Tom Bamonte
August 2008
INTRODUCTION
My paddling partner Pat L. and I went to the mouth of Georgian Bay to paddle in two national parks at the tip of the Bruce Peninsula and set foot on several islands that have never or seldom been visited by sea kayakers. Our trip turned out very differently from what we planned. On our third night on the water we made the rookie mistake of failing to pull our kayaks far enough up on shore and they were snatched by the waves during a storm. Pat lost her kayak and mine was severely damaged.
The incident forced us to adapt the trip to the circumstances in which we found ourselves. Ultimately, we were able to experience much of what paddling off the Bruce Peninsula has to offer. (Pat’s photos are a good visual introduction. See link in Resources section below.) We also learned a lot while responding to something neither of us had planned for or anticipated in the field. This is the report of our trip.
BACKGROUND
Last summer, Pat and I paddled the north shore of Georgian Bay from Byng Inlet to West Fox Island and back. (Trip report here). I was captivated by the natural beauty of Georgian Bay and the challenging paddling environment that results from the changeable weather and plenty of rocks, shoals and islands. It was a refreshing change from the long, curving and sandy coast that characterizes the south end of the Lake Michigan.
View from Flowerpot Island to Bear’s Rump Island
This year’s trip was across the Bay, in the vicinity of the town of Tobermory, Ontario where the Bay meets the main body of Lake Huron. Tobermory is at the top of the Bruce Peninsula. It has two harbors, a lighthouse, a quaint downtown, a kayak outfitter, and both grocery and hardware stores.
This area is dominated by an interesting natural feature called the Niagara Escarpment. Per Wikipedia:
The Niagara Escarpment has a caprock of dolomitic limestone ("dolostone") which is more resistant and overlies weaker, more easily eroded shale as a weathering-resistant "cap". In other words, the escarpment formed over millions of years through a process of differential erosion of rocks of different hardnesses. Through time the soft rocks weather away or erode by the action of streams. The gradual removal of the soft rocks undercuts the resistant caprock, leaving a cliff or escarpment.
The Escarpment expresses itself as a prominent cliff that runs for hundreds of miles. It begins east of Rochester, New York, runs west to form the shelf that is the Niagara Falls, continues on into Ontario, where it turns north to run along the east side of the Bruce Peninsula. The Escarpment passes under the seven mile mouth of Georgian Bay just north of Tobermory, continues on across Manitoulin and Drummond Islands, sweeps across the north shore of Lake Michigan, runs along the north edge of the Door Peninsula, and continues south in Wisconsin past Lake Winnebago and on to the Illinois/Wisconsin border northwest of Chicago. (Map here) I found this geological link between our home in Chicago and the place where we were paddling to be both interesting and somehow emotionally satisfying.
The Escarpment is recognized worldwide as a particularly significant natural feature. The cedar trees that grow on the face of the cliffs are some of the oldest trees in North America. There are a variety of plant and animal species that are unique to the Escarpment. The Escarpment region is also home to most of the alvars in the Great Lakes region. Alvars are rare grassland, savanna and sparsely vegetated rock barrens that develop on flat limestone or dolostone bedrock where soils are very shallow. They harbor a variety of unique plant and animal species. (Information here.)
In 1990 the U.N. designated the Ontario portion of the Escarpment a UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve. Ontario and a variety of NGOs have worked together to protect wide swaths of the Escarpment in Canada. Among other things, they have established the Bruce Trail, a well marked and maintained 500 mile hiking trail that runs from Niagara Falls to Tobermory. The Escarpment has received less attention in the United States, although the State of Wisconsin has acknowledged its natural and cultural signifcance in a study.
Outside of Niagara Falls, the Escarpment is most dramatic at the north end of the Bruce Peninsula. Here the Escarpment rises in sheer cliffs several hundred feet above Georgian Bay.
West Bluff near Cabot Point
Cliff Near High Dump
Fallen Rocks From Cliff Erosion
Trees cling to the sheer cliff face. There are many caves both below and above the current water level. The caves high on the cliffs provide some indication of how high Great Lake water levels once were. At the base of the cliffs and on into the crystal clear water are huge rocks and boulders. Here and there are “beaches,” typically composed of rocks the size of a fist or larger coming out of the water at a 45-degree angle. Landing spots are thus few and challenging in all but the calmest weather.
