The small white kind of boat dog
And the BIG BLACK kind of boat dog
Hot dogs from the local Law - RCMP
Canadian Patriot boat dog
The three stooges boat dogs
Hot dog on the rocks
15. August 2010, still enjoying a steady diet of grounded boats in Pirate's Cove. Boaters ignoring navigational aids and barging into the Cove smack bang over the middle of the entrance reef with 3 inches of clearance on a good day. Mercifully there are always a few heavy duty dinghies around who can skip over and - if at all possible - pull the stranded ones off the rocks. The bravura, ignorance, macho attitude and feminine inaction are a sight to behold.Sometimes the kids aboard are more clued in than the adults in charge. On the last grounding, which happened in a borrowed boat, mainsail up and tightly winched in, outboard going full tilt, the lady of the boat kept watch on the bow, needless to say a look at the charts would have helped a bit more. The reef, covered with a thin sheet of water, are probably invisible against the setting sun, the beacons, however, are plainly visible. So, another one bit the dust. The young 10 year old aboard said excitedly and still a little frightened, when I finally rowed over to the now anchored boat, that they learned all about rocks in sailing school, and that they were really scary. I wish that the parents would have gone to school instead. They dropped anchor in the centre of the entrance channel, and immediately lowered a crab trap on a floating line, effectively creating a perfect entanglement trap for propellers on transiting boats. Duty done, I asked the captain to reconsider his crab fishing, assuring him, that there are no crabs anyway, and the ones he possibly catches are probably inedible.
A boater, who was taking his large Irish Setter back from his evening constitutional, and was trying to coax him into the dinghy, lost his balance and fell into the water. He could not get back into the dinghy which by now started to float away - sans dog - who watched the action with bated breath and hanging tongue, finally managed to clamber back onto the dinghy dock with the Walker dinghy in tow. Meanwhile his beloved wife watches the scene from the mother boat with great glee, which earned her a severe 'keep quiet' from her drenched husband and a wagging tail from her dry dog.
The LAW visited one fine hot afternoon and stopped by my 'host dock' and chatted for a while, offering 24-7 RCMP support upon a simple phone call, should things go out of hand here in the Cove. So far no untoward activity, and the few party boats dropping in for a few brewskies have behaved reasonably well.
The forestry warden dropped by, and nearly cut off his fingers when he tried to hold onto the dock whilst his aluminum runabout jammed against the side of the dock. Nothing turned black, and he seemed to weather the pain heroically. Kane, his large Newfie dog, clambered on my dock and - upon command - did the usual doggie things like lay down, play dead, give paw. The fire warden explained that Kane is a mean dog (oh really??) because one fine day he killed his twin brother Abel. That's a Canadian joke...
Dogs and more dogs, some dressed in sun shades, some so rotund that all they can do in the heat is find a cool rock in the shade an slump down. Some come in a ready made pack, transported around in a little netting box, like the three stooges in above photo. One of which had a sad story, the lady walking the trio mentioned, that the third one is an adopted orphan - from her son, who previously owned him, and who had sadly passed away three weeks ago.
One more day for me here, and then off to Conover Cove on Wallace Island. I am sweltering under a cloudless sky, calm airs and 30+ degrees Celsius - summer is truly here.
