Day 6: Leek Island to Sugar Island

By Michael

Day six was idyllic.  After five days, we had grown accustomed to the easy rhythm of houseboat life.  When I woke up at 7am (early for boaters), everyone else was asleep.  I took the computer, picked my way through the three boys who were fast asleep on the front deck, and climbed to the roof.  The sun was up and the air felt warm already.  Our houseboat sat in perfectly still waters in a picturesque little lagoon.  The silence was broken only by the occasional flapping of a bird’s wings or the rare splash from a jumping fish.  Peaceful.

(I later learned that I was not the first to arise.  Although he was now sound asleep, Patrick had been up before dawn to go fishing off the roof.  His enthusiasm for casting is matched only by his inability to catch anything larger than four inches long.)



"Yes, Katie, I promise I'll
shave before I get home.

Soon, the rest of the family was moving about.  The boys were taking their morning bath, Bridget was reading, Karen was taking pictures, and Molly joined me on the roof.  We had learned not to rush.  After a leisurely breakfast and swim, we raised the anchors, and headed down river to the day’s destination: a return to the cliffs off Sugar Island.

The hour-long drive (I don’t think that’s the right word) was familiar and took us through the Canadian Middle Channel, very close to the international border.  Patrick and Bridget took turns navigating and steering, while Matthew chilled and Conor talked to Katie on the phone.  Once we arrived at our destination, we rounded the small unnamed island that the kids had christened “Match & Patch Island” a few days before and found the area in front of the cliff to be unoccupied.  I maneuvered the boat into position, we dropped both anchors, and promptly jumped into the water to cool off. 



A relaxing swim?

The rest of the afternoon was spent alternately lazing about (playing solitaire, reading, floating on a noodle), exploring the nearby islands (Matthew and Patrick, doing their best impression of Lewis and Clarke – or perhaps Samuel de Champlain), exercising (all of us, swimming around Match & Patch Island), and high-adventure playing (most of us jumping off the cliffs). 

Our anchor spot seemed perfect.To the southwest was Sugar Island, to the northeast was the unnamed island with the cliffs, to the southeast were the rocks that we got hung up on during Day 2, and to the northwest was the Gananoque Channel.The anchorage was well sheltered from the prevailing winds, which usually come from the southwest.

The cliffs almost seem to have been made for jumping.  An easy scramble leads to the top, about 25 feet above the water.  The ledge at the top juts out slightly and the river below is at least 20 feet deep.  The only tricky part is that the ledge slopes downward right at the edge, making the footing seem precarious.  And then there is the height.  Looking at the cliff from the houseboat, it doesn’t seem too high.  But looking down from the top is a different story.  It’s high enough that no how much you think you want to jump, the deep, instinctual part of your brain – that part responsible for your survival – repeatedly says “don’t do it, don’t do it.”  So leaping into that void requires far more will power than I expected.  I jumped four times, and each time I had to force myself to do it.  Still, it was fun and exhilarating.

Bridget, about to make
another catch

Not content with just jumping, the kids turned it into a game that involved catching the football.  Needless to say, it’s not easy to catch a football while dropping like a stone.  But they somehow managed to do it more than once.  They also misfired many times, and the last misfire was a little nerve wracking.  I was watching from the houseboat as Bridget got set to jump.  Conor was the thrower; Matty was standing behind Bridget on the ledge.  As Bridget started to jump, she realized that the throw was too high.  She hesitated, then started to lose her balance, teetering for a moment on top of the ledge.  Fortunately, as her momentum carried her over the edge, she gathered her legs under her just enough to turn the fall into a jump.  She hit the water feet first, and came up calmly saying “I’m fine.”  I don’t know who was more relieved, Conor (who threw the ball) or Matty (who saw her go over the edge).  Most fortunately, Karen wasn’t watching!

The rest of the day was more relaxing – cocktails on the front deck, another swim because it was so hot, dinner on the roof in the light of another beautiful sunset, an after-dinner card game (Uncle’s Folly), and then bedding down for the night.  A nice breeze had picked up from the south, enough to blow the bugs away and convince the boys to bring the sleeping bags out to the front deck.  As the kids drifted off to sleep, Karen and I got out flashlights to read our books.  As midnight approached, I realized that Day 6 had been our first day without any mishaps or unduly exciting adventures – no broken docks, dragged anchors, or rock snags.  It had been a thoroughly relaxing day.  Then Day 7 began ….

The calm before the storm.