Captain's Log

Newfoundland Recap
Posted by tuck on Saturday, August 29, 2015 - 11:20

Okay, so here’s the recap on the south and west coasts of Newfoundland.

The Weather.  Well…..not so great.  The first half of our trip was pretty rainy and cool, but it didn’t hamper our activities too much.  Shouldn’t complain about rainy and cool, ‘cause when it gets warmer, the fog rolls in.  That did diminish our experience.  Navigation wasn’t a problem, but we missed a whole lot of incredible scenery due to the fog, which, most of the time, reduced visibility to 200 meters or less.  That said, what we did see was breathtaking.  This summer was unusual, in that it was one of, if not THE coldest on record.  Fog is usually a problem in June, and into the beginning of July, not this late.

The West Coast.  Definitely a road trip coast.  The distances are long, and the harbors are, in general, not suited for private vessels.  Most are very small and shallow, with working piers.  With the exception of a few small cities, many harbors are surrounded by not more than a few dwellings.  Gros Morne Park, L’anse aux Meadows, Western Brook Pond and other attractions would require obtaining transportation from your boat.

The Fjord Coast (southwest).  Definitely a water trip. 

Words cannot describe the grandeur of this stark, rocky coast as it meets the North Atlantic Ocean.  The narrow fjords cut slashes into the 800’ high, nearly vertical coastline, the depths of the cuts mirroring the heights of the surrounding cliffs.  With depths approaching 600-700’, many of the fjords extend for several miles inland.  Most are completely uninhabited, with NO access roads.

The Black Flies.  These little guys don’t bite real hard, but they raise a welt that develops a hard head and stays itchy for 5-7 days.  I don’t mean just itchy.  REAL ITCHY!  I’m still nursing 8 or 10 on the back of my head between my hat and collar.

The Outports.  These places, only accessible by water, won’t be around for long.  During the era of economically viable commercial fishing, these villages made sense, bringing fishermen closer to their grounds.  With the collapse of the commercial fishery, outports make no economic sense.  Electric power is usually supplied by an onsite diesel generator.  None of the all-grade schools in these towns had more than 10 students.  Getting a teacher was a real challenge, and if there were any special needs students, a specialist was also required.  (The gene pool is pretty shallow in these towns of 100 inhabitants, most of whom are 4th generation.  My sense is, because of this, there is a higher incidence of these needy kids.)  These villages need supplies, so the Canadian government maintains a ferry system to do so.  It’s not unusual for the ferry to come in several times a day, usually with only 2 or 3 passengers at a minimal cost of $4 CAD.  Medical care is difficult.  None of the outports that we visited has permanent health care professionals in residence.  Usually, a visiting nurse comes in every week or two often by helicopter.  If folks need to see a physician, they have to take the ferry to a larger town.  Same with the dentist, although this didn’t seem to be a high priority here.  Jobs are very scarce, and the residents of working age eke out a living, many by going away to follow the fruit crops in Nova Scotia, or the oil in Alberta, living “away” for months at a time.  The young people, by and large, move away to find work.  That being said, the simple lifestyle here seems to draw the natives back, no matter how long they’ve been “away”.  Consequently, the population is aging.  Many of the outports here and in Labrador have been resettled.  How does this happen?  The issue of resettlement is brought to a vote by the people of the village.  If 90% of the residents vote for resettlement, the Canadian government buys them out, the electric power is shut down, the ferry service is discontinued, and they must move out.  The current buyout is $270K.  Former residents may rent their homes back from the government for 5 years at the cost of $1/yr. for use as a summer cottage.  As you might imagine, these votes can be quite contentious and cause lots of hard feelings in these small communities.  Recently, McCallum voted and fell a couple votes short.  Word is that some very hard feelings have sprouted up in this formerly tight knit community of 70.  They’ll vote again in December.  If you want to get a glimpse of life as it was for the last few centuries, get there soon.

The People.  OMG, I thought that people in the rest of the Maritimes were great.  As a group, the Newfies on the south coast are the most gracious, giving people that I’ve ever had the privilege to meet.  They really understand the interdependency that is required for living in the wilderness that is their home, on both the land and the sea.  Also, they don’t complain about the weather.  Typical of the attitude-the rain is blowing in sheets, water dripping off my nose in icy droplets.  Terry turns to me with a straight face and observes that the “The tempshur’s purd ged but kaynda umid”

All in all, if we had a chance for a do-over with the same weather, we’d both do it again in a heartbeat.  We’re talking about a possible road trip in the future to hit St. John’s, the eastern and northern coasts…we’ll see.

