Georgian Bay, Part 4: Up Into Collins Inlet

Day 8 (Thurs): Readers of this adventure already know that wind is the defining element of paddling on Georgian Bay. The forecast for Thursday through Saturday was unsettling enough to catch the attention of even a non-worrier like me. I thought it might be prudent to return to the put-in early ahead of the weather; however that idea was dead on arrival when presented to the larger group. So, off we went into a few more days of wind and rain.

Thursday was our biggest move of the trip, from the southern side of Phillip Edward Island around the east side, up Beaverstone Bay and then around the top of the island into Collins Inlet. I apologize to readers of this blog that there are a confusingly large number of bays to remember. All along we were in Georgian Bay (big), but were paddling through many smaller bays formed by Phillip Edward Island. The best I can suggest is that the curious reader peruse the map.

We packed the boats and said goodbye to our sweet "Limerick" campsite on Crume Island and headed out. We initially found ourselves paddling calm water, shielded as we were from the wind, which was blowing from the northeast (we had the landmass of the island protecting us from the wind). The first miles were familiar territory, as we had paddled them the day before. Once we turned the corner into Beaverstone Bay, however, it was a different story as we found ourselves kayaking straight into a fairly strong wind. Paddling into the wind is less nerve-wracking than any other direction, as waves coming at you head-on don’t do nasty things like try to knock you over or spin you off course. Rather, paddling into a headwind is just tiring, like paddling though molasses. Everyone handled it well, but we definitely appreciated a snack break we took in a cove of a small private island, which allowed us to stop paddling for a few minutes without losing ground by being pushed backwards. The cove was home to a private home, complete with totem pole (note to self: in next life, arrange to own a private island).

Around the corner into Beaverstone Bay

About two thirds of the way up Beaverstone Bay we started looking for a place for a lunch break. Unfortunately, the islands in the area had pretty steep shorelines making landing impossible and we had to hunt for a while before finding a small hunk of rock on which to perch - just about big enough for five of us to pull our kayaks out of the water and perch for lunch, and on the other side of a boulder there was privacy for bathroom needs. Eating lunch on a rock, as we did several times on this trip, is something I enjoy, though I understand that it's not everyone's idea of a dream vacation. I think I've passed this kind of sense of adventure on to Ted, as he recently wrote in his own travel blog about having happily eaten tortellini from a Ziploc bag while crouched in a Porta-potty (freshly cleaned, fortunately) taking shelter from a rainstorm during his hike on the C&O and GAP trails. Both tuna on a rock and tortellini in a toilet are the kind of crazy stuff that make you smile but which bring looks of horror to your friends' faces when you tell them about it.

Into Collins Inlet

Paddling in the confines of Collins Inlet

Me

After lunch the going got a little easier, as the wind seemed to let up a little bit. Or maybe it was just my drug-fueled perception of it, as at lunch break I had ingested a miraculous performance enhancer known as caffeine. Since my surgery I've kicked the daily maintenance caffeine habit and instead use it only as needed as a performance-boosting stimulant. About 70 miles into the 100 mile bike ride I did last year a café latte gave me a boost which took me through the rest of the miles, and during lunch on the rock I popped a caffeinated GU gel packet which I had stashed in my PFD for just such purposes. Man, a good shot of caffeine has a Popeye eats-spinach kind of effect on me. Woo Hoo! Bring on the miles!

Energy gel packets such as the one I had stashed in my PFD are popular in the cycling world. In preparation for this trip I bought a few at the Laughing Lizard bike shop and cafe in Herndon (incidentally, the same place I got my latte on my century bike ride). I went in, ordered a decaf latte, making my usual fuss to ensure they make it decaf: “Make sure it’s decaf.” “This is decaf, right?” You should have seen the puzzled look on the guy’s face when I asked him to ring up my decaf “this coffee is decaf, right?” decaf latte and then threw a couple of high caffeine energy packs on the counter as part of the purchase.

Beaverstone Bay offered some lovely scenery in the form of typical Georgian Bay pink glacial pink granite islands and northern woods. Three quarters of the way up the bay we were all pretty tired but our spirits were buoyed when we started to hit channel markers, which confirmed that we were approaching Collins Inlet. We were happy to be getting near the end of our slog into the wind, and indeed when we rounded the corner into the inlet conditions calmed down quite a bit and the scene changed from open water to a narrow body of water lined by high rock cliffs.

Our next challenge was finding a campsite. The paddler’s map has campsites marked, but there’s no indication of which are big enough for a group of five kayakers. We rejected the first one outright as being to small, vertical and exposed, which meant paddling another mile or two to the next one in Mill Lake. We rejected that one for the same reasons. The third campsite showed some promise, but from the water seemed small as well, though the following day we stopped to talk to a group that had come in behind us and camped there. They fit eight people on the site, and while they said it was a tight fit I guess the campsite was bigger than it looked from the water. By this point the water bladder on the back of my PFD was empty and my other bladder was achingly full. We were also running out of sites so even though I'm not generally one to worry, I was starting to get a little anxious to about finding a campsite. Fortunately, Suzanne “had a good feeling” about the site on Archers Island. The site had a tight landing spot, but we got out and found it to be a lovely campsite. We subsequently realized that, as with our previous site, this was one of the sites marked in the Hodnett Canoe Guide. Clearly the Hodnett people had selected the best sites in the area.

Third campsite

We made camp, taking care to set things up carefully. Rain and wind were once again in the forecast for Friday and we wanted to be well battened down in advance of the storm.

