Last week-end was starting to look like one of the few weekends we would have free of paddling regattas to spend on TMC. Good intentions abound, as we intended to start out Friday after work. Friday turned to night, and night turned to Saturday morning. By Saturday morning, after we saw Jacqueline off to paddling, there was stuff to do. And by the time the boat was brought to the dock, Jacqueline was catching a ride home with friends. She met us at the sailing club and finally, but 1:30 in the afternoon, we set off for a fun filled weekend in the sun and surf.
The wind cooperated, and if it was sailing we wanted, it was sailing we got. Not too fast - not too slow. Just about right. We pulled up to Pinhey's Point where there were already numerous boats anchored and enjoying the sun. We slid out of there without dropping the anchor, and proceeded to Constance Bay.
We were invited to drop in along the way at the Schmidts, but the wind was still blowing, and we were still going. So we pulled into Constance Bay, looking for the good times we were used to on Bagheera. The spit was unrecognizable, and the sign was down. The wind was strong, so finally we settled on dropping the anchor in the bay, along with a dozen or so other boats. As the music blared from the shore and the tires screeched down the quite streets of "cottage country", we decided, this wasn't what we thought it would be. We started to pull up anchor to move the boat to Mohr Island, when the aforementioned friends showed up on their jet ski. So we laid down anchor again, in a more sheltered part of the bay, and visited.
Finally, we made the decision to move on to Mohr Island for the night, under power. We anchored in a familiar spot and settled down for the night. We had pitched our trusty MEC Wanderer 4 tent on the front trampoline for a change and a little elbow room. The minute the lights went out (okay the sun went down) and the mosquitoes came out in full force, voices could be heard on the shore. And then there were the fireworks. We were just not destined for seclusion.
The next morning, as we ate breakfast, a sudden onslaught of teenagers appeared on the shore. Hmph. How did they get there? Some boat must have dropped them on the other side. This meant one thing, and one thing only. Haul up the anchor, and lets move on...
We decided to motor up to Quyon and Pontiac Bay. We didn't stop at Quyon, even for fries! But ventured carefully through the unknown and rocky waters of Pontiac Bay. We finally threw down anchor - actually, Will jumped off and carried the anchor off the boat and laid it at his feet which were in 2 inches of water on a rock.
We settled down for some lunch and walked the dog. When suddenly - voices.
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