Sailing into a postcard

North of Nain

August 2011

Mountains with the ocean lapping their mid-sections, tent circles maybe 50 years old, maybe 150 years old, the remains of a Moravian Mission building nestled among waving grasses . . . It’s often felt like we were sailing into a postcard.

All of the places we go, Bee asks me what it feels like. It’s made me tune in more or maybe there’s just more silence up here so I can tune in more. She’s right, each place, each postcard, does have it’s own “feel” - some happy, some sad, some waiting.

Our chart calls them The Kaumajet Mountains. Everyone around here calls them simply "The Mugfords." Totally unexpected, this felt like a postcard of Arizona’s mesas. Water gathered at the mesa’s top then plummeted over the edge. Along the way strands of water converged forming spectacular waterfalls. Hitting a ledge, water angled until the next opportunity to leap into space. I loved this area’s feel of wildness. For all its isolation, it was a welcoming wildness that seemed to say, “ Stay awhile. Explore, enjoy.”

Nanutak Island (White Bear Island) earned the nickname “Evil Island” as we passed on the way up. Peaks shrouded in glooming fog, it just looked menacing. We started calling it the lair of the evil Dr. No. A lunch stop on the way back deepened the feeling.

The first thing we saw on landing were bear prints, not the small prints of a black bear but dinner plate sized prints. We were on red alert scanning the rocks for bears. Venturing further we saw well trod critter paths weaving around the lake and up into the landscape. We didn’t stay long!

The Spanish Influenza Pandemic of 1918 spread through the Inuit communities of coastal Labrador like wildfire in a rainless forest. The Moravian Missionary’s ship Harmony and the mail boat were the carriers.

Two hundred and sixty six people lived in Okak and hundreds of dogs. The swiftness of the virus left people unable to tend the sick or feed the dogs. Crazed with hunger, the dogs devoured each other and then smashed into homes where small children fought them off. The fifty-nine survivors dug a mass grave by setting fires to thaw frozen ground, digging and repeating the process. Okak was abandoned shortly after the epidemic, no one having the heart to rebuild the once thriving community.

We strolled the beach, finding bits of pottery and signs of the old wharf. Wildflowers colored the hill and reeds whispered in a gentle breeze. A light melancholy seemed to seep from the ground, not a heavy burden just a waiting . . .

. . . and then, back on board, we saw this double rainbow.

Base Camp

St. Johns Harbour, Saglek Bay August 12, 2011

Seven days out of Nain and, except for Hannah and the caretaker at Hebron, we hadn’t seen another boat or heard any traffic on the VHF and that included getting the regular VHF weather forecast.

Turning into Saglek Fiord the last thing we expected to see was a cruise ship.

Clipper Adventure was carrying participants in the “Students on Ice” program. The organization takes 14-19 yr old students from around the world on eco trips to the high latitudes. This group had joined the ship in Iceland, made passage to Greenland and were stopping at The Torngat Mountains National Park (TMNP) before concluding their trip in Ungava Bay. It turned out to be great for us.

No sooner had our anchor dug into the mud and sand at the head of St. Johns Bay than a skiff came alongside offering us a ride into the beach. This tent city was the summer home of TMNP. Base camp as its known in the park, houses scientist, park staff, student interns and park visitors. If you’re visiting, you can set up your own tent or rent one of theirs. The tents range from regular pop up tents to yurt style abodes with heat.

Binky, a student intern from Nain, led us on a tour. Dust had barely settled on base camp’s first permanent structure housing the cafeteria, offices, and science labs. They were moving in as we toured.

An electric bear fence envelopes the compound and bear monitors are with anyone who goes outside of the perimeter. It had the feel of a lone outpost on an alien world. The fragile humans protected by technology and guns. During the daytime the fence was off and it was possible to move around a little more. At night, everything tucked inside the protective walls.

Shoreside was a beehive of activity. Students, trip leaders and chaperones from the ship and the dignitaries that’d come to greet them doubled base camp’s usual population. We were getting to tag along on a hike and the big cook out planned for that evening.

That's Debbie and I with John, an Inuit from Baffin Island who's with the Students on Ice program and was doing double duty as a bear guard.

Inuit elders were on hand to talk about this stunning place and their early years spent living and roaming amongst the Torngats. They were also cooking up a storm!

That evening we had arctic char - baked, fried, broiled, in a chowder, dried, and smoked as well as native breads including bannock, grilled vegetables, desserts and on and on. Our eyes piled our plates high and our stomachs tried valiantly to keep up. What a feast!

