Killing Time

Sloop Harbour, Labrador  

July 6, 2013

Killing time . . . it’s not something that comes natural to us.  Seems we’re always juggling multiple projects, working a deadline, saying, “If we just had 2 more weeks we could get it all done.”  So maybe enforced idleness is a good thing . . .

We’ve been pushing hard to get up here so we can have as long a time as possible north of Nain.  It’s a looonnnnnggggg way and the fall storms arrive up here when it’s the still the height of summer further south.  But we’ve been keeping an eye on the ice too.  Pack ice that is.  Environment Canada puts out ice charts daily.    (insert link)  (You can search by date if you’re interested in past charts.)  It’s not been looking good.  Cape Harrison is the next milestone to get around and the pack ice is hugging it tight. 

Canada Day found us pulling into Sloop Harbour on the north side of Groswater Bay (called Hamilton Inlet if you have a Labrador road map) and we saw it ~ a thin line of white stretching across the horizon.  Yep, that was the pack.

Anchoring, I caught movement on shore. It was our first polar bear of the trip and he was running up the hill.  We definitely hadn’t expected to see a polar bear this far south but with the pack right here, it made sense.  “Sloopy” had just decided to get off his floating ice raft for a bit of land travel. 

That changed our plans to go hiking ashore. We do have bear “deterrents” but are doing all we can to avoid a close encounter.  Polar bears are very curious and although they may not be interested in eating you they may be curious enough to want to check you out.  That goes for your dinghy too.  And in that checking out process, things, you or the dinghy, may not be left in the same state the bear found them in so we’ll be limiting our shore excursions.  When we do go ashore, we thoroughly scout the shore and surrounding areas before landing, stay in sight of the dinghy and have our bear deterrents with us and ready. 

The white line on the horizon is the pack ice.

Andante and crew made 2 excursions out to see the pack ice.  Pack ice is saltwater ice that froze over the winter in a band up to 100 miles or so wide along the Labrador coast.  Mixed in is older pack ice that has drifted down from further north.  Scattered amongst this sea ice are big icebergs (freshwater, good for the icebox!) that have calved off glaciers and been frozen into the pack ice.   This time of year it’s all melting and shifting around day to day with the wind and currents.  Pack ice is affected by wind and the big bergs, with most of their mass underwater, are affected by currents.

A long line of eider stretch out in front of the mirage.

Leaving Sloop, that thin line of white stretched vertically with the mirages that happen in these cold waters.  It’s like they were a reflection in a fun house mirror.  It’s said the Inuit could read these mirages and pick out leads through the ice pack. 

Common Eider flying in front of the distant pack ice.

Andante putted along the ice edge and we watched these bergy bits from VW Beetle size to house size, heave up and down on the swell crashing together with a thud and a crunch, then bounding off each other like sumo wrestlers fighting for the championship.  We wanted no part of it in our glass home.  

Andante is glass reinforced with fibers and plastic but might as well be pure glass to this roiling ice pack.  Guillemots, puffins and common eider flew among the bergs perfectly at home in this icy landscape. 

Calm seas awaited our second excursion and we felt comfortable enough to do a little photographic side trip.  

I got Andante close to Quaker Hat Island, Russ and the camera and the bear deterrents headed to shore.  The air here is so dry and clear things seem closer and smaller than they are.  Russ and our dinghy looked very tiny landing on that island.  Back on board we maneuvered through stray bits and got back to Sloop. 

So how do we kill time on Andante?  A rainy day and a US Holiday (Independence Day) meant a day free from chores. We read, knitted, played scrabble (and yes those really were my letters at one point!) baked goodies, ate and watched the other inhabitants of Sloop Harbour.  At one point 13 seals lounged on rocks.  They seem to favor this bowed position and will stay that way until just the tip of a nose and the tip of their feet are above water.  These looked like very fat seals!  Russ is worried we interrupted the polar bear’s dinner.

 

The other reason I call this “killing time.”  Shortly after we arrived the hills were keeping our attention looking for another bear.  No bear but we saw a strange, black, chicken like bird frantically hurrying down the hill.  Scanning with the binoculars we saw a golden white shape moving stealthily and determinedly through the brush.  Not a bear, but an arctic fox with his coat changing between winter white and summer reddish brown.  Well that little bird was right to be frantic because the next thing we knew, the fox had her.  Somebody’s going to eat well tonight!

