Ontario's Bruce Peninsula By the Numbers

We recently bought a new-to-us RV
and last week
we took it on a shake-down cruise
to Ontario's Bruce Peninsula.
The Bruce is a maritimey place
similar to the New England shore;
there are many sea gulls
and sea captains
but less people
and the water is fresh.
We were introduced to the Bruce,
a botanical wonderland similar to Wisconsin's Door Peninsula,
decades ago
by Houghton College professors
Arnold and Betty Cook.

One of these men is not a sea captain

880 miles there and back again

We towed a jeep that carried bicycles,
an arrangement that precludes backing up.
We only made that mistake once...
Between gallons
and liters and
Canadian exchange rates
in addition to my I-don't-want-to-know-how-much-it-costs frugality,
we may never figure out the RV's gas mileage.

Our jeep carried bikes

24 snakes on Flowerpot Island

It had been over thirty years
since we last walked the trails of Flowerpot,
named for geologic formations on the shoreline.
We found leaves and seedpods of spring orchids,
took a brief swim at a secluded beach,
and counted twenty-four snakes,
fourteen of them at one campsite--
Indiana Jones would never camp there.
The lighthouse bulletin board
had pushpins with countless snake skins;
I mentally filed that idea away
for my classroom science center
and wished we had kept
all the snake skins we had found
over the years.

One of the flowerpots on Flowerpot Island

 

Two of the fourteen ribbon snakes visible from my rock at campsite #3

At 10 AM
we got the last parking space to visit the grotto
where crazy against-the-rules cliff jumpers
plunge into the frigid waters of the Georgian Bay.
We sat in relative safety on the rocks
amused by a seagull trying to devour an enormous crayfish.

This seagull gagged on the giant crayfish

Den often serves as voluntary photographer for strangers' non-selfies

9 scoops of ice cream
were purchased on our sunset trips to Tobermory,
the town at the northern tip of the peninsula.
The rail seats of Crow's Nest Pub look down on Little Tub Harbor
and the town of Tobermory.
Each night, we talked with whomever was beside us
about menu suggestions
(Poutine! Fries and cheese curds covered with brown gravy!)
or the wardrobe choices of the passers-by below us.
We clapped when enormous trucks successfully parked in tiny spaces,
waved to bicyclists,
and took bets on which color vehicle would come by next.

The Crow's Nest Pub. Our traditional seat was beside the post

The view of Little Tub Harbor from the Crow's Nest

8+ interesting species of plants re-emerged from memories
and the pages of old botanical journals.
Pitcher plants.
Spatulate-leaved sundews.
Rose pogonias.
Butterworts.
Yellow ladies slippers.
Dwarf irises.
Indian paintbrush.
Maidenhair spleenworts...

Insectivorous pitcher plant in flower on left,
Indian paintbrush on right
growing in the Dorcas Bay fen

7 days at our home base, Tobermory

We ventured out each day to explore--
Cabot Head Lighthouse
Lion's Head
Tobermory History Museum
Tom Thomson Art Museum
Halfway Log Dump beach
Big Tub Harbor lighthouse
Fathom Five National Park viewing tower

Cormorants on the swimming raft at Lion's Head

Biking at Lion's Head

Tom Thomson, one of Den's favorite artists,  painted Canadian wilderness pictures

Lighthouse at Big Tub Harbor, the deepest natural harbor in the Great Lakes

View from Fathom Five tower

6 essential parts to an inuksuk:
Two legs
Hip rock
Stomach rock(s)
Shoulder/arm rock
Head

A true inuksuk,
one of the symbols of Canada,
always has a purpose--
to mark a food cache,
to help herd caribou,
to mark a trail.
We met a Tobermory artist,
Kent,
who had built an inuksuk that sited Mount Sinai!
We brought home rocks
for an inuksuk
in our yard
that now marks the site
of Paul and Kate's wedding.

Properly built inuksuk marks the 2006 wedding site

5 dollars at the Owen Sound Police Department parking lot
will get you a hamburger,
chips,
pop,
two Hershey kisses,
and interesting conversation with the locals.
All proceeds benefit local charities.
We were impressed with their ongoing community outreach;
the Dallas police shooting had happened only hours before.



4 shipwrecks on a 4 hour snorkel tour

Because of shallow water over the Niagara Escarpment
and the fierce Great Lakes storms
and the types of boats used,
there were SO many shipwrecks
that Canada created Fathom Five National Park.
I unsuccessfully concentrated
on keeping water out of my mask and snorkel
but managed to see three out of four ships;
Den would see some interesting mechanism,
swim back to talk to the captain about its function,
then jump in again.
We were both sore the next day
but it was Totally Worth It.