Typical Steep Cobble Beach—Bruce Peninsula
The Bruce Peninsula National Park covers most of the north shore of the Bruce Peninsula from Cabot Head to Tobermory. We found this park to be well run with very helpful staff. Tobermory was an ideal base of operations, a picturesque port town loaded with maritime history and with its own Coast Guard Station.
The Escarpment helps make the area a challenging paddling environment. The cliff face of the Escarpment is mostly submerged at the mouth of the Bay, with the water being extremely deep on the Georgian Bay side and then transitioning suddenly into shallow, shoal-filled waters as one moves west in Lake Huron. This sudden change in water depth, plus the constriction at the mouth of the Bay, results in interesting currents and wave effects. Both Lake Huron and Georgian Bay have substantial fetches, and waves can grow substantially as they and the wind funnel through the mouth of the Bay. Add rocky islands with few landing spots and high cliffs on both the islands and the mainland and you have a very dynamic paddling environment. We found that both winds and waves were significantly higher in the Tobermory area than the levels reported at the nearest buoys (Northern Lake Huron (45003); Northern Georgian Bay (45137)).
The weather in the area also seems particularly capricious. Not a day went by in our trip when we were either hit by a thunderstorm or ventured out cautiously in view of thunderstorm activity that was visible in the area.
On several days we had blue skies overhead but could hear thunder from nearby storm systems. Storms came up quickly. Winds seem to change directions often and on a dime. As we paddled we sometimes observed winds that had changed direction so quickly that they were blowing against the very waves they had a part in creating just minutes before.
Afternoon Thunderstorm System Developing
It is thus not surprising that the area is filled with shipwrecks. These many wrecks and the extraordinarily clear water prompted the creation of the Five Fathom National Marine Park, which stretches north and a bit east of Tobermory and attracts scuba divers from all over. Flowerpot Island, named for two iconic sea stacks, is near the center of the park and has a small campground that is a good base of operations.
One of the iconic flowerpots
In short, this is a wonderful area for paddling if you are careful, well-equipped and confident in your skills and judgment. As we learned, this is not an area whose risks should be underestimated.
TRIP PLAN
Our plan was to spend several days paddling along the shoreline of the Bruce Peninsula. We were then going to cross the mouth of the Bay from Cove Island to Fitzwilliam Island, a trip of about 10 miles (not shown on the map). From there we were going to visit Club and Lonely Islands, two islands well off the northeast tip of Fitzwilliam. Reaching these islands would require 5-7 mile crossings. If the conditions were good we might also venture due south about 8 miles from Lonely Island to a small island known as Half Moon Island. From Half Moon Island we would either return to Lonely Island and retrace our route or do a 12-mile crossing southwest back to Flowerpot Island. (Note that many of these islands are mere smudges on Google Maps until you increase the resolution.)
Visiting Club, Lonely and Half Moon Islands appealed to me because despite diligent Googling I could find no record of any kayaker having visited them. I also contacted local paddling groups and outfitters. No one knew of anyone who had visited these islands. As a sure sign of my hubris, I had even prepared an index card “flag” containing the initials of the Chicago Area Sea Kayakers Association, our local paddling organization. I had visions of campy photos of Pat and I planting this flag on the islands as a sort of parody of the explorers from previous centuries.
The CASKA “Flag”
We were well equipped and paddled 17 foot plus long sea kayaks made for extended trips and open water. Pat had a decade plus of kayak camping experience in both salt and freshwater. I had done three previous weeklong kayak camping trips in Lake Superior and Georgian Bay. We had packed plenty of provisions and layers, planning to be self-sufficient for up to 10 days. We each had marine radios. I also carried a SPOT messenger device, on my lifejacket, which I used to send “OK” messages to our support team back home every morning and evening. Had we needed it, I could have summoned emergency help by pressing the 911 button on the SPOT. We are comfortable in relatively big water, but neither of us is afraid to call a weather day.
THE TRIP
We put in Thursday afternoon, August 7, from Dunks Bay. Dunks Bay is a protected stretch of water with a rare sandy beach located less than 2 miles southeast of downtown Tobermory. The parking lot is close to the beach and it is a good launch site. We much preferred it to the concrete launch into Little Tub Harbor in downtown Tobermory. The thought of loading our boats in full view of the gaggles of tourists had the feel of laying out ones underwear in full view of the neighbors.