We dropped in at base camp on our return trip after having spent time sailing in the northern fiords. Our timing wasn’t so good this go ‘round and we missed a hike by ½ hour. They’d been plagued recently, including the night before, by a black bear. He made repeated attempts to get into camp. Escalating deterrents hadn’t worked until they got to rubber bullets. It was assumed he was still in the area and would be back. Figuring he could be around anywhere, they really didn’t want us wandering around without a bear monitor.

If you’re planning a visit, it’s worth understanding the rhythm of base camp. Most groups come in for a week. They may spend part of the time, or all of it, hiking out in the remote areas of the park or mix it up with time spent at base camp. Depending on what’s going on, you can usually tag along with base camp activities maybe a hike with a naturalist, a visit to Rose Island with an archeologist to learn about the Inuit tent rings and burial sites, or the little tour boat for a trip to Hebron. There’s also a helicopter that can be used. Activities are planned out the night before but if you’re in base camp around 8am you can figure out what’s going on and what you can join. It’s possible to pay for a bear monitor, boat ride, etc. Scheduling with the limited resources could make this problematic. Contact the park if you’re interested. Since Saturdays are transition days, base camp is busy shuttling visitors to the landing strip and all the bear monitors are keeping the bears off the runway!

The Friday we were there, a group from The Chewonki Foundation in Maine hiked for several days and spent time in base camp learning about the management of the park and learning from the Inuit student interns. Also a group of writers had been brought in to celebrate Parks Canada’s 100^th anniversary and put into words Torngat Mountains National Park. Friday was their chance to show us their stuff.

The Chewonki kids and interns put on a show with throat singing, drumming, and dancing. Very spirited performances by all the kids!

The writers were part of a project called Northwords. CBC commentator Shelagh Rogers was putting the event together in a radio show to be aired in October and a documentary for release in 2012. Gotta admit we were glad we weren’t there as part of the film crew. Many times we’ve been setting up shots, lining up interviews, recording sound during excursions like this and not able to just enjoy it!

As Shelagh put it, the writers were there to give us words beyond, “Awesome!” to describe this place. Writers Noah Richler, Alyssa York, Rabindranath Maharaj, Sara Leavitt, and Joseph Boyden did a stunning job of it. Their stories were poignant and funny and brought to life the feel of being here. It made me think about the difference easing into a place via a sailboat vs. being plunked down via plane has on you. We’ve witnessed the terrain changing, been able to look ahead and see peaks reaching to the sky. I think it makes it a more subtle but deeper experience and feel grateful that we’ve seen Labrador at five knots from the deck of a sailboat.

Here's an article that appeared in the Labradorian: "Every Canadian should see this."

Basecamp is not technically in the park. The boundary is the northern side of Saglek Bay. This side, and most of the lands we’d traveled in since Nain, is managed by the Nunatsiavut government. The park is only a few years old and is the first Canadian park run cooperatively with a first peoples government.

Parks Canada is looking at this as a model for how to make these high latitude parks more accessible. The hope is that by establishing a base camp some economies of scale will come to bear and it’ll make it less expensive to travel within the park. Still once you get to base camp, you have to hire either a boat or helicopter to take you somewhere within the park.

We stopped in the park office back in Nain to say thanks and learned Andante and Hannah were two of 7 boats to visit the park as of August 25.

Bear Count!

Torngat Mountains National Park

August 2011

OK. OK. Everyone wants to know about the polar bears. Did we see any? How close? Did one try to get on the boat?

In planning this trip we were hoping to make it as far north as The Torngat Mountains National Park. We were told it’s not a question of if you’ll see a bear there but how many. Still, we figured we’d be lucky to see one even if he wasn’t sipping a Coke.

The park has a Polar Bear Safety Video that does a good job of showing different bear behavior from merely curious to aggressive and some things you can do if you encounter a polar bear. Guns aren’t allowed in the park but bear “deterrents” are. They’re basically noise-makers you fire from a small starter gun and bear spray. The alternative is to hire a “bear monitor” to escort you. A bear monitor is an Inuit with a gun that knows polar bear behavior and how to use the gun. The practicalities of having a bear monitor on board weren’t possible on a small sailboat so we loaded up with deterrents and figured we’d be really, really careful.

After picking up my sister-in-law, Debbie, in Nain we headed out Port Manvers Run, a great inside passage. Debbie was glued to the binoculars hoping to see at least one bear. Well we saw 5 black bears before lunch!

Our next bear encounter was at Perry’s Gulch. Debbie and I were washing our hair in the stream when Russ and Bee showed us all of the bear prints. They were everywhere once you started looking. All appeared to be black bears.