I don't remember, but I think it might have been Thursday that I finally took a shower. Tom loves a shower while camping and he loves the "camp craft" of rigging up camping devices. Over the years he's progressed from a solar sun shower to a handheld electric shower (not exactly this one but similar). We set up a collapsible bucket, which gets filled with a combination of lake water and heated water. You dip the hose into the shower bucket and click a button on the nozzle and presto, ... a somewhat warm shower! I had demurred on using the shower when he set it up at the previous campsite because I hate being cold and would rather be stinky than stand naked in a cold breeze, my shivering relieved only by an occasional blast of lukewarm water. However, by Thursday I had gotten to the point where I could no longer control my stench with wipes and so finally broke down and used the shower. Despite the chilliness of the experience it felt really good to get clean. I will say that some group members are happy to bathe themselves in the cold water of the lakes when we travel. The amount of screaming that goes on when they do this usually reconfirms my choice to remain stinky rather than cold. The only time I'll dip myself into a cold lake is if we get a really nice warm, sunny day - of which we had none on this trip.

Can you spot Béla in the water? He's doing something I'll never do - immersing himself in the cold water of Georgian Bay (this is back at campsite #2)

We had Jen’s Gado Gado for dinner while we sat on the point of the island, the sunset to our left and the nearly full moonrise to our right. I drank the last of my bourbon. My food bags were getting pretty light. Must be nearing the end.

Sunset to our left ...

... moonrise to our right

Day 9 (Fri): Our last full day! Well, full day in terms of hours, in that there are still 24 of them, but half day in terms of activities. We knew that bad weather was going to roll in once again and that we would be forced to spend the afternoon tent-bound. We got on the water early to give us time to have a decent outing before the weather rolled in around noon. On our way through Collins Inlet we had passed the abandoned logging town (also known as Collins Inlet) but we were on a hunt for a campsite and didn't stop. We paddled back over to that area where we saw the remnants of the old logging town, which was abandoned in the early 20th century once the area was logged out, and the more recently closed Mahzenazing River Lodge, which appears to only recently have been abandoned - as of 2017, when my paddling of the area map was printed, it was apparently still a going concern (Mill Lake Lodge on the south side of Collins Inlet is still an active business - the only commercial business we saw the whole trip). Along the north side of the inlet you can spot various remnants of the logging days: iron rings anchored in rocks which once were used to hold logging booms in place (Jen guessed the purpose of the rings - later confirmed from the paddling map), remains of pilings from the logging camp’s loading docks, etc. We toured Sawdust Bay, once no doubt aptly named but now returned to a seemingly untouched natural state.

On the way back the wind picked up pretty fiercely, occasionally attempting to spin our boats around. Bela, who in general is the best navigator of the bunch of us, somehow managed to almost get us lost on the way back - not easy to do when you’re paddling a 1/4 mile wide channel. But cooler heads and GPS prevailed and we found our way back with no issues. We timed our trip about right: it was starting to rain as we returned to camp 11ish. All of us except Tom ultimately hunkered down under the tarp for a while and had lunch together. For me it was the rare treat of turkey jerky (not a lot of fat, but I still avoid it because it's loaded with sodium - it was a nice change from my usual choices of tuna and peanut butter), along with a squeeze pouch of fruit mush, week-old tortillas, and a fruit bar. Plus some chickpeas and dried “imperfect” mangoes provided by Suzanne and Béla respectively. Fine dining!

Remnants of logging days

Abandoned logging camp building

Beaver lodge 

Suzanne paddles past abandoned buildings

This tractor isn't going anywhere

After lunch it was another afternoon stuck in the tent in the rain. Here’s a little snippet of the fun things I did while stuck in a roughly 3 x 6 ft. space all afternoon: took my phone off airplane mode to see if it would connect. Spent a few minutes in that frustrating state where the phone says “3G” but really isn’t connecting at all (there was only one specific spot on the island where you could stand and really get connectivity). Put the phone back into airplane mode. Took my headphones out so I could watch some downloaded Netflix. Noticed that the ear buds were kind of gross. Figured out how to gently remove the squishy ear bud tips. Blew the crud out of them by blowing on them, transferring the ear crud first to the screen of my phone, then ultimately to the tent floor. Wondered if I had accomplished anything in terms of increased cleanliness by transferring my earwax from earbuds to tent floor. Switched out of airplane mode to see if connectivity had miraculously improved while I was cleaning my headphones. Spent more time in zombie 3G mode. Put the phone back into airplane mode. Watched Netflix. Read a book. Peed into a bottle to avoid going out into the rain. Noticed that the tent had begun to take on a little bit of that public restroom smell. Vowed to go outside the next time I had to pee. Took pictures of myself making faces. Watched a caterpillar crawl up the outside of my tent. Thought about how I could be showered and halfway home by now. [Note: this paragraph was written in my tent on Friday. As it reflects my frustration with being stuck in the tent in the rain, I have left it pretty much as initially drafted].

After a few hours of rainy solitary confinement in a tent, caterpillars become pretty interesting entertainment

If you are bored enough, making faces into the phone is almost as entertaining as watching caterpillars

I did have the thought that the rainy days gave me a chance to experience how normal people spend their vacations. I mean, if I told people I had spent my vacation reading, catching up on Netflix and napping by a beautiful lake they would have thought it sounded like perfectly normal, relaxing downtime. As long as I left out the peeing into a bottle part. And the pooping into a bag part. And the sleeping and eating on a rock part ...

This entry covers 2nd campsite to 3rd campsite and other explorations in Collins Inlet (the channel across the top of the island).