Labradorian Perfection

St Francis

Monday, July 20, 2009

We had a vague idea, an ideal if you will, of what Labrador would be like . . . the ideal Labrador anchorage at least.  St. Francis met all the requirements;  picking our way through rocks and sunkers to a snug anchorage, stunning cliffs, endless hiking opportunities, and not a soul in sight.  

Our one night was not enough in this lovely spot.  We savored every minute of exploring the few abandoned buildings, hiking the cliffs to gaze down at icebergs that looked like UFO's and eating our salmon for dinner.  

A study in gray.  

This berg took the prize as the biggest we'd see all season.

The Iceman Cometh

Squasho Run, Labrador

Watching these enormous bergs go past has whetted our appetite for some iceberg ice in our drinks and we were getting low on ice in the ice box. So . . . . Earlier in the trip, Russ had gone out in the dinghy armed with a hammer, our little ice pick and a pair of gloves. He returned empty handed.  Turns out that little bergy bit we’d spotted was the size of our old Suburban and it was heaving up and down like something alive. 

Today we spotted a much smaller piece and he managed to get some chunks off of it.

Note to self – next trip bring an axe.

Off Soundings

July 17, 2009

Hills Harbour, Labrador   (chart says Hill but the sign on a house says Hills)

53°07.0N

055° 47.9W

Normally “off soundings” means you’re in water so deep that your depth finder can’t find the bottom.  Up here it could mean those white areas on the chart with no numbers! As in, this area has not been surveyed for depths and rocks. This is one of the things that make cruisers gulp and it’s also one of the lures of cruising here - the chance to pick your way into an uncharted harbour or through an uncharted tickle. 

Some charts are based on bottom surveys done in the early 1800’s.  These black and white charts are adorned with beautiful hand drawings of coastline depicting rocky cliffs.  One chart of the Northern Peninsula has a comment about the inland mountains, “Mountains appear continuous” because they hadn’t explored inland yet.

Another catch phrase printed on the beautiful Canadian charts:

“Not surveyed to modern standards.  Exercise extreme caution.”

Just to add spice to it all, charts may be in fathoms (one fathom is 6 ft.) or feet or meters.  So you have to pay attention.

Hills is one of those blank spots on the chart.  The tiny cove has a few buildings keeping watch.  Otherwise, it’s great hiking.  No need for trails in this treeless terrain.  You just set out and pick your way from rocky hump to rocky peak.  In places, a cushy bog lays over the rock like Grandma’s crazy comforter made up of russet and green patches. Wildflowers decorate the comforter with their yellows and whites. Occasionally each springy step feels like you’re walking on the mattress and the comforter.

Two foot high stands of trees have made toeholds in nooks and crannies.  

Called tuckamores, these pinetrees can be over 100 years old.  We haven’t seen a land mammal in a long while.  No squirrels but saw this little bird.  What do the mosquitoes eat when we’re not around?

Called Caledonian Princess on the radio and she was just around the corner.  Wade & Colleen stopped in for fresh, out of the oven muffins while the girls slept.  Wade showed off the results of his successful fishing trip and they left us with a beautiful salmon.  Yum!!

Fishin’ for a Livin’

July 15, 2009
Black Tickle, Labrador
53°27.5N
055°41.1W

Our Northernmost point, Black Tickle seemed very different from other places. The barren, rock strewn landscape harbors a community of roughly 200. Not connected by road but by ferry and a small airport, ATV’s rule in the summer and Ski Doos in winter. We saw only a few cars. The fish plant is the biggest employer and next is the school.

Andante tucked inside of the 85 foot OSC Mariner, rigged for catching snow crabs. One of the Mariner’s crew took our lines and before we knew it, we were getting a tour conducted by her captain, Adrien Duquay. Adrien’s borther Paul is ships engineer and all around fix it guy as well as fishing. Adrien’s son, Mark is deckhand and Deano from Labrador is deckhand. The boat comes up from St. John’s in the spring, stays here fishing all summer and heads down to St. John’s when her crab quotas are met. The galley area looks like anything you’d see in a really nice house and the bridge looks like a spaceship’s. The living quarters are spacious to us but the bulk of the boat is taken up with fishing gear. We had them over for an evening and they were amazed at how compact everything was on our boat. It was great fun learning about fishing and chatting with them. They gave us an arctic char. A lot of folks up here say they like it better than salmon. We ate on it for several days and it was very yummy.

Adam, who lives in Domino Run at the other end of the short, dirt road, took us fishing on his ATV. Hoping for Arctic Char, we caught a sculpin. Didn’t get a picture but if you want to see a really ugly fish, google it!

Our mast made the paper! The local politician was doing what we’d call a grip ‘n grin tour. Her helicopter landed right at the fish plant and out poured several women in sequined jeans and a photographer. I had been feeling like we stuck out like a sore thumb but they made me feel like I blended just a little! Andante’s mast made it into the shot of Yvonne Jones, the local MP (Member of Parliament) chatting with the forklift driver.