This is the only tundra dwelling population of black bears and they’re reportedly a little more carnivorous than their berry-eating kin to the south. We weren’t too anxious to run into one of them either.

No more sightings, black or white, until Hebron. (More on Hebron in a later post.) Our first Polar Bear and we had to give him a name! “Eddie” for Eddie Haskell on “Leave it to Beaver” walked into the caretaker’s camp. He and his kids were in their speedboat chasing Eddie when we saw him.

We saw the bear’s white head in the water and then his powerful body leapt onto land. Shots fired in the air and he loped up the hill. I admit I found it a little sad . . . this huge creature, the largest land carnivore in the world, in his natural element, being chased. But a bear that becomes a nuisance usually gets himself shot so, better to scare him away now.

Knowing we were definitely in polar bear country our eyes scanned every nook and cranny straining for the site of a white blob. The scale of everything here is so huge, we weren’t sure how big a blob we were looking for. Entering Ramah Fiord, we had our answer. This mother and little cub agilely jogged through boulders big and small.

Further in, these 3 napped on a headland.

They slept on, only waking as we got closer. Mom, massive paws hanging limply in the air, spread out with her back resting against this huge rock. Someone later told us that maybe they’d had a long swim and were in rest mode from that.

The 3 came down to the anchorage that night and strolled the beach.

The fast northern twilight descended and still we watched from the safety of Andante. Bee, aboard Hannah, thought she saw the Mom limping so we called them Gimpy and the twins. They slept all the next day in sight of us and repeated the nighttime stroll & swim routine.

Russ and I kayaked a bit in Ramah. “Oh look at the caribou up on the ridge,” I said. “Uh, I’m looking at the bear chasing the caribou,” Russ. Well gee! We dubbed this one The Lion King. His massive body loped up the ridge’s knife edge moving with the speed and agility of a mountain goat. He still couldn’t get the faster caribou.

I did not go kayaking again. Sorry no picture of that one. We were too busy paddling!

Next sightings were in Nachvak Fiord. Anchoring in Schooner Cove I saw a polar bear in the boulder strewn slope. We called him Fatso! I’m totally happy to see a fat bear.

Next day, Russ went kayaking while we did a bear watch from Andante. Coast looks clear . . . all clear. “OK, there’s a bear on the point,” said Debbie (very calmly I thought). Russ was paddling towards the opposite point. I stood on the bow waving my jacket trying to get his attention. We didn’t want to make a noise that would make the bear take off swimming towards him. But Russ didn’t see me and started paddling towards the bear’s point so we tooted our air horn to get his attention.

With Russ safely aboard we sat back and enjoyed Yogi Bear. His massive body cruised along under the surface with only the crown of his head showing at times. He seemed to be looking under water for something and either feeding on kelp or on mussels attached to the kelp. When he found something, he’d do a handstand much like a kid in a pool on a hot summer day with his huge rear paws sticking up out of the water. “Look Mom!” Yogi looked our way every so often keenly aware that we were there but totally unconcerned that’d we bother him. He was right.

Drift to the beach completed, he strolled out. Flying beads of water captured sunlight as his massive body shook off the water, just like our dog used to do. Yogi rolled in the grass stretching his massive limbs, flipping onto his back

South of Saglek we’d see a black bear in almost every anchorage. They’d come wandering down to the beach as if on their evening stroll.

We started calling Bee on Hannah the “bear whisperer”. Glued to binoculars, Hannah saw around 18 polar bears. 3 of them were swimming around their boat, usually around 4am ish. They were probably around us too we just didn’t get up! They saw 2 swimming about 3 miles off shore and the crowning glory was this guy in Mugford Tickle. Kipping (that’s Brit for napping) on a rock, they got closer and he woke up a tad grumpy. They backed off. (Thanks for sharing the photo Bee!)

In total we saw 10 polar bears and 18 black bears. Watching them from the boat was incredible. They were just going about their business, doing their thing. It felt like we were on safari. Definitely an adrenalin rush and a highlight of the trip

Parks Canada is reviewing their gun policy in parks where wildlife may pose a threat to humans. It would extend the carrying of weapons to scientists in remote areas and beyond just Inuit bear monitors. It still wouldn’t cover us if we were to go ashore. There’s not a marine component to the park so you can have a weapon on board, just not take it ashore. They're taking comments through the end of the year. Here's an article: Parks Canada to Permit Guns

If you’re heading this way and want to learn about bears in the park and visiting, contact Torngat Mountains National Park. They're very helpful about bear information and the park in general. They have a packet of info they can e-mail including a cruising permit for the park.

