Campbellford – The Voyages of Nine Lives

July 1 to 15, 2019 – Bath to Peterborough

A relatively short hop on a calm day took us from Kingston to Bath, Ontario, a historic community settled in 1784 by United Empire Loyalists. A sheltered harbour and road access to the important town of Kingston helped the town to become prosperous. United Empire Loyalists moved north to British North America during and after the American Revolution. Many settled in what are now the Maritime provinces and Quebec, but some started new towns in Upper Canada, that eventually became the province of Ontario. The Crown gave the Loyalists land grants of 200 acres, to encourage settlement, and this began the first major influx of English-speaking immigrants to Canada. Not all stayed, many returned to the new United States, and others retained close ties, including commercial interests, with those they left behind. Initially a bustling lakefront manufacturing centre, Bath began to lose importance as it was bypassed by important rail and road connections, until in 1998 it was disincorporated and added to Loyalist Township. Today it is a sleepy village with some surprising subdivisions of prosperous looking middle class homes, presumably occupied by commuters to Kingston and retirees seeking a relatively quiet waterfront community. We arrived on Canada Day, the July 1^st celebration of Canada’s birthday. The town puts on an outstanding fireworks display, which we enjoyed from the cockpit of the boat, only slightly obscured by an inconvenient tree. We later learned that Bath’s display is well known, and considered far better than the one put on by the much larger town of Kingston.

The marina we stayed in had a boatyard, so Dick asked them to see if they could solve the problem with the dinghy motor failing to start. I unfortunately missed the photo opportunity as Dick launched it and paddled it away to be hauled out. The technician spent quite some time, but ultimately failed to diagnose the problem. He did, however, suggest a work-around until Dick can find a Yamaha specialist. This low-tech solution involves taking the cowling off the motor and stuffing a rag into the air intake. A certain finesse is required to get the right moment to pull the rag out and replace the cowling while still keeping the motor running. All this to be accomplished without falling out of the admittedly somewhat tippy craft, and preferably before untying the painter (that’s the rope that secures the boat to a dock or mooring) and risking an unplanned voyage! Dick was surprised when it came time to settle the bill, as the technician felt badly that he could not solve the problem and charged for only one hour, even though he worked on it for several. Excellent customer service.

The next evening was the main event for our stay in Bath, a reservation at a farm-to-table restaurant in nearby Portsmouth. Dick had wanted to try it last year, but had decided it was too far from Kingston to ride bikes. So of course, this year we stayed even further away and had to take a taxi. It was an outstanding meal, the chef very involved with taking orders and serving. He seemed to particularly enjoy chatting with Dick about boating and the Great Loop, and even offered to drive us back to the marina! Dick may have ever so slightly regretted his gracious refusal when he paid for the taxi. To add insult to the injury to his wallet, his phone slipped off his belt and was left in the cab. A phone call the next morning was successful, the phone was found and they agreed to hold it for us at the depot for collection on the weekend.

Portsmouth appetizer — Beautiful presentation of a cheddar tart with tomatoes, shallots and arugula at Bayview Farm Restaurant in Portsmouth.

Portsmouth fish — Dick enjoyed a main course of Arctic Char

Portsmouth dessert — The dessert special was a maple cheesecake. Irresistible! And note the reasonable portion size.

Onward to Picton, a charming and artsy town in Prince Edward County. The art and sculpture offered in the galleries is to a high standard, and the town is very tidy and prosperous looking. Many of the historic buildings have been sympathetically repurposed, and there are interesting boutiques and restaurants. On our first evening we found an outstanding fine dining restaurant in a gorgeous old house. We had a wonderful meal, and hope to return at some point.

Picton restaurant — Merrill House in Picton

Picton vegetarian — I chose vegetarian, a delicious concoction of asparagus and chevre with quails eggs.

Picton dessert — Dessert was as glorious as the rest of the meal.