There was a high wind advisory and we could see ample whitecaps on the open lake. When we left the shelter of Dunks Point and headed north to Flowerpot Island we encountered rolling 3-4 foot waves and a stiff wind. The 4-mile crossing took a bit over an hour. When paddling this stretch one has to keep an eye out for tour boats and other watercraft traveling between Tobermory and Flowerpot Island.
Our campsite was next to Beachy Cove, a protected bit of water on the east side of the Flowerpot Island. We had reserved one of the six campsites at the Fathom Five visitor center, which is just south of Tobermory. The Center is a fine facility that includes a tower that gives you a great view of the area. The staff is very helpful. Even though we were there at the height of the summer season, the campsites on Flowerpot were never completely booked.
Flowerpot Island is an easy base camp. There are wooden platforms for your tent, composting toilets, gentle walking paths to the key sites, and a good view of the full sweep of the cliffs at the top of the Bruce Peninsula. I especially enjoyed the walk to the lighthouse complex on the north end of the island, which includes a viewing platform from which I could see all of the islands I expected to be visiting soon. Bugs were not a problem, although I tried out my Integral Designs bug bivy with much success.
Bug Bivy
The Canadians really love their Flowerpots. They come over in force in the afternoon on tour boats to hike around the island and generate piles of plastic water bottles. However, by 6 p.m. the island is deserted except for the campers.
Both Flowerpots
Friday opened with another high wind advisory, again from the north. The waves had an angry cast as they marched to the Bruce Peninsula cliffs. We could see high crashing waves on the shore of Bear’s Rump Island, which is about two mile east of Flowerpot. As the forecast was for winds to lighten a bit in the afternoon, we spent the morning puttering around the island.
We put in about 2 p.m. and had a quick trip to Driftwood Bay on the mainland with the strong following seas. We then paddled east, looking for the misnamed area called Stormhaven, where we hoped to find a safe landing and our campsite. The waves, however, were increasing and landing on the steep cobble beaches was a poor option.
We finally slipped in behind some rocks east of Halfway Point Rock where the water was a bit calmer and landed. Unfortunately, there was no place to pitch a tent so we each picked a flat rock, and after dinner crawled in our sleeping bags and wrapped ourselves in our ground clothes. Of course, it began raining before dawn and we learned the hard way that our ground clothes would cover our feet or our heads but not both.
Campsite east of Halfway Rock Point. Pat’s sleeping platform in center.
Campsite east of Halfway Rock Point at sunset—no chance of rain you say?
The weather improved quickly in the morning. We paddled about 1.5 miles east to the actual Stormhaven area just west of Cave Point--a steep cobble beach and no more--and decided to set up camp to allow our things to dry while we continued our paddle.
Stormhaven Beach
After lunch, we paddled east to High Dump and beyond, passing along dramatic high cliffs and over huge submerged boulders. We noticed that the conditions were deteriorating and paddled back to camp. The wind and waves picked up and there were occasional showers. We placed our kayaks on the cobble beach just feet from the tent. Several times that evening we pulled our boats up higher in view of worsening conditions. We also had tied them together and to a nearby rock. A large rock just off the beach broke the force of the waves in the area around the boats.
Stormhaven Camp
Stormhaven landing spot
During the night conditions worsened somewhat but never to the level that we encountered in a gale last year. Spray started hitting the tent. We both got up in the middle of the night to answer the call of nature. On my foray outside, I pulled up the boats a few more feet. In light of the wind and waves I observed, I felt comfortable they were secure. How wrong I was.
The first words I heard the next morning was Pat exclaiming that our kayaks were gone. We quickly found our kayaks high and dry on the rocks, having been deposited by the waves maybe 100 feet from our campsite. The bow of Pat’s kayak had been ripped off.
Pat’s Boat
My kayak had severe damage, including the front deck separating from my hull and numerous holes and cracks. Both of us lost gear, including spare sprayskirts, tarp poles, half a paddle, and a drybag containing two of our dinners.
