Racing About

I am not sure where these boats are racing too. Carrie Rose is in Morton’s Bay anchored in about 13 ft. of dark green water. Morton’s Bay is shaped like a prehistoric club: a narrow handle with a big oval rock at its end, which is where we lie.

To our right — at least the way we are pointed now — is a chiseled granite cliff. It must rise at least 150 ft. from the water. It is covered with jack and tar pine, and enough deciduous trees to make the fall spectacular.

To our left is the tiny gap that serves as the rocky entrance to the bay. There is just enough room for a boat about twice our size to enter and that is about as big as boats get on the Rideau.

Morton’s Bay is known as the preeminent anchorage on the Rideau Waterway and it would be a stellar spot anywhere on the Great Lakes. It is Sunday and upon entering there were a few boats scattered around. Yesterday was the opening of bass season, so most of the boats were small fishing skiffs. I cannot help but think that the bass do not have a chance considering the zeal of these fishermen.

I maneuvered Carrie Rose closer than last year to the granite shoreline. Charlotte suddenly calls a halt to the proceedings when she notices a loon family off our bow: two magnificent adults in breeding plumage with their twin dark brown fluffy chicks swimming amidships. The chicks are about as long as their parent’s beaks and hard to make out without binoculars.

Loons do not scatter. They slowly moved their family away from us and towards the shore, far enough away that the chicks become invisible. Then the parents submerge and surface not 10 feet from our bow. They look us over and then one lets out a cry as only a loon can do. We get the message. I slowly lower the anchor and they get back to their husbandry.

This drama unfolded in about 15 minutes. I look at the clock and see it is 11:15. I figure it is just about time for the locals to have done their toilet, had breakfast, finish up a few chores and be looking to get their boats on the water. I was not far off. Of course the fishermen had been out for hours by now and were probably thinking about heading for home and the first beer of the day.

Now is the time for PWC’s, pontoon and speedboats to populate the water. It is like the changing of the guard. And so the racing about began. We’ve been to the end of the bay and know there is nothing much down there. And so back to my question…where is everyone racing too?

I think I understand the fisherman’s reasons. They either have short attentions spans or know by experience that if a fish does not bite quickly it is better to move on to more fertile grounds. What I do not understand is why there are not just as many fish close to home as far for it seems that most of the fishing boats are crossing paths with each other.

I know my musings are futile. I am no closer to knowing the answer then when I started, but the racing about made me think of the loon family and their call, so maybe there was a purpose after all.