Prince Edward County is a beautiful peninsula, essentially an island, jutting out into Lake Ontario. In early years Picton was a schooner port, manufacturing and distribution centre, first settled in the late 1700’s by Loyalists. Today the County is known as region producing good wines, as well as being a mecca for tourism and the arts.

The next day we walked to the studio of a fantastic sculptor. Paul Verrall retired from a successful career in Graphic Art and Design in Montreal, and returned to his first love, sculpture. He carves wonderfully tactile pieces inspired mainly by Canadian wildlife, using the softer stones such as Soapstone, Serpentine, Alabaster, Cola and African Wonderstone (pyrophyllite). We were truly blown away by his work, and spend quite a long time chatting with him and his wife. For some reason Dick failed to correctly interpret my increasingly broad hints and eye movements, and we briefly left the studio empty handed. However, it took zero negotiation before I rushed back to discuss and arrange to buy the piece we had both agreed was the one we could not resist. A polar bear stands on the ice, with seals swimming below. Like many of Paul’s works, it can be lit from behind or below to give an entirely different impression of the piece as the light creates a soft glow through the stone.

Paul Verrall’s beautiful sculpture of a polar bear and seals under the ice floe.

Later that afternoon we were delighted to entertain Paul and his charming wife Donna on board Nine Lives for docktails and nibbles. We are looking forward to renewing acquaintance when we return in August to collect our piece.

Picton 5 — This year’s high water has had an impact on the marina, with some docks and even the new landscaping under water. But the ducks like it!

As we left Picton we passed a huge cement plant and quarry. It is quite an eyesore, visible from miles around from the water, and of course from the opposite shore. Cement has been used since the times of the Greeks and the Romans, and the world uses a lot of it. The total world production of cement in 2010 was 3,300 million tonnes (according to Wikipedia), and use continues to rise. It just seems rather sad that quarries and manufacturing plants seem to be located in some of the country’s great beauty spots.

Picton cement plant — The cement plant outside Picton

Picton quarry — Next to the cement plant is an enormous quarry

We arrived in familiar Trent Port Marina, happy to be located slightly closer to the showers this year. This is the town where Dick was born, and his Mom lives nearby in Brighton. We had hoped to dock in Brighton this year, but the high water has put so many docks under water that the only marina that would have been suitable is not available. Trenton is a convenient place, with an Enterprise car rental within walking distance and plenty of shops and restaurants. The first evening we took Mom to dinner at one of the Brighton restaurants that overlooks the waterfront. We returned to Trent Port to hear the sounds of celtic music floating over the marina. It was coming from a fellow Looper and Endeavourcat, Aisling Gheal (Bright Vision). Jeff and Barbie play banjo and flute in their cockpit in the evenings, a delightful sound for the rest of us to enjoy!

Trent Port 2 — I watched with interest as a large crane lowered a sailboat into the water in Trenton.

The next day we took the rented car to Brewerton (stopping on the way to collect Dick’s errant phone), and collected our vehicle that had been left in storage at the boat yard. We drove back in convoy, and then left the Range Rover in Mom’s unused parking space at her apartment for collection when we return next month for her birthday party. While in Trenton we also shopped at the Dutch delicatessen, picking up yet more goodies for docktail offerings. Dick borrowed some of his brother’s saw horses but unfortunately, they were just not quite the right size and height. The project was to take the fridge out of its slot and install a new part that the manufacturer had sent, in the hopes that it would solve our mysterious issue with cooling the fridge part of the side by side fridge freezer unit. Last year some fans were added to the rear of the unit to try to provide more air circulation around the coils, but that didn’t work. The new resistor should have worked, but sadly did not, even after Dick removed a couple of the wooden slats that were restricting air flow to the rear of the unit. For now, we are referring to it as our “warm fridge”, and keep only items that are happy being stored between 40 and 50 degrees F in there. We are very fortunate the Nine Lives has a lot of extra refrigeration space, so we can wait and try different solutions for this particular issue.

fixing the fridge — A shoulder is almost as good as saw horses at holding the fridge balanced on the counter while repairs are attempted!