21 August, 2015
Posted by tuck on Wednesday, August 26, 2015 - 09:53

Goood Morning!

When I got up at 06h30 on the 17th, it looked like Seastar was in a different spot.  Nah, must have just been an error of parallax.  We got the “Q” up with very little mud or weeds-always a bonus when you don’t have to stand out in the wind spraying down the anchor and chain before your first cuppa.  It took B & L a while to get theirs up, with their windlass moaning and groaning.  I told the Admiral that I thought their clutch was dying.  When the hook came up, there was a monkey fist of chain wrapped around it.  In the windless night, Seastar had circled round and round the anchor, fouling it hopelessly.  Good thing that the wind didn’t come back up, ‘cause that anchor wasn’t holdin’ nuthin’.  As they got things sorted out, I was thinking (with my fingers crossed) that it was a good thing that we weren’t superstitious about inauspicious starts to long trips.

As the sun tried to crest the rim of the fjord, we were treated to some fog-free scenery.  Seven miles later, at the mouth of the bay, the seas were running 2’-4’ on 5 second intervals as predicted under partly cloudy skies.  The passage to Sydney, NS was uneventful.  I trailed a line for 8 hours, but no bites from fish.  The seagulls picked up my bait twice.  I heard the line screaming off the reel, only to see a gull trying to fly away with my Ballyhoo.  Increasing the drag gave him a big surprise-put on the brakes, and he dropped like a rock.  He was stubborn though, and we dragged him through the water like a rookie water skier before he finally got the idea and let go-bird brain!  We got another visit from Canada’s “eye in the sky”, and had another nice chat with them, but saw no sea life, except 1 Mola Mola.  Just after sunrise, as we approached Sydney Harbor’s seabuoy, we were overtaken by “Blue Puttees”, the Sydney-Port aux Basques ferry as she completed her 8-hour voyage from Newfoundland.  She looked big in P’aB, even bigger as she passed within 400 meters of us.  At the sunny dock, relief was written all over Bill & Lauren’s faces.  The boat problems that they had experienced, Lauren’s troublesome kidney, and the poor weather had really taken a toll on their psyches.  It was as if a cloud had lifted (in reality, it had), and our old pals were back.  After Bill grabbed a quick nap, his sister-in-law, Eleanor picked us up so that Lauren, Suz and I could visit the Miner’s Museum while Bill visited with his brother, Don.

We really enjoyed the Miner’s Museum.  We learned that this area of Cape Breton was THE economic powerhouse of Canada in the early 20th century.  Ninety percent of the coal fueling Canada’s industrial revolution era came from within this 10 mile radius.  Mining, along with steel production made this northwest corner of Cape Breton the economic jewel of the nation.  However, like the Cod fishery in Newfoundland, an economy relying on a one-trick pony is on shaky ground.  When the mining industry started to decline, as was inevitable, the economy took a dive as well.  Since the early 1960’s when the mines ceased production, population and per capita incomes have declined precipitously.  Our walking tour belowground to a vein of coal was led by a retired miner.  Although his charge was to give us an appreciation of what it was like to be a miner in the 1930’s, he shared anecdotes from his personal experiences in 30 years of mining this very colliery.  We were fascinated to hear that it took him an hour and a half to ride a rake (underground coal-carrying cart) to the area where he worked six miles out to sea, 2,700 feet below the ocean.  He told us that an American investor has purchased one of the other mines nearby, and will be resuming operations in the near future.  This is certainly good news around here for the unemployed.  After our visit to the museum, we joined Don & Eleanor for dinner at a local diner for some good conversation and some mediocre grub.  They offered us the use of their car, and after dropping them off, we headed back to the boats for some much needed sleep.