If you’re shopping for bear deterrents, we were very happy with Margo Supplies. They’re a Canadian company that works with wildlife officials. The bear spray is considered a hazardous material and cannot be sent via air. There are also problems if you ship it from Canada to the States or try to bring in bear spray from the States. We had our order shipped to Baddeck Marine and they kindly held it for us.

In the end our biggest bear deterrent was not getting off the boat!

Will hopefully get some video uploaded when we have a faster connection!

Nain and Back

July 23, 2011

Nain, Labrador

We've been on the go North of Nain for the last 3 1/2 weeks. That means no phone, no e-

mail and not much contact with anyone else. We're on a short stop in Nain and then headed south so just a quick update. More stories and amazing pictures to come . . .

But for all of you waiting to know . . . we saw 10 polar bears and 15 black bears! But we didn't go ashore much either.

A few thoughts on northern Labrador -

-When there are no people or boats around for hundreds of miles, you can swap crossword puzzles with the only other boat around and no one else chimes in.

-A polar bear can do a handstand in the water.

-Up here you either have cold or mosquitos but hopefully not both at the same time.

Bergs to the left . . .

Labrador Coast

We've been seeing a LOT of bergs. Small chunks, big chunks. The Petermann ice shelf calved a big chunk off last fall. Called the Petermann Ice Island, it was the size of Rhode Island when it started. If all the freshwater in it was melted it would give every man woman and child on the planet 2 litres of drinking water, every day for 2 years. We were hoping to see it but it's too far out now. Everyone's waiting to see if it'll go over the top of Newfoundland and threaten the oil rigs or through the Straits of Belle Isle and block it.

Here are some of the bergs we've seen:

Fish Plants are our Friends!

Makkovik, Labrador

July 17, 2011

Fish plants dot the Labrador coast, Mary’s Harbour, Fox Harbour/St. Lewis, Black Tickle, Makkovik, and we hear there’s a plant processing arctic char in Nain. Most of them process snow crab. Boats are assigned to a specific processing plant and given a quota for how much they can catch. When they catch their quota, they’re done. If that’s all the fish plant processes, like the one in Fox Harbour, they close when all their boats have met their quotas. If it’s a good year and they’re making good catches, the plant will only be open for a short time. Good for the boats because it cuts their expenses. Not so good for the plant workers who are paid hourly. Everyone’s been saying it’s been a slow year.

For the cruiser, fish plants may have showers, laundry, a pay phone (get a phone calling card before you get to Labrador) and ice. Make sure when you tie up you’re not in the way of the cranes and make sure you’re not going to be in anyone’s way when the boats come in. The summary of fish plant etiquette - Just ask, don’t take advantage and if you’re into it, try some crab. It’s really good.

Snow crabs have tiny little bodies and really long legs. The meat is in the shoulder and the legs which crack easily. You can usually open it by running a knife up the leg. We’ve had it “regular” dipping the cooked crab in butter. I’ve also made a crab bisque and crab dip.

Makkovik has been a target for years. It seemed so very far away and so exotic. Far away it is. Exotic, well that may not be quite the right word. The fish plant here has great showers, laundry and a pay phone! Chatting with the fisherman and any locals that wander down is part of the fun of tying up. Just don’t plan too many projects and enjoy the slower pace.

The big question we’re asking is if they’ve seen the Petermann Ice Island. It broke off in the fall of 2010 and is supposed to be 150 miles or so off Makkovik now. It started out the size of Rhode Island and has now broken into several still HUGE bits. The largest has thousands of seals hanging out on it. One guy showed us pictures. The berg had run over their fishing gear but when it moved their floats and markers popped back up and they retrieved it. The weather reports include notices to look out for large bergs breaking off from the big one and it seems we’ve seen a lot of big chunks. Everyone’s wondering where it’ll go and if it’ll threaten the Hibernia oil rigs off Newfoundland. Wish we could see it but it’s too far off now.

Dinner preparations and plans to leave the next day were interrupted by Russ saying, “Guess who just pulled up?” Hannah was tying up behind us. The four of us hiked to the bare rocks over town and past where a polar bear had been seen earlier in the week. We all laid down on the warm rocks and soaked up the views and conversation and maybe a micro nap.

Tip: If you fall asleep in an area where a bear has been sighted try not to snore . . . It can sound an awful lot like a bear huffing and puffing!

Labrador Rendezvous

July 21, 2011

Off Napakataktalik Island, Labrador

“Go behind them! Now come alongside . . . a little closer.”

