Sometimes Life Is Good

  Sometimes life is just so good when you are living on the fringe.

  Do you know someone who lives on the fringe?  Or maybe you are that someone? I live on the fringe sometimes and this past weekend was one of those times.  Living on the fringe is what I call the times when you catch some of the fringe benefits of having the right people at the right time, in the right place.  In this case the right people were my in-laws, the right time was a glorious, sunny weekend and the right place was cottage country (for those of you unfamiliar with Canadian geography, take highway 401 until you see signs for Peterborough and then hook a left at a lake (it doesn’t matter which one, they’re all spectacular).  Fringe living is a two way street, you can’t just reap the rewards and in this instance my fringe day only cost a day of helping to clean and wax a thirty-two foot boat but oh boy was it worth it.

  My husband and I started our weekend with a 3 hour drive that was uneventful and once out of the urban areas, quite charming.  The end of the line for the drive was a marina located in Fenelon Falls, Ontario.  We arrived in time to see our in-laws doing a last minute inspection before the boat that we would be travelling in was to be put in the water.  It had been towed to a ramp on a huge hydraulic trailer by a dual wheeled pick up truck.  I was a bit nervous to see such a thing being done and had to actually step away around a corner for a moment as the boat began to lean precariously as it was just entering the water.  I couldn’t bear to see what was happening in case the boat decided to make a name for itself on Youtube or one of those other viral places on the internet.  Eventually, the boat righted itself and I was told that I could stop holding my breath and come back to the dock to see the boat in its more natural environment.  I must admit it looked much steadier in the water and almost, it seemed, happier. 
 
  Our weekend truly began the moment the four of us stepped onto the deck of the sleek vessel.  I hurriedly got out of the way while the more nautical types of our small group organized lines of rope, plastic bumpers that had been hung over the side of the boat and the captain of our boat, my father-in-law, fired up the engines.  I must admit the sound of two three hundred and fifty cubic inch motors coming to life is a most exhilarating sound but what can I say, I have a thing for the rumble of a V8.  I watched with trepidation as he manoeuvred the large boat through what appeared to me to be a space that wouldn’t fit a Mini Cooper, but he drove as if the water were a road and the boat responded like a fine Italian sports car. 

  And so began our journey to our final destination, a small gated community of mobile trailer homes, located outside of Bobcaygeon, Ontario. The trip took us through two of the locks of the Trent-Severn Waterway and again and again I was amazed at the beauty of the region and the skill of our guide.  The first lock was located in the small town of Fenelon Falls.  The atmosphere was quite celebratory as the weather was fine and the locals, in the guise of lock keepers, advised that recent weather had not been so boating friendly and the damage from recent storms was still evident, from fallen trees to fences being reconstructed.  Even our own boat had not escaped the turmoil, the canopy showing tears from the force of the wind gusts.  But on the day we went through the locks, an engineering marvel, the weather was perfect. 

  Locks are a means, for a fee, of moving water traffic from one level of a lake or river to another as the elevation demands.  In our case, we were moving to lower levels.  The boat was parked along a specified area of cemented wall of the canal style channel where rubber cords were placed at intervals in order to tie up your vessel.  Tie up is actually a misnomer as you don’t really tie a knot but rather loop your rope around the rubber cord and hold it in your hands.  Large gates swung shut behind us, temporarily damming the waterway we had just left.  I watched with fascination as we suddenly began to sink lower and lower.  The spectators hanging over the railing that kept pedestrians back from the edge of the walls of the lock were taking pictures and waving as the boaters, us included, began to disappear into the bottom of the lock.  The water was being drained so that when the lock gate in front of us opened we would be at the same level as the next waterway in the system.  As soon as the gates began to open, boat motors began to fire and each boat’s crew began to bustle around removing ropes and grabbing catchpoles to use as prods for when it became their turn to push off from the wall of the lock and continue on their journey. 

  The whole process only took minutes but our captain advised that some days could be much longer of a wait as there could be many boats lined up on each side of the lock waiting to move through.  We however had got lucky, there was a space for us at each change in elevation and the locks were just getting ready to open so that we could keep moving in our direction without waiting for oncoming river traffic.

  In our second and last lock, located in the town of Bobcaygeon, we travelled through with a very small boat with a very large engine.  When this craft’s motor was started, all of us jumped at the sound.  Imagine a Harley Davidson motorcycle being started in an echo chamber.  I expected the tiny boat to tear off as soon as it cleared the gate doors but our guide explained that we would not see the small craft pick up much speed until we passed a certain white line as rules governing shoreline protection were in place.  The wakes of speeding boats were known to erode shorelines so speed limits were imposed in order to help maintain the area.  I never did see the white line I was told about but I certainly knew when the speedy little boat passed it!  The rooster tail of water that suddenly jetted into the air and the impression of a flying saucer skipping across the water were the last I saw of the quick little craft. 

  Of course then it was our turn to pass the white line.  There was no rooster tail but just standing and trying to look over the windshield to see the view in front of us made my eyes water.  Our own big engines were more than enough speed for me.  The wake left behind our boat attracted thrill seekers on jet skis and we watched with amusement as the dolphin “wannabes” used our wake as ramps to perform high speed jumps and tricks. 

  Now that we were in the more open water, I felt much more comfortable in surveying our surroundings, the view constantly changing as we sped along.  I was impressed at the size of the area and marvelled at the amount of people enjoying the boating experience and yet still being mindful of each other and giving each other space.  The view was amazing as we saw various wildlife, loons in particular fascinated me with their diving abilities.  They were much larger than I thought they would be, of course, my only knowledge of loons is that they make a pretty picture on a coin and two loonies will get you a cup of Timmie’s with change to spare.  If you’re Canadian you’ll totally get that but if not: Timmie’s = best cup of coffee ever.

  The trees varied in species, with Muskoka pines mixed in with huge cedars all seeming to cling to the sides of granite outcroppings.  I could not believe the places that the trees grew upon and some just seemed to spring right out of the water until you got closer and saw the tip of rock that the trees had taken root upon, seemingly impossible for them to hold on much longer and yet existing for decades and becoming landmarks for the boaters to make note of on their charts.  There was some shock and sadness to see that the storms had taken their toll here as well though, as what had been hundred foot tall trees lay along the shores, their grip on the rocky land finally broken by high winds.  It looked like the trees had been peeled from the earth, the exposed dark soil and roots showing the true force of the storms.  It was a sombre reminder of Mother Nature’s fury.  But where there is destruction there was also life anew as we saw groups of Canada geese and their goslings swimming in the shelter of some of the fallen trees, the young paddling in their follow-the-leader game behind their parents and making all of us on board the boat coo and giggle at their adorable little features.

  Soon we were slowing as we neared our final stop for the day, our own slip, to use the nautical term for the parking spot for the boat.  We pulled in and with a flurry of rope tossing and the scurry of all hands to get bumpers down to protect the sides of the boat from being damaged by the docks on either side we completed our journey.  We thanked our hosts for the enjoyable experience and capped off the day with a terrific meal at a local restaurant.

  Although the price tag is out of my reach for a boat in the near future, I definitely got my fringe benefit of knowing someone who already owns one and lovingly wants to share the experience.