The following day took us to Louisbourg, the site of a French fortress dating back to the early 18th century.  During the nearly 2 centuries since it was abandoned, the structure deteriorated to the point that it nearly blended in with the landscape.  The site was recognized for its’ historical significance in the early 1900’s, and archeologists had excavated and researched the fort and surrounding town for years.  Then the mines closed in the early 1960’s, and unemployment skyrocketed.  The Canadian government created a public works project to reconstruct approximately 20% of the fortress city.  Unemployed miners were retrained in the trades of masonry, carpentry, electrical contracting, carving, blacksmithing, and etc. for the project.  The result, after two decades of work, is nothing short of spectacular.  Suz and I have visited many old forts these last years (as you can testify), but this one is a magnitude better than any others.  Re-enactors(?) are plentiful around the park, and we found all to be receptive to our questions, and knowledgeable with their answers.  We spent the whole day in the park, and could have spent another half easily.  On the way home, we hit the grocery store to reprovision fresh fruits and veggies, which were sorely lacking in the outports of Newfoundland.

Thursday, the 20th.  After traveling with Bill & Lauren for nearly 7 weeks, it was time to part ways.  Bill wanted to stay in Sydney to visit with his family, then take a leisurely ride west, with a stop at Baddeck on the way through Bras D’Or, and short travel days as they headed to Maine.  We, on the other hand, needed to start boogieing to catch our plane in Bangor, ME, to make our daughter Alison’s marriage to Ben in early September.  As we readied to throw our lines at 06h00, Bill and Lauren were on the dock for a teary goodbye.  I’m sure that we’ll see them again as we make our way south this Fall.  We had a foggy cruise out of the harbor, and met “Blue Puttees” coming back from Port aux Basques.  The captain hailed us on the VHF for a one-whistle pass (I think that he just wanted to say “Hi”) as we headed out to the ocean.  Our departure was timed so that we could make the last lock-through (16h00) at St. Peter’s, some 10 hours away.  What I didn’t take into account was the 2 knot current running against us as we entered Big Bras D’Or passage-Oops.  Our ETA plummeted from 15h30 to 18h45 as the Girl chugged along at 5 knots.  Oh well, we guessed that it wasn’t the end of the world if we got stuck on the north end of the lock and had to wait until 08h00 the next morning when the lock opened.  The old John Deere need to stretch his legs, so we pushed the throttle forward a bit.  As the current eased, our speed increased, and as the day progressed, it looked more and more like we’d make the last opening.  We made the lock, and spent the night on the south approach wall, planning on a 07h00 departure.

-Later

 

16 August, 2015
Posted by tuck on Monday, August 24, 2015 - 09:25

Friday the 14th, and the weatherman did not disappoint.  62 degrees and rain, with 1/8 mile visibility through the fog, but we’re off the dock at 08h00.  The seas are running from the southwest at around 6’ with a 5-6 second interval-not bad.  We cruise up into Aviron Bay, where there is a 1,000’ tall bridal veil falls running down to the head of the bay.  By the time that we get in, the fog is blowing by in sheets, allowing us to get periodic glimpses of the top.  Anchored at the bottom are Dave and Krowe, who report that this is the first time that they’ve seen the top of the falls since they arrived here yesterday.  This was just a drive-by, and as we cruise the ½ hour back to the sea, we knock together one of my favorite breakfast treats, Lox and bagels with capers and onions-Yeah, Baby.  As we turn the corner into Deadman’s Cove (say deed mans) on LaHune Bay, Suzanne says “There’s a boat on shore”.  I don’t have the binoculars, so I ask her if she means next to shore.  “no, ON!”  As we get closer, sure enough, there’s a sailboat with airplane landing gear type wheels on both sides pulled up on the sloping rock shore.  There’s a tent pitched nearby.  The 2 adults and 2 teens look like they’ve been camping here awhile.  We anchor at the foot of a waterfall in 40’ of water.  The fog has lifted to an altitude of around 500’, and the rain has stopped.  We’ll hang here for the day.  Well……The fog rarely lifted above 300’-400’, so we just barely got periodic glimpses of the waterfall that we were anchored under.  A good day for reading, but by afternoon, Suz and I were ready to get off the boat.  We dropped “White Star” and toodled over to the base of the falls.  Suz spotted a seal in the water below, and for the next 20 minutes, the 3 of us played “Whack-a-Mole”, with Mr. Seal popping up, and us chasing, only to have him submerge again.  Once, he popped out of the water up to his bellybutton about 4 meters from the tender.  I think all 3 of us were surprised.  After a while, he tired of our game, surfacing around 300 meters away.  That was the last that we saw of him.  Up at the head of the bight that we were anchored in, we found a small stream.  There wasn’t much water coming down, but Spring thaws had deposited a delta of coarse sand, giving us a good landing area for the dink.  We clamored up the rocky stream bed until the black flies chased us out.

