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...Back to the office and probably on the wagon!!.............
Friends gather to see us go On April 19th we finally set sail from Belfast or rather motored away as the wind, inexplicably, headed us for the first mile or 3. A sad time as many friends gathered to see us off, wish us fair winds and speedy returns. The climax became an anti when our faithful engine refused to start, a fault traced to my slack retightening of the earthing cable. And then we were away, waving frantically to everyone as we headed out. We had a couple of easy days, made it to the wonderfully named Mud Hole, the entry to which would have been perfect had we arrived 30 minutes or so later and not thumped ignominiously across the bottom in our effort to find the required deep water. Great shelter, picture postcard surroundings and a peaceful night.
The entrance into Mudhole looking back the way we came in
Same view at night Then onto Roque Island as the threat of a gale from the SE made it necessary we found shelter. Hidden behind a cliff we waited out the next 48 hours with scarcely a breath of wind around us. Fog but no wind. Until we heard thunderous crashing from the other side of the island and realised the shelter had been so absolute that we could have been tied up in some hurricane hole. Perhaps we were getting blasé? Forgetful? Careless? Time would tell. Naturally on the last day of a legal stay in the US (our visas had only been extended by 19 days) around the corner in the fog and drizzle came a US Coast Guard RIB...... Of course they came over, politely asked if they could board and listened to our story of waiting out this gale and thus not able to comply with the law. Being CG they felt it better we remained in shelter than messing about in Force 8 winds etc but could they look at our lifejackets(they passed!); our flares(out of date); our fire extinguishers (also out of date) so whilst expressing amazement at the number of flares we carried they booked us for two violations. Oh well I’m sure they’ll be up to date by the time we return.
Canada
was welcoming and sent a friendly Customs officer to check us out. The
Canadians are hot on the amount of booze yotties bring in and we were
suitably gob-smacked when said officer said it was unlikely yotties would
be cramming their boats full of illegal drink and we nodded dumbly in
complete agreement......... It is prohibitively expensive and we
couldn’t have carried enough to see us through the next few months so
whilst others may worry about gales and icebergs it’s the thought of no
booze that sends us staggering. Up
to St Andrews to be greeted by the owner of a local tour boat with
“Welcome back” and then on going ashore the next day by Darrin, the
skipper of Molly Kool who we had also met previously, who took our lines
enthusiastically. Should our plans change we may well lay it at his door
after his enthusiastic telling of the charms of the Northumberland Strait
(the Caribbean of the North) and the pleasures of Prince Edward Island. No
doubt about it, it is wonderful to see people you have previously met once
more and augers well for our eventual return. Our arrival coincided with
the opening of the Fulcrum Café who treated us to espresso and some
wonderful art. If you’re in town, visit and say hello to Tom and Sue. www.fulcrumgallery.ca
St
Andrews
The
weather proved fickle for the next few weeks and we wandered, a little
aimlessly, about the Passamaquoddy Bay, making friends with John and
Kenneth in Head Harbour, Campobello Island, who provided us with some
wonderful 8 year old dry Beech to burn, John in St A who gave us a guided
tour of the local area and also trying our luck with the LeTete passage.
This is a narrow opening that enters the Passamaquoddy Bay. At the top of
the flood/ebb the current hurtles through at speeds of 5 or 6 knots.
Generally the winds head you as they bounce off the hills/trees/landmass
meaning the safest way through is to use the engine. In all we went
through four times and enjoyed the scary ride as Hannah would be swung 50
or 60 degrees off course and be sent hurtling toward one shallow or
another. Part of the passage boils, part seems eerily flat but all in all
it’s not a place to get it wrong. With
yet another gale forecast we headed for Back Bay and perfect shelter and
then later to Letang where we intended to head off on the first part of
the journey to Nova Scotia. Leaving Letang we encountered fog and crept
out blind, finally making into the open sea. About 1 mile out the engine
let out a mighty squeal and we hastily shut it off. The wind was light and
we were able to drift as we sorted out the broken fan belt. A broken fan
belt! How lucky can we get? Had it happened in the boiling LeTete we would
not have had the hour it took to sort things out and our story may well
have been different but sometimes we all need a bit luck. However the one
we fitted had seen better days and as we closed Grand Manan and the wind
died we fired up Henry to be greeted by a wailing and flapping as the belt
began to shred. Back to first principles and we spent the next 2 hours
tacking into the harbour before anchoring amongst mooring buoys on a short
scope. We quickly used Henry to dig it in and headed for bed once we had
replaced, for the third time that day our fan belt as the forecast was for
hard weather coming through. ‘course the morning brought a squall and a
sharp elbow from Bee saw me stumble up top where I gazed blearily around.
