The boat was rigged, the guys showered, the final systems checked and we were casting off by 3:00pm on our heading for a waypoint off the Eastern Gap, Toronto.
Once under way, hungry from their labouring in the sun was the primary concern of the guys so a quick feed of pasta to tide them over until dinner was my first order of business.
Next, I would take my one and only watch so that they could rest themselves for the long night ahead. ETA was about twenty hours from departure. The lake was calm, the winds mild and the sails set as I scanned the lake, my only companions, a few lone gulls and the occasional vessel too far away to be of any concern. As the sun sunk on a perfect day, the wind began to diminish and the water was glassy smooth. My duty done (lol), I could concentrate on the dinner, a hearty chicken stew prepared earlier as the guys toiled above decks.
We dined as the sun began to set and the business of night sailing began. The only obstacle in our course was a forecast front that might or might not be an issue depending upon how it tracked and when it passed…you know, the usual. I slept on and off (waking to anticipate whether the increasing wind was a sign we were about to be lambasted) as the guys took watches throughout the night. Finally, at about 4:00am, the diesel smell in the cabin drove me above decks for the remainder of the crossing.
We were fortunate. The front passed had passed far from our route and we enjoyed an unobstructed crossing at a good pace, putting us right on track for a late morning arrival as projected. The sun rose on another beautiful day. Toronto loomed on the horizon for hours as we made our way toward the eastern gap.
It felt as if we had been out on a day sail around the island as we finally rounded the Leslie St. spit and headed into the gap and Toronto Harbour. It seemed like yesterday not an eternity ago the last time we entered the lagoon and motored up to our dock to fix our lines at Queen City Yacht Club.
Ken blew the conch horn as we made our way to the dock. Sadly, the few souls around had no idea of the significance of his performance. We made fast the lines and I headed below to complete the preparation of a celebratory brunch for the crew. Peach and blueberry pancakes with fresh mixed berries & Ontario Maple Syrup and bacon.
No sooner had we cleaned up then friends and well-wishers began to arrive. Dwight (& later Carol) came bearing a large welcome home tin of Tim Horton’s coffee. Soon, the cockpit was full, like we had never been away. Rick & Wendy arrived straight from an appointment. Whitt came and brought the CD of all the photos he had taken when he cruised on Tapas with us in the Exumas. Ken Rodmell came by and the list goes on and on. A mimosa toast made our homecoming official.
In true Queen City style, we were made to feel welcomed by all who we encountered. Most people had not seen Allure and assumed we were only back for hurricane season again but my refrain of “We’re back on the dock. We won the race down and back!” clarified our status. We were truly home.
Soon, family dinners and the demands of dirt dwelling quickly consumed us.