We had planned to cruise up to the head of LaHune Bay this Saturday morning, but when we woke up, the fog was still thick, so we didn’t see any point.  We decided to push on to the outport of Grey River, which sits at the mouth of the Grey River fjord.  At 8 miles long, there are so many streams flowing in to it, and the mouth is so narrow, that the water inside is fresh.   The cruising guides warn that the mouth is so narrow that it is very difficult to see until you’re right on top of it.  Well, when the visibility is less than 100 meters, reliance on radar is the only way to go.  Still, it’s somewhat disconcerting to hear the surf crashing onto the rocks all around you as you motor along.  As we cruised inland, the fog thinned, and the sun came out in full force.  Four miles in, we dropped anchor in a large bay at the junction of the Northeast and Northwest Arms.  It was windy, and there were 1’ wavelets, but the scenery was incredible, so we were reluctant to head up either of the more-sheltered arms.  “Alizann” and “Seastar’s” crews dropped the tenders to head in to the market in town where Lauren’s meds should be waiting.  On the way, I spotted a dory apparently trawling.  Aahh, maybe Scallops!  I motored over and introduced Suz and Y.T. to Emmanuel and Shirley, who confirmed that yes, they were dragging for Scallops.  “Could we buy some?” “Sure, $8/lb. okay?”  They didn’t have enough yet, and Shirley wanted to shuck them for us, so I told them we’d find them in the afternoon up at their cabin on the Northeast Arm.  Back in the town of Grey River, the sun had driven the fog out to the mouth of the bay.  A stop by the market revealed that Lauren’s package had not come in on the ferry the previous evening.  Some calls confirmed that the package would arrive on the 15h45 ferry that very afternoon.  That gave us a couple of hours to kill.  While the rest of the gang took a walk, I helped Melvin, (one of my new friends) unload and stack a couple of full cords of logs that he had cut up the fjord a couple of months previously.  This morning, he had loaded up two 22’ dories until their gunwales’ were about 4” above the water, then drove them 5 miles to the dock at high tide.  Now, the tide was falling, making each log a little farther from the top of the dock where the ferry would be mooring in 2 hours.  Gotterdone, but not before the black flies got about a liter of my precious red blood cells.  When the crew got back, I was sitting on a milk crate in the market, escaping from the flying teeth waiting for my sweaty body outside.  Responding to the hue and cry for beer, I scored a 12 pack of “Blue”, and we escaped to the dinghies, motoring out to the middle of the bay to escape the bugses and catch some elusive rays.  The dope was on the ferry, which literally did a “touch ‘n go”, throwing Lauren’s box to her as she scrambled up to the dock.  Since it was a rare sunny day, we took our time getting back to the boats.  We explored the Southeast Arm, the closest to the ocean, which was still shrouded in fog.  (We had to visit SE Arm, as this was where Howard Blackburn rowed to shore in January of 1883 after being lost at sea 5 days earlier off the Grand Banks-see Gloucester, MA blog).  Up in the Northeast Arm, Suz and I hooked up with Emmanuel and Shirley, who had 4 pounds of shucked scallops for us.  We completed our tour with a run up the Northwest Arm, and agreed that we had made the right decision, anchoring out in the open at the junction.  Lauren’s famous seafood chowder (lobster, clams, and fish) was on the menu for a reprise that night, so we bagged the scallops in 1# aliquots, and gave 2 to L & B for future use.  The morning dawned gray, but the clouds were not down to the water.  I was out by 06h00, ‘cause my buddy, Melvin, had told me that there were ocean trout in the fjord.  I got about an hour or so of trolling in before the gang was ready to go, but no joy.  Not even a nibble.  But, as the kids would say, “It did not suck” to have to ride about in this magnificent wilderness setting on placid waters, listening to the birds wake up.  Just past town, the fog wall enveloped us as we returned to the sea for our last full day in Newfoundand.  We planned to stage from behind Fox Island for our crossing to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia the following day, but weren’t really into the prospect of staring at 360 degrees of fog wall on our last day.  We figured that there might be some sunshine further inland, so we pushed on to White Bear Bay, and a few miles in, we were rewarded with sunny skies.  The fjord provided no shelter from the raging south winds until its head, some 7 miles in, but hey, it was sunny.  After anchoring, I dinghied over to “Seastar”, only to be greeted by a beet redfaced Lauren.  I didn’t even need to ask, but yes, her trunk was a patchwork of hives.  The Benadryl administered to counter her allergic reaction put her down for the afternoon, so Suz and I explored our temporary home by ourselves.  Far up the river, we chatted with a guy who had about 70 or so butterflied Cod hanging to dry on his clothesline.  There was what appeared to be a smoking shed nearby.  Looked like some good eatin’ was in store for this winter.  Suz grilled up some chicken satay with homemade peanut sauce, accompanied by cucumbers marinated in vinegar and hot chilies for our dinner.  We discussed a 07h00 departure, and then called B & L to confirm.  Our pal was doing better, but still whacked out from the antihistamines. We both read for awhile, Suz finishing a Jodie Picoult book (depressing!), while I finished up “Northern Magic”, a story about a Canadian family of 5 that circumnavigated in the early 2000’s.  Twenty-five hour crossing the next day, we were excited.