Reflecting back, I believe we made several mistakes. First, we had tied the boats to a rock near the shoreline, which meant that when they were swept off the shore the line did not prevent them from being bashed against the rocks. Indeed, it may have been the pressure from the line once the boats were in the water that pulled Pat’s bow off her boat and started to peel the front deck from the hull of my boat. In the future, I will secure my kayak so that even if it is pulled off the shore it won’t go far.
Second, we didn’t fully account for the steep slope of the beach. My guess is that when the waves started tugging at the boats and the spray filled the cockpits they slipped down the slope without much prompting. We should have pulled the boats over the lip of the slope and on the relatively flat surface of the terrace on which we had pitched the tent rather then leaving them perched on the edge of the terrace.
Third, we erred in our assessment of the deteriorating conditions. Based on our experience, the physical characteristics of the landing area and the forecast of only 1.5 meter waves we didn’t think it possible that the waves would rise high enough to snatch our kayaks. Obviously, we erred in our judgment and that will prove to be an expensive error.
This incident obviously changed the character of the trip. Before the incident the major issues were where to paddle, where to camp, and what’s for dinner. After this incident we had to wrestle with more challenging issues such as how we were going to get our gear and ourselves back our Dunks Bay launch site.
In retrospect, I think we did a good job of taking our time, weighing our options carefully, and not acting with undue haste. After all, we were unharmed, had plenty of provisions, and were camped at a beautiful campsite. There was no reason to rush.
Kitchen—Stormhaven Campsite
Fortunately, we both adopted an “it is what it is” attitude. Pat reminisced that she had gotten many good years out of her kayak. I appreciated how the damage to my kayak put in perspective the minor hull cracks that had so concerned me earlier in the summer as a first time owner of a fiberglass boat. This equanimity plus a mutual recognition of our collective responsibility for the error helped us make it through this incident and salvage the trip.
The next few days were spent getting organized and moving on with the rest of the trip. We appreciated the proximity of the Bruce Trail at the top of the cliff behind our campsite because it gave us the chance to hike out to the ranger office at the Cyprus Lake Campground. (Note that there is a shortcut service vehicle trail from group campground No. 1 at the Cyprus Lake Campground to the Stormhaven Campground.) I hiked out on Sunday, reported our predicament and self-rescue plans to the authorities, reserved our site for three more nights and hiked back. The next day Pat hiked out and sweet talked a ranger into carrying some of our excess gear back to the ranger station on his ATV.
Our plan was for me to try to get my kayak seaworthy using the repair kit I carried. If successful, I could ferry our gear to Dunks Bay and drive back to the campground to pick up Pat.
Boat Repair Materials
Monday was boat repair day. I used a grease pencil to circle all of the dings, punctures and rips that needed attention. This inventory helped me prioritize the repairs and allocate my limited repair kit.
Inventory
As the photos indicate, I used a few basic materials that I carried in my repair kit, such as a tube of AquaMend Epoxy, a quarter roll of general purpose Duck tape, and a roll of Nashua general purpose foil tape, which does better than Duck tape in wet conditions.
I succeeded in making my kayak at least somewhat seaworthy. For the split front deck/hull I used a combination of tape and rubber strips cut from a glove to put the boat back together.
Tom’s Bow
Taping rubber strip over crack
Finished: Dry Front Hatch Rest of Trip
This worked well enough that my front hatch stayed dry the rest of the trip.
I closed the puncture wounds with AquaMend Epoxy topped with tape and these fixes worked well.
AquaMend Our Friend
Applying AquaMend
Fill in the cracks
Putty-Filled Cracks Covered With Tape
I’m not handy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was immensely satisfying to be using a few basic materials to try to put my kayak back together. I was strangely confident that I would get my kayak seaworthy. In some respects, the hours working on my kayak were my happiest ones on the trip.
Repair Time
By the time I had finished with the repairs, the weather had improved and I took the kayak for a test run. It was great to be paddling once again. I had only just developed an emotional attachment to my Explorer, which I had been paddling since April, and it was a relief to be back in the cockpit skipping over the waves and making tight turns on an edge.
When I returned from an hour and a half paddle, the front hatch was dry and the day hatch had less than a quarter of cup of water. The only area that I couldn’t completely repair was around the skeg box. Despite repeated applications of AquaMend and plenty of tape, for the remainder of the trip I continued to take on water in my rear hatch at a rate of a quart or so every half hour. Whenever possible, I stuffed an inflated paddle float in my rear hatch as flotation insurance. We also limited our time on the water to three hours at a stretch, although in most conditions Pat could have pumped out my rear hatch if necessary.
