I have, though, included pictures which will give some idea why to the boating fraternity the Benjamins are are a 'Mecca'. Not only have I met there vessels which have come from Texas and the Gulf of Mexuco in general, but from New England and the Maritime Provinces. Sailors hailing from a port not quite so far removed often return to the North Channel and the Benjanine Islands year after year. The pictures I have included would represent what, during that day, my mother and I would have seen as we wandered about.
My story, though, is less about the Benjamins than about a number of very disturbing coincidences and the effect they had on me. The mental pictures you need to have in your mind, I will try to paint with words rather than photographs. And so, this story is more accurately a story of survival against the "forces of darkness", literally, imaginatively, and metaphorically. I am not exaggerating, but telling the 'adventure' as it unfolded both in reality and within my mind.
***** For years, during the summer, I had sailed with my children in these waters. But they, having grown up were busy with their own lives and consequently, if I wanted to continue sailing, I had to do it single-handedly. That particular year, the year during which my mother had reached her eightieth birthday, I visited her at her place on Manitoulin Island and anchored on Mudge Bay, in front of her house. We had done this for years and occasionally taken her along for perhaps week-long cruises.
This particular year, having arrived in these waters I followed the usual routine and anchored in front of her house and rowed ashore to see her. During the evening as we sat on her balcony, she expressed the wish to come with me for a few days on my visit to the Benjamins. I was delighted. When one's 80 year old mother makes such a request, and one knows that she is fit enough, not only to enjoy the sail, but also to wander about and explore the rocky terrain of those islands, then there really can be no question about whether the answer is going to be 'yes' or 'no.'
We left Kagawong, where she lived the next morning, She, her mid-sized black dog and I. We sailed to Gore Bay, stocked up on food And the next day set sail for the Benjamins. It was one of those windy days that occasionally stir up the North Channel. It was quite rough and as a result, before too long her dog, sitting on the floor of the cockpit got sick and started to throw up. My mother concerned about her pet took him onto her lap to comfort him. It was not a good idea, for, before too long, she too started to throw up. Beyond trying to get to the Benjamins quickly, there was little I could do. I was single-handing the boat and had no time to do anything else to help her.
Finally, arrived at the Benjamins we tucked into the shelter of its southern bay. Having spent the night at anchor, we set out the next morning for the little 'hop' to the bay which separated the South and the North Benjamin Islands. After the previous day's excitements, it was time for a quiet, restful day.
The day was sunny and beautiful, and we decided to explore the South Island. Leaving TALARIA anchored in the bay, we rowed ashore. At our landing site, the island's rock emerged smoothly from the water and then ascended to the height of the island. Gently and without the crags and the jagged, sharp edges one expects from rock as hard as granite, the rock here is as smooth as any side walk might be. It may occasionally be quite steep, but it is always walkable. 'Come and follow me,' it seemed to say. 'There are many sites worth looking at.'
My mother lead the way - and, if she occasionally stopped, it was to admire the spectacular beauty of a place, not because the steepness of the climb was getting too much for her. There seemed to be no challenge she wasn't willing to tackle if it promised still another, beautiful vista. And, while we pursued our interests, Mutti's dog, free to run wherever he liked, followed each new scent he discovered, running endless circles around us. The excursion was a total success. My mother was delighted by the island's beauty, her pooch clearly enjoyed the freedom to roam wherever he wished, and I, while not only delighted to show off the place, was relieved and happy to see how easily my mother managed to handle the physical challenges of the terrain.
What an amazing palette of colours nature had used to create this spot. There were the various pink hues of the rock; - there were the lush and vivid greens of trees and bushes as well as the green of the mossy cushions which were wet and cool and soft underfoot. Finally, there were the yellows and the blues - the yellows of reed-like patches of tall grass which danced happily in the breeze and the blues of the sky and the waters. What a feast for the eyes this place was!
By late afternoon we returned to TALARIA. It was time to prepare for the approaching night. I turned on the radio, listened to the weather forecast and was pleased with the choice of our anchorage. The westerly breeze that was blowing now was predicted to increase to 20 or 25 knots and to veer west and gradually to the northwest. The winds, during the night, we were told Would freshen even further, but would keep blowing out of the Northwest. They were quite powerful winds, but the rock and trees of the Benjamins would nicely protect us from what had been predicted.
Still, we had chosen our spot to anchor well, and would be comfortable for the night. Having once more checked the anchor, I was ready to start cooking dinner. It turned out to be a tasty and enjoyable meal which we ate sitting comfortably in the cockpit, from where we were able to observe the evening's goings-on around us. Finally, having finished the meal, we settled down to our usual game of cards.