Ready to snorkel the frigid waters

View of the Sweepstakes shipwreck

3 verses of Muhlenberg County sung by Sue

At the All You Can Eat Fish and Chips restaurant,
piratey servers occasionally belted out parts of sea chanteys.
When the background music became "Muhlenberg County",
I enthusiastically sang along
(there weren't many customers)
and earned a high five
from a pirate
with a styrofoam parrot on his shoulder.
No alcohol was involved.

"Daddy, won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County,
down by the Green River where Paradise lay..."

2 sandhill cranes added to Denny's life list
and 2 forgotten compasses

When returning through customs,
we were asked
"Have you been to the doctor recently?"
"No sir."
"Are you SURE?"
"Yes sir."
"We have a gamma alert on a motorhome..."
We were pulled over
and inspected by three officers
looking for a source of radiation.
"Do you have a fish finder?
A compass?"
"No sir."
Turns out we had TWO compasses
in the jeep's console,
forgotten.
The officer called Washington
and removed us from the Watch List.
We would not be the source of a dirty bomb.
Our border patrol is impressive.

Sandhill cranes in the Dorcas Bay fen

Compasses, sources of infinitesimal radiation

1 night of Northern Lights
We were sitting at our campfire with neighbors
when I looked up
and recognized a streak of green smearing through the stars.
Our friends had never seen northern lights before
and we stood in awe until they faded.
What a gift!

...and 1 snakeskin under the front door upon arriving home.
Be careful what you wish for...

Our "welcome home" present has started our snakeskin collection

Zero regrets.

When speaking seagullese, "Awwwwk" can mean many things:
"Come here and I'll give you peanuts"
or "What happened to your leg?"
or, in this case, "Happy trails!"

To Crawl Where Skunks Have Trod

The phone rings.
Den is calling from the garage.
"Hey Sue, the baby skunks are in the orchard."
I put a coat over my pajamas and slip on a pair of crocs.
Two nights earlier,
we spotted a mama skunk
and her five babies en route to the barn
and watched from a distance.
Mother skunks are nothing to tangle with.
I know this because
our boys were raised with the story
of Denny and the Skunks.
 
In the mid-sixties,
Den and his Mill Road neighbor,
Cheryl Lumadue,
went out one night to catch baby skunks for pets.
They had heard 
that if you pick up a baby skunk by its tail,
it won't spray,
and they found it to be true.
Oh wondrous night!
Cheryl caught one and put it in the cage, then Denny.
In the dim light,
Den caught another glimpse of black and white,
but it was Cheryl's turn.
"Oh pleasepleaseplease Cheryl! Let me get this one!"
Cheryl stood back as Den made the grab,
but it wasn't a baby.
It was the mom
who sprayed Denny full in the face.
Den stumbled home gagging
and was showering in the basement
when the stench woke his parents,
two stories up.
They doused him with tomato juice
and burned his clothes
and endured the house odor.
The next day,
Den and Cheryl showed off their new pets
but when they learned that it cost $40 to have a skunk de-scented--
it won't stay a sprayless baby forever--
they let the baby skunks go.


Tonight in my orchard there were baby skunks.
Alone!
Without their mom to stink things up!
Two were snuffling around under the oak, bouncing like baby kittens.
Three more were beside the beehive,
two black and white
and one white and black.
The white and black one was a feisty little thing.
She would bounce toward me,
then hop back,
scratching the ground.
Her tail looked like a bottle brush as she stood on her front legs.
I laughed.
I talked to her.
I reallyreallyreally wanted to pick her up
or at least pet her
but Den advised against it;
these babies were slightly older than the Skunks Of His Past.
Plus, the last time I tried to pet a wild animal,
a mouse,
it bit me
and I had to get my tetanus shot updated.
I decided to do the sensible, scientific thing:
observe.

I lay in the field at skunk level
and watched her hop and scuff,
her tiny sprayer puckering and unpuckering.
When the skunklet backed off,
I wiggled a bit closer.

I watched until dark,
then went to find Den.
"You stink," he said.
How can I stink?
Baby skunks don't spray...
but they do dribble, apparently,
and I had crawled through it.

I left coat and PJs and crocs on the deck
and showered outside,
LOTS of soap,
rubbing any exposed skin with a pumice stone.
Ouch.
When I went in the house,
I was still odiferous.
My friend the search engine
advised hydrogen peroxide
and baking soda
and dishwashing soap
so I mixed up a batch.
I scrubbed
and soaked
and almost turned blonde when washing my hair
but the concoction worked
and I am now destenched
and wiser.
The coat and pajamas and crocs were not so lucky.





Update, one month later:
The crocs have hung on the laundry pole for a month now,
and the skunk smell is still there.
Not nearly as powerful, but still there.

Perhaps in another month they will be wearable