From The Lorax:
"You're glumping the pond where the Humming-Fish hummed!
No more can they hum, for their gills are all gummed.
So I'm sending them off. Oh, their future is dreary.
They'll walk on their fins and get woefully weary
in search of some water that isn't so smeary.
I hear things are just as bad up in Lake Erie."
It's been unusually hot, and somehow, the thought of a weekend sitting around slick with sweat while staring at the not-yet-opened pool and slapping bugs didn't quite measure up to an amorphous idea of "doing something" (and "vacuuming the pool" does not fall into the category of doing something for some reason).
Fortunately, when you're me, "something" often presents itself, even if you're lazy about planning and halfhearted about committing. In the case of this weekend, I accepted Amie's prodding to go paddle on Lake Erie because, as she pointed out, it's new territory for us.
Lake Erie is the shallowest and least appealing of the Great Lakes: the topography is on the flat side, it's very sandy, and there are all those rumours of a dead zone. I know, objectively, that it's recovered remarkably from the nasty eutrophication which suffocated it a few decades ago, but its very name brings to mind The Lorax and its images of gluppity-glupp and schloppity-schlopp and smeary water.
But! I'd never paddled on Lake Erie. And if I can enjoy a day paddle in Hamilton Harbour, chances are, Lake Erie will have something interesting to look at too. And Amie pushed all the right buttons with tales she'd heard of a historic lighthouse and a shipwreck, and then Sarka said she was going and the peer pressure was getting to me so, next thing you know, I'd even convinced Stef to come on this trip. Kayaks on the car, we headed down to Crystal Beach, where we met up with Bert, the organizer of this adventure, and six other paddlers: Amie, Sarka, Louise, Dan, Mike, John and Keith.
Our destination was Point Abino, which I'd ignorantly called Port Albino all week. There is no port - the nearest port town is Port Colborne to the west - and no conspicuous presence of albinos (Lake Erie weirdness nothwithstanding). Not only that, you don't pronounce it the way you'd think, it's locally said AH-bin-o (which itself stems from a mispronounciation of Aveneau). Bert had provided directions to a free gravel parking lot with three ramps, and the put-in couldn't have been easier.
Within 20 minutes of putting in, we neared the Point Abino lighthouse. Like most of the grand old lighthouses of the Great Lakes, it is no longer operational and has been replaced with an automated beacon. The light itself was (and is) necessary because limestone ridges extend a long way out from the point. We barely cleared them on a flat water day in our kayaks - I would imagine this to be a minefield of breaking waves if there were any significant wind. I like gliding over really shallow water, though it was disconcerting to have massive carp dart right under your boat, practically brushing your hull.
The lighthouse was built in 1918 in Greek Revival style. Before this, there was a lightship, but this went down in one of the November gales in 1913. Apparently, the waters off the point are littered with shipwrecks. Unfortunately, the lighthouse is private property and thus not available to exploring beyond gazing at it longingly from the water. Not even an intrepid trespassing soul (who you looking at?) would be bold enough to land here on a summer weekend morning, when it's at the tip of an anthill of stately residences and in full view of a very busy with recreational boating bay.
We had glassy water to paddle. This is one of my least favourite paddling conditions - I find it kind of boring - but I'll admit a huge advantage when negotiating shallow rocky areas, gliding along a developed and interesting shoreline and, best of all, exploring a shipwreck. Bert had promised a visit to the wreck of the Steel Products (what an imaginative name for a laker!), 
and in his description had noted that we would be able to paddle inside the hull if conditions were very calm. Well then, there's an argument for calm conditions right there! Furthermore, I had no chance to get bored, what with nine other people there. And one of those nine people was Dan, and Dan has an affinity for being upside down. I watched roll after roll, and other antics worthy of an aquatic yoga master.
Bert pointed out the beach he had in mind for lunch, and I worried that he'd suggest lunch before the shipwreck. 