“Mick just hold your course,” yells Russ.

Of all the things I thought we’d be doing on the wild coast of Labrador, having a photo shoot wasn’t one of them! But what a bl . . .

We first saw SV Hannah in Baddeck in 2009 on our way up to Newfoundland. We pulled in and gazed at this beautiful gaff rigged boat from the UK. We figured we’d meet them the next day but the next day dawned and they were gone. We saw them again as we pulled in after dark to Shelbourne, Nova Scotia on the way home. Surely this time we’ll get to meet them. Woke up in the morning and they were gone.

But we had a connection having met a cruising couple in Baddeck on our way home that were meeting up with them and were also on a cool looking boat, Robin & Jackie off Blackthorn. In cruising, your last name becomes your boat name. Yet another good reason not to name your boat something strange like “Passing Wind”. The e-mail connections were made and we stayed in touch as we were planning this trip.

Pulling into Block Island on the way up we thought the boat we saw was Hannah. Sure enough Mick e-mailed it was them. Since both boats were leaving early in the morning we still didn’t have a face-to-face meeting.

And so it went . . . we took different directions from Block Island, Andante to the Vineyard and Hannah to the Cape Cod Canal. Crossing to Nova Scotia in that thick fog, we heard Mick on the radio and realized they were 7 miles from us.

They were delayed waiting for a part for their cooker (that’s a stove to us Americans) and we went home for the wedding. Hopscotching up the west coast of Newfoundland, we’d e-mail each other our positions. But still no face to face.

Then July 4 and we made landfall in Labrador at Red Bay. Hannah pulled in out of the fog and celebrated the 4^th with us. No hard feelings on their part over our independence!

We’ve heard cruising friendships are intense. You can never be sure when you’ll meet up with someone you’ve seen before or how long you’ll be going in the same direction. If you find a couple you enjoy, you take advantage of those fleeting moments.

And so it’s gone. We’ve shared walks and talks and meals, a lot of laughs and found common ground. Mick’s a year younger than Russ and Bee is a year younger than me. They’ve been together the same amount of time as we have. Bee shares my fascination with graveyards and also can't tell which direction the wind is coming from! One of the biggest differences is they’ve been out here cruising for 11 years. Their blog’s a great read:

SV Hannah

P.S. For our mid-Atlantic friends - I found a stink bug as we were crossing to Labrador and it was still kicking!

Some Days You’re the bug . . .

Corner Brook, Newfoundland

June 27, 2011

. . . and some days you’re the windshield. Just because you’re cruising doesn’t mean you won’t have that day where nothing seems to go right and yesterday I was the bug. What’s worse is that ultimately I’ve got no one to blame but myself.

Port Aux Basques lies at the southwest corner of Newfoundland and it’s where the big Marine Atlantic car ferries dock. We were saying good-bye to Josh here as he caught the ferry and began his trip home. It’s been a great and a rare gift to spend that much time with our grown up son.

A bad weather forecast and Russ got the idea to travel with Josh to Baddeck and bring our car over. Mission accomplished we left the car in Port Aux Basques and sailed overnight to Corner Brook. This town was created by lumber and its mill still goes through a LOT of lumber!

Arriving just in time, I hitched a ride to the bus depot and headed for Port Aux Basques. I think driving back was the most dangerous thing I’ll do on this trip. There were 660 car/moose accidents in Newfoundland last year. All advice I got was to slow down. If my speed started creeping over 50 mph it only took skid marks in the road to remind me to keep it down. I didn’t see another car heading my way on the 2-lane Trans-Canadian highway and would go for 30-45 minute stretches without seeing a car coming from the other direction. Never saw a moose though.

The Bay of Islands Yacht Club is a ways out of town and the car made it easier to support the local economy at Walmart, Canadian Tire, the incredible bulk food store next to Walmart, and several grocery stores. This meant the boat was in a state of chaos as we tried to find a place for food for 6 weeks and everything else. It wasn’t doing a lot for our mental state!

Wednesday morning I took our jerry cans to the gas station to fill up on diesel. Russ cautioned me to be careful . . . taking a turn in town I heard one of the cans move and should’ve stopped to check. Getting back to the Bay of Islands Yacht Club I realized that not only had the can tipped over, it’d leaked diesel onto the carpeting in the back. What a mess and the carpet was a total loss. No way would that smell come out.

The day before I’d been vacuum bagging food stores and using the common area at the marina building. Tables to spread out on, power . . . it was perfect. Unfortunately, I was a little too trusting and had left things in the unlocked building overnight. Walking in to clean up from the diesel I noticed that my bright green bag was gone!

