Houseboating in the Thousand Islands

By Karen

Life in the houseboat has been remarkably similar to life in the RV.  Both types of vacations have been wonderful sources of family memories.  Here in the Thousand Islands, we are having a fabulous time swimming and jumping in the river while learning so much about living on the water. 

The houseboat is basically an RV camper surrounded by a walk-around deck and plopped on top of three pontoons with a 70 hp engine.  The boat is 48 feet long and about 15 feet wide.  There is a front and back deck each about four feet long and a one foot walkway along the sides.  Greatly expanding our living space is the flat roof deck which is accessible by a skinny ladder from the front deck. 

There are sleeping quarters for ten people – two double bunks with a single bunk over them, a bench/bed, a table that converts to a double bed, and another bench that converts to a double bed.  We have tons of storage space in the cabin underneath all the benches and bunks.  Thankfully the weather has been so nice that we really haven’t needed all the clothes that I made the kids pack – we are living in our bathing suits and simply switching from a wet suit to a dry one all day long.

One big difference between the houseboat and the RV is that Michael is not the only driver.  The big kids have all learned to drive the boat.  They are fairly comfortable at the helm and can deftly handle the wakes of the triple decker tour boats passing by.  The kids have instantly become terrific deck hands and handle the anchors and tying up to a dock like they have been doing this for years.

The nautical world has been a new adventure for us.  Our vocabulary has expanded and now includes port and starboard.  We have learned to keep the red buoys on our port/left and green buoys on our starboard/right while traveling down river (and vice versa when heading up river).  Reading nautical charts has been something new for the kids and they take turns being the “navigator.” With so many islands and rocks in the river, the navigating is both challenging and important.  Since we are in Canada, the depth is measured in meters. 

Life in the houseboat is more fluid than life in the RV.  What I mean by that is, we can boat to anywhere we want to go.  There are no roads limiting our direction on the water but rather suggested channels or waterways marked by buoys.  The deck hand with the binoculars reads the buoy marking which the navigator matches up with the mark on the chart.  But once you’re off the “waterway,” you have to keep track of which islands you are passing between to know where you are.  There is no GPS or radar system in the houseboat.  About twenty of the 1,800 islands are labeled with Canadian national park signs and those signs help confirm our location.  We can also explore any of the national park islands since the boat comes with a Canadian national park pass.  Needless to say, we do not motor at night.

Dining on the houseboat has been very similar to RV dining.  The kitchens are very similar, except the RV’s microwave has been replaced by an oven, and an outdoor grill on the front of the houseboat railing takes the place of our portable grill on the RV.  Circles around the campfire have been replaced by dinner on either the roof deck or front deck.

Thankfully, no one has gotten seasick.  Michael faithfully wears his seabands around his wrist and regretfully minimizes his alcoholic beverages.  The kids have boundless energy and have invented more “games” that involve jumping off the boat than I could have ever imagined.  For instance, float all four noodles near the boat and then see how many you can snag in one jump off the roof deck!  I have grown accustomed to the houseboat rocking as they jump off the roof over and over again.  I even faithfully videotaped every attempt the boys made at jumping off the deck while tossing the football to each other in mid-air. 

A simple fishing rod has occupied Patrick and Matty – our home-grown pirates!  Fish have no need to fear us but boaters beware of the houseboat flying the dreaded pirate flag we brought with us from Long Island.  They are a hoot!   Meanwhile, Bridget is plowing through books while Conor is texting and Molly plays solitaire.

Hauling up the anchors in the morning

Because we simply find a nice spot to anchor for the night, our interaction with locals has been rather limited.  Whereas the folks running campgrounds on our RV trips were very friendly and helpful, the few times that we have docked at a marina for refueling or “supplies,” our interactions have been somewhat limited.  Suffice it to say that the Canadians on land have been rather reticent in their responses to our admittedly naïve questions.  Then again, we have to remind ourselves that traveling in a rental houseboat probably makes us the dregs of the boating world.  Canadian boaters however have been friendly and helpful even though we don’t speak French.

Life on the houseboat is full of beautiful moments and adrenalin rushes.  The sunsets are priceless and the full moon has been so bright that you could almost read in bed without a light on.  The river is surprisingly clear and not as cold as I expected.  I have also been surprised at how quiet it can be in the middle of a still night – so still that I could hear a fish surfacing near the houseboat.  A slight breeze at night means that some of the kids sleep on the front deck.  A still night means that the mosquitoes have chased them inside and Matty can be found with a fly swatter in hand.  The adventures – adrift with our motor stuck in some rocks and a national park boat dock that broke while we were tied up to it – have revealed that no one in the family freaks out under pressure.  So far, the houseboat has been a terrific combination of beauty and adventure.  Above all, the family time has been priceless.