Another Fine Day

A little rain last night, a lot of sun today. Strong west wind blowing any bugs past Ottawa.  

Mother Nature's rain gauge—just a poplar leaf lying on the Lane.

A little house work, a little boat work.

It turns out that the depth finder I so carefully installed is not the right device, not NMEA 2000. Bad advice from the sales rep who sold it to me. So, now I get to rip the dang thing out, pay for a new one (which looks just the same as the old one), and enjoy the installation process once again.

But not to worry. This sort of thing is just one of the joys of boating.

NMEA 2000

Getting the new electronics working on Heliotrope.  

Great blue heron over a blue Mudge Bay.

New masthead wind speed and direction sensor, new depth finder, and new GPSMap chartplotter and sensor display all installed (with cables running down one mast through several bulkheads, and up another mast) and connected up to an NMEA bus. But not easy. One problem being the boat's original wiring, which turns out to be backwards from what is conventional (boat built in Japan in 1978 where/when black was positive and white was neg). It took a few blown fuses to figure that one out. And then the supposedly NMEA compliant depth finder has a plug at the end of the long cable I snaked through the bilge that doesn't fit the NMEA bus. I'm hoping there's an adapter.

Overall, nice, smart work by Norm. What I really like about Norm is that he never panics, never freaks out—even when nothing works and nothing makes any sense. His great experience and great mechanical aptitude never fail to assure him that there is always a solution.

Clouds most of the day, staving off more sunstroke, and a little light rain right now.

Sticks Back Up

While Sue worked away cottage-side, finishing up and cleaning up, I worked with Norm to get Heliotrope's masts back up.  

Stepping masts is a nervous-making, technical challenge—dealing with heavy loads and high heights and minute adjustments. (But, really, what could be more fun?) (Note the new wind instrument at the top of the mainmast.) The next challenge will be connecting all the wiring and electronics. Will the anchor light work? The strobe? The spreader lights? The radio? Will the new masthead wind instrument display useful data on the new display?

We'll see.

Buttercups

Lovely day, with a powerful west wind and cottonball clouds in a cerulean sky.  

The last upstairs bedroom is finished—trimmed and painted. And that means the entire interior of the house is finished. A milestone. All that's left is the porch. 

As I was mowing the patch of lawn over the weeping bed—recent moisture has actually got the grass (and other things) growing—I glimpsed Pax moving fast downslope toward the water with something big dangling from his jaws. I left the mower and hustled after, but by the time I got to the shore all I foiund was Pax swimming. No sign of any victim. Decidedly odd—Pax prefers wading to swimming, and I know I saw something.

The Water's Edge

Another day, another hydro outage.  No juice from seven to one. But we've become accustomed, and have adapted. Today's adaptation was a trip up to the Esso for coffee (their generator enables the pumping of gas the the brewing of coffee). And then down to the small boat harbor where Pax wandered while we sat on rocks and sipped our morning brew.

There always is a water's edge, and this, above, is one of them. One one side is land, on the other side, all of Lake Michigan, Lake Huron, Green Bay and Georgian Bay.

Dedicated a few un-rushed hours to getting the Windrider carefully re-rigged. To do so, I ran the boat up on the marina beach so I could walk around and tug on various things. That meant wading, nearly up to the knees, as I worked around the boat. But, ouch! The water so cold (wind blowing out) it felt like ice cubes clamped to my ankles. And yet, a few kids were wading around, and even going down the water slide (and ending up totally immersed).

The lilacs are breaking into bloom.

The Chase

Pax almost caught... 

The prey. 

The predator.  

...what I think is a giant muskrat.

Pax flushed it out of the brush along the path between us and Tyson's, and was nipping at its tail (round, not flat) as it raced into the water. Once deep enough it dove, and that's when Pax lost it. Quite an energetic bit of rodent work for a dog still recovering from knee surgery. 

The Windrider

Otherwise, finished trimming the upstairs bedroom, and then launched the Windrider (with help from Bruce and Andrew). Stepping the mast is always a challenge (and on processes that are repeated only annually memory of how to do stuff usually fails just when you need it), but, still, fewer snafus this year than in times past. The boat floats, and the mast points up.

