Slow Boat

Whenever our guidebooks describe a tricky bit of navigation, they list the buoy  numbers and compass directions and visual landmarks and they describe the currents and the risk of shoaling . . . and then, they repeat this sage bit of advice:  "Seek local knowledge."

Which is why we're so diligent in following the model set down by canalboater Terry Darlington in his Narrowdog books:  Once you're docked or anchored for the evening, seek the local bar and chat up the local boaters.  (And which is why we were in stitches over the sign shown above, spotted near the channel not far from the Crow's Nest Marina in Venice.)

Your candy or your life!

The Great Loop is hardly the coast of Somalia.  And yet you have to be cautious of pirate attacks--especially at this time of the year, in late October.  

The brave crew of the Dragonfly has already survived one onslaught of pirates, in Canada, on the Trent-Severn Waterway.  

Last night, peacefully docked at Joe Wheeler State Park, we were attacked again.

Luckily, we had our defenses ready: A bowl of Snickers bars and some pie.  

The pirates are Morgan, Ryann, and Jaxon Parrent, three siblings who may possibly be the youngest people completing the Great Loop this year.

The Parrent Pirates are not sailing solo.  For crew they have impressed (captured) their actual parents, Craig and Danielle.  This family's story is inspiring (check out the link!).  About a year go, they walked away from a successful business and a beautiful home in a quest to spend more time with family, pursue adventures they had dreamed of, and lead a simpler life.

SlowBoat's August 31st "What IS It?" contest attracted two partially correct answers.  (If you remember, the photo showed an eerie sand-dune landscape--tawny cliffs fringed with tropical vegetation and pocked with animal burrows.)

The scene was reminiscent of a desert landscape.  Cropped out of the photo were the construction cranes and the rusting barges along the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal.  Greg P. correctly identified the "cliffs" as material stored by the city of Chicago to deal with icy roads in winter--but that stuff is sand, not salt.  And Cliff from State College correctly identified the burrows as belonging to bank swallows--a common species that obviously found a welcoming home in this industrial landscape.

What IS it, perched in profusion on our solar panels?

The photo at right is a bit of a place holder--I bet you can easily guess what you're looking at here. Here's TODAY'S ACTUAL CHALLENGE:
A curious item, spotted at a BBQ restaurant, on an outdoor patio, at dusk.  I couldn't get a satisfactory image.  But I can describe the scene.

We docked last night in the historic town of Ottawa, Illinois (famous for hosting the first Lincoln-Douglas debate in 1858), and this morning, at a local laundromat, the manager told me about the hottest new local sport.  It calls for the cool nerves and keen eye of a hunter combined the powerful biceps of a competitive weightlifter and the reflexes of a video-game addict.  The sport is Aerial Bowfishing for Asian Carp.

Creative names are common for fishing-charter boats

Back in Killarney, we were captivated by the small fleet of "fishing turtles," the distinctive steel-hulled boats used for commercial fishing on the Great Lakes.

If you ALSO think these oddball boats are cute, I have some great news.  You could be a proud owner!  We spotted this one for sale in the town of Blind River.  The Captain looks tempted . . .

Usually navigation marks consist of red and green buoys, but on our passage through Collins Channel, approaching Killarney, we saw this directive, neatly summarizing our trip philosophy.

One challenge of our trip is: Where to stay each night?  

We aimed to stay in Bobcageon, Ontario, on Canada Day (which is like America's Fourth of July--the biggest vacation weekend of the summer).   

Of course, the marina in town was full up. But we rafted up to the gas dock and looked desolate, and the owner kindly made a place for us.  

So far, cruising the Trent-Severn has been peaceful. Lakefront cottages.  Tracts of forest.  

But, trouble loomed.  As we approached the lock at Bolsover, we spotted a Viking.  

Well, actually it was a guy, paddling a yellow plastic kayak, wearing a Viking helmet--the kind with large plastic horns.  "Prepare to repel boarders!"  we yelled.

Little did we know the peril we faced.  The Viking turned out to be harmless, but the crew was about to be kidnapped by pirates. We happened to glance behind and saw that we were being stormed by six pirate ships, each one flying the skull and crossbones, each one with a frightening pirate captain at the helm, and each with a crew of alluring pirate wenches.