Weeds are an ongoing problem in marinas. Trent Port has this very interesting floating machine that scoops the weed out of the water for later disposal.

Eventually it was time to start up the Trent Severn Waterway, repeating a part of last year’s voyage. We planned to stop again in the places that we liked, and also choose some alternatives along the way. The first glitch in the plan occurred the first night. To our vast surprise, the somewhat lonely, and particularly salubrious stop above Frankford Lock proved to be a great magnet for Loopers. Not only were there three boats that left Trent Port ahead of us who decided to stop, a further three boats that had arrived the previous day were enjoying themselves so much that they decided to stay a second night! Six boats filled up all the spaces and we were forced to find an alternative stopping point further up. Glen Ross was a safe if boring spot for the night, and the next day we continued on to Campbellford.

Here we enjoyed an excellent meal at Antonia’s, a lovely restaurant tucked away on a back street that we had visited twice last year. The chef retired from the Toronto restaurant scene, and was somewhat shocked at the lack of dining options in rural Ontario, so he and his wife opened their own restaurant. Summers are good, but he told us that the winter was very difficult. On our return to the dock we enjoyed some well played and very familiar sixties and seventies music by a great local family band in the gazebo in the park.

Campbellford 2 — Boats tied up on the wall by the park in Campbellford

Leaving Campbellford early to be first on the “Blue Line” for the lock, we managed to nip ahead of Visions, a beautiful boat that had been on the dock near us in Trenton and across the canal in Glen Ross. The captain came up, hoping to negotiate a fit into the lock with us and another large trawler, to no avail. However, we got talking, the usual stuff, “So are you really from Hilton Head? Where do you live? Wexford? Really? We lived in Wexford for 10 years!” It’s a small world. Jan and Bob Kossman were part timers in the plantation before we moved there. Later we got together with them in Hastings for docktails, and then again in Peterborough. One of the wonderful things about boating is that you meet such nice people, and then later you might well meet them again! After docktails on Visions, Dick and I headed for the dockside restaurant. It did not really seem like our kind of place, somewhat loud and a considerably younger crowd. We had arrived on Karaoke Night. Dick asked the friendly host to seat us “Somewhere away from this racket”, thus irredeemably relegating himself to Old Fogie status. He got that indulgent look that the young give to the old and very eccentric, and the nice young man (who honestly looked like an Amish biker if there is such a thing), seated us outside. We ate an indifferent meal and were in turn eaten by mosquitoes, but at least we weren’t deafened.

The next morning our friends on Visions were up and away at a seriously uncivilized hour to ensure that this time they would be first on the Blue Line. We chuckled and finished our coffee and then enjoyed a very nice breakfast across the canal at the excellent local eatery.

We had tried to make a reservation at the marina in Peterborough some time ahead. (Notwithstanding the requirement to avoid having a strict schedule, it does pay to make reservations in popular marinas for the weekends as soon as you can be reasonably sure that you will get there when you say you will). We were told that they were fully booked with several large boating groups coming in for the music festival, but if we didn’t mind being without power, they would “fit us in somewhere”. Upon arrival, we discovered that the “somewhere” is the free dock, at the far south end of Little Lake, that we were familiar with from last year when we met Dick’s uncle Hans and his wife there. This T-shaped concrete dock is in good deep water, but it is popular with fishermen and geese. The fishermen are not a problem, the geese, and their copious leavings, a bit more so. As the dockhands (who had transported themselves by golf cart) tied us up, I was, possibly, somewhat undiplomatic in my comments. Once we were settled, Dick rode his bicycle over to the marina, prepared with many arguments (including no security, power, water, or wifi) as to why he should be given a substantial discount, only to have the wind taken entirely out of his sails when he was told they don’t charge for that dock! We did get to move to the marina for our last night, allowing us to do laundry and take on water. Our spot on the free dock was immediately taken up by two other Looper trawlers. It is a pretty location, as long as you don’t mind the geese.