It was a lovely, peaceful evening, and only occasionally, when an unusually powerful gust caught us, could we hear the rattling of the halyards or feel the heeling of the boat. Nevertheless, we were well protected, and there seemed to be no reason to worry. My mother being a formidable opponent at cards, I concentrated on my game, and missed the early warnings that things were not as they had been predicted. It wasn't until sundown that I realized that the conditions outside had changed considerably.
The wind had freshened considerably and TALARIA was charging, discontentedly, back and forth at the end of her anchor line. What, I was it that was going on? We had been promised a quiet night, but clearly, TALARIA was not very happy. She bounced up and down, and paced, discontentedly, from side to side. I got up from the game and stuck my head out the hatch. There were white caps everywhere. The wind , instead of blowing out of the northwest, was blowing angrily into the bay from the northeast. No longer were we snuggled, cosily, into the protection of the island. There was no barrier now to protect us from the waves. They were rushing in, quite unopposed by any barrier. The winds and the waves were getting more powerful and more aggressive. A curse must have been on my lips. But, since my mother did not react, it must have been a silent one.
Now, what was I going to do? Already it was nearly dark. If we stayed here, it was not going to be a pleasant night. Did I dare to pick up the anchor and head for the shelter of Croker Island? Its distance was not far; but, knowing the limitation of my night vision, I was hesitant to set out for quieter waters. The challenge of confronting these rock filled waters in the darkness of the night was not a comfortable idea. I needed time to think, and so without letting my mother know what was going on, I returned to the game. I tried to pretended that everything was as it should be, but she was not so easily fooled. After a game or two in which she had won easily, she spoke up.
“What's the matter with you?” she wanted to know. “You are jumping up and down like a Jack-in-the-Box. If you want to win against me, you're going to have to pay attention to the game. You'll never win like this!” Of course, - she was right; but, for me, the game, had become of secondary importance. Until I had a solution to my problems, I wanted to keep my worries to myself. It had been a rough passage yesterday, and I wanted to avoid adding a difficult, bouncy, sleepless night to our cruise.
With the winds still getting stronger and the waves getting higher our “quiet” bay was quickly turning into a witch's boiling cauldron. I had to do something! Twilight was turning to darkness, and I was losing at cards. “This isn’t like you.” my mother observed. “Is something the matter?” Longingly, I looked out across the boiling water at Croker Island's dark and relatively distant shape. Suddenly, something over at Croker caught my attention. An indistinct, spooky light loomed up behind its craggy and dark formation. I stared at it, puzzled. Then, I understood. Someone, I decided a bit prematurely, must really love me! There, was the 'lamp' I needed. A few moments later the bright, silvery rim of a full moon appeared. “Look, Mutti,” I called, “look at the moon !” Mutti watched with considerable delight as a huge, beautifully bright moon extricated itself from the rock and the trees and rose up into the sky. My problem had been solved. With the night lit up almost like day, there was no reason why I shouldn't raise the anchor and search out the peacefulness of Croker Island's bay.
I explained to Mutti what had been on my mind during the card game and told her of my plans. “We’ll weigh anchor, and head across to Croker. It will be beautifully quiet there! With the wind from the northeast, there won't be a ripple on the water.”
Mutti’s enthusiasm was without bounds. “Great! It will be such fun to be out on the water during the night.” It was certainly satisfying to inspire such confidence. Still, even with the full moon lighting our way, I needed to figure out exactly how to get there. I studied the chart and memorized the courses I would have to steer. I could not afford to spoil my night vision by using a flashlight to study the chart while we were out on the water. There were too many rocks out there, just waiting to surprise the unwary. Then, it was time to get the boat ready. I switched on the depth sounder, turned on the compass light, readied the auto pilot, turned on the navigation lights and extinguished the cabin lights. Finally, I started the engine. I asked Mutti to sit in the companionway hatch and not to move from there.
“While we're under way, I may have to move around the deck quickly and suddenly. I don't want to trip over you . Hurt you – or, possibly – fall overboard myself.” Delighted as she was, Mutti agreed to stay put.
Finally, I was ready to start our excursion. Kneeling on the fore deck I hauled in the anchor line. TALARIA bounced beneath me with every passing wave. I hauled and hauled, feeding the rode down into its locker. Getting away from here under these conditions was going to be tricky. Behind us - not very far away - were several boats. I could see their anchor lights but them only indestictly. I knew, that once I had raised the anchor clear of the ground, TALARIA would drift astern quickly. If we did not move out of the way quickly, we were sure to collide with on or several of them. I strained mightily - but, no matter how hard I pulled – the anchor refused to let go.
