Without question, the dog days of summer have arrived. Even Grace is taking it ultra easy. My top speed is amble. My low speed is a glacial waddle. The lawns seem to have headed into semi-dormancy. My last attempt at effort was to clean out my car’s interior. Windex for all the glass. Shop vac employed to remove the last and first of last winter’s micro gravel and sand. I can now drive barefoot if I want.
A notion rang inside my empty skull bell chamber this week. My family has been on this location on Georgian Bay since 1970. I have been here year round since 2000. My impression is that the number of power boats in action on the water is down about 99%. I can’t recall the last time I saw someone water ski. I think I saw a wind surfer last year. What does pass by without fail is the ever constant flotilla of 14 foot aluminum boats with outboard motors clamped on their transoms, the fisherman trolling slowly and hopefully. A few kayaks paddle by. Fewer canoes as well silently pass. A little to the east is one end of the Trent Severn waterway. In the past we would often see a line of large motor yachts coming out of the waterway and heading west to Midland or Collingwood. I have yet to see a line this year. I have spotted these monsters one at a time on a few days. Everything must be still stored awaiting sale or hard moored since they are so expensive to run.
It has been a slow, quiet summer. The bookend to a slow, quiet winter with very few snowmobiles passing by and only a handful of ice fishing huts on our piece of Georgian Bay.