P.S.  We’re heading north of Nain and won’t have internet access for 3-4 weeks.  Planning to post onto our sailblogs blog site which we can do remotely.  Please visit us at:

http://www.sailblogs.com/member/svandante/      

Battle Harbour Magic

Battle Harbour Magic

 

Battle Harbour, Labrador

 

June 21, 2013

 

 

 

 

I could start every entry with “one of our favorite places” but Battle Harbour is a magical place.  We’ve sat on the rocks and filmed humpback whales feeding almost within touching distance. Had our first kitchen party in one of the restored houses, watched Gannets arrowing into the water to snatch their dinner, stood in the loft where Admiral Peary announced his successful trip to the North Pole, soaked up its history and hiked its trails. 

 

Once known as “The Capital of Labrador” due to its importance to the fishery it’s now a preserved piece of history.

 

“Battle Harbour [has] a reputation of being the most lawless and disorderly place on the whole coast.” Report of Captain Hamilton, H.M.S. Vesuvius, October 1862.

 

 

First settled in the 1750’s it was the economic hub of the cod fishery and kept this status into the twentieth century.

 

“It’s a pretty sight, I assure you, to see this out-of-the-world region so thoroughly alive and stirring as it is in summer, with all these small vessels from different parts filling the bay from head to entrance . . . . Others remain outside flitting about from place to place as occasion may require, all engaged in the same pursuit of fishing for cod.”  W.A. Stearns, Labrador: A sketch of its peoples, its industries and its natural history (1884)

 

Today due to the collapse of the fishery, there are no boats scurrying to and fro and the only fishing work done here is by the lifesized figures standing sentinel.  By the 1960’s cod was declining and the townspeople were re-settled into Mary’s Harbour on the mainland.  It was destined to become another abandoned outport with decaying buildings when the Battle Harbour Historic Trust spearheaded a massive restoration effort.   Houses were turned into B&B’s, the Inn was opened, excellent interpretive displays created and installed and visitors welcomed.

 

We arrived before they were officially welcoming guests for this season but were welcomed anyway.  The Board of Directors was meeting to chart a course for the future and we were able to share our love for this place and get in another Battle Harbour Kitchen Party.

 

 

*Historical photographs property of Battle Harbour Historical Trust

 

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The West Coast

The West Coast

June 20, 2013

Cow Head, Newfoundland

 

Alison's evening yoga studio!

 

There’s a lot of debate about which way to go around Newfoundland.  Due to a shortage of harbors, sailors tend to not like the West side too much. When we went around “The Rock” in 2009, our strategy was to use the more reliable south-west wind to get us up the west side and then harbor hop into those prevailing south westerlies down the east side.

 



Rocks near Codroy

 It worked out well and in the process we came to appreciate what the west has to offer. Viewed from the water the whole island is dramatic with waves throwing themselves against sheer cliffs that plunge to meet them.  On the west side you can add a few stretches of actual beach, some sea caves and cliff formations, and the unique geology around Gros Morne. 

We’ve sailed this stretch 5 times and find plenty to keep us interested and coming back . . .



 

Perched just around the south western corner of Newfoundland, Codroy was our second stop in 2009.  Arriving on the last day of school, our boat was soon hosting a group of local boys eager for what the summer had to offer.  The enclosed harbor was full of fishing boats unloading their catches of halibut and turbot.  Small skiffs arrived and departed with lobster traps.  Families strolled around the wharves and the fish plant was hopping.  The place was on the go.

 

Arriving this year the leaden sky seemed to foreshadow the current state of Codroy.  There was one small fishing boat tied up and just a few skiffs.  Chatting with folks told the tale.  Shrimp were getting scarce. Lobster prices were so low it wasn’t worth the fuel to get them.  Most of the local guys had sold their boats and licenses or just not bothered to put their boats in the last few years. The small general store closed a few months earlier. 

 

We were greeted from porches as we strolled around, chatted with kids at the playground and patronized the only commercial enterprise in town besides the fish plant, The Chip Wagon. Open just a few weeks it was enjoying a great business and the hamburger with fried onions was really good.  The view and chatting with its owner was priceless.

