and the atmosphere wouldn’t have been very different 100 years ago.

Bicycle St with Fort Mackinac in the background

There hadn’t been much opportunity for gastronomic treats so far, but now we could restore the balance. The Grand Hotel, built in 1887 from Michigan white pine, claims that its colonial porch is the longest in the world. Its after-6pm dress code (jacket and tie for men, no ‘slacks’ for women) precluded going there for dinner, but they are more relaxed about their buffet lunch, served every day in the Grand Dining Room.

So we put on our Sunday best and walked the half-mile up the hill for lunch.

Trash collection, Mackinac Island

Marquette Park, Mackinac Island

View from Spring St

The ticket price included a self-guided tour of the gardens and the hotel (including a small display of American paintings), and lemonade, iced tea and coffee. Alcohol was extra, but we were intoxicated with the grandeur of the surroundings and didn’t need any. Besides, we were in America, where it’s quite the thing to have iced tea with your lunch.

Grand Hotel, Mackinac Island

Grand Hotel, Mackinac Island

Gardens, Grand Hotel

Gardens and Croquet Lawn

Grand Hotel

The Grand Hotel from the garden

Ian had phoned to book a table, and was informed that the dining room seated 700 people, so they didn’t take reservations. When we got there the room looked full, but we were seated at a window table overlooking the gardens and the lake. Our server, Michael, told us he was from Jamaica, but had lived in London for several years. He gave us a short discourse on Alan Shearer and other scions of English football. And the food was excellent.

View from our table

The Parlor, the Grand Hotel

Some views as we walked back after lunch.

Grand Hotel and wildflower bank

IMG_0316guests arriving by horse and carriage

Guests arriving by carriage

Transporting the hay

Dual Allegiance

A secret garden

On the way back to the marina we caught the last half-hour of a charity concert being given by the Scottville Clown Community Band in Marquette Park, just below the fort and overlooking the harbour. Their repertoire included the Battle Hymn of the Republic, Basin St Blues and The Stripper, during which two of the band cavorted suggestively amongst the audience, but didn’t actually remove any of their attire.

Scottville Clown Community Band

Burlesque

Basin St Blues

Since its formation in 1903, the band has raised over $300K to provide music scholarships for young people.

The main highway on Mackinac Island is 8 miles long and follows the shore all round the island. Half-way round, there is a small beach called British Landing. Our neighbour in the marina, Dean, was a very experienced boater , having crossed the Atlantic twice, and was a mine of information on both boating and American History. He told us that after the Treaty of Paris in 1783, the Americans had taken control of Fort Mackinac. But during the 1812-14 War, the British, Canadians and Native Americans had combined forces and devised a cunning plan to invade Mackinac Island by landing on the opposite side of the island to the fort, stealing up over the hill, and ambushing the Americans from behind.

As we cycled round the island, there were numerous information boards about the geology, wildlife and history, and we couldn’t help noticing that Dean’s version had been slightly reframed, to the effect that the Americans hadn’t been told the war had started, so just gave in gracefully to the invading forces to avoid bloodshed on both sides.

British Landing

There was a small cafe at British Landing, so we stopped for morning coffee, but passed on their speciality of deep-fried pickles, which sounded only slightly less unappetising than deep-fried Mars bars.

After we left British Landing, the sky gradually cleared and Lake Huron became a deep sapphire blue.

Lake Huron shoreline

phlox

flowers on the beach

Lake Huron

pebbles under water

Lake Huron

Herb Robert

Lake Huron

Anenome

Breccia Limestone arch

The North Channel: into the wilderness: Killarney to Drummond Island

Posted by Jane Ainsworth

From Killarney the small craft route goes west through the North Channel, between the Manitoulin Islands and the mainland, through a wild, rocky, isolated area with islands dotted in the water, and with only a very few small settlements. It offers a relatively protected passage along the northern shore of Lake Huron, between the Manitoulin Islands and the mainland.

It took us 8 nights to travel the North Channel, staying sometimes in marinas, and sometimes anchored out, depending on the weather and our need for provisions, before we landed back in the USA at Drummond Island. It is still the ‘off’ season, and we’ve seen very few other boats, either on the water or in the marinas.