Growing Weather

Last night's rain... 

...got everything revitalized. Farmers at the farmer's market in Gore Bay seemed a happy lot, although our farmer/baker (who specializes in date bars) fears she night have lost hundreds of cabbages in her back acres due to the May drought.

Morning fog, which made me wish I was out sailing. Also, morning boat work, with Sue up on deck going at the deck and cabin top, and me down in the bilge aligning and gluing in the base of the new depth transponder.

Purvis whitefish for dinner tonight (farmer's market); and a freezer pretty full from our stop at Burt Farm on the way home.

In the afternoon: while Sue was caulking the battens in the almost finished upstairs bedroom, I planted out the circle garden—10 tomatoes (a variety from two of the farmers at the market) along with peas, beans, onions, garlic, beets, kale, and cucumbers. Not enough space for potatoes, and I've given up on carrots. And then down in the driveway—the perennial herb garden, of course, but also basil and cilantro.

Also, today, post rain—mosquitoes, a dragon fly, and several tree frogs, just tuning up. The ash trees have leafed out enough to appear to have leaves; and all around Island lilacs are coming into bloom.

More Humid

Even a brief rain this morning, enough to wet the ground.  

Fellow shade lovers.

UPDATE! It is pouring with rain! Raining stair rods. Earlier today I watched the radar show two huge swaths of precipitation move our way, only to split and leave us with a shower. A big patch, about the size of France, went south. And a bigger patch went north.

But then, this evening, as I wast lighting the grill, Sue showed me another big blob heading right for the Island, with a precip forecast of 100%. I did some quick calculation and came up with a probability of 8.567%. But, by golly, as I was flipping burgers, some drops began to fall, and it has been raining nicely ever since. 

I even got to wear my raincoat. It's not that I am worried about the water level, it's just that I fear the weird things climate change can do. (Think India.) And I was beginning to worry about the forest (ala Fort McMurray), and the farmers (market tomorrow in Gore Bay), and the poor little peas in my garden.

This evening's rain cancels all my worries. Planting tomatoes and beans tomorrow. Maybe even seeing of the mower will start—might have to trim the scraggly sward over the septic system.

Calm and Quiet

No wind, no noise (except flies and woodpeckers.)

Phlox in rocks.  

No rain. Actually, a little rain—a very little rain.

Last night, after bedtime, some kind of weather came over, and as I was dozing off, I heard noise on the roof. "My, goodness—rain", says my sleepy, addled brain.

And then I come awake and listen, and yes, it's rain, and here it comes! But no, it's not, and there it goes. But yes, it's rain, and here it comes! But no, it's not, and there it goes.

Off and on it seems to come, but really it just goes and goes.  For hours and hours, or what seems that long. My hopes are raised, my hopes are dashed. My hopes are raised, then dashed. 

Finally, tired of tossing and closing my ears, I look out the window and see a big bright moon. But by then it's too late to get any real sleep.

Upshot: some pockmarks in the dust.  

Mural: pimple hoe lift inner hawses wit medal woofs shoot gnat lichen drain.

Best Wishes

Thanks everyone.  

No work today. Out to JD Gardens in Tehkummah for an elegant lunch and to pick up coreopsis for the front deck planters. Then a nice dinner, with Bob Ellen over to make it a party, and my favorite dessert, one of Sue’s traditional family recipe lemon tortes.

So, on the subject of birthdays:

I am no longer young enough to know everything.
    —Oscar Wilde

When you are over the hill, you begin to pick up speed.
     —Charles Schulz

Vee get too soon olt und too late schmart.
     —?

Victoria Day

Sunny, warm, and dry.  

Thanks to Sue for this photo.

Last day of the long weekend, and the crowds are thinning. Back to isolation, peace, and quiet.

Another morning at Heliotrope—cleaning up paint slobbers on the masts, putting in new batteries, figuring how to install the new depth finder. Then (after naps) cleaning the Windrider and prepping it for launch.

All these projects are work, sometimes hard and tiring, but still more than fun. That's why we like being here: an infinite number of interesting things to do, figure out, work on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Editor:

It looks like Waukesha will be getting Great Lakes water after all.

