Barb Harris, Eldora Taylor, Karin Meilinger,
Carol-Ann and Greta Bannan
The whole affair got off to a bad tart...I mean a bad start...well a bad tart too...I guess I better explain.
The plan was to meet at the Chi-Cheemaun Ferry at Tobermory for the early morning crossing. Eight fifty a.m. was a pretty early crossing alright, since we were required to be there an hour early and it was an hour and twenty minute drive from Owen Sound where we live. As always the ferry would be leaving absolutely on time!
Loading our Uplander the night before, Carol-Ann and I had arisen about 5:15 a.m., showered, dressed and grabbing a quick breakfast managed to get on the road by 6:30. The plan was to meet three of the others, motoring in another vehicle, at the dock in Tobermory. From there we were to follow this group led by Eldora Taylor, a good friend and pastel artist, as they disembarked from the ferry onto Manitoulin. This was a critical part of the plan since neither Carol-Ann nor I had an inkling of where we were going except some vague reference to a mysterious island in McGregor Bay, wherever the hell that was.
Anxiously waiting for Eldora's van to arrive, we squirmed in our seats in between making numerous unnecessary restroom visits and walking up and down the rows of vehicles in line to drive onto the ferry. She was nowhere to be seen! The minutes passed, seconds quickly ticked away...still no Eldora. The announcement came and we boarded...still no Eldora. Leaving our car we went to the top deck. The engines started and the ferry was making preparations to depart. From our vantage point we looked down on one final vehicle streaking across the parking lot towards the ferry. "It is either someone lost from the Sauble Beach racetrack"I said "or it's Eldora". The driver's blowing white hair was the only indication that Eldora might have finally arrived! From where we stood, we couldn't see whether the loading ramp was still in place, or she was making a running leap for the deck James Bond style. Nonetheless, We were pretty sure she had made it since we didn't hear a large splash.
On the boat we finally connected with Eldora, Barb and Greta. Eldora's explanation for being late was that she had indeed gone to Sauble Beach by mistake - she had kept going straight at Hepworth instead of turning right. (My Sauble Beach race car crack seemed prophetic.) Oh well, everything would be fine now we thought.
A conference on the boat with Eldora and her gang produced a plan. Since we would be disembarking first we would wait by the side of the road for her, and then follow her blue van.
On leaving the boat Carol-Ann thought she saw Eldora up ahead, "She must have gotten off ahead of us, that's her for sure" she said "it's her van and she's driving away."
"Are you sure?" I questioned.
"Positive" said Carol-Ann.
"She must be following someone else and thinks it's us" says I. So off we sped like a bat out of hell trying to catch up to the speediest lady in southern Ontario.
After driving about twenty kilometers, I said," That can't be Eldora, she would have realized by now that we were not in the car ahead of her. We'll have to go back - she must still be back on the dock waiting for us."
After weighing the pros and cons of returning, we did just that. About halfway back we saw a blue van barrelling towards us and, in a blink, whiz by.
"It must be her" said Carol-Ann.
"Has to be" says I.
"Blowing white hair" said Carol-Ann.
"I saw it too - but the car was going too fast to be sure" I replied.
We whipped around again. I was breaking all previous speed records on that highway, but yet we were losing ground. Finally some law-abiding traffic ahead slowed the blue van down sufficiently to get us close enough to see the driver. It was her. She had spotted us in the rear view mirror and was waving. In unison we breathed sighs of relief.
No need to bore you with the fact that we got lost again following Eldora who was trying to find a place to have lunch. Although the part where we ended up in someone's back yard was amusing... to us anyway. Lunch was interesting too - tons of sandwiches, fruits and desserts and cookies were produced with beverages to wash it down. Eldora dug up a box of homemade butter tarts and this brings me back to my original statement about a bad tart. They looked good, but I wish I had brought a shovel to get them out of the box.
Carol-Ann was drooling by the time she finally got one loose. "Geez they're sticky!" she opined.
Eldora started to laugh..."I forgot to add the full amount of flour - there is four cups less than there should be" she said.
"Yummy," smacked Carol-Ann, sucking the mucky residue from her sticky fingers.
After lunch we got lost one more time, but this time a fortuitously suspicious police officer in a passing cruiser managed to get us back on the right track again. And I'll be darned if we didn't against all odds finally make it to McGregor Bay. The sixth member of the expedition, Karen, was already there waiting for us. Obviously she must have had previous travelling experience with Eldora since she had decided to drive all alone the long way around Georgian Bay from Wasaga Beach, a four hour drive. She looked much calmer than the rest of us. Smart girl!