Killarney to Drummond Island

After Killarney the land forms long, finger-like projections into Lake Huron, and we travelled up one of these ‘fjords’ to Baie Fine for our next mooring.

Georgian Bay from Killarney

La Cloche from Lansdowne Channel

Entrance to Baie Fine

We got there early enough to take the dinghy out and explore the narrow channel leading up to the Pool, an area of calm water enclosed by trees and white granite rocks. From there, a marked trail leads up the hill through the woods and over the ridge to Topaz Lake, reputed for its beauty.

The Pool, Baie Fine

The Pool, Baie Fine

Ian in the dinghy at the Pool, Baie Fine

The trail wasn’t so difficult as the Chikanishing Trail had been, but it was still quite arduous and took rather longer than the guide had suggested. We got to the top of the ridge and decided that as it wasn’t warm enough to swim, we would content ourselves with just climbing to the top of the ridge and taking the view. Even so, it was 7o’clock before we got back to the boat.

Overlooking Topaz Lake

The Pool

Carina at Baie Fine

Evening at Baie Fine

The next day was clear, bright, and calm. We travelled to Little Current to stock up at Valu-Mart, which turned out to be a rather nicer supermarket than it had sounded to the British ears of a habitual Waitrose shopper, with an ample selection of fresh, good quality meat and produce.

Early morning at Baie Fine

Strawberry Island Lighthouse

Strawberry Island Lighthouse, near Little Current, is said to be the finest of the Georgian Bay lighthouses.

Our next stop was an anchorage at Croker Island, and then on to the small town of Spanish.

Evening at Croker Island

In most parts of the route, the channel is marked by red and green markers, but sometimes there are markers on the shore which you have to line up to ensure that you don’t stray into dangerous areas. This one was at Detroit Channel.

Entrance to Detroit Channel

A boat, even one as spacious and comfortable as Carina, isn’t really the place to be when you’ve strained your back. Ordinary tasks like putting clean clothes away or getting the breakfast cereals out, or putting things into the microwave, or re-organising the fridge because you’ve just bought several days’ supply of food and there isn’t room for it all, involve much more stooping and bending than they do at home. And don’t get me started on the gymnastic feat that is putting clean sheets on a double bed when one side of it is permanently attached to the wall.

I’d done quite a lot of deep cleaning on the boat during our first week at Britt, and by the end of the week couldn’t stand up straight or walk properly. Going on the Chikanishing Trail and walking up to Topaz Lake probably wasn’t the cleverest idea, either. A week later I wasn’t any better, had consumed Carina’s entire supplies of ibuprofen and had started on the paracetamol. I resorted to emailing Jane, our lovely Pilates teacher and physiotherapist, and her almost instant helpful advice (to do lots of back extensions) was very effective and within a couple of days I was back to normal.

But it did rather cramp our style in Spanish. Ian cycled off alone to replenish our food stocks at the supermarket. Rather than eat out, we decided to avail ourselves of the services of the local pizza restaurant, Pizza 17, which claimed never to use frozen dough and would deliver to the door of your boat. It was an unaccustomed luxury to sit drinking beer, waiting for dinner to arrive, but after about an hour we were beginning to wonder where dinner actually was. Ian rang the lady at PIzza 17 and politely enquired. We were glad he had been polite, because it turned out that they thought that the first pizza they had made for us had been overcooked, and they had made another one. And it was excellent.

Sunday began as another brilliant day, and we made an early start, to get to Blind River before the forecast strong winds and thunderstorms materialised.

Leaving Spanish, approaching Norquay Island

Looking back towards Spanish

Near Daly Islands

Whalesback Island

It was still bright sunshine when we got there at 4pm, but by 5pm the sky was black and we had every single fender out, and every line secured, to protect Carina against the storm.

Storm at Blind River

Blind River was our last stop in Canada, but before we crossed into US waters we finally saw a pair of loons, sitting in the water a few yards ahead of us.