Well, if I was unable to get it free, perhaps the engine could. I cleated down the rode, scrambled back to the cockpit and put the engine into gear. “Is everything OK?” Mutti asked. “Everything is fine,” I answered, still puffing from my effort, “ - except - that the anchor won't let go.” Under full power, we soon reached the end of the slack in the rode. I felt TALARIA’s bow dip deeply into a wave as the anchor tried to hold her back. Resisting this downward pull, she gave the anchor one sharp tug, and ripped it out of the ground. I rushed forward; TALARIA was already beginning to drift. Hurriedly, I hauled in the rode. After what seemed like an eternity, the chain and the anchor emerged from the water. Filthy as they were, I deposited them on a previously clean deck. Now, I had to get out of there fast. I dashed aft. There was no time to waste. Under full power, TALARIA surged ahead and away from a collision. Yippee! I had accomplished the first stage of our move!
Now, all I had to do, was to get us, safely, to our destination. Luckily, with the help of the full moon, that should not be a very difficult task. I steered TALARIA onto our first heading. I was feeling good, relaxing, allowing my eyes to wander just a little to take in the beauty of the night. But, how strangely dark, how inscrutable and hostile the water appeared. In the distance, I saw, just barely, the black outline of Croker and several other islands. Why was it that everything was so very dark? Surely - with a full moon .... I glanced up. Something was amiss! Why did that moon look so furious? Why was its usually friendly face, flushed red? A fit of fury? Responding instinctively to what I saw, some ancient, primitive part of me assumed control.
What had I done to cause such fury. I felt sure that the fury was directed at me. It was a scary position to be in! Over all the emotional static which raged in my mind, my modern, more science-oriented self tried to make make itself heard.
‘Relax, it's only an eclipse! There is nothing - nothing at all to worry about!'
For a moment that primitive panic in my mind, started to ebb away. No, of course, there really wasn't anything to worry about! But, things weren't quite as simple as all that. I had counted on the moon's light to help me to find my way. But, it was getting really dark! I was out here on this dark and hostile water trying to find my way to safety. Once more a feeling of being threatened took over. Once more my ancient, primitive self re-asserted itself.
“So, it is an eclipse. What difference does that make? First, the forecast promised you a nice, peaceful night in that bay. That promise turned out to be a lie! Then, you were offered a bright, cheerful, moonlit night. Now, look at things! That too was a lie! Someone is out to get us! Instead of the gentle breezes of a sheltered bay, it's blowing half a gale. And - instead of that lovely bright night, we have this - darkness! Isn't it obvious that someone's out to get us!”
As much as a part of me would have liked to dismiss the idea of such a cosmic conspiracy, the words and their meaning reverberated in my mind. Only occasionally was there the contradicting, calming voice of my modern self. But, being rattled and scared, its message, clearly to calm me down and get me to relax, lacked the power to permanently settle me down.
'There is really nothing to worry about!' lacked the persuasive power of words like 'lies', 'someone is out to get us', 'this darkness'.
Despite my recognition that this was an eclipse in progress, my mind reverberated with a deep and primal fear. Was there some cosmic conspiracy? Was someone out to get me? Twice tonight - perfectly reasonable deductions I had made, based on reasonable observations, had turned out to be wrong, and now, I was trapped - out here in this darkness. I had weighed anchor, and now that I was committed - this sullen darkness brought me to the recognition of just how vulnerable I - we were. Whatever it all meant, I had to fight back and to get us to a safe anchorage. I had a job to do.
Steadily, reliably, TALARIA shouldered her way against the waves which the wind threw at us. She crashed, determinedly, into one wave after another. The waters at her bow exploded into clouds of wind-driven spray. The spume blew past the running lights, and - by a strange magic - the water drops were transformed into galaxies of red and green, sparkling stars. Above my head there were still further galaxies. Up there, there was an endless expanse of silver worlds. TALARIA, recalling it seemed, why she had been given this name meaning 'Winged Sandals', had spread her wings and was now flying free of the Earth to soar through these spectacular, star-filled spaces.
What a strange and wonderful thing the mind is! Just a few, short minutes ago, I had been conspired against by hostile, cosmic forces, and now, like the hero of an ancient myth, I had accepted control of this magically soaring vessel to confront and defeat those who threatened me.
