A couple times a summer dad takes me out for a sunset cruise on Georgian Bay. Every year it looks different. I wonder if it is me that has changed so I see the water and land and sun setting differently or if the bay is changing (for example: time of day, water level, location, weather). Last year we went out by Gereaux Island Lighthouse. There is something about the architecture of a lighthouse isolated on an island with the grand sky and big water that calms me. (Do all people feel a connection to lighthouses?) So every time we go out into the bay I always look for the lighthouse.
This year it was just dad and I for the sunset cruise. We got into the boat and he said, “Where do you want to go?”
I didn’t have a preference other than “out there”–on the bay. I find the expansiveness of the bay healing. I’ve come to learn it’s my church. We don’t always need a building to feel connected to something bigger than us. I was thrilled for the chance to go out, it didn’t matter where.
So I sat back into my front seat in the pontoon boat. Dad drove out toward the bay. Soon we moved from the Magnetewan River to the open waters. Then dad turned out of the channel. The boat slowed down.
Since he retired dad has gone kayaking most mornings out in the bay. He often talks about the McNab Rocks. I had never been to them (as I am not so steady in a kayak and not ready for open water paddling).
What amazes me most about this trip is that I’ve passed the McNab rocks hundreds of time on our way out by the lighthouse. From afar it looks like a cluster of generic Georgian Bay rocks. But it isn’t until you’re among them that you can really appreciate the detail of the McNab rocks.
Dad turned off the motor and paddled the pontoon boat through the rocks. It was incredible. These are the photos I took on August 1, 2016. What a wonderful way to start a new month!
The pictures were all taken using my Nikon Coolpix S8200. Cropped/edited on my Mac using Photos’ simple tools.
PS: I don’t recommend paddling a pontoon boat through here. It was shallow and tough to navigate. Canoes, kayaks, and row boats are better choices.
I’ve spent time in Britt every summer for over 40 years. It always feels like a homecoming. On July 29, 2016 I had my first boat ride of the year (Which is shameful. Boat rides should begin far earlier in the season). Mom and dad took me out in the bay for swimming and a picnic, visiting many of our regular spots. We started on the north shore. We swam in Sand Bay and cruised by old picnic rocks, visiting all my favourite windblown trees. This landscape inspires reflection while it serves as a living definition of resiliency.
Being immersed in such a grand, expansive, open place reminds me of how big the world is and how small we are by comparison. Hours on the water, far out from the towns, surrounded by diverse islands and infinite skies and big water, I know that we humans are just part of the story. We need to continue to protect our Canadian wilderness and waters because I think it’s nature that grounds us as a nation, showing us who we are and where we fit. Nature can show us how to coexist, remind us of what is important, reveal to us what we need to do, instil in us a sense of belonging, return to us a feeling of joy, give to us a space for healing, bring to us a knowing of peace, release for us a year of stress, and provide for us an experience that goes beyond high-definition, beyond video game simulations, beyond escape rooms, beyond the noise of our every day to the quiet wisdom of earth’s every day, a planet that will far outlast us and our work here.
Dad drives a pontoon boat. Mom sits in the back, under the canopy in the shade. I always sit in the front in the sunshine, my legs stretched out. We don’t talk much in the boat. The scenery is too awesome. We all love to watch the islands go by peacefully. I had a lot of fun with my camera, a Nikon Coolpix S8200 I bought in 2011. One day I’ll save for a better camera with lenses and more chances to make creative choices, but for now I love my little red point and click device. I like to capture trees, rocks, clouds, and patterns in nature that interest me. My friend Tom was visiting this week (and he is an incredible photographer–check out his stuff by clicking here). He reminded me to think about what I’m shooting (is it a picture of the clouds or the water?) and to consider the rule of thirds. I started that process a little, but I think the art of seeing will be a lifelong learning journey for me. I’m not a photographer by any stretch, just a big fan of Georgian Bay trying to preserve what I love most about it in pictures.
My big challenge is taking pictures while the boat is moving. Dad knows so many stunning places to go but he just keeps moving so I have to quickly decide on a shot and grab it while we move on. So I take hundreds of photos. Then I upload them to my MacBook Air, choosing the ones I like, often surprised by what “got caught.” Using the simple editing tools in Photos I straighten some of the drunken horizons (it’s so hard to shoot a straight horizon line in a moving boat), crop to focus the shot better, and click the magic “enhance” wand. This time I tried the classic slide show feature in Photos and created a video.
Here is our day on Georgian Bay:
The contrast of the clear blue skies with the fluffy grey clouds was so interesting to watch as everything was always changing: the clouds shifting, the sunlight adjusting, the water changing colours.
Dad took us out on a beautiful August evening for a sunset cruise around Gereaux Island Lighthouse. What makes the water look like a mirror? Why do sunsets feel so much like coming home?
Another gorgeous day in Northeastern Georgian Bay on the water. Today I wondered if clouds could be as diverse as snowflakes.
Today I found a wonderful story about my great-grandfather, Louis Lamondin. He was the lighthouse keeper of Gereaux Island Lighthouse on Georgian Bay from 1910-1918 and from 1925-1946. He was responsible for the light for 29 years! My family lived there for over fifty years.
It isn’t easy finding stories from that time. Louis’ daughter, my great-aunt Bernice, lived there as a child. I always asked her lots of questions about living at the lighthouse. She talked about fun things like going to dances on a nearby island or playing on the rocks with her siblings. If we asked a very specific question, Aunt Bea always answered. But I always wanted more. I still do. My grandfather, William Lamondin didn’t talk about the lighthouse much, but I wonder if it’s because we didn’t ask. My grandfather passed away when I was a young child. The lighthouse was so much a part of our family nobody thought to document life there, probably much like I haven’t taken the time to document my father’s career at General Motors.
Now, I treasure any stories I find about my family and the lighthouse.