 We couldn't go the summer without a lobster roll!   Lobster from the fish plant and the rolls from the Chip Wagon.

 

And there's always complicated geology to keep you interested.  The dark brown is either a hard clay or a soft rock depending on how you see it.

Hard clay or soft rock?



Picking out lights on a night arrival in a strange harbor can be just a tad stressful.  Motoring into Rocky Harbour at 2am we were glad we’d been here before. Rocky Harbour, at the entrance to Bonne Bay, isn’t particularly rocky as in big pieces of stone but can be rocky from waves.  We found an old chart that called it Roche Harbour and I think over the years it got Anglicized to Rocky.  This very small town is surrounded by Gros Morne National Park so it has the feel of a town catering to tourists.  Gros Morne, a UNESCO world heritage site is home to the second highest peak in Newfoundland and geology that you can’t see anywhere else on earth.  You can hike across the earth’s mantle and view spectacular, land-locked fjords.

We were here to rendezvous with an ordered part and hopefully get some hiking in and knock off a few more of the ever present boat chores.  We’d had the part sent to the only place we could think of, Java Jack’s Restaurant. Java Jack’s is owned by Jackie, a sailor, and offers delectable fare in a great atmosphere featuring local artists’ work on the walls and the speakers. 

No part so boat chores!  The big break-through was Russ figuring out how to hook up our pactor modem. The pactor enables us to send & receive simple e-mails through our single side band radio. It’s not surfing the web but it is communicating!

 

Bakers Brooks Falls

 

 

Still no part so we managed our first epic hike of 2013.  Bakers Brooks Falls, a 9.5 km trail, ended up being around 14 miles roundtrip because we had to get to and from the trailhead!  The torrent of water cascading over the first waterfall was well worth it.  The other 3 waterfalls were bonuses! We passed another couple on their way out but otherwise had the trail to ourselves. 

 

The forest around Gros Morne is boreal pine but the non-native moose are changing that.  Wind and insects shape a boreal forest.  The insects weaken the trees and the wind knocks them down so seedlings can get a start. The moose interrupt this process by eating the seedlings.  Seems they like pine seedlings but not birch.  So the forests are changing over to birch forests.  This trail showed it in dramatic fashion.  We could just see a tall fence where they’re doing a test plot to see if they keep the moose out they can keep the pines.

 

After 3 days of missing wind in the right direction, we’d decided we had to go package or no.  A last breakfast at Java Jack’s and she dashed off to check her post office box.  It came!

 

We set off for Cow Head.  I think they call it cow head because of the shape of the island.  Since the roads came through, town has moved over the causeway to the road side.  We’ve been here before for the Lobster Festival featuring, you guessed it, lobster but also local music and entertainment. 

 

This time we decided to try the Gros Morne Theatre and caught a dinner theatre production of the SS Ethie.  Drama, humor and song tell the story of the coastal steamer Ethie.  Caught out in a December gale that was the worst anyone could remember she was in danger of being bashed on the rocks when her captain made the decision to purposefully beach her. It worked and all on board were saved. It was a great evening and we enjoyed talking with fellow travelers! 

 

Cow Head is also known for its geology and a walk out to the “point of the head” and the lighthouse shows it off. 

 

 

And we got to sit out a bit of a blow!

 

 

Last stop, Port Au Choix.  We weren’t here long this trip but did manage to find the showers and the large Foodland grocery store.  Previous stops we’ve walked out to the National Historic Site.  Hiking the trails takes you by archeological digs delving into the earliest people that camped along this shore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

From here we’ll hope for a clear day and cross over to Labrador. Clear because from here North there’s ice.  Ice reports say, “ one zero zero bergs” in the Straits of Belle Isle. That’s one hundred! 

 

Here's a map of our trip to date:

https://maps.google.ca/maps/ms?msid=209674061295196822166.0004e0396ee8a8998d365&msa=0&ll=48.516604,-56.085205&spn=3.726199,10.821533 

 

 

 

 

 

Stormy Weather

Stormy Weather

Port Manvers Run

August 15, 2011

(I just realized this didn't get posted from our 2011 trip and it's worth the read . . . I think.)