I looked up at the moon. Her red rage had spread over even more of her face, but, if I could steer TALARIA through these beautiful, red, green and silver, cosmic spaces, then there was little reason for me to worry. “Wow, isn’t this a gorgeous night!” Mutti exclaimed. “I am so glad we came out here for a sail!” Mutti's exclamation brought me back down to earth. The whole point of our being out here came back to me. I was not out here sailing in order to be a mythical hero, or to battle some superhuman antagonists; I was here to take TALARIA to Croker's quiet cove. That aim had not yet been accomplished. Whether or not there were cosmic forces conspiring against me, I had to find my way through this still increasing darkness. I had to complete the task I had set for myself.
“Mutti,” I responded to her exclamation, “I really need to pay close attention to getting us to Croker. I’m so glad you are enjoying our excursion as much as you do, but - and I am sorry - I really have to pay attention to what I am doing. I will not be able to talk with you.”
“No problem, I’ll be quiet, I just needed to tell you how much I am enjoying this!”
Concerned that during my flights of fancy I might have wandered off course, I glanced down at the compass. Everything was OK. Slowly, as we approached Croker Island, the winds in its lee began to ease up. The waves too had become smaller. No longer was there the flying spray that had been so dramatic earlier. No longer were we traveling between galaxies of red , green, and silver worlds. It had been an exciting, if also a scary excursion into a world of myth, but, for the moment at least, TALARIA had once more settled down onto water that during daylight hours, would have been the very familiar.
I reminded myself that soon I would need to change course. We had to turn south and pass through the channel between Croker and its fore-lying island. But, a disconcerting thought made me realize that if I changed course, I would be heading straight into what was the deepest, most threatening darkness. There was nothing there that I could see, nothing that would help me to guide TALARIA through that narrow channel. There were not, as I had expected there to be, two shadowy, dark island shapes with a recognizable channel between them. There was only a black nothingness - inhabited by the monsters to which my imagination once more was giving life. Up in the sky there still were a multitude of silver stars – but, below them, in the world in which I found myself, there was only that black 'Something' bristling, it seemed with hate and hostility.
"IF - there is anything 'bristling' " my scientific self assured me, "it's the trees up on the islands' ridges. Hardly anything to worry about."
But rather than feeling easier about this re-assurance, it felt like a childish rationalization - an unwillingness to face a much harsher reality. Would I dare to head down into that blackness? I knew from past, from daytime experience, that down there, in that darkness, there was a channel which I had used many times before. But, it was so dark that I could see nothing at all. I felt threatened and very insecure. What if I got too close to one side of the channel or the other? Even though there might not be any monsters waiting for me, there was definitely the possibility of running aground. Doing that in this darkness, was a frightening prospect. How easy it would be to get too close to one or the other of the islands. I had come this far; I had to continue. I had to change course – for, if I did not, I was going to run TALARIA aground on the rocks that, somewhere, were ahead of me. The only difference would be that I'd be running aground in a different place. The option of turning back, of returning to the Benjamins was a failure which I could not face. I really had no alternative. Scared as I was, I altered TALARIA's course and headed straight for that threatening darkness. Almost immediately, the winds – now blowing from astern - again seemed to increase. TALARIA - even without any sail set and the engine running at only a slow idle, seemed to surge, headlong, into the darkness. We were being drawn at tremendous speed, it seemed to me, into some horribly dangerous, black hole. There were no recognizable landmarks: no rocks, no trees, no shoreline - nothing that would help me to estimate our speed. I needed to slow TALARIA down. The only control I still had at my disposal, was to take the engine out of gear. Even so, we seemed to be rushing toward our destruction.
Occasionally, I would catch a glimpse of the moon, peering down, spying on us, contemplating just what she might do to us. Once more, I felt the touch of this hostile, spirit-haunted world. Surely, there had to be something, an incantations, some magical power that would help me to exorcise this evil which surrounded me. Did science have incantations? Did science have a 'magic wand' to ward off these powers? Soundlessly, I talked too myself. Was it possible that in the late 20th century there still existed such mediaevel, evil magic? Like a mantra I repeated the only words I could think of.
‘Depth Sounder! Depth Sounder! Depth Sounder!'
'You have one. Use it! It can help you! It will show you what you cannot see. It will keep you from running aground. Pay attention to the depth sounder. It will keep you out of trouble. You will be safe. Trust it!!!'
How deep was the water beneath us? - Forty feet! - Good. That depth was safe. I remembered that fact from my earlier study of the chart. Two or three times, as the depth decreased I headed off to starboard. Each time the depth returned to forty feet. How easy this was! My exorcism had worked. The monsters that had haunted me had, at least for the moment, retreated. But even yet, I had no idea how fast we were we moving? For all I knew, TALARIA was heading at breakneck speed straight for the reef which I knew lay somewhere ahead of us.