On May 18, the Water Resources Regional Body (established by the Great Lakes Compact) voted 9-0 in favor of letting the Wisconsin city divert water out of the Great Lakes basin.  Minnesota abstained, but the other seven Great Lakes states along with Ontario and Quebec voted to recommend.

The Regional Body did apply conditions to its approval: a smaller service area than requested, a reduction in diversion volume from 10.1 to 8.2 million gallons a day, and a requirement that Waukesha monitor treated sewage discharged into the Root River (on its way back to Lake Michigan) for 10 years.

While the eight Great Lakes governors (premiers are not included in the next decision step) will take the final vote in June, the Waukesha diversion looks like a done deal.

Some observers are saying that the diversion proposal review process established by the Compact has worked well. But others, myself included, think it has failed so far.

Basically, Compact decision-making on a diversion proposal has four components; 1) public review and comment, 2) input from tribes/first nations, 3) review and recommendation by the Regional Body, and 4) vote by the governors.

The first clear weakness in the Compact is that the first two components appear to have no significance.

The general public was deeply engaged by the Waukesha request and provided over 11,000 comments, with more than 98% of them opposed. Among the commenters were a wide range of environmental groups as well as organizations like the Great Lakes St. Lawrence Cities Initiative and the Great Lakes Legislative Caucus—organizations that represent thousands more concerned citizens.

Of all the tribes and first nations in the Great Lakes watershed none registered approval of the Waukesha diversion, while many stated disapproval.

The people have spoken, and they say no. But the process moves on.

The second big weakness in the process is that a review by the Regional Body will almost always lead to a diversion approval, regardless of what the people say. The Regional Body is comprised of technocrats, DNR/MNR kind of people, appointed by governors and premiers. No doubt these are smart, hard-working folks, but they are technicians, and they see the diversion request coming from their Wisconsin colleagues as a technical issue, one that can be resolved by tweaking. They have assumed from the beginning the Waukesha’s request is legitimate and based on real need, and it can all be worked out.

The third big weakness is the close interaction (coziness?) throughout the review process among the City of Waukesha, the Wisconsin DNR, and the Regional Body. These groups were in close contact, effectively reworking the application as a team. The public was not part of process. And, now that a new and revised proposal has been produced, it is being sent to the governors without any further public involvement.

The fourth big weakness is what’s likely to happen when the Regional Body’s recommendation gets to the governors. Although any one governor can veto the application, it will take courage to go against colleagues, and an equal or greater courage to reject the technical review and recommendation.  There could also be a worry that the review and recommendation, if rejected, would make good material for a lawsuit.

Taken all together, what appears to be a rational and technical process doesn’t work. That’s because beneath the surface it’s politics. Waukesha is an affluent and politically connected (tea-party) city, and under the current governor the Wisconsin DNR is not an impartial, independent agency.

The procedures set forth in the Compact can’t handle power politics, and it looks like the Compact is going to fail its first big test. 

Jim Nies
Kagawong, Ontario and Whitewater, Wisconsin

Sun Day

Sunny, warm, and dry. Great for tourists, who jammed the town, both up at the falls and down at the coffee/candy shop.  

Where's Pax? Enjoying his break in the shade.

Another morning of mast and boom painting—before the sun gets too high and the air too hot. Here we are taking a coffee break as an alternative to watching paint dry.

And here is Kerry's new drag bike. 115 mph in the quarter mile (is the expectation). Note the hood ornament—a bear skull chewing on a grenade, with the headlamps in its eye sockets.

Brother John sent me this link to Ed Burt's garden. If the proof is in the pudding, Mr. Burt can grow food.

Early June Peas?

My foot.  

The peas planted three weeks ago made their first appearance above ground today. Too cold and too dry. Which is one reason I bought Ed Burt's gardening book. Ed is famed for his no-irrigation approach, and I thought that might help me through dry spells.