“Where are we going and when are we going to get there?” Even though we were laying to two anchors, Russ could be forgiven for asking that question. Sitting down to dinner, Andante was gyrating and pulsing like she was underway in rough seas. We’d been warned that come the middle of August, weather systems up here turn into their fall mode. The prophecies were being fulfilled.

The problem earlier in the summer north of Nain isn’t too much wind, it’s not enough. 

In anticipation of motoring, we filled up our diesel tanks, the usual four, 5 gallon jerry cans we keep in the cockpit and picked up 6 more 5.3 gallon (20 litre) jerry cans. Every port on the Labrador, fuel gets more expensive as you go north. Our final top off in Nain was $135 for 4 jerry cans (21.2 gallons which is roughly $6.37 CAN/gallon or $1.69/litre CAN. Current exchange rates have the Canadian dollar worth a bit more than the US dollar so it cost us a tad more than $6.37/gal US). (August 2011).

In general we’ve found that weather systems come through fast and speed up as the sailing season progresses. Earlier in the summer forecasts are filled with “winds light and variable, “ “wind 10-15” etc. A typical sailing scenario may look like this:

Wind! Get the main up and the jenny out. Turn engine off. Ahh! The sound of water rushing by the hull. Enjoy for 15 minutes. Wind goes light. Wind dies. Furl jib. Double reef main and tie it amidships to act as a steadying sail. Turn engine on. Motor for an hour. Wind comes up again. Get main & jenny up. Turn engine off. . . . repeat. Throw in a few wind shifts in there and you get the idea.

As mid-August approaches the systems march across faster and pack a punch with more forecasts saying 25+ knots gusting to 30-35.

Getting a weather forecast can be a tad difficult. Once we left Port Manvers Run, just north of Nain, we couldn’t get any VHF weather. Often, tucked up anywhere in Newfoundland or Labrador it can be impossible to get a VHF broadcast due to the mountains.

Canadian Coast Guard broadcasts weather on single side band (up here the fisherman call it “the big radio”) several times a day. Frequency 2598 at 0705, 1137, 1737 and 2237 northern Labrador time (this is a ½ hour behind Newfoundland/Labrador time or the same time as Halifax, Nova Scotia).

We also downloaded weather fax on Freq. 12748.1 at 1237 Labrador time. The ipad justified its place on board when Russ downloaded an app that translates weather faxes. It worked really well.

All the talk about motoring aside, we couldn’t let Debbie leave without a little weather event. A gale was forecast when we were in Okak and we scurried for cover.

Did I mention that when you do get a forecast it doesn’t necessarily play out as predicted? Well this gale didn’t. It was supposed to arrive overnight and be gone the next day. Andante leaned into a few gusts but nothing bad at all. Next day we headed out into some strong winds and they started shifting to the direction we wanted to go, a great sailing day.

Part of what’s challenging about sailing up here is a lack of good harbors. What can look like a snug anchorage on the chart turns out to be a mile wide. The scale is just hard to get your perspective around. The best looking spot around was Dawes Harbour on Kikiktaksoak Island. The Cruising Guide to Labrador has a lovely picture on the cover of people walking on shore, sun shining, with the placid harbor in the background. Beating with the wind shift to get in, we knew we were not in that place even though we were in the same location!

 

By the time we got there, waves were breaking on the ledges at the entrance and all of the water in the cove was heaving up and down. Tucked into a corner using 2 anchors to hold us in place kept us out of the worst of the swell. The heart stopping view out of our companionway filled with waves crashing against rocks behind us, and Hannah bucking along beside us.

 

For the first time on the trip we set anchor watches as the winds picked up. This was a good 24 hours after the gale was predicted to come through. No one got much sleep as the boats rocked around and we kept a keen eye on the rocks just off our stern and the rocks off our starboard side. It felt like we were anchored close enough to shore that a bear could’ve stepped on board.

 

Leaving was . . . interesting but we needed to get out before the wind shifted around and made this anchorage truly dangerous. Engine on and mainsail up we took aim at the clearer water between ledges. Green water hit rock with cataclysmic results as Andante bucked her way out. Hannah had been in there too and we talked about what it would’ve been like if during the night it’d piped up just a bit more, the water had risen over the entrance ledges to pour full force into the harbour and how we could’ve gotten out.