-Later 

13 August, 2015
Posted by tuck on Monday, August 24, 2015 - 23:11

Saturday, August 8, and we’re off the dock at Fortune by 08h00.  The prediction is for increasing winds and seas as the day progresses, and we want to get into Gaultois early, so that we can explore, get the pump, and leave the next day.  Gaultois is a little outport with a population of 150 people.  As with all of the outports along this coast, its’ population has been steadily declining since the collapse of the Cod fishery.  Along the way, we spy a couple of Mola Molas, but no whales.  As we round up into the harbor, we see that the small public dock is full of boats-no room at the inn.  Anchoring is out of the question, as the harbor is deep, deep, deep.  Hmmmm. The fish plant looks like it’s closed, so we pull over to the wall.  It is GNARLY!  There are a few irregularly spaced tires hanging from rusty cables, and many of the vertical beams are missing, exposing the 10” spikes that formerly held them.  Any port in a storm.  We dig out the fender boards (a couple of 8 foot long 2”x10”’s).  We’re tied up, but it ain’t pretty.  There’s a squadron of mosquitoes living under the dock, and it smells like a few sewer pipes drain out here as well (no treatment plants here, everything goes into the harbors).  One of the old boys who helped us tie up tells me that they “Han’t worked on da dock since she’s built”  “When was that?” “Noneen sistah tree”.  We had read in one of our cruising guides that there was a trail over to Piccaire (say pick-a-ree) Bay, that was a beautiful 5km trek across scenic valleys past pristine fresh water ponds.  Our buddy at the dock, Earl confirmed this, and pointed out the trail head up next to the church (by the way, mostly everyone in these parts is Anglican, if you wanted to know).  The hike to Piccaire was as billed.  Pretty rugged, and lots of bugs, but the terrain afforded some spectacular views.  Our only disappointment was that when we got within view of the bay, the trail petered out, and there was NO WAY to bushwack down the last ½ mile to the water, as the brush was too thick, and disguised lots of ankle-snapping holes running down through the rocks.  On the way back, we were treated to a little swimming exhibition by Mr. Beaver on one of the ponds.  The ladies found that the tiny, but really sweet blueberries were ripe, and came home with a fistful to top the frozen Mango concoction that the Admiral had whipped up for desert.  Oh yeah, did I mention that Bald Eagles are in view every time that you turn around up here?  Back in town, we headed over to the B & B for a libation while waiting for the 16h30 ferry.  Seems that a lady from Ontario saw that the “hotel” was for sale on Kijiji (a Canadian Crags list), and bought it for $5K (yes, she did volunteer that info).  After she did the rehab, she bought the general store (from whaling days), and is currently remodeling that as a music venue.  Recently, she has purchased the old bait shed, and will build artist’s studios there.  After the ferry came in, and the part wasn’t on it, she took us over to the store to show us around.  She has a vision, and I guess she figures “if I build it, they will come”.  Matter of fact, a group played there to a sold-out house the night before, and wants to record their next album there.  That night, another Newfie group was playing, which explained to us why the public dock and the B&B were full. The “Gaultois Days” festival-every town has one, right?  The pump was on the 19h30 ferry, so we were all happy campers.  We missed the music, but I suspect that a good time was had by all, as we heard the revelers breaking up at 0400.