It's a folksy, anecdotal book dictated into a recorder and then written up by the co-author. I have not yet arrived at the irrigation chapter, and I suppose it's possible I never will. But the book has already given me one good idea—amend the soil in the fall (with leaves, compost, manure, etc.) and till the amendments in then. Don't till in the spring, just plant.

Calm morning, warm and sunny mid-day, and some actual clouds by late afternoon. All the spars flipped and painted on the nether side. Then some afternoon rowing, paddling, and beach cleanup.

Sure signs of summer: pulled pork sandwiches for lunch from the chuckwagon in Kagawong—what appeared to be a crowd at the falls—and a couple of boats out on the bay.

Long Weekend...

...here in Ontario.  

Thanks to Sue for recent photos.

Long weekend—more people, more activity, more commerce, more blackflies. Today the booms got sanded. And then the mainmast, the mizzen-mast, the main boom and the mizzen boom got painted—but only halfway. Tomorrow all these spars will be rolled over and the down-sides will receive their coat.

No worries about rain interrupting the schedule. Another perfect New Mexico kind of a day, bad for growing things but good for tourism and recreation.

Two Masts Are Better Than One?

Boat work.  

Both spars sanded today (mizzen and main)—both booms tomorrow. With the weather being unrelentingly sunny and dry, we decided to take a break from interior painting and trim. Before these spars reassume their vertical position, all the lights need to be tested and a new masthead wind indicator/anemometer installed. Not to mention new paint.

On the way to work in Gore Bay we drove past the Orangutans (Lou and Julie Short) in Kagawong as they were dropping a huge sugar maple across the street from the Chocolate Factory (the lot where the BBQ chuckwagon parks). On top of that, today was the day the C. Factory reopened for the season, and coffee was free. So, with conversation and coffee, we were nearly two hours late to the boat work.

But that's Island time.

Septic System

The Randy Noble team rolled in to Pinebox about  10, and went to work. A efficient bunch, wielding immense mechanical power.

Another beautiful day, cloudless and cool. Unfortunately, the insects are getting it figured out. Black-fly hatch—and these little buggers really know how to get in your face. Midges on the move, too...swarms swarming along the shore and beginning to wind up their turbine-like whine.

Marigolds

Perfectly perfect day.  Windows open, and no fire in the stove all day—until just now.

Paint and trim. Paint and trim.

Marsh marigolds are in full bloom.

Lots of real hydro hydro is being generated.

A shattered spruce on the trail up to the falls gives evidence to some major windstorm that toppled lots of trees all across the Island.

Not much of Fraser beach remains, but Pax still likes taking a dip there. He is getting better and better.

The Grouse Are Drumming...

...but, thanks to the crackling cold, as yet no bugs are buzzing. Really cold this morning. Fire in the stove all day. We are burning a lot of wood, but so far it's only a small dent in the woodshed. By late afternoon the sum came out and things seemed to warm a little.

While I hate to repeat myself, I have to say, "More paint and trim; more paint and trim."

A new beach. Created in less than two days by high water and high winds. (This is at Geiser's place) The indentations are Paxmarks.

And here is the fire-pit yesterday. I'm not sure if it passes the Wett test (Wood Energy Technology Transfer), although it does seem wet.

Where The Water Was...

...as opposed to Where The Woozle Wasn't

Snow squalls this morning, with a brutish north wind knifing across the Island all day. So, in honor of a cold and windy Sunday, we went to Gore Bay for breakfast. Once there, we decided that instead of breakfast we would walk the dog and shop for groceries. Reason?..no restaurants open in Gore Bay on Sundays in May.

Yesterday we were both down in the dumps about Pax. Sue thought he had wrecked his operation by doing somethings stupid (which he habitually does), and me thinking the new surgeon had screwed up.

Today, though, there was almost no sign of injury and operation. He was happy, frisky, obstreperous—and all the time on four legs.

Last night's high water pushed flotsam almost up to the Zen spot.

Pax thinking about a polarbear plunge.

Full Gale

Cold and very windy. The fierce wind pushing lots of water our way and the water is way up, lapping at the pumphouse and almost carrying the dingy away. Fire in the stove all day. 

Annual May visit to the trillium woods, then annual May dinner with Murray and Elaine, at the Roosterant.