After an excellent meal at an Indian Restaurant, we returned to the boat in time for the outdoor concert that had the marina filled and people parked on the side streets for miles around. I gather the Crash Test Dummies were a very big Canadian band in the 90’s, and there was great excitement that they were reunited and performing at this concert. Their music is described as Alt Folk Rock, but, sadly, from our perspective, there is an awful lot of Alt and not so much folk or rock… Being a famous band with commercial success, they of course played entirely their own music. I could go to great lengths to describe and critique, at risk of sounding exactly like my parents, but suffice to say, not our scene. Not that we had any choice, in spite of the bandshell facing away from us and being behind a large building, the sound was such that even with the doors closed we could not watch TV below in the boat. Fortunately, nobody plays very late these days, so by about 9:30 everyone was leaving. Our dock was then infested by a different kind of pest, teenagers, girls huddling and flirting, boys loud and showing off. Eventually, the large gang left, but one of the boys stood swaying on the dock and asked, “Do you have a bathroom on board?” I passed that one to Dick for fielding, and he very diplomatically (I thought), said, “No one is allowed on the boat.” The fellow complemented Nine Lives and staggered away.

The next day we rode our bikes to several foodie shops. The first is a British food shop that we visited last year, where we stocked up on English style bacon and Warburton’s crumpets. Then on to a wonderful cheese shop. In addition to all sorts of interesting condiments, they offer hundreds of different cheeses, both local and imported. The shop owner is very enthusiastic and knowledgeable, and delights in offering tastings of all the cheeses. I spied the Ossau Iraty, a sheep’s milk from French Basque country that was a favourite of mine when we were in Paris. I said I just wanted to buy a big piece, didn’t need a tasting, and the owner was actually disappointed. We made up for it though, by sampling about 10 different cheeses and then of course buying quite a few! From the cheese shop it was a short step to a gourmet butcher and fishmonger. We do have quite a bit of meat already in the freezer, but Dick failed to resist some steaks for the grill. So far this year we have eaten very few meals on board, instead seeking out the nicest restaurants on our travels. Dick says that so far, our food budget is exceeding our marina budget! This will likely change and we will be working our way through our freezer hoard when we get into Georgian Bay and the North Channel, with many fewer towns and opportunities for eating out.

In the afternoon Dick’s uncle George came and spent a few hours with us on the boat. He retired from dairy farming some years ago, and now lives in Peterborough. It was great to see him, and Dick enjoyed reminiscing and conversation about dairy farming and how it has changed since his parents and grandparents first emigrated from Netherlands in the 50’s. Later on, Dick launched the dinghy and tested the low tech solution to starting the motor. It worked well. After a short tour around the harbour, Dick returned to the mother ship in a freshening wind. It took several tries to position the dink so that I could catch the line and secure it. I wanted to assure the audience (there is always an audience, especially when execution of a tricky maneuver is not quite flawless), that we are much slicker when we dock Nine Lives!

Peterborough Marina 2 — Dick taking Minnie, the dinghy, out for a spin in Peterborough

Peterborough Marina — Oh my! The wind came up!

The next morning we headed out towards the Peterborough Lift Lock and further adventures.

July 19 to August 6, 2018: Jones Falls to Peterborough

July 19 to August 6

After transiting a flight of three locks to get to the lower basin at Jones Falls, we tied up along a wall at Hotel Kenny. This is a historic hotel, opened in 1877. For most of the 20^th century it appears to have thrived as a fishing camp, with local guides taking guests out to catch big fish on nearby lakes. Sadly, it has not moved with the times. The motel style outbuildings are unlikely to offer the level of comfort expected at the prices charged, and all structures including the main hotel are clearly in need of major maintenance. The dining room was nearly empty, apart from diners from the boats that had tied up for the night, suggesting that there are few hotel guests even at peak season. It was all rather sad, especially as the location is beautiful and so much could be made of the site.