Leaving Blind River

En route to Harbor Island

Oddly, it wasn’t until we were almost there that it occurred to me that the US Customs and Immigration officers might be interested in the contents of our fridge. I had once tried to import some bacon for Ted, top-quality, vacuum-packed, Richard Woodall Waberthwaite bacon, and it had been seized and tossed unceremoniously into a bin with other proscribed articles. I wondered whether Canadian bacon would attract the same censure.

But we had a night at anchor at Harbor Island, a small horseshoe-shaped island containing a lovely natural harbour, before we had to face them. It was at last warm enough to shed a layer of clothing and roll our trousers up, though that didn’t last.

Afternoon tea at Harbor Island

Harbor Island

Harbor Island, looking towards Drummond Island

We arrived at Drummond Island Yacht Haven in the late morning, and Mackenzie, the dockhand, told us that as it was still the low season, the Customs and Immigration Officers were not actually in situ, but ensconced some distance away in Sault Ste-Marie. She very kindly rang them up for us, and returned with the news that they wanted photographs of our passports and visas, which she would supply with her smartphone. They then rang back and spoke to Ian, to say that we would have to go to Sault Ste Marie to be dealt with. Ian very politely pointed out that Carina only does 6 knots and it would take us a whole day to get there, so they said they would come to us, by car and ferry.

We had about an hour to eat anything incriminating, and decided on steak and salad for lunch.

The two officers were very nice. We were allowed to keep the bacon, and the Canadian Merlot. There was some puzzlement about the numerous stamps in our passports, especially when Ian seemed unable to remember for some minutes that we had visited Virginia last January.

Then they spied the fruit bowl. The oranges, lemon and limes had to go, but we could keep the apples and bananas. I opened the fridge.

‘Is that a tomato?’ Indeed it was, and the tomatoes, a green pepper, lettuce, and anything from the onion family which sprouted leaves went too.

After they had gone, we borrowed the marina’s ancient jeep and went to the grocery store to make good our supplies.

Georgian Bay: Britt to Killarney, and hiking the Canada way

Posted by Jane Ainsworth

The Captain’s keenness to get going with the next part of the trip was counterbalanced by a reluctance to repeat the Lake Ontario Experience, and risk further mutiny from the crew. The route to Killarney included a 15 mile stretch of open water, so he thought it wise to wait for the perfect day to leave Britt.

Evening at Britt

We were sad in a way to leave. Graham and the staff at Wright’s Marina had looked after Carina for us over the winter, kept us well-informed and been very helpful with all the things we needed to do when we came back.

Ian and Pauline

Ian and Graham hoisting the dinghy

But Saturday was that perfect day and we cruised from Britt down Byng Inlet and out into Georgian Bay in the bright sunshine and sparkling water.

Morning at Britt

Georgian Bay ahead at the mouth of Byng Inlet

We followed the small craft route, hugging the coastline and following the clearly marked channel between the many small islands.

Britt to Killarney

near Golden Sword Island

Flying the flag of the American Great Loop Cruisers’ Association near Golden Sword Island

IMG_0054Near vFrench River Provincial Park

Near French River Provincial Park

Approaching the channel leading to Obstacle Island

The season hasn’t really started here. We saw only two other boats on the water all day, and had to wait while one of them exited this narrow channel before we could go on.

We anchored for the night in Mill Bay, 15 miles east of Killarney, and had the anchorage to ourselves except for a beaver who obligingly came out at dusk and entertained us by gliding around and occasionally diving down, resurfacing with something tasty for his supper. Too far away for any photos, but this is his lodge.

Beaver’s lodge near our mooring

It was hard to believe that Sunday would bring relentless rain, as forecast, but it did. So we stayed put and delayed our departure till Monday morning.

We passed along the narrow gorge of Collins Inlet, between the mainland and Phillip Edward Island, and then another stretch of open water before reaching Killarney.

Collins Inlet

Killarney East Lighthouse

Until the mid-50s, the small town of Killarney was a centre for the lumber trade as well as a fishing village, and the surrounding area would been de-forested and have looked very different. Now, it’s a very popular venue for boaters, and the Killarney Provincial Park attracts hikers and campers. Until 1962 there was no road access, but it now has a road link with Sudbury.

