Lake-oriented odds and ends in late July

Dwight Peck's personal website

Summer 2025

A photographic record of whatever leapt out at us

You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.

Lake-oriented odds and ends in late July 2025

A proper boat on the lake at last

So many loud and bothersome powerboats and jetskis all over the lake on otherwise quiet afternoons, as well as kayaks, paddleboards, and fishing boats along the shores. It's refreshing to see that Tommy and Stephanie have got their sailboat out for a run (15 July 2025).

This is clearly a strenuous business, leaping from side to side under that vigorous sail boom.

Back and forth across the North Bay

[Oh, I can't look!]

All's well again (after two more of those apparent near-inversions, all taken in stride).

It all looks like great fun (as long as you know what you're doing).

[I never learned, but sometimes helped out. Many years ago, the Dean of our library school invited me and my two kids out onto Narragansett Bay, and as he was very excitable, I cautioned the girls that, if he started yelling unintelligible orders, they should just smile. He did -- 'Put the thing in the thing'!!! -- so they just smiled, and he had to bring the boat under control by himself. Which he did. Tho' I helped a little.]

Mussent Point Central

A festive party, with kids

The newest addition to the clan really loves chocolate mousse (16 July 2025).

The centre of attention!

Two other very young participants getting into the action

-- Let's clean this kid up.

Claire boxing up young Owen for shipping.

The Crossing of the Bar (not)

The rocky sandbar connecting Ryden's Island to the mainland is always a worthy challenge, but . . .

. . . this time we weren't up to it.

Luckily, when all else fails, we can always bail out and push the thing across. Feeling that somehow we have failed. But there'll likely be a next time (with less headwind).

A chase round Chase Island

Chase is a small island, once the top of a little rocky hill, only 200 ft long, and presently useful only for scenic purposes.

Built upon piles of rocks (and a few boulders), but still not imprevious to constant assaults from high-wake passing speedboats.

With very little going for it on the surface, except a Yawkey Forest Reserve no-trespassing sign, it is well supplied with submerged rocky extensions that might help to keep the wake-boaters at a distance.

Not that keeping them at a distance would make any difference. Their often huge, fast wake waves can be undiminished over 300 metres.

But this one ought to help, as long as they're not being vigilant, which quite possibly they're not.

Uncle George observing little George (in flight), and Choupette preparing for flight.

It's very likely that Melvin was snoozing in the blue catbed and Choupette decided that she'd rather have it for herself. And Melvin said 'Oh, okay'.

Another pilgrimage to Cousin Rob's bench

The last time we came to visit Rob's commemorative bench, we had an epic quibble with the undercut shoreline, just scrambling up, knees and all, and then inching back down. So we'll try this mooring zone instead. 26 July 2025.

This old path runs along the shoreline northward, and is no longer in use. (Except now)

It'll be safe there, all tied up, wake boats or none.

A brilliant memorial, where old friends and passing tourists can . . .

. . . sit for a while, and look out . . .

. . . at the lake that Cousin Rob was so profoundly a fan of.

Now to clamber back down without falling in.

Waves starting to roll in, somebody's streaking past us out there.

There it is, and . . .

. . . here it comes.

They're not finished yet.

The waves are bouncing the bike all round; if they get the propeller nestled in amongst the submerged branches, we may be stuck here forever.

The propeller's stuck, we can't back up. We'll try to pull forward through this gap on the left.

It worked, the hydrobike squirted right through that gap, no problem. Except that we got knocked off it into the soup.

Never mind. It will all dry off soon. And this tiny bit of shoreline looks a lot easier to step onto next time we come.

The long reef of the eastern corner of Adjidaumo, the central island

That used to be the easy way up onto the old path leading to the high point at the far end. Some fallen trees blocked it off several years ago, but we had a go at it two summers ago and got hornetted half to death by a hidden nest in one of them.

So at the moment, we're just reconnoitering all round, looking for potentially a new way up.

We like, when convenient, to get another close-up photo of the eagles' nest from just below it.

A wake boat doing its worst. The fellow in the back has let go of his rope and is trying to ride the wake as if he were properly surfing. There are at least five wake boats residentially on the lake, but that seems to be one that's been brought in to the public landing for the day.

-- So, what shall we do today? Any ideas.

Little Buddy's driving lessons

And Uncle Eric's having just as much fun.

We've just snuck by to retrieve our book, and will tiptoe.

The 'study' at night

Melvin's exploring the skiboat, again.

We tried to coax him back to a place where we could reach out and lift him back to safety -- no luck, but then he just leapt down with no trouble at all (laughing inwardly, no doubt).

Kristin and Emily taking little George (aka 'Buddy') out for a spin.

This looks ever so cute, but in fact those two, Choupette and her half-sibling Pugsly, are sworn and serious enemies. For some reason that we'll never understand.

So that's why we're hastening to get of photo of them quietly together. Though Pugsly seems not best pleased.

Nearly three weeks of Canadian wildfire smoke -- the air quality index mostly near 150. One feels almost guilty hydrobiking. No apparent harm done, though.

An apologetic photo of one of the patroling duck families. We rounded the point and saw them all lined up on a fallen tree, where we've photographed their near ancestors often, but we came too close and they panicked, plooped into the water, and Mom scurried them back near the shrubberies.

A recent casualty. It's still got its leaves on, till winter.

Choupette asking permission to join up

Mel's always amenable, within reason.

Night night, kids. We'll be along soon.

Oscar's back on the lake for a few weeks. Hooray. 4 August 2025.

-- Schlaf gut, kleine Kätzchen!

Coming soon: A family gathering in Sault St Marie