After 6 more locks we finished the Rideau Canal and arrived in Kingston. Dick and I went to Queen’s University there, and he enjoyed a long walk to the campus to see how much has changed. Kingston is a historic town occupying what was once a strategic location for defence of Upper Canada against those pesky Americans from the breakaway colonies! Originally a French trading post called Cataraqui, it was taken over by the British and renamed King’s Town after George III. The former French Fort Frontenac was partially reconstructed in 1783, and a colony was set up for displaced British colonists, or “Loyalists” who were fleeing north from the War of Independence. Fort Henry was built during the War of 1812 to protect the dockyards and the approach to the Rideau Canal. The dockyards are now the site of Royal Military College. Some of the cadets join the reinactment group of Fort Henry Guard, who staff Fort Henry during the summer months.

We enjoyed great pizza the first evening, and discovered when we were returning to the boat that there is a free country music concert for an hour each Wednesday evening. Unfortunately, the hour was almost done, so we listened to just one song before the musicians packed up and left. Pity, they sounded quite good! The next day we walked up Princess Street (pretty much unrecognizable after ahem, 40-some years) and tried a German restaurant. Dick enjoyed his meal, me, not so much.

From Kingston we set off towards Picton. We knew the forecast was for high winds, but Dick felt confident that we would be in waters protected by Wolfe and Amerst Islands for most of the trip. The first stretch of open water was pretty lumpy, but the second part needed some major maneuvering to deal with much higher waves than expected. As Dick wrestled with the wheel, we were surprised to be hailed on the radio. I staggered over to the radio and responded. It was a sailboat, who had just passed us. Intrigued by the sight of a power catamaran, they wanted to know who was the manufacturer of Nine Lives and what year was she. Compliments were paid, including “she handles the seas very well!” As Dick fought the wheel… A deteriorating weather forecast suggested that we should run all the way to Belleville instead of stopping at Picton as originally planned.

The next day we had to keep a close eye on the weather to find the one hour window we needed to get to Trenton. By 1pm the wind had settled a bit and changed direction enough that we headed out. Arrival in Trent Port Marina was made slightly more exciting by large numbers of small runabouts with fishermen, all of whom were maneuvering to get to the launch ramp across the river from the fuel/pumpout dock! I keep saying Trenton, but the town that Dick was born in has become Quinte West after some geographical redistribution and combination with two other towns. It seems to have been a worthwhile change for Trenton, in addition to a superb marina, there is a large City Hall and library building, and many areas of town that were derelict seem to have been cleaned up. There is still a shortage of good shops in the downtown area, but we enjoyed shopping at the European deli, stocking up on various Dutch and English imported foods and treats.

I hung up my galley slave apron, and tucked away the fender maid gloves to get on a flight home for a week. I enjoyed the chance to just be by myself, as well as bridge, lunch and dinners with friends, and lots of time with my boy Tucker. I also took care of the major issues caused by my website host, so my emails are “clean” again. Dick spent much of the week with his Mum, going on drives and scouting the various locations on the Trent Severn Waterway that are our next destinations. He had a two page list of jobs to be done on the boat as well, and some of those were even crossed off!

Eventually the break was over and we set off up the Trent River towards Frankford. First, we stopped for fuel and a pump-out. This was our first time to fuel since the Hudson River, and we were expecting to take on about 400 gallons of diesel. Unfortunately, the marina ran out after only 250! We will be able to get to Georgian Bay easily on that, but we felt sorry for any boaters behind us who were planning to fill up!