This bag is very distinctive. A friend living in Indonesia gave it to me. Made of pouches that contained cleaning products with text in Indonesian, it was my workhorse bag and was even a prop in our last film production. And not only was the bag gone but well over $100 worth of contents.

I’ve thought that Newfoundland is a taste of what the world would be like if there was no crime. People loan you their cars. They help each other out . . . I still think that. But I was stupid to just leave stuff sitting around like that.

It’s a lesson in safety, not being attached to things, and not letting one incident ruin your experience of a place. The generosity and kindness we’ve received here far outweigh this one thing and maybe this person really needed that food.

But if you see anyone walking around Corner Brook with a bright green bag made of sewn together plastic cleaning pouches with writing in a foreign language . . . grab it for me would ya’?

Island of Death

Squid Hole, Isle aux Morts

June 20, 2011

Wreck Rock, Bad Neighbour, Wash Rocks, Tinker Sunker . . . rocks and ledges with names. There must be hundreds, even thousands of rocks along the southwest coast and they’ve contributed to over 3000 known wrecks. George Harvey and his family lived on Isle aux Morts, Island of Death, in the mid 1800’s. He would bury the dead seaman that washed up from wrecks he couldn’t see and rescue those he could.

One wreck he rowed out to with his daughter, Anne, and dog Hairy. Hairy swam a messanger line out to the ship and then swam back to their little boat while Anne rowed to keep them in position. All told, Harvey and his daughter Anne saved over 160 seamen and passengers. The rescues themselves were amazing but then the Harvey’s fed, clothed, and housed the victims for several weeks before outside help could be summoned. I can’t imagine how they stretched their meager, subsistence living to take care of all those heartsick people who’d lost everything.

Today no one actually lives on Isle aux Morts though the town is close by. We loaded up cameras, hot chocolate and snacks and headed out for a long hike. No trails here, you just pick a destination and try to find the easiest way to get there. As we trod through bogs and climbed on top of tuckamore trees, I kept thinking of Dorothy trying to make her way to Oz. Tuckamores are short pines that have been growing for a really long time. Their branches overlap creating an interlocking web and a seemingly impenetrable obstacle.

Trudging along, a foot occasionally breaks through and you slip under the branches. Perhaps we’re one step away from being sucked down into an underground world of gnomes and fairies.

True Newfoundland Experience

Harbour Le Cou, Newfoundland

June 19, 2011

I’m sitting at the salon table with the heater just starting to warm the 50° cabin. Josh, our son is asleep in his bunk and Russ is reading in his. Andante dances from side to side as gusts buffet us but with a line tied ashore and our anchor dug in, we’re staying put. This is the predicted 45 knot gale and we’re very glad we’re tucked up on the lake side of Harbour Le Cou and especially glad we’re not out on the notorious Cabot Strait.

June 4th we flew home for a fun family wedding. Congratulations Sarah & Tyler! So good to have this last family contact before we really head off. And not willing to let go of family yet, we’ve brought Josh back with us. Leaving Annisquam at 11am in our car, we pulled into Baddeck at 0300 and rowed out to Andante and were underway that afternoon.

Josh had 9 days with us before he started his 2 day trek via ferry, shuttle and plane to get back home and we were hoping to show him some of Newfoundland. The weather was just not cooperating. But, tucked into the heater warmed cabin, we ate yummy food, read, did a few boat projects, some yoga, took turns kayaking, and Josh got a lot of homework done.

Finally a windshift and we made the jump across the Cabot Strait. Motor sail under the stars and the dramatic Newfoundland landfall we were hoping to show him . . . waves roiling over outlying sunkers and smashing against cliff faces as birds soared. Motoring past the small settlement of Harbour Le Cou, we moved into the fjord. Andante needed to be safely tucked away for the coming gale and the wharf in town was not the place to be in the predicted wind direction.

The usual anchorage referred to in the guide would’ve put us close to a nasty lee shore and allowed waves to build for quite a ways before they hit us. We moved around to the lake side and tucked up close to shore. Our 45 lb. Manson anchor seemed like it was bouncing along the rocky bottom until it finally caught. Not willing to bet that we weren’t hooked by a tiny crevice of rock down there, Josh jumped in the dinghy and took a line ashore. That line is tied around a tree and a big boulder and is taking most of Andante’s load with the anchor as back up. Feels pretty snug.