Let's review the facts here. You have to know by now that I am the only male in the group. I was invited to go on this five day plein air paint out and had agreed to go along several months earlier. Initially there had been one other male, but circumstances had prevented him from joining us. Five days alone on an island with five women had been a cherished fantasy of mine in my youth, but now in my mid-sixties, it is an understatement to say that I was experiencing some trepidation. I have had many fishing trips and the like with several male friends over similar lengths of time and in similar places and had always found it very enjoyable. But with five women, five days, in the wilderness with no means of escape -"Man, what have I got myself into this time ", I thought! And it was this thought that was foremost in my mind as we loaded up one of the two power boats that was to take us and all our gear to the isolated cabin on a lonely island somewhere on McGregor Bay.
cont'd
Well sir, our porters got us to our island and in good time, notwithstanding we had two pretty well over-loaded boats. One overloaded with women; the other with supplies. And supplies there were: paraphernalia for painting, gear for every contingency, food enough to feed the five thousand without the need of blessing. You would have thought we were going to be there for the whole summer!
It was here that I began my re-education about the nature of women…those frail little creatures for whom many of us rush to open doors or insist on carrying their bags in the malls, and so forth. I tell you pack horses would form a union if they were forced to carry some of the stuff these little ladies cheerfully hefted and lugged up over those traitorous rocks to our awaiting cottage.
The second lesson I was to learn soon enough (or rather reaffirm for one cannot live this long within realizing it) was that women’s behaviour is opposite to males in respect to logic. The male version of common sense just does not rub off on them no matter how long they associate with us. Not a bit. You see I have been on similar outings with the same number of men a few times, the latest a fishing trip only a couple of years ago. Our system was to assign a couple of guys the duty of figuring out and purchasing what we were going to eat. Each meal was meticulously planned and likewise snacks and condiments carefully calculated. The practical male nature didn’t allow us to carry more than we could consume. Later, of course, we totaled up and divided the cost.
The women had a different approach…the responsibility for individual meals were divided amongst everyone in the group. The way it ended up each person being responsible for one lunch and one dinner with the exception of Carol-Ann and me who had agreed to be in charge of all the breakfasts. Now on the surface this might seem to be a pretty good arrangement, but the downside became obvious when we ended up with six bottles of coffee, six different teas, half dozen bags of sugar…and so forth. And the snacks followed a similar pattern. Little wonder then that the fridge door wouldn’t close, jeopardizing our six jugs of milk. Oh well, nobody seemed to mind and everyone was intent on having a good time. The odd bottle of wine appeared here and there and from time to time but only a couple of beers. I seemed to be the only one gifted with foresight in this respect. Here again a major difference from the male group.
I should take a little time here to describe our lodgings. It was an old style, three bedroom, one bathroom cottage with a large combined kitchen, dining and sitting room. There was no hydro, everything ran on propane. An old wood stove would have provided the heat if needed, but in June it was not. A large screened-in deck overlooked the beautiful waters of McGregor Bay from which a cold breeze rustled the pine needles which, along with the chirping birds and wailing loons, combined to create a symphony of music that Mozart would have envied Heaven! The deck served as a haven where painting could take place if rain threatened. I quickly commandeered one of the two comfortable looking old couches that adorned the area. The possibilities for sleeping were obvious. No one objected (except Carol-Ann), so that’s where I slept nightly drifting off quickly to nature’s sweetest music. However, inside the cottage the music was far less harmonious. Who said women don’t snore, not to mention other humanly originated night noises including irregular, but fairly steady, bathroom trips. I slept like a log, my peace broken only by the occasional trip to my own personal bathroom…the great outdoors.
Now I’m not going to thrill you by relating every detail on every event that transpired throughout our stay, suffice to say none of us starved. These ladies can cook and at the end of our stay, I had the increased poundage to prove it. They could cook and they could paint! They could fish and they could scale sheer cliffs!. They could tell jokes that would make my fishing buddies blush! In short, they could do just about anything. I was beginning to think a pickup game of full contact football wouldn’t have been out of the question had the rock we perched on been level enough. I was impressed!
And how did I fit in? No problem at all, in no time I was considered to be one of the girls…well almost! They raved about my breakfast, just to make me feel good, I think, while my more than capable partner, Carol-Ann, received only polite acknowledgement which she accepted good humouredly. The placemat/menus that Carol-Ann had designed, run off on the computer and laminated were a nice touch. Good job Babe!
And how did I enjoy myself? It was first class. These girls were a great bunch of guys. Yeah, they talked more then men, but if I needed some quiet time I could always shift my easel to a remote part of the island and listen to the loons instead.
The days flew by all too rapidly and it was over. We elected to drive back the long way around Georgian Bay rather than take the Chi-Cheemaun. One final lunch was arranged in a little park at Whitefish Falls. Not much chance of getting lost in this little community with a two digit population and one road. There were plenty of leftovers, so we gorged ourselves, rested briefly, didn’t tell Eldora (who is deathly afraid of snakes and wouldn’t venture anywhere on the Island because of their presence) that there was a huge specimen curled up sunning itself close to our picnic table and said our goodbyes. I even collected a kiss from everyone. They even invited me to join them again next June, and guess what….I said yes!