We moored at the Sportsmans Inn Marina and had a warm welcome from Ryan and Dee, the dockhands. The next day Debbie, the receptionist, not only kindly gave us a lift to the start of the Chikanishing Trail, but insisted on lending us bug-hats, without which we would have been prey to the many biting insects. She also made sure we knew what to do, should we arouse a bear’s curiosity.

Crocodile Dundee in his bug-hat at the start of the Chikanishing Trail

By this time we had realised that hiking in Canada is not quite like hiking in Britain. ‘Trail’ does not mean ‘path’. It simply means a straight line joining a series of waymarks, some of which are attached to trees and some painted onto slabs of rock.

Trail marker on the pink granite. We decided to comply with the Park advice to tuck your trousers into your socks, to minimise the ingress of biting insects

The straight line might just mean traversing a slab of rock, or it might involve picking your way up a rock face, or sliding down one. The Chikanishing Trail was 3.6 km long, and the information board suggested it might take 2 hours or more to complete. It took us nearly 3, owing only in part to frequent photography stops. It was quite a challenge for someone in their 7th, or even 8th, decade.

But it was worth it, with stunning views out over Georgian Bay and towards the hills behind us.

Killarney Provincial Park

We didn’t see any bears, but we did see some lovely wildflowers, including the rare Showy Lady’s Slipper orchid.

Showy Lady’s Slipper

Clintonia Borealis

Starflower, Lysimachia borealis

Bunchberry, cornus canadensis

We had no map. Debbie had assured us that the way was so well-marked that we couldn’t possibly get lost, or need one. But I realised after some time that the value of a map is not simply that it helps to identify where you are, but perhaps more importantly, gives an indication of how much further you have to go. We had been scrambling over the rocks, apparently getting further and further away from the starting point, for what seemed a worrying length of time, before the trail suddenly took a sharp left and led us for the last half-mile along a wooded path through the trees.

Blood, Sweat and Tears

Posted by Jane Ainsworth

Tears may be an exaggeration, but the preparations for going away for 3 months at a time don’t seem to get any easier.

Practice should make one a bit better at it, and in some ways it does. By Tuesday night I had everything packed, and all essential tasks ticked off, ready for a Thursday morning departure from Newcastle. This was unprecedented, and my inner auto-pilot was out of range.

A nagging doubt was that I might have forgotten to put some essential task on the list in the first place. There are more jobs in the ‘must-be-done’ category when you’re away for 3 months than for a short break. Coming home after a week to find old bread still in the pancheon is mildly unpleasant, but after 3 months there would be significant growth of live organisms. Plants which can be safely left for a week or fortnight have to be regrouped, told to behave themselves and instructions given to one’s friends who very kindly look after them in your absence.

With a whole day to go, jobs that were desirable, but non-essential, suddenly became imperative. The main one of these was making the second of two new cushions for Carina. But Summer had briefly appeared in north-east England, so the choice between suddenly-urgent gardening (outdoors, in the balmy sunshine) and sewing (indoors) was easy. The cushion could wait till after tea.

But an important boy-job which had been left undone for a while, that of making a bonfire of a large quantity of garden prunings which had accumulated over many months, had been abandoned by Ian, in favour of Wednesday evening sailing at Tynemouth. In short, cushion-making commenced at 10.30pm, after I had done the Girl Guide thing with the bonfire and made dinner.

On the penultimate seam, I contrived to sew through my left thumb, a contributory factor being the use of a zipper foot on my machine. In my rush to the bathroom to staunch the flow of blood, my foot caught in the flex and my 40-year-old Pfaff Tipmatic crashed dramatically to the floor, the removable parts detaching themselves, scattering spools, needles, sewing feet, bobbins and so on all over the carpet. Hearing my cries, Ian pointed out that there were splats of blood not only on the cushion fabric, but on the nearby wallpaper too, but my distress was focussed on the possibility that my trusty machine, which had made most of the curtains in the house, might be irreparably damaged, and that I wouldn’t get Carina’s cushion finished.

Miraculously, Ian reassembled the sewing machine and it still ‘went’. He got the blood off the wallpaper and a combination of Vanish and cold water sorted out the cushion cover.

Before the taxi came the next morning, I had time to refresh my mind by a stroll amidst the flowers in the back garden.