A local skiff came by with Eric, his wife, who’s his deck hand, and a “damn tourist” (Eric’s joking words!). Eric showed off the beautiful lobster he’d just gotten from his trap and agreed we were in a great spot and that the town wharf was not the place to be.

Our shore party launched kayak and dinghy and headed over to the barasway. Barasway is the Newfoundland version of the French word Barachois which means a shallow inlet. This barasway separated the main part of the fjord from the part with this beautiful waterfall.

This part of Newfoundland reminds us of Labrador; small tuckamore trees that have been growing for decades, springy moss, boggy patches, and here in Newfoundland pitcher plants in their northernmost habitat.

Josh scampered (there really is no other word for it!) up advising me on the easiest route. You can look into the interior and not see a sign of human life for as far as the eye can see. There are no roads into the interior of southern Newfoundland save one further down the coast and it comes in from way up north. The land is threaded with lakes, streams, and bogs or hard as granite.

Great hike and we crossed over the waterfall and back. On a sunny day (We’re told they do have them here.) I can see bathing in the falls and I’ve heard of people actually swimming here.

Back to the boat and we were settling in when Russ looked out, “We’ve got company.” A skiff with 4 people in their early 20’s came alongside and chatted for over an hour. Harbour Le Cou is the end of the road that reaches from Port Au Basques and they said it’s really the end of the world. No FM radio, no cell phones, etc.

If he had to leave right now Josh got a good taste of what we found in Newfoundland, gorgeous scenery and amazingly friendly people.

Horizon? What horizon?

Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia

May 30, 2011

We’ve been making tracks as much as possible and when a weather window opened to head North, we took it. Cape May to Block Island. Block Island to Martha’s Vineyard with a terrific sail down Vineyard sound. Topped 7.5 knots, which is about as fast as we’ll go.

A few days hanging out in Vineyard Haven and then the forecast we’d been waiting for: winds light and variable swinging to the east and then south. Waking to fog we took one last walk ashore and then motored out of Vineyard Haven Harbor.

Fog. It can be a light haze that paints everything with an otherworldly brush or it can be so thick you can’t see the bow from the cockpit. On our 5 day passage from Martha’s Vineyard to St. Peter’s Canal on Cape Breton we saw it all! I saw the stars for about 30 minutes on my first night watch but that was it.

You start to feel as if you're in a cocoon. A turtle with an atmospheric shell that moves along with us. Everything outside the shell is muffled or non-existant. It starts to play with your mind after a while. You can’t really tell where the horizon line is. But radar makes it a lot less stressful today. Russ’ family has stories of sailing circles around a buoy for hours until the fog lifted a bit. They weren’t sure which #1 buoy it was and weren’t about to sail blindly on. They aren’t the only sailors with stories like that.

But for us sailing in fog means keeping an eye on the radar and an ear on deck. We never saw anything until we were off Cape Breton but we did hear one fishing boat and saw numerous ones on radar.

Overheard radio conversation between SV Hannah and a fishing boat:

“So when do you think this fog’s gonna lift?” Mick of SV Hannah

“Couple of months I think,” fishing boat Captain.

You just have to laugh.

Cruising is . . .

. . . Fixing your boat in exotic places

Cohansey River, Delaware Bay May 18, 2011

That’s the sailor’s definition of cruising and although I’m not too sure how exotic the Cohansey is, we’re definitely fixing our boat. We finally threw off the dock lines on Monday, May 16. An overnight at Chesapeake City in the C&D Canal and we tackled Delaware Bay. And I do mean tackle.

For several years we joked the score was Delaware Bay 6, Andante 2. Delaware Bay is full of shoals, fish traps that have thick posts emerging from the murky depths in unlikely places, strong tides, very large ships that move very fast and a lack of places for a small boat to shelter.

We’ve endured nasty summer thunderstorms where it’s a complete white out and lightning storms with cloud to cloud streaks and bolts that reached down from a night time sky. Our old bronze prop became a permanent resident of the Bay during one of those storms so I always approach this body of water with respect and a bit of trepidation.

Turning south out of the canal, torrential rain made it hard to see the buoys. The rain eased off a bit but what had started as a motor sail quickly became a motor and then a motor into headwinds. Calling it quits, we motored up the Cohansey for several S turns. This is a classic Chesapeake Bay river meandering through salt marshes acting as a nursery for species until they're big enough to go out into the Bay itself and sheltering countless other birds and fish.

Delaware Bay is an important stop for lots of migratory birds including The Red Knot. This small bird flies up from Antarctica, gorges itself on horseshoe crab eggs and then continues its journey to the Arctic where it lays eggs, raises chicks, and does the return. The timing is incredible and if something goes awry and the Red Knots miss when the horseshoe crabs lay their eggs there can be a major die off.