Tuesday was a beautiful day.
Georgian Bay Morning—Looking east 10+ miles to Cabot Head
I decided to paddle to Cabot Head lighthouse and back, testing the kayak on a long distance paddle before starting to ferry our gear back to Dunks Bay. It turned out to be a great day paddle along the cliffs and into the sheltering embrace of Wingfield Basin, a protected bay just south of Cape Hurd and just north of the Cabot Head Lighthouse. The wreck in the bay reassured me that I was not the only mariner who had made a miscalculation in these waters.
Wreck—Wingfield Basin
Day’s End—Stormhaven
That night I slept in a cave for the very first time. It was a bit scary but also reassuring after the wild weather we had faced to ease into a stone chamber protected from the wind and rain. This cave had a nice flat floor that was the perfect size for my sleeping bag. Unfortunately, I should have pitched my bug bivy. An unexpected drop in the winds caused me to be the main course for the local mosquitoes.
Sleeping Cave
The good weather held into Wednesday. This was my day to be a pack mule, making two trips carrying our gear from our Stormhaven campsite to our put-in at Dunks Bay. After hiking back to the campground, Pat succeeded in getting a ride to Dunks Bay from a kind couple and met me at Dunks Bay after my first trip.
Our plan was for Pat to rent a kayak from Thorncrest Outfitters in Tobermory. When I returned from my second trip from Stormhaven we would paddle out to Flowerpot Island together where we would camp for the next three nights. Unfortunately, just as I arrived at Dunks Bay the final time a huge thunderstorm came up from the north. While we were spared the worst of the storm, there was no way we were going to paddle in open water with a sudden cold wind whipping up whitecaps and lightening flashes nearby. Pat had her boat all packed, so we raced to unload two boats to avoid getting drenched.
Between Driftwood Cove and Little Cove
That night we camped in Lands End Park, a well-run private campground on Hay Bay near Tobermory. It was cultural shock to be back in RV land, but the showers felt good. We went into Tobermory for dinner and again for breakfast the next day, enjoying a respite from the granola and instant milk routine.
We launched again Thursday morning from Dunks Bay and had an uneventful and enjoyable paddle out to Flowerpot Island in 3-4 foot waves. After setting up camp we ventured out to circumnavigate Bears Rump Island, which lies about 2 miles from Flowerpot. Bears Rump is a microcosm of the area, with shoals and a low elevation on the west side of the island rising dramatically to high cliffs on the east side. Landing spots are few and far between.
Bear’s Rump Island—East Side Cliffs
The afternoon was sunny, winds were in the 10-15 mph range and waves had dropped to the 2-3 foot range. We could see to the north and east the string of high clouds that like sentries marked the unseen eastern and northern shores of the Bay. As we paddled around the high cliffs on the east side of Bear’s Rump Island we kept a close eye on a developing thunderstorm system that filled the sky to the north. Soon, we could hear thunder and see lightening in the distance. It appeared that we had maybe 45 minutes to get to shelter before the storm hit if it was indeed moving our way.
Considering the conditions--no easy landings and a nice following wind and seas that were picking up--we opted to head back to Flowerpot Island. We averaged well over 4 mph and got to Flowerpot just as the storm clouds filled the sky. It was a fun ride. Then, unaccountably, and just as had happened the day before, the storm never hit us hard even though we could see that a small island just two miles to the north was getting hammered. We realized that Georgian Bay weather can be capriciously good as well as capriciously bad.
Moody Georgian Bay Weather
Three times is no charm when it comes to dodging thunderstorms on open water. Thus the next day--Friday--we decided to paddle early and play it safe by making it back to camp by 4 p.m. to avoid another late afternoon thunderstorm. The storm the day before had kicked up some nice waves from the north and we paddled through choppy and somewhat challenging water when we rounded the north side of Flowerpot Island near the lighthouse. We headed west to Cove Island and had a rough landing in Eagle Cove on the east side, where a guidebook had promised plenty of shelter and good landings. Don’t believe everything you read.
