Summer arrives at 130 miles an hour

Like many people in Muskoka, I feel that summer isn’t really here until I’ve gone out in a boat. Last weekend, my summer arrived.

The inaugural trip of the season may not have been in Muskoka, but it was on Lake Couchiching, which is close enough in both geography and geology to feel very much like a Muskoka boat ride. Besides, the shore of every lake looks roughly the same when it’s rushing past you at 130 miles an hour.

I had been invited aboard a racing catamaran – a twin-hulled, 2,300-horsepower cousin of the cigarette boat. Normally a denizen of Georgian Bay, Lake Ontario and the Atlantic Ocean, the craft was among several taking part in a charity poker run on Lake Couchiching. I was writing about the boat – you can see the article in the next issue of Beyond the City magazine – and was invited for a ride to see what it is like.

I had wrestled with the ethical implications of a boat like this. After all, it sucks fuel, makes an enormous amount of noise and is capable of killing wildlife. Then again, the same can be said of any powerboat. This boat, on the other hand, raises tens of thousands of dollars for charity, is only driven for a few dozen hours a year, and hardly ever goes on inland waterways. Environmentally, I figured it works out just about even; and I was curious to see how it compared as a way of boating.

As we pulled out of the marina and began to pick up speed, my eyes were fixed on the speedometer mounted on the back of the pilot and co-pilot seats in front of me. The speedometer doesn’t even register below 45 miles an hour, but soon the needle was gliding upward. At 60 miles an hour, the boat was pitching slightly, trying to get fully up on plane. By 80 miles an hour it was levelling out, and the ride was thrilling. When we hit 100, the motion was a steady chattering as the twin hulls skipped across the surface. The roar of the engines behind me began to merge with the roar of the wind in my ears. I pressed my sunglasses in place and turned to look at the shore, trying to put our speed in context.

And still it increased. 110. 120. 130. The world became a blur of wind, noise and speed. My eyeballs seemed to be bobbling slightly in their sockets, making it hard to focus on anything. I kept my mouth closed tight, certain that if the wind got in, it would rip my lips apart and peel my face back from my skull. I could feel the air trying to remove my ears from the sides of my head, and suddenly became aware that any flying particle – a bee or a seagull dropping – would hit my head like a bullet and not stop until it came out the back.

I believe every new experience is an opportunity to learn something, and this ride was teaching me something about myself: it turns out I’m not a speed demon.

I love boating at just about any speed. One of the most thrilling rides I’ve ever enjoyed was aboard the veteran race boat B-IV, a Ditchburn that took us across Lake Muskoka at around 60 miles an hour. That ride was exciting and enjoyable, and I would leap at the chance to repeat it. My trip on the racing catamaran was also exciting, and largely enjoyable. But I’m not sure I would hurry to repeat the experience. Everyone has their limits, and it seems mine is somewhere around 100 miles an hour.

So thanks for the ride, guys. I really do appreciate the chance to experience it. Summer’s here and I can’t wait to get out on the water again. I’ll do a little sailing, some kayaking, and perhaps enjoy a motorboat ride or two. But below a hundred mph suits me just fine.