Sailing Hazards

Labrador

Never thought that scenery would be a sailing hazard but here it could be . . .

Sailing through a narrow tickle (called a channel by non-Newfoundlanders), cliffs with waves crashing on them to the left, rocks to the right, sunkers in the middle, a skul of seals fighting with the gulls over fish, glancing up I catch the flukes of a humpback diving deep right in front of us and my captain . . . he’s juggling between the video camera and the still camera!

Isn't it Gneiss (that's pronounced nice)

Labrador

The Geology guide to Newfoundland/Labrador has been a constant companion on our trip. Oriented to road travel we’ve still managed to hit a lot of the places it describes. Ancient sea beds, chaotic rock, thrombolites, gneiss with quartz ribbons in it . . .

I’ve started thinking of the rock as a croissant, a layer of dough (that’s the harder rock) and a layer of butter (the softer rock). Over time the butter melts and the gap is filled in by minerals building up to form another kind of rock. Then the whole thing gets turned on its side by plate tectonics. Makes me think God had a crazy day with the paintbrush!

Bergs to the Left, Bergs to the Right

Labrador

 We spotted our first bergs after we left Port Saunders.  Sculpted by wind and waves they continue to fascinate.  Tempting as it is to go right up to them, we’ve been very cautious.  With 80 to 90% of their mass underwater you have no idea when some internal clock will go off and the whole structure will tip.  Enormous ones can turn turtle without any warming.  The wave from that isn’t something we’d like to mess with much less a big chunk of it falling on us. The closest we’ve come to one was squeezing by a grounded, house sized one that was blocking our pass through a tickle.  

Here's a photo album of some of these incredible icy bits:

Iceberg Album

Please leave a comment if you can't open the photo album. It should work . . . 

Birthday Bash!

August 28, 2009                                                                                   

Brentt’s Cove, Facheux Bay, Newfoundland                              

 47°41.9N                                                                                      

 056°20.3W

 

I’m messing with the blog reality here and jumping from surviving Hurricane Bill to current events . . .

 We’ve made the ultimate cruising sin and booked flights home. Being at the mercy of wind and waves means you can say when you’ll be near land or which land you may be near but not both at the same time.  This time an unavoidable work commitment meant we had to nail down the where and the when.  Booking the flights for Halifax to Baltimore while sitting in a St. John’s coffee shop we never guessed the wind would blow out of the west, the direction we needed to go, for two solid weeks with a hurricane and a tropical depression included!  Time’s running out to get the boat to a safe place to leave her and get ground transportation to Halifax.  We sat in St. Pierre, a small island owned by France off the southern Newfoundland coast, and listened with sinking hearts to the forecast.  West and Southwest winds dominated. 

The strategy we came up with was head to the southwestern coast of Newfoundland and do short hops as far west as we can get until there’s a window to cross the more than 100 miles to  Nova Scotia.  The only problem, a gale forecast for Friday and then Hurricane Danny bearing down. 

Normally the advantage of coastal cruising is you can pick your weather and not go out when it’s really nasty. But we’re seeing some longer ocean passages in our future where you’re out long enough that you can’t pick your weather.  You deal with the weather as it comes.  So it seemed like a good idea to get in a little practice.

The gale was blowing steady 35 knots and gusting to 40.  Waves were averaging 12-15 feet with the occasional roller topping out at 20 feet and breaking.  We’re judging wave height by how far up our mast the top was when we were in the trough! 

Otto, our electric auto-pilot decided enough was enough and wouldn’t steer in those seas.  So we hand steered doing hour turns at the tiller, doing our best to gain some ground westerly into the wind.

So what’s it like sailing upwind into an ocean gale? Get a friend to drive you around in a car.  Get up to 40 miles an hour. Now stick your head out the window.  That’s about 35 knots.  Remember this sensation. Now, look at the room you’re in.  Turn your head to a 35 degree angle.  Bob your head up and down.   Throw in a big bob every so often.  Have your friend continually shove you around while you try to stay seated.  That’s the motion of the boat. Get another friend to stand off to the side with a big bucket of very cold water.  Now get 10 more friends with buckets to join him or her.  Occasionally have them all throw their buckets at you at the same time. Add a lot of wind noise sound effects so you can’t hear your own voice. Getting the picture?

I did OK.  It’s amazing how you can take anything when you know it’s going to end.  If we were in a multiple day gale in the ocean . . . well what choice do you have but to suck it up.  Russ also admitted he thought I might freak out a bit.  I didn’t but confess that I didn’t enjoy looking at the waves coming towards us. It was one thing to see them downwind and leaving us but to see what was coming . . . nope.

We found a few leaks that we’ll fix and unfortunately a port that wasn’t closed all the way let in a lot of salt water but it’s all fixable.  And for my birthday?  Well, we're firmly anchored in a gorgeous fjord with a little more westing under our keel and I found out a little about what I can handle.  Not a bad thing to do on your birthday.

So what did you do for your 44^th birthday?