Braving Black Bay, Searching the Sleeping Giant

Our next jaunt of adventure, if portrayed through instructions via a scavenger hunt may read something like this:
Be ready to paddle like a yo-yo, retracing your previous paddling distance to locate a safe-haven should you need it.
Realize that said safe-haven will keep you further away from where you want to be, so actually head out amidst those surly seas.
Do not pass go, if go was to accomplish the twenty miles you desired to cover. – Whoa where did that Monopoly™ lingo appear?
Brave 4-6 foot seas in a beam wind for an additional rowdy crossing.
Have helmet ripped off boat, but fail to notice for a few minutes.
Admire white floating object in water that resembles a helmet.
Turn around in heavy seas to retrieve noggin protector.
Meander into unknown bay searching for place to camp, which is sheltered from wind.
Not locate a place like that.
Find a potential place with vertical beach style take out.
Hem and haw a slight bit.
Land diligently, and with grace.
Realize this place provides a glimpse into an abundant agate land.
Decide it is such a cool place it would be beneficial to stay an extra day; the extra day would have nothing to do with incorporative weather.

That there happened to be a simple prognosis of our existence, trying at times, but generally more rewarding than not. We moved away from these immense islands boarding the Black Bay Peninsula in search of a famed Sleeping Giant. En route to find this slumbering gargantuan geologic marvel we paddled vigilantly into a headwind for twenty-five miles. Debilitating as it were we continued on through a few isolated islands, past a fishing camp, which contained mismatched cabins mixed with some menacing maritime menagerie. We knew our locale certainly had to be closing in on the famed Edward Island, more so because that is what the map denoted. We paddled across the channel against a 15kt headwind and ducted behind an island to gather our bearings, this enabled us to better speculate as to where a blasted bay would be, one which would allow us a safe camping spot for the evening. Nestled in the bay we neurotically navigated through we found a perfect stomping, or lying ground rather. Sparse trees gave way to a few open flat areas surrounded by the tall grass where we pitched the tent in early evening light. We dined upon a fine cuisine of noodles and salmon beneath the rising moon, preparing for a hopefully prosperous weather the next day while crossing Black Bay.

Morning light rose providing splendid sunshine and bountiful blue skies. We were able to dry our waterlogged gear from the day before and enjoyed some energizing oatmeal (stay tuned for a special recipe). Before departing our protected bay of salvation Alissa noticed a sunken ship below the surface. Although we have no details on this wreck, it wasn’t on the map, we can neither confirm nor deny this one burned to the waterline then sank. It appeared as an elongated canoe of sorts, but the stern housed a large engine compartment. We pondered its story while we paddled though much calmer waters into a boundary water-esque array of islands when the small channel finally gave way to an enormous bay lined with an iconic geologic feature.