A Cruise on Lake Rossignol 



The sea was wicked when we rounded Wildcat Point. 

 While I stood up on the after deck to try to get a picture 

 of the flying spray, the canoe snapped her painter, and 

 unnoticed by us, made for the rocky windward shore of 

 Bear Island, right under our lee. I had visions of the 

 loss of an expensive canoe, but the gods that fight for 

 sailors and hunters won out. The light craft slipped into 

 a little protected cove and grounded. To recover her 

 we did not dare follow through the breakers and rocks, 

 so ran around to the lee side of the island, where Ken, 

 accompanied by the ever-present Spot, landed and 

 walked across the island and salvaged the undamaged 

 craft. He navigated through the flowage and brought 

 her safely to the power boat. Then, just to show us 

 what a canoe could stand in a heavy wind and sea, he 

 paddled right out around the end of Bear Island, while 

 I stood on some rocks and took a picture of the perform- 

 ance. He paddled against the sea, then turned her 

 around in the trough and brought her back again — all 

 without shipping a drop of water. But — it was " no place 

 for a minister's son," at that ! 



Ken and the Missus sailed by in the power boat, and 

 again the camera clicked. They then came about, and 

 rounding into the lee, nosed into the shore so that I could 

 climb aboard. These flat-bottomed dories are great for 

 this sort of work. 



Once more we headed for the western shore. It was 

 blowing a gale, and the lake was a mass of white foam. 

 Right out in the middle of the lake the engine stopped. 

 No gas was getting to the carburettor. Investigation 

 disclosed the fact that the sediment had completely 

 clogged the strainer in the tank's outlet. In a few 

 minutes Ken had cleaned and replaced it. The engine 

 kicked off as nonchalantly as ever. However, it was 

 better to have the dirt caught right where it was than 



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