The fixing up part . . . our head (that’d be the marine toilet) has been acting up and is now refusing to flush. Not a good scenario! Russ began the fun task of taking it apart and William discovered that our outboard wasn’t working as well as we’d like. Just back from servicing, it had no umph, refusing to go any faster than a slow crawl.

Two days anchored gave us a chance to make the repairs. The problems were narrowed down to a bad flapper valve and a bad spark plug.

Around the gear sorting and repairing, we explored the river and salt marshes in kayak and dinghy. Gliding up one of the many guts that feed the river fiddler crabs frantically wave their one big claw and startled sandpipers scurry along the bank. A Harrier Hawk soars low over the marsh grasses looking for his next snack.

I’d say this round was a tie bringing the total score to: Delaware Bay 7 Andante 4

Blog keeping notes: I've added an iceberg album and put a "before" picture under the refit album so you can see the original layout.

We’re off!

Corner Brook, Newfoundland

June 27, 2011

My procrastination has finally caught up with me! We just left on another trip and the blog hasn’t finished our 2009 trip so . . . the decision has been made to “be present”. There’ll be quite a bit of time this summer when we won’t have internet contact so I’ll try to use that time to tell some more tales of our 2009 adventure.

Meanwhile . . . the Far North has continued to call to us and we decided almost as soon as we got back to head further up the Labrador. It’s been 18 months of working, enjoying land activities, greeting our new granddaughter and boat projects.

Ready or not, we left the dock on May 16 with our nephew, William, along as crew for the first leg to Cape May. Let the fun begin!

Sunshine & Crosses

Chambers Cove, Newfoundland

August 26, 2009

I gazed through binoculars at the 300’ cliffs of Chambers Cove, sunlight glinting off the cross at the cliff’s edge. Giant windmill blades moved lazily in the summer breeze. It’s a far different scene than the early morning of February 18, 1942. With the cliffs obscured by blinding sleet, the U.S. Navy destroyer Truxtun smashed onto the rocks. Farther down the coast at Lawn Point the supply ship USS Pollux, traveling in convoy, came to grief. The lead ship, USS Wilkes hit the rocks but was able to back off.

Then the nightmare really began. The men could see the cliffs, almost touch them. But frigid water, roiling currents and a growing mass of oil slickened debris filled Chambers cove. The water temperature was 30 degrees Fahrenheit. After several harrowing attempts, a small group made it ashore. From there one sailor, blackened by oil, clawed his way up the cliff face and began to follow a barbed wire fence, hoping it would lead to a settlement.

Eventually he came to the local mine and told his tale. The men went to the clifftops and looked down at the scene. By this time, men had begun to jump into the water only to be smashed into the cliffs, carried out to sea, drowned under debris or frozen into immobility. A few made it ashore.

The men from the local community of Lawn began to haul the sailors up, one at a time. Literally dragging them up the cliff. A small fire was built and the growing number of survivors tried to stay alive.

After realizing another ship was in distress, rescuers from the small community of St. Lawrence made their way to Chambers Cove. The men were taken into homes in the local communities and nursed throughout the night by the women. First order of business was to scrub the oil from them. One woman kept scrubbing and was muttering that she couldn’t seem to get the black off. The man came to enough to mumble, “Ma’am, I’m black. It won’t come off.” That man was Lanier Phillips a cook. Later he said the way he was treated by the Newfoundlanders changed his outlook on life. “I wish the world could go to St. Lawrence and take a lesson on love and humanity.” This American Life did an episode about the tragedy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJkbkBbTaYI&feature=related

In all 203 perished and 168 survived.

It’s a gripping story and “Standing into Danger" by Cassie Brown tells it well. Over the years, survivors came back to visit their rescuers and the U.S. Navy donated a hospital in appreciation. The local economy was mining and a lot of the rescuers suffered from black lung. Now the mines have shut down and the communities are scraping by.

Whew!

Little Burin, Newfoundland

August 25, 2009

Bill did indeed come a knockin'. We rocked around a bit. The wind howled in the rigging. But our anchors held fast and we even managed to sleep. It was a good drill in prepping the boat and us. Hope we don't have to do it again for a while!

And so began the task of putting it all back together, including dumping the tires back over the side - a much more enjoyable task than putting them up there in the first place! A fisherman came by later and said they were going to be tearing that wharf down next year and we could've just cut the line on the tires and dumped them in the harbor.

And almost ready to go again . . .