Claustrophobia

Japanese Ukiyo-e (floating world) prints have begun to make me feel claustrophobic. The more I see and study, the more rational this view seems to me. It was a time and place where the Tokugawa shogunate formulated strict controls over society and instituted seclusion from the rest of the world.

Tokugawa Iemitsu, shogun of Japan, issued the Sakoku-rei in 1635. It formalized Japan isolation spelling disaster for the Japanese Catholic community, preventing Japanese from leaving and Europeans from coming under penalty of death, and imposing severe trade restrictions.

It was a time (17th to 20th century) and a place (Edo), and many of the prints depict the Yoshiwara (the pleasure quarter) district’s inhabitants and the environs surrounding Mt. Fuji. It was also a time of despondent samurai and of a newly minted merchant class, of peace and at least for the samurai, boredom. And it was a time of royal hostages in Edo and distant Daimyo with their armies in the home provinces shaking down the peasantry to fund their forced dual lifestyle.

Many prints are of courtesans and actors, both of such low stature that the shogun edicts bypass them. At least in the prints, many of the faces are known by name. They are the cultural icons of their day and their images were collected like baseball cards by their fan clubs. It is an interesting mix of voyeurism and mass culture. A courtesan is most likely unattainable, whereas an actor can be seen for the price of a ticket at the local kabuki theatre.

Other prints are more geographical, like postcards with a theme. These are populated with common folk: carpenters, fishermen, merchants, porters, children, dogs, and fellow highway travellers. And to my point of isolation, multiple environs are depicted but all whirl around Mt. Fuji. It is as if nothing exists beyond its reach. It would be as if our lives vanished once the Wilson (Sears) Tower is no longer visible on the horizon.

I trust you understand that I am ignoring the whole and concentrating on my prejudices while gazing deep into the prints and in that way I am being selfish, but so be it. If you strongly disagree with me then I am elated. Elated that you care enough about these overused images — to the point where they have almost become invisible — to fight for your opinion.

As I look into and between the lines so carefully carved by unknown craftsmen, I see both a sequestered and an absolute world unto itself. It is hard to co-mingle the restricted with the expansive. That is one of the charms of these prints. This dichotomy keeps me coming back again and again. The uncertainty lends an air of universality, of mischievousness, of depth and of frivolity.

America is beautiful because of a lack of boundaries. For the price of gas I can get in my car and drive thousands of unhindered miles from shore to shore both east and west, and north and south. Japan is beautiful because of its confines: a central spine of mountains and an archipelago of islands. Both our geographies make us unique.

So, I will continue to gaze into Japan’s claustrophobic floating world with hesitancy and with longing. Ah, to be a fly on a shoji screen. To be able to linger and depart at will.

Narrows

Georgian Bay in Lake Huron has peculiar charts called strip charts. These are used to navigate its Small Craft Route. Actually not just Georgian Bay but the Trent Severn and Rideau waterways also have them. And I probably shouldn’t say peculiar. The U.S. Army Corp of Engineers has similar charts of our river systems. These charts are in a ring leaf binder and the pages are flipped as you travel.

Of course depicting the river is simple compared to Canada’s Small Craft Route. It winds itself through 10,000 Islands, which is also the name for this area of granite islands and pine forests. I have had quite a time familiarizing myself the geography. Somewhat disconcertingly it has taken being in the midst of it to finally grasps its intricacies.

Strip charts come in separate packets with varying numbers of sheets in each packet. For example I am at presently using sheet 3 of 5 of the Port Severn to Parry Sound packet #2202. Each sheet covers about 10 statue miles.

This brings up another peculiarity. When on the big water of the Great Lakes we navigate in knots and nautical miles. In more confined regions the units change to statue miles and the Small Craft Route is numbered thus. But here is the kicker; the speed limit (not that anyone follows it) is posted kilometers per hour. So I have one GPS set for kilometers, the computer is in nautical miles and the paper charts are statue miles!