We were off the dock by 0800.  It was windy, but no rain.  The seas were big on the ocean, but our course took us through “Little Passage”, running up and between a group of islands into McCallum, our next outport stop.  Along the way, we passed numerous aquaculture sites, where the main crop was Salmon.  Growing fish in these pristine bays seemed like a pretty good idea to Suz and me, but none of the locals that we’ve talked to had anything good to say about the process.  Stories about fish dying in droves from under oxygenation and disease, as well as pollution from overfeeding ran rampant.  Bill and Lauren recently saw an expose on CBC revealing that these undertakings were not economically viable, the government pouring in lots of $$ to keep things afloat and make payrolls.  Maybe not such a good idea, after all.  While underway, I reworked the new pump as the outflow nipple was oriented 180 degrees from where we needed it.

It was only a 3 hour cruise, so we got into McCallum before noon.  Terry, the Harbormaster, met us at the dock and guided us in.  We had a bit of a crosswind of 20 knots blowing us off the dock, with shallow water all around, so his help was appreciated.  Once we got the boats nestled in, it was time to get to work.  The new macerator went in with a minimum of expletives, and before long Seastar was ready to be sh#tless.  Since I was grubby anyway, I figured that it was a good time to change the Girl’s oil, check all her hose clamps and hydraulic fittings, and clean out the shower sump.  While I fussed with that stuff, Suz got the housecleaning done.  The clouds were lowering, and the winds were increasing, so we decided that it was a good time for a walk before the rain moved in.  We strolled the boardwalks from one end of town to the other, and climbed to an elevated vantage point overlooking the harbor.  Along the way, we passed Marion and Didi’s house, which doubled as the bakery (we met them in Burgeo, where they keep their home built sailboat that they sailed from Germany several years ago).  With rain, fog, high winds and heavy seas, we decided to stay a second night.  Marion made us some fantastic loaves of almond raisin bread, braided to perfection, and Terry brought us a couple pounds of Halibut steaks cut from the fish that he had caught 2 days previously.  After the last ferry of the day left, a 100’ research vessel from Memorial University in St. Johns came in to the dock, seeking shelter from the nasty conditions.  The captain had a heck of a time getting her in to the dock with the high winds, and several times, as she drifted towards us, I wondered out loud if we’d be getting a new boat.  Terry was incredulous at the skipper’s inability to handle his vessel, but all ended well.  Once he was safely tied up, my only worry was having to listen to his generator running all night a few yards from our bed.

Morning brought the sun and blue skies.  It sure makes a difference.  Now, 8’ seas on 6 second intervals didn’t look like much.  We motored along to Hare Bay, a fjord where we planned to anchor for the evening.  Along the way, multiple waterfalls cascaded from the 900’ cliffs into the sea.  What a treat to have the sun shining and the sky blue!  The 7 mile trip up the bay was filled with one ooh and aah moment after another.  We entered Hare Bay between two nearly vertical walls 1,000’ high.  The water calmed immediately, and we ran along a placid pool nearly 700’ deep for 7 miles.  Numerous waterfalls plummeted from above, the only sounds that we heard were from the roaring water.  Talk about magical.  At the top of the fjord, we rounded Sandy Point, and anchored in 18’ of water.  Down came the dinghies to view the half dozen falls within 3 miles of our anchorage.  We had hoped to hike along one of the streams pouring into the bay, but unfortunately, there were no sandy beaches to pull up our tender, and the water was so deep even close to the shore that we couldn’t anchor.  I let Suz off on a sloped rock face, and she gathered the trunks from a couple of small fallen trees to act as rollers, but we just weren’t able to pull “White Star” up.  I’m really considering picking up a second, rubber-bottomed dinghy for occasions like this.  We came back to the Girl.  Suz settled in for some reading in the sun, while Lauren came over to fish.  We had no luck casting or jigging, so we took the tender out for a troll.  We had zero luck in the fishing department, but had some nice one on one conversation time.  While we were gone, Suz threw together a pork stir-fry with the leftover Asian pork tenderloin that she had fed us the night before.  We were sad to talk about leaving, but the weather for the next day was lookin’ iffy again, and the clouds were moving in.  Lauren thought that her recurrent kidney infection was going to make another visit, and Suz and I thought it was prudent to get along the way where antibiotics could be obtained.