Geums and forget-me-nots

Cornflowers, Welsh poppies and hardy geraniums

We missed the Great British Airways Computer Fiasco by a day, and arrived in Toronto uneventfully. But rain and cloudy, cold skies, made a sad contrast to Newcastle.

For the first time, we were going straight to the boat rather than sight-seeing first, and this sharpened our anticipation. This time, we’ll be continuing through Georgian Bay on Lake Huron, through the North Channel and down Lake Michigan to Chicago.

We stayed the night in Toronto, and the next day drove 150 miles north-west to Britt, on Byng Inlet, where Carina had been looked after over the winter by Graham and the staff at Wright’s Marina. She was already on the water, but the harsh Canadian winter had been less than kind to her. Several of the plastic windows on the bridge had split and really needed replacing, and a water pipe had fractured which meant that when Ian tried to fill the water tank, the water went straight into the bilges. There was the usual collection of dead insects (only small ones, thankfully) and the covers on the upholstery, which we had inherited from the previous owners and which are an impractical shade of light blue, looked decidedly grubby and shabby.

Help with the water pipe was fortunately at hand from Dave the mechanic, but having the floor up in both the galley and the cabin rather delayed the unpacking process.

I decided instead to tackle the upholstery. My previous attempts to remove the covers to wash them hadn’t been very successful. The foam inside was unyielding and difficult to remove, and the covers had no washing instructions inside. I had limited cleaning to spraying with Scotchgard foam and rubbing hard at the soiled areas, which had little effectiveness.

Now though, I no longer cared whether or not the covers survived the hot wash and the tumble drier. We would just sit on uncovered foam, or better still, get new covers made. But they came out almost pristine, and after some vigorous wrestling we managed to get them back in place. This had an unusually cheering effect.

The new cushions and the freshly laundered upholstery

The pipe couldn’t be fixed until the next day, so it was just as well that we had booked into the St Amants Hotel at Britt for the first night.

Late evening view of Byng Inlet from our hotel room

The next day we had to return the hire car to Parry Sound, the nearest town 45 miles away. Karrie, Graham’s wife, very kindly gave us a lift back to Britt. She regaled us with a modern-day, role-reversed Goldilocks story. The owners of one of the cottages just down the road from the marina had come home to find a bear had pulled apart the side of the house, found the padlocked freezer, pulled open the lid, and was helping itself to the contents. It was curbed only by the arrival of a Park Ranger with a tranquilising dart.

The weather forecast wasn’t good. Strong winds in the wrong direction meant that if we ventured out of the inlet onto Lake Huron the journey to our next stop, Killarney, would be less than pleasant, and possibly even hazardous. So we decided to stay at the marina until Saturday, which meant there was time to get the new panels made for the windows upstairs and do a few other jobs on the boat too.

Carina at Wright’s Marina, Britt

The marina has cars available for boaters to borrow, so on Tuesday we took ourselves off to Sudbury, 50 miles north-west of Britt on the Trans-Canada Highway, to Science North, an interactive science museum just outside the downtown area. It was interesting, but what impressed me most was the story of How Sudbury reclaimed the environment from the barren wasteland it had become after decades of mining and smelting had made the soil for miles around so acidic that nothing would grow, and changed it to the green landscape you see today.

The spiral staircase provides access to the different levels at Science North

You can actually walk around inside the butterfly house with exotic butterflies everywhere.

Succulents in the butterfly house

Kash the beaver

cyber section

The weather continues to alternate between sunshine, wind and rain. Last night we were eating dinner on Carina, with storm clouds gathering. The setting sun suddenly came out and illuminated the inlet, and I dashed out with my camera.

The setting sun lights up the storm clouds – looking east from our dock at Wright’s Marina

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talesfromtheamericanwaterways

A sojourn by boat through the Eastern USA and Canada

Month: June 2017

Northern Michigan – Mackinac Island to Mackinaw City and Charlevoix

Northern Michigan: Drummond Island to Mackinac Island

The North Channel: into the wilderness: Killarney to Drummond Island

Georgian Bay: Britt to Killarney, and hiking the Canada way

Blood, Sweat and Tears