Mutti sat in the companionway opening, in front of me. She had been quiet since that time, seemingly, eons ago, when I had asked her not to talk to me. I was feeling more comfortable than I had been earlier, but I knew I had not won my struggle yet. It was still necessary to attend to what I was doing. My mantra had worked like magic. Still, somewhere, up ahead, there was a rocky ledge which I had to give a wide berth. But, how wide? How far was I off the shore now? If I steered too close, TALARIA would come to a crashing halt. Struck by a monstrous rock.
Ages ago, ancient navigators sailing their vessels through the strait between Sicily and the toe of the Italian boot told stories of twin monsters. Monsters who waited patiently to strike vessels which approached them too closely. Their names had been Scylla and Charybdis. They had been nothing more monstrous than dangerous shoals which could easily destroy a vessel which approached them too closely. I could feel, inside myself, why those navigators had spoken of those rocky ledges as horribly dangerous monsters. For me too, somewhere ahead in the dark, there was such a monster awaiting my approach. Where, exactly, was it? Where was that reef? Was I far enough off the shore? How could I know, when all I could see of the shore was its darkly hulking, but featureless shape. Before we arrived at our sheltered haven, I too had to stay clear of this underwater monster.
As I continued steering TALARIA, time passed in the dark. How much time? Was it a few minutes? Hours? More? Every time the sounder registered a bump on the channel floor, I imagined a rocky claw reaching up to strike at us. But, so far, so good. TALARIA, was still floating in some 40 feet of water. We were safe. Then, slowly, the bottom rose.
Thirty-five feet, .... thirty feet, .... twenty-five feet. We were approaching the monster's lair. How close did I dare to approach our danger? What if the depth sounder did not stop at twenty or fifteen or ten feet? What if the monster's hard and rocky claw reached out and struck us? I stared at the depth sounder's moving indicator light as it continued to reveal less and less depth beneath TALARIA's keel. I felt terribly vulnerable, but, just as the tension inside me was again starting to become oppressive, something strange and magical happened. The glowing light on the depth sounder which revealed the water's depth below the boat, suddenly seemed to be a lantern, held, by a friendly spirit who acted as a pilot for me. Guiding me to safety. His lantern, the only thing I saw clearly, signaled to me. But, feeling secure in my spirit pilot's help, I was able to hold my steady course, even as it was getting shallower all the time. Twenty-five feet, .... twenty-two, .... eighteen, .... fifteen feet. Still, I held my course. I was certain that my guide would let me know when it was time to veer away to starboard. I had no idea what the warning signal would be, but, I knew that it would come, and so, I held my course. Something told me to veer away to starboard. With a savage swipe, it seemed, the monster had reached out to strike.
Suddenly - the channel's bottom dropped away. My own monster, my Scylla, my Charybdis, or whatever this one's name might be - had missed! The rocky bottom fell away. Twenty, .... thirty, .... forty feet. Safe water, beneath our keel. I was about to shout my thanks to that helpful spirit at the bow, but, before I could do so, he had disappeared. I was staring at a very ordinary, depth sounder. Steadily, unemotionally, it revealed a depth of forty feet. We had reached the entrance to Croker Island Bay. I swung TALARIA to port, re-engaged the engine which had been, quietly, purring away down below in the engine room, and headed into the sheltered bay.
Above us was the moon – visible, but still shedding no light. She was flushed, a deep, dark, angry red. No longer, though, did her anger seem directed at me. It was still very dark and for safety's sake, I decided to anchor in the middle of the bay. But even there, how peaceful and how quiet it was! There was hardly enough wind to ruffle the water's surface. I anchored TALARIA. I hauled aboard a bucket of water and washed the mud off my hands. I had reached our destination safely!
“Well, Mutti, we're here. What do you think of this bay?”
“ I love it. I am so glad that we left the Benjamins to come here, but what a wonderful, peaceful, relaxing sail this has been! Thank you so very much for this excursion!”
After the ‘epic’ battles I had just survived, Mutti's view of our “excursion” did come as a bit of a surprise. But, having achieved my purpose, there seemed little point in revealing just how stressful this 'peaceful' evening excursion had been.
“Shall we have a glass of wine to celebrate our quiet anchorage?” I asked.
“Yes, please! I'd love a glass of wine.”
And so, chatting about the beauties of the North Channel, we sipped our wine, and for the first time that evening I could actually look at the dark red moon above us and appreciate the beauty of her strange and unusual appearance.
Comments
No one has commented on this article yet.
Add a comment