I really, really, really wanted to paddle inside that hull, and wind conditions can change! Plus, I was excited about it, and I'm the impatient sort. Fortunately, Bert had already read me well enough to note that we should probably explore the wreck before we take a break, because "otherwise Johanna will whine". Keith augmented that caution with a few more synonyms for whining, and I couldn't even be bothered to be insulted seeing as Keith did paddle with me for eight consecutive days once
and has every reason to know of my extraordinary skill at expressing my displeasure. And besides, they can call me all the names they want as long as I get my way (isn't that the whole point of whining?), and we were headed for the shipwreck.
Bert explained that he'd had a hard time finding any information on the wreck of the Steel Products, because most of the information that is easily accessible comes from diving sources and this one is not suitable for diving - 
it's in such shallow water that you can wade around inside it, and it's used by some locals for duck hunting in season. Here's what Bert did ferret out: the ship was already decommissioned, and being towed by tug to be scrapped at Port Colborne, when the tug and towload were caught in a storm, the tow line snapped, and the laker sank.
Well, it sort of sank. I'd say it ran aground. But this makes for fascinating poking around (and a good canvas for graffiti too, it seems). I wished for one of the engineers that so often seem to be around to be there to talk me through the operation of the guts that were on display, but no such luck.
After the wreck, I saw no need to whine when Bert announced a break at the base of some dunes in front of Marcy's Woods. I took off for our destination, stopping only to do a rescue with Bert when he deliberately dumped and wet exited (very deliberately. He rolls like a seal, but close to the lunch spot, on a hot hot day, a swim is probably more fun). 
There was a strip of the infamous sludgy mossy algae on the sandy beach, and I wrinkled my nose as I pulled my boat up on the sand and waded back in to get the slime off (how I planned to get back to the beach without being re-slimed was not something I'd given any thought to). As I stood in shallow water, the others came in - and Dan suggested that I climb onto his rear deck and he'd roll with me as deadweight. Well, that's an invitation I couldn't resist - after all, who wouldn't want to be deadweight? - and within seconds I was completely wet. The rolling stunt was performed repeatedly - Dan leaning forward, Dan leaning back, Dan rolling three times in succession... The only one he couldn't figure out seemed impossible to me anyway: I sat behind him, grabbing hold of his cockpit coaming but sitting up fully. There was no plan for me to lay back or tuck forward - I would simply be a big, upright protrusion on the boat. It didn't work - Dan didn't have to wet exit, but I was no longer on the boat when he rolled back up.
I got water up my nose, and relinquished my death-grip on Dan's kayak - but Amie hopped on, and I managed to snap a few pictures of these cool rolls. After lunch, Dan and the rest of the rolling aficionados (Bert and Mike) talked boat, and then Dan spent some time with Stef and her roll (she ended up nailing it). Sarka and Amie went for another swim. Keith practiced the cowboy self-rescue. I went for a very brief exploration of Marcy's Woods (read: I had to pee), but got annoyed with myself for knowing absolutely nothing about
Carolinian forests - and just as there was no engineer at my service, there was no ecologist handy to pester with my questions. So I settled for asking Mike questions about sewing your own paddling clothing, but the conversation quickly went over my head when Sarka joined us and words like serger started getting used...
With water warm enough to swim in and such a hot day, we didn't leave that beach until 3 p.m. -
and since Stef and I had to be back in Campbellville by 6 p.m., we pretty much needed to paddle straight back to the car. Everybody else came with us, though some of the crew was planning to launch again after our goodbyes were said (however, I did see at least two other kayaks come off the water when we called it a day).
Bottom line? A relaxing paddle, an interesting place to explore with some great highlights, an unexpected early season opportunity to swim without a wetsuit, and the usual fascinatingly diverse crewof sea kayakers that I enjoy so much. Thanks to Bert for organizingand Amie for encouraging me to come! But, truly, Lake Erie? Really is a bit smeary (probably smearier than the unopened pool).
p.s.: I've been getting grief for not posting pictures of myself of late. So, here you go, enough narcissism to make up for all the entries without goofy self-portraits.