We circled around the south end of Cove Island and up the west side to Channel Point, where we had lunch. After a week of paddling next to forbidding cliffs in areas with no landings the west side of the island was a pleasant relief. There are plenty of sheltered coves and landing sites in this area. The water is relatively shallow and the shore rises gradually out of the water. The area bore a family resemblance to the paddling environment we encountered on the north shore of the Bay the year before.
While a circumnavigation of the island was tempting, we opted to retrace our route and head back to the campsite in time to minimize our thunderstorm risk. In a matter of minutes the wind shifted from the north to the west, so we had a nice assist home.
As if we hadn’t had enough excitement this trip, halfway through our 3-4 mile crossing Pat exclaimed, “I’ve lost my rudder.” Indeed, the whole rudder assembly had fallen off the back of her kayak and was hanging by its cables. It was a fitting reminder of the challenges we had faced on the trip. I secured the rudder assembly to her back deck using my Shockles contact tow line and we were soon underway, laughing at our luck.
Upon arrival back at Flowerpot Island, I spent over an hour flailing around in the cove, practicing paddle strokes, rolls, self-rescues, sitting side-saddle on my back deck, etc. The cove was deserted so there was no one to tsk-tsk about the evident poor quality of Chicago area sea kayaking. While I love pool sessions in the winter, it is hard to beat practicing outdoors, in a quiet cove ringed by cliffs and trees.
Conditions had deteriorated somewhat Saturday morning even though the barometric pressure was significantly higher than it had been the whole trip. Go figure. There was a nice wind from the west and 3-4 foot waves with plenty of whitecaps rolling in through the channel between Tobermory and Flowerpot Island. We enjoyed skimming along on beam seas under the sunshine and soon made it to Dunks Bay for the last time this trip.
It Was Just That Kind Of Trip I Guess!
FINAL THOUGHTS
This was not the trip I had planned. I wanted long days of paddling, plenty of challenging crossings and the chance to paddle to islands where few other kayakers evidently have been. Instead, I got to feel like a knucklehead for not pulling my kayak far enough out of harm’s way. Our failure to reach even one of the “unexplored” islands grates on my pride. I find myself zooming in on the islands using Google Maps and applying what I learned about local conditions to surmise what might be the shoreline topography of those islands and the likely landing sites.
Yet, it was a real thrill to spend a long week paddling in water (and weather) that was the most challenging I’ve faced over a sustained period. Despite the damage to our kayaks that will make this a most expensive vacation, it was worth it to experience this unique natural environment. As to my wounded pride about losing the kayaks, Pat’s view makes good sense. “At least we’re out here putting ourselves on the line rather than paddling around our bathtubs,” were her words.
Indeed, the loss of our kayaks seems more like an isolated bad decision than a symptom of chronic stupidity or bad judgment. Throughout the trip we made many good decisions, among them waiting for the weather to improve before paddling, taking care to find the safest landing sites, getting off of the water in advance of thunderstorms, and adapting reasonably well to the circumstances that were thrust upon us so unexpectedly by taking our time to make decisions and avoiding finger pointing.
Sometimes you lose things when you venture. But you gain a lot from having traveled out of your daily routine and familiar haunts. This will be a trip I won’t forget.
RESOURCES
Chart 2235, Cape Hurd to Lonely Island. Available here.
Jonathon Reynolds & Heather Smith, “Kayaking Georgian Bay,” Boston Mills Press (1999) (Pages 135-159)
Sarah Ohmann & Bill Newman, Guide to Sea Kayaking Lakes Huron, Erie and Ontario, Globe Pequot (Pages 63-73)
Doug Cunningham, “Bruce Peninsula Paddling Destinations—Northeast Coast” (Recommended)
Doug Cunningham, “Bruce Peninsula Paddling Destinations” (Comprehensive guide to coastal kayaking in Bruce Peninsula)
Johanna Wandel, “Five Fathoms of Rules” (Trip report)
Johanna Wandel, “High Dump” (Trip report)
Fathom Five National Marine Park
Niagara Escarpment (Lake Michigan area focus)
Niagara Escarpment (Wisconsin): http://dnr.wi.gov/org/land/er/publications/niagara/
and http://www.baylakerpc.org/Documents/Region/Niagara_Escarpment.pdf
Northern Georgian Bay Buoy (45137)
Northern Lake Huron Buoy (45003)
Last But Not Least: Trip Dedication To Nashua Tape!