Yup no doubt about it we’d begun to drag and we got everything up and
headed for the harbour so grateful we’d sorted out the problem whilst we
had the chance. A very friendly Harbour Master said “stay in the day but
leave at night and I won’t charge you” and a fisherman ran me to the
local chandlers to buy new fan belts, oil and filters. Fan belts not
available but could be delivered and I rode off to collect the following
day. 10 kms each way left me red faced and shaken legged but at least we
had the bits. We hoped to leave two hours before high water but Toots
thought exploring the underside of the jetty to be far more important and
the time slipped by. Eventually coaxed out we slipped away minutes before
HW with the forecast promising 35 knot winds before decreasing in the
early hours. 2 reefs in the main saw us storming across the bay at 5
knots+ and we settled down to wait. And wait. The blow never came, we
changed headsails, eased out the reefs and as the tide turned we saw our
speed over the ground drop from 5 to 1.7knots. AAAAAAAAAAAGH. We had
intended to go inside Cape Sable but knew we would be bucking the tide by
the time we got there and so headed further out for a longer, but
hopefully less tide ridden route. We rounded and began heading east with a
beam wind, all working sail set and 7.6 knots showing. Yowser! What a
sail! We threw up a bow wave
that roared away from us as we headed rapidly for Shelburne and sleep.
Because of the number of lobster buoys that this part of the Atlantic is
home to we haven’t used Stan (our self-steerer) but steer by hand. Stan
is still in place and its rudder hangs happily in the water. However many
lobster buoys in this part of the world have a separate buoy attached by a
long line to the main buoy. Separated by perhaps 50 odd feet they lurk
beneath the surface silently waiting....bowling along without a care we
were suddenly aware of an additional noise and found an errant buoy,
dragged under by the current, had crept under the bow and surfaced between
the main rudder and Stan’s. As the depth was 40 odd metres, the weight
enormous and our speed was still around 6 knots something had to give and
a supporting block snapped with a crack before we could free ourselves
from the extra drag. The lobster buoy receded astern and we catapulted
forward to resume our journey with Stan trailing like a broken leg behind
us. Repaired but removed, Stan now sits safely in the forepeak until we
actually need him. So in the early hours of last Sunday morning we crept
into Shelburne harbour and finally moored alongside a fishing boat. We
climbed into a bed, still partially clothed, swollen by 3 hot water
bottles, weighed down by extra blankets and died, despite the enormous
Cummins diesel that rumbled through the night a few feet from our ears.
This had been a bitterly cold sail, and we had worn heavy clothing and
oilies and for the next few weeks we will limit ourselves to day sails if
only because the cold has driven Bee to start drinking whisky and stocks
are low. Say no more.. The last thing I remember before sleep took over
was Bee gasping “This is the coldest I’ve ever been”......... Shelburne
is the 3rd best natural harbour in the world they claim and
who’s to doubt it? A small town of wooden buildings laid out in a grid
pattern it has great charm, an absolutely wonderful yacht club (if they
were all like this we’d probably join one) with showers, wifi, great
members and a town of exceptionally friendly people with wonderful sense
of irony. How else can I explain the Old Folks Rest Home being next door
to “Rent A Wreck”? . We’re smitten, as everyone said we would be,
and can only wonder what the rest of NS will be like. If you’re visiting
you can reach the yacht club via www.shelburneharbouryachtclub.ca
and it really is a great place.
And
now a couple of asides. In the course of the past few months Bee has
become a buyer extraordinaire on eBay. Items have arrived with regularity
as bargains galore found their way to John and Mary’s home. This laptop
came from a guy called John who, on learning of what we do, remarked the
only time he’d been on a boat was 26 years ago escaping from Vietnam.