Karen left in her car with Barb, Carol-Ann and I followed in car two and Eldora promised to follow shortly with Greta. When she didn’t catch up and fly past us by the time we hit the turnoff at Sudbury to head south, I had an increasingly nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. “She probably turned left at Espanola.” I surmised to Carol-Ann. As we drew near to Barrie and still no Eldora, I was doing some mileage calculations…”Half way through Michigan by now would be my guess!”
The End…until next time!
It was here that I began my re-education about the nature of women…those frail little creatures for whom many of us rush to open doors or insist on carrying their bags in the malls, and so forth. I tell you pack horses would form a union if they were forced to carry some of the stuff these little ladies cheerfully hefted and lugged up over those traitorous rocks to our awaiting cottage.
The second lesson I was to learn soon enough (or rather reaffirm for one cannot live this long within realizing it) was that women’s behaviour is opposite to males in respect to logic. The male version of common sense just does not rub off on them no matter how long they associate with us. Not a bit. You see I have been on similar outings with the same number of men a few times, the latest a fishing trip only a couple of years ago. Our system was to assign a couple of guys the duty of figuring out and purchasing what we were going to eat. Each meal was meticulously planned and likewise snacks and condiments carefully calculated. The practical male nature didn’t allow us to carry more than we could consume. Later, of course, we totaled up and divided the cost.
The women had a different approach…the responsibility for individual meals were divided amongst everyone in the group. The way it ended up each person being responsible for one lunch and one dinner with the exception of Carol-Ann and me who had agreed to be in charge of all the breakfasts. Now on the surface this might seem to be a pretty good arrangement, but the downside became obvious when we ended up with six bottles of coffee, six different teas, half dozen bags of sugar…and so forth. And the snacks followed a similar pattern. Little wonder then that the fridge door wouldn’t close, jeopardizing our six jugs of milk. Oh well, nobody seemed to mind and everyone was intent on having a good time. The odd bottle of wine appeared here and there and from time to time but only a couple of beers. I seemed to be the only one gifted with foresight in this respect. Here again a major difference from the male group.
I should take a little time here to describe our lodgings. It was an old style, three bedroom, one bathroom cottage with a large combined kitchen, dining and sitting room. There was no hydro, everything ran on propane. An old wood stove would have provided the heat if needed, but in June it was not. A large screened-in deck overlooked the beautiful waters of McGregor Bay from which a cold breeze rustled the pine needles which, along with the chirping birds and wailing loons, combined to create a symphony of music that Mozart would have envied Heaven! The deck served as a haven where painting could take place if rain threatened. I quickly commandeered one of the two comfortable looking old couches that adorned the area. The possibilities for sleeping were obvious. No one objected (except Carol-Ann), so that’s where I slept nightly drifting off quickly to nature’s sweetest music. However, inside the cottage the music was far less harmonious. Who said women don’t snore, not to mention other humanly originated night noises including irregular, but fairly steady, bathroom trips. I slept like a log, my peace broken only by the occasional trip to my own personal bathroom…the great outdoors.
Now I’m not going to thrill you by relating every detail on every event that transpired throughout our stay, suffice to say none of us starved. These ladies can cook and at the end of our stay, I had the increased poundage to prove it. They could cook and they could paint! They could fish and they could scale sheer cliffs!. They could tell jokes that would make my fishing buddies blush! In short, they could do just about anything. I was beginning to think a pickup game of full contact football wouldn’t have been out of the question had the rock we perched on been level enough. I was impressed!
And how did I fit in? No problem at all, in no time I was considered to be one of the girls…well almost! They raved about my breakfast, just to make me feel good, I think, while my more than capable partner, Carol-Ann, received only polite acknowledgement which she accepted good humouredly. The placemat/menus that Carol-Ann had designed, run off on the computer and laminated were a nice touch. Good job Babe!
And how did I enjoy myself? It was first class. These girls were a great bunch of guys. Yeah, they talked more then men, but if I needed some quiet time I could always shift my easel to a remote part of the island and listen to the loons instead.
The days flew by all too rapidly and it was over. We elected to drive back the long way around Georgian Bay rather than take the Chi-Cheemaun. One final lunch was arranged in a little park at Whitefish Falls. Not much chance of getting lost in this little community with a two digit population and one road. There were plenty of leftovers, so we gorged ourselves, rested briefly, didn’t tell Eldora (who is deathly afraid of snakes and wouldn’t venture anywhere on the Island because of their presence) that there was a huge specimen curled up sunning itself close to our picnic table and said our goodbyes. I even collected a kiss from everyone. They even invited me to join them again next June, and guess what….I said yes!
Karen left in her car with Barb, Carol-Ann and I followed in car two and Eldora promised to follow shortly with Greta. When she didn’t catch up and fly past us by the time we hit the turnoff at Sudbury to head south, I had an increasingly nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. “She probably turned left at Espanola.” I surmised to Carol-Ann. As we drew near to Barrie and still no Eldora, I was doing some mileage calculations…”Half way through Michigan by now would be my guess!”
The End…until next time!