But back to the sheet charts and as I said one chart follows the next. This sounds simple enough until you try to match them together. A thick red line traverses the chart when it is time to move on to the next. This red line shows the number of the next sheet and a letter (upper or lower case) in a white square box to further define where on the next chart to look. It could be anywhere. Let’s just say it is not a linear process and neither are the Narrows.

Tuesday we left Parry Sound heading east to Echo Bay and a rendezvous with the famous fish restaurant called Henry’s on Frying Pan Island. To get there we needed to negotiate several tight passages. They all were within the first few miles south of Parry Sound. The first was not really a passage but a very narrow canal under the bridge that connects Parry Island with the mainland. No problem here once I stopped aiming for the beach just to the right of it.

Canada does a good job of marking the path with many different types of navigational aids, the most common being the buoy. One of the rules of the road is Red, Right, Returning. This means that when heading into port from the sea the red is always on the right. In this labyrinth we find ourselves in it is a very fluid (pardon the pun) concept. So to add to the confusion, since we are heading for Georgian Bay the green buoys are on the right. To help me stay in the channel I made a wooden replica of a green can and a red nun that can be easily reversed. I have looked to it for guidance many times this year.

When the Narrows started in earnest we were fast approaching Two Mile Narrows. I had been lead to believe that the worst of the Narrows was to be further down but here was an impossibly skinny passage blasted out of pure granite. It also happens to be the first of many a blind curve. Suddenly multiple speedboats materialize coming full speed straight at us without the slightest effort to slow. I understand that I am the interloper. They have seen many like us pass through their territory, so I keep my course and hope for their better judgment.

Next is a no name pinch between Isabella Island and Channel Island. This leads to Three Mile Gap and then to the mercifully wide Five Mile Bay. Three miles into the trip I am finally getting orientated to my environment.

Ahead we picked out the gap between Gell Pt. and Leisur Lee Pt. While slowly cruising down Five Mile Bay both Sir Tugley Blue and a small boat towing a big inflatable dinghy pass us. One piece of advice veteran Canadian cruisers gave us was to stop or slow down if not sure of your location or are uncomfortable with the situation, so we did.

In my beloved Chicago there would be bravado of horn blowing and finger pointing. But this is Canada and even though it seems like they are trying to run us on the rocks everyone smiles and waves as they speed by. Only one rather large boat purposely plays chicken until I turn slightly away. He went by too fast to see if any gesture was directed towards us.

Hawkins Point comes in view and the uneventful Five Miles Narrows, but the worst is yet to come. We have been told to announce our approach to the next narrows. In boating radio lingo this is called “securite”. On channel 16 you say, “Securite, securite, securite, this is the southbound 32 foot motor vehicle Carrie Rose transiting Seven Mile Narrows in 3 minutes.” Of course we also listen for traffic coming the other way. Instead Sir Tugely Blue call on channel 16 that it is a zoo in the narrows with 4, 5, no 6 speeding boats coming our way.

The entrance to Seven Mile Narrows is truly narrow and to add to the excitement has a blind curve to the right. Anticipating a melee I slowed and then stopped dead as six hurtling speedboats pop out the entrance like the corks from so many champagne bottles. I was thinking if I do not make my move I will never get through, so like merging left onto the Dan Ryan expressway I start to move forward. The last boat coming out sees me, decides it will lose in a confrontation and waves me through.

A half-mile, and thirteen buoys and day markers later it is past history. I take a deep abdominal breath and smile. Right about then with buoy 201 ahead marking another blind curve Sir Tugley Blue calls to inform us that he has just passed a 100 foot tug and barge coming our way. Not hearing a securite from the barge I keep moving and we exchange greetings in a spot that passes for wide in this part of the world.

Today it has been decided to stay snug in Echo Bay as our path east will be exposed to Georgian Bay’s 25 knot SW winds and waves. At anchor we sway between 240° and 310°. It is another day in the life of Carrie Rose.

September 2013