Owen Sound/ Georgian Bay
When we were in the initial stages of planning this trip, we (or perhaps I should say – I), was considering moving to Owen Sound. My friend Brenda lives there. She would help me get work and provide a friendly face in a new town. I had listened to her wax poetic about the beauty of Georgian Bay, the Great Lakes and the Ontario Fall colours. I laid out my argument in favour of Owen Sound to Jim.
“There is a big problem with that Michelle,” he replied. “When we wake up in the mornings – we’d be living in – ONTARIO.”
As we came closer, we picked up some travel guides to Owen Sound and the Bruce Peninsular and began reading of the areas attributes.
“Cultural Capital of Canada – that’s what it says here,” Jim said as he pointed to the headline in the brochure. We drove through town, past the Tim Horton’s, past the ‘Old Time Tractor Pull’ and onto Brenda’s Place.
Brenda’s husband Ralph has a business buying and selling boats. We came at a good time. They are at present proud owners of a 32ft Trojan Motor Cruiser.
“Is this the biggest boat in the Harbour?” I asked Ralph as we met at the marina.
“If it’s not the biggest – it’s the tallest”.
Ralph was gassing up the boat. The $ sign flipped by 99 and back to 1 – through 99 again …. $315 later we were ready to head out.
“I’ve puked in many of the different oceans of the world but I don’t think I’ve ever thrown-up into a lake,” Jim said as we pulled out of the bay.
Brenda and I sat in the sunshine on the substantial expanse of deck. The fancy houses passed by as we headed up the bay. We began to get wet from the wind and the waves. We headed to the back deck. It was warmer there for a while then we began to be splashed again. We retreated to the fly bridge. The four of us sipped on beverages and munched on snacks and wondered what the poor people were doing.
Our destination was Lion’s Head. The entry to this small bay is lined with high pale cliffs. We watched the rock-climbers and then began to prepare for docking. I raked the back corners of my mind to remember the procedure.
“Wrap the line around the cleat as quick as you can. If you stand there and try to hold the boat yourself you’ll be ripped off the dock and into the harbour,” Ralph reminded us just before docking.
Good friends, good wine and the gentle lapping of water against the hull of a boat make for great meals and memorable evenings. Jim and I slept on the upper deck and had the door open looking at the stars till we fell asleep.
Leaving Lion’s head the next afternoon, we sat again on the deck of the boat and watched as the cliffs passed us by. Brenda asked Ralph if we could stop to swim and at Jackson bay we dropped anchor.
Jim was quickly up the ladder and hanging onto the outside of the fly-bridge. He dove the ten foot down into the water.
Brenda doesn’t think it is good for your heart to jump into cold water from a height first dive. She had a quick dip off the swim bridge and then climbed up to the fly bridge also. Splash and bubbles soon followed.
I hate to be outdone so I climbed the steps also, swung round the railing and … oh my, it seemed like a long way down. It was a long way in too – the water there was 85 feet deep.
“How far is this compared to the high tower diving in the Olympics?” I asked.
“You are on the three meter springboard – jump in,” was the reply from Jim.
Brenda and I later demonstrated synchronized diving off the back deck.
“No rip entry there,” Jim called out to us as we surfaced.
Jim then joined us in the water for synchronized swimming. I am not sure who was supposed to be ‘the little blue cow’.
That night at Brenda and Ralph’s we looked at a map to see exactly where we had gone. It was then I learned of the other name for Owen Sound (beside Cultural Capital of Canada). Get a map of Ontario and look at the southwest area closely. With little imagination it is the shape of an elephant. Windsor is it’s trunk, Niagara is its front feet. The Bruce Peninsula is its tail. Owen Sound is the significant indent at the base of the elephant’s tail.