Day 49, 50 & 51: Travel to Bad River Channel & Beaverstone Bay
Day 49: September 5: We were pretty sure we were anchored on granite here on Bustard Island so we kept checking our position. Our anchor is held by all chain; putting out 75 feet in 16 feet of water under pristine conditions most certainly provides secure holding as long as the anchor has something to sink into. But you can never take anything for granted. Luckily, there must have been just enough mud for the anchor to grab hold but the chain did continue sliding on the granite throughout the night, creating a haunting sound. The anchor alarm went off at one point during the night alerting us that we had swung out beyond the boundary settings. Being that the anchorage is narrow, there wasn't any room for error so John had set the parameters tightly. When the boat moves beyond that limit, the alarm notifies us of the change. Tight quarters are always more challenging if you are concerned about the possibility of dragging.
It was a lovely morning. The bright sunshine and gentle breeze promised a delightful day of travel. We watched as the two sailboats that had spent the night, pulled anchor and slowly meandered out of the inlet. John and I were up on the flybridge when he spied something swimming in the opening leading from the east to west side of the anchorage. He yelled "what the heck is that? A moose swimming across the gap?" I grabbed the binoculars and recognized the shape and movement of a black bear climbing out of the water onto shore. As it sauntered along the shore in and out of the tree-line, we caught a real clear glimpse of him when he emerged from behind the bush into a clearing. Not long after, I heard the ever-present call of a loon. Then another off in the distance answering. Looking up I saw them in flight one behind the other; it was pretty awesome to hear them calling while flying! When in such incredible surroundings spotting and hearing wildlife, you can't help but feel something magical.
As we were getting ready to get UW John noticed Squier About's stern line was not attached to the tree it had been secured to. At first, we thought they were getting ready to leave but then realized the line had come undone. John jumped in the dinghy and together he and Peter were able to tow the boat to a safe area. Fortunately, Peter did correct the windlass problem last night so not being able to anchor safely should not be an issue for him going forward.
We got UW and headed out of the east entrance. As we came around the island, we saw Zendeavor cruising out of the west entrance. Onward: three buddy boats traveled about 8 miles in just over an hour to the Bad River Channel, situated close to the French River. The trip was pleasant; we always relish the times when the seas are kind.
Entering the channel, we were amazed by the terrain. Pink granite welcomed us into a stunning passage into the small cover.
Another boat was already anchored with its stern line attached to rocks. We had read that lots of people tie up to the jagged outcrops or metal pins that have been drilled into the granite. Although it was probably not needed, as there was no current or wind, all 3 boats took advantage of the pins and rock and secured sterns to shore. Perhaps it was overkill! We looked like we were prepared to stay for a week or more.
As incredibly stunning the granite walls are, the highlight of the day was taking the dinghies through Devil's Rapids. We followed Pete and Kim, marveling at the beauty around us. We stayed together to be available should a breakdown occur. Our dinghy is still giving us trouble and we would not want to have to paddle!
The cruise was everything I had read about. We meandered through narrow passages, floundered through some strong currents and made out way up to a large area of rushing rapids. John and I continue to be amazed at the scenery, often commenting how we would never have known any of this existed if not for this trip. It's something most people will never see.
As dusk began to fall, we rode over toward David's boat and climbed onto the top of a rock to watch the sunset. Our docktails turned into rocktails. It was glorious!
We turned to starboard to enter the Beaverstone which, compared to the spot we had left, is huge. Besides two small boats we saw exiting the entrance while we entered, there is not a soul in sight. It feels so remote; there is no boat traffic, the few cottages on shore look like they have been closed up for the season and fall is in the air. There are several small islands scattered throughout the bay, all rocky and tree-lined.
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