The Trent Severn Waterway is a 240 mile long series of canals and connected rivers and lakes joining Lake Ontario with Georgian Bay. The first lock was built in 1833, but it took years of broken promises and political infighting until 1915 before the entire route was completed. There are two particularly noteworthy features along the route, but we will be passing them next week, so I will be telling you all about those in the next update! There are 44 locks, 39 swing bridges, and 160 dams along the route that that manage the water levels for flood control and navigation on lakes and rivers in a large area of southern Ontario. The Waterway passes through “cottage country”, the summer destination for a great many city dwellers. Dick learned to swim in the Trent River, and his grandparents farmed land adjacent to the river. Today many of the farms have been abandoned and the land is going back to woods.

A feature of much of the waterway is free docking at lock walls and town walls for overnights. We stopped first at Frankford, still technically part of Quinte West, and only 6 miles from Trenton, but 6 locks were enough on a hot day. Dick grilled steaks and baked potatoes and we cooked fresh corn on the cob for one of our best meals on board. The new grill is proving to be a great success, compared to the strange one that came with the boat. We are also pleased with the purchase of an induction burner, that we can plug in beside the grill and keep the heat and steam from cooking outside the galley.

As we approached the first lock the next morning we were delighted to find Dick’s brother Ed waiting to join us for the day’s travel. He was immediately directed to the stern line, to be his sole charge for the rest of the day as we went through the next 6 locks to Campbellford. All that work required a suitable beverage after we tied up, and we were joined by Ed’s son Brent for libations and a few snacks. The extra crew certainly made for an easy and relaxing day!

Campbellford is a small town in the middle of farming country, with excellent town wall docking for visiting boats. We tied up on the west side, next to the park that features a 27 foot high statue of a toonie. What’s a toonie you ask? Well, Canada’s $1 coin began to be called a “loonie” after its introduction, because of the image of a loon on the coin. When the time came to introduce a $2 coin, it seemed natural to call it a “toonie”. The design of a polar bear on an ice floe was created by Brent Townsend, a Campbellford artist. Imagine our surprise as we enjoyed our drinks and snacks to see a big tour bus draw up on the other side of the park and decant large numbers of Japanese tourists. They proceeded to wander around the park in a bemused fashion, eventually posing for the usual selfies with the statue, and returning to their bus after about a 30 minute stop. Who knew a 27 foot toonie was such a tourist draw that people would travel from the other side of the world to see it?

The town’s attractions did not end with good docking and a giant toonie. In the evening we discovered a tiny European style bistro called Antonia’s. It is owned and run by a chef from Sri Lanka and his Filipino wife, who retired from the restaurant business in Toronto. Frustrated by the lack of local fine dining, they opened their bistro two years ago, and it has become a very successful business. The menu is mostly European. Dick loved his Osso Bucco, and I had delicious shrimp in Cajun cream sauce. However, the chef told us they also offer a ‘curry night” about once a month, that is increasingly popular.

From Campbellford we continued our leisurely trip to Hastings, transiting another 6 locks to arrive at a town wall that was completely full with small boats stopping for ice cream. Fortunately, the town also operates a marina across the river, and they had room for us for the night. The next day we enjoyed a relief from locks for most of the day, travelling across Rice Lake and then up the pretty Otonabee River to finish with one lock and arrival in Peterborough.

Peterborough is a medium sized city that is becoming a mecca for retirees. Cultural activities and affordable living are listed as some of the advantages, in addition to easy access to major centres of Toronto, Ottawa, and Kingston. There is a nice marina at the edge of Little Lake, a relatively short walk to downtown and restaurants. Yesterday evening we walked to a nearby Italian restaurant, and after an excellent meal we discovered that Dick’s Uncle Hans and his wife Cathy were docked just along the waterfront in their houseboat. After some convivial conversation and drinks on board their boat we staggered home to Nine Lives. In the centre of Little Lake is a huge waterspout fountain, and at night it is lit by changing colours. We are looking forward to a local Indian restaurant for our dinner tonight.

The next couple of weeks will include the Peterborough Lift Lock and the Big Chute Marine Railway and arrival in Georgian Bay. That will get us a break from locks for a while and some more weather dependent travel to look forward to.