Gradually the story came out and briefly it is this. 25 Vietnamese people
loaded themselves into a banana boat, with a compass and a hand drawn
chart. John was the navigator and did a remarkable job whilst the only
seaman amongst them became so terrified by the whole business he became
and stayed drunk. Of course they ran into a gale and the chance of
survival seemed slim but they came through it. After 6 days lights were
seen in the far distance and 2 days later they arrived at and were picked
up by a Malaysian oil rig. Once they saw the lights everyone on board felt
their survival chances had gone from zero to 100% and it was, said John
(in a remarkable understatement) “like winning the Bingo...” Now the
25 are scattered around the world and this is all just a memory. I found
the whole story amazing, as we wander the ocean with electronics, charts,
foul weather gear etc that we “meet” someone who had taken to the sea
with only a slim chance of survival and none of the bits we deem necessary
for a safe journey. And
then we bought some electronic charts. 2000 odd of mostly the US they
would be a useful back up to the paper ones we hoard. The successful bid
was for some $150 or so and they arrived quickly. To shorten the story it
has to be said that in all the dealings we had on eBay the only time we
felt we’d been ripped off was by this seller who sells old, badly copied
charts to mugs. Those who complain are refunded 2/3rds of what they paid
as a gesture of goodwill ... The ironic thing is the seller is an English
guy living in the US. So if you are buying electronic charts on eBay and
someone offers them at a starting price of $150 under the name of ouija1949
I suggest you go somewhere else. So
today, Thurs 19th
saw us looking at houses with another couple from a boat. Some of the
stuff is incredibly cheap- $40k Canadian or £17k. But in reality the
house needs tearing down, though it overlooks the sea and it all seems far
too much work for something that can’t go anywhere so we suspect that
idea has run its very short course. Compared to the UK prices in Shelburne
are cheap but rising rapidly the locals tell us. Few
yachts are about at this time of the year and it was only at Shelburne
that we encountered other like minded eejits. A Dutch boat arriving from
Maine having snarled and towed a lobster buoy and pot several hundred
miles and needed a diver to sort out the mess, and a Canadian/Brit couple
Steve and Marylyn. Chatting over a beer Steve recounted the tale of being
at anchor and invited aboard a smart 42 foot something or other to give
them the benefits of his vast cruising experience. In company with a
similar boat, the 42 footer had moored to a buoy in a perfectly good
anchorage and in the course of the conversation the local harbourmaster
arrived to collect his fee-US$35 for the night. “Now that’s how you
can tell a cruiser from a sailor” says Steve. “How so” said the fee
payer. “Well” said Steve “a cruiser will have anchored then sits on
your boat, drinking your beer, eating your food and feeding you
bullshit...” May
31 After
two weeks the easterly gales and storms finally relented and allowed us to
move on. We sat out the blows at anchor in the sanctuary of Shelburne
harbour, with a second anchor ready to go and listened in horror as a
yacht sailing up from Bermuda called the CG on the VHF for a weather
check, “Easterly 40-45knots with 55 gusts” came the reply. The
following day they called again, got the same forecast except the gusts
had now increased to 60 knots and the seas a pleasant 6 metres....... As
they were heading for Halifax and the wind was on the nose we fully
expected them to arrive in Shelburne as it would have been a much easier
sail (now that’s what you call British understatement). But no sign of
them and we can only hope they survived a brutal 48 hours or so. We headed
out and spent a frustrating day motor sailing to windward in light
easterly airs to get 40 miles up the coast. We anchored close into the
shore and then found the current swinging us so our stern sat some 100
yards or so from the beach. We hummed and harred, then decided to move
slightly further out but not a spark of life could be heard from the
engine. We checked, we read and we checked yet again. No loose wires,
sufficient fuel and, as we were tired, cold, fed up and far from ‘ome we
called it a day and went to bed exhausted. In the morning we checked the
solenoid and found it to be dead. Luckily we had gone through all this in
the summer and we had a spare on board, thanks to John Tani, and once
fitted we were up and away for another day of fun filled motoring. The
wind was light but the fog wasn’t and we stumbled our way through damp
and wetness. We decided to head for Lunenburg and in the fog we searched
diligently for buoys that marked our passage, heard but not seen but with
care we felt we would cope with this and carried on. The fog began to lift
and land could be seen (where it should be). The fog came down and minutes
after we plotted our position on the chart the GPS gave a beep and a
message flashed up a warning that there was “insufficient satellite
coverage” and promptly died. So there we are heading for West Ironbound
Island, flanked by a shoal of the same name and beating against an
outgoing tide...... Dredging the memory for ancient practices we carried
on using DR until the box of tricks came back on an hour later. An
interesting time. The
Nova Scotians have some great name for rocks and shoals. No Hope Shoal was
one we spotted which had a high and dry lobster boat on it and our
favourite- a rock called simply “Bastard” which captures the feeling
of hitting something you wish you hadn’t. So
here we are in Lunenburg, a wonderfully colourful waterfront that hides a
depressed economy as most of the front is up for sale. Fishing is dying
and seems to be the usual story of years of plenty so stocks are over
fished followed by depression as quotas are reduced and businesses close.
Tourism is beginning, they have a great museum that we tied up to when we
first arrived but something feels amiss here although we may simply be
spoiled by Shelburne which we felt to be much more interesting and far
more welcoming. Actually when we moored alongside the museum it was close
to low water so the top of the dock was several feet above head height and
getting lines ashore was an effort. You can imagine our surprise when we
scrambled up the ladder to secure our bow line to find Toots already
ashore and eagerly exploring her new home.
Lunenburg, Nova Scotia For the
first time in 22 days the sun has come out and although the fog appeared
this morning we’re hoping we will get a bit of summer to at least allow
us to get shorts on. We have legs, according to Bee, the colour of which
shouldn’t be seen outside a morgue. |