 

We’d been hoping to explore some new anchorages on the middle route to Nain but after no sleep, lumpy seas and motor sailing just to make a course, the protected waters of Port Manvers Run were looking awfully good. Unfortunately the entrance was not.

 

One of the hardest things to do in sailing is to pass up a safe harbor because the entrance is too dicey. You’re tired, calm waters beckon. It’s a siren song. Three weeks earlier we’d come out of this entrance on a calm day with not a worry. Now, Willis Rocks guarding the entrance were a maelstrom of waves. When water met rock, cascading rooster tails were thrown up. Approaching from the North there didn’t seem to be a safe way in.

 

Deciding to keep going we kept looking at the entrance. Once south of the rocks, a passage opened up. Staying close to the cliff on the southern side Russ steered us in. I’m glad my job was to keep an eye on the depth and chart plotter because I didn’t have much chance to look around. Debbie said it was quite impressive and I think it gave us all a few dreams that night.

 

We anchored at the first available spot and let our heart rates get back to normal.

It's Your Watch

Rocky Harbour, NFL

June 14, 2013

 

“Sweetie?”

“Babe?  It’s your watch.”

“Wha? Huh?  Wha’imesit?”

“It’s 3.”

“’Kay. . . . . . . .  I’ll get up.”

After our longest to date passage on our own boat (Cape May, NJ to Halifax, NS, Canada - 5 days, 10 hours ) we’ve had variations on this exchange countless times. 

At sea, Andante doesn’t stop.  She’s going ‘round the clock which means a part of the human crew has to make sure everything’s running smoothly.  We’ve gotten a routine that works for us based on 3 hour watches. We’ve found that 2 hours is too short a time for the off-watch to get sleep and 4 hours is too long for the on-watch person to stay awake!

We’re a little loose about keeping rigid times during the day but starting late afternoon, Russ will have a rest and I’ll fix dinner.  We eat together at our table with our handy little apple timer set for 10 minute intervals.  Every 10 minutes one of us gets up and has a good look around.  

Then it’s my turn from 9-12.  Russ from 12-3, etc.  Breakfast together and I go down for another nap.  Then we’re usually up together from lunchtime to late afternoon and then we go ‘round again. 

All of this can be interrupted by conditions.  If it’s rough, or a complicated sail change needs to happen, the off-watch person will get called up.  We also let the off-watch person know if we’re going forward of the cockpit.  So those hours of precious sleep can get interrupted.

So what do we do all day out there on the big sea?  Again, totally depends on conditions.  There are days Andante scoots along with never a sail change and it’s a smooth ride.  Then we can do boat chores, exercise, read, knit (that’s me) whatever floats our boat!  You have to take advantage of warm, idyllic days when they come ‘cause it probably won’t last.

And there are other days when you need both hands to hang on.  That’s when you’ll find us eating a one pot meal sitting on the floor at the bottom of the companionway steps because it’s the spot with the least motion!  About all you can do is make sure you eat and drink, and know it’ll soon end. You hope.

But always, we’re sailing the boat. That’s the job and it comes first. Russ is much better about tweaking the sails and playing with everything to get as much speed as possible.  I’m more of a set it and let it go type but working on getting better. After all it means we’ll get to wherever we’re going faster.

We’ve had people ask if we get bored.  Nope.  Fitted in around the sailing and other activities is the endless fascination of the sea.  From chaotic, gun-metal gray waves to deep blue rollers, it never fails to fascinate.  Add a few brilliant sunrises & sunsets, birds swooping & gliding inches off those wavetops, and you’ve got plenty of entertainment!  We haven't seen any whales on this trip but dolphins have accompanied us.

We had our first bird visitor on this last trip. I was sitting in our companionway (our sweet spot when we’re underway and it’s not nice out).  The dodger window was open and this little guy landed right in front of me.  A Canada Warbler, he was 30-50 miles from land and looked exhausted. 

 

A hop onto my shoulder and then he took up residence on Russ’ hat.  Head tucked under wing he took a short catnap, popped his head back out, looked around a bit and took off. We’re going to assume he made it somewhere!

Wishing you all fair winds and following seas!