The next morning was cloudy and gray, and we made our way to Francois (say fran sway), another outport with a population of 73 souls.  With wind and 6’ seas, we didn’t have the opportunity to see much marine life along the way, but Bill did report seeing a Mola Mola.  As we backed into the floating dock at Francois, Dave and Krowe on “Mysti-Cal” were there to catch our lines.  This is the 3rd time that we had crossed paths with “Mysti-Cal”, having seen them in St. Pierre and McCallum.  Shortly after we arrived, “Shambalala”, a sailboat from Australia arrived, and the dock was officially full.  As with every other public dock in these outports, there was no water or electricity available-kinda like anchoring but mo’ betta ‘cause you can walk right to shore.  Walk ashore, we did.  A path led up to a rocky prominence around 700’ over the bay, and we had a good lookabout before the rain and fog started rolling in.  We tried to bushwhack our way up to “The Friar”, a rocky mesa at 1,000’, but when the top disappeared in a cloud when we were still an hour or so out, we gave it up and headed back to town.  Of course we walked every boardwalk in town, visiting the town dock where many fishing dories were moored, the grocery market, and the post office.  The rain began in earnest when we got back to the boats, and we hunkered down for the evening.  We had planned on leaving Thursday morning, but it was a pea-souper, and we had found an open network, allowing us to get some internet time, so we decided to stay.  It also allowed Lauren to call her physician back in Ontario and get some antibiotics.  Since we had no cell coverage, L&B walked up to Lawrence and Barb’s house (we met them in Burgeo, where they were working on their sailboat in the parking lot of the marina) to use their phone.  Long story short.  Her doc called the Rx into the pharmacy in Burgeo, where Sharon’s (the lady who owns the grocery here) daughter is the pharmacist.  Said daughter will bring the meds to the ferry that goes to Ramea and Gray River.  We’ll go to Gray River on Saturday and pick up the goods from someone that lives there.-Whew!  BTW, we have a veritable pharmacy onboard “Alizann”, but treating somebody elses’ kidney infection is way above my pay grade.  The rest of the day was “down time”, allowing me to catch up on some reading and writing, and for Suz to get some wedding bills paid (Ali and Ben’s wedding is 1 month away).  Unfortunately, there isn’t enough bandwidth on our borrowed internet to get photos up.  It took me about 30 minutes to get 6 pics uploaded, only to have the process “time out”, causing me to lose all 6.  I guess you get what you pay for.  The weather’s supposed to be crummy again tomorrow, but we need to keep moving west.

-Talk to you then

14 August, 2015
Posted by tuck on Saturday, August 15, 2015 - 12:44

Saturday, August 8, and we’re off the dock at Fortune by 08h00.  The prediction is for increasing winds and seas as the day progresses, and we want to get into Gaultois early, so that we can explore, get the pump, and leave the next day.  Gaultois is a little outport with a population of 150 people.  As with all of the outports along this coast, its’ population has been steadily declining since the collapse of the Cod fishery.  Along the way, we spy a couple of Mola Molas, but no whales.  As we round up into the harbor, we see that the small public dock is full of boats-no room at the inn.  Anchoring is out of the question, as the harbor is deep, deep, deep.  Hmmmm. The fish plant looks like it’s closed, so we pull over to the wall.  It is GNARLY!  There are a few irregularly spaced tires hanging from rusty cables, and many of the vertical beams are missing, exposing the 10” spikes that formerly held them.  Any port in a storm.  We dig out the fender boards (a couple of 8 foot long 2”x10”’s).  We’re tied up, but it ain’t pretty.  There’s a squadron of mosquitoes living under the dock, and it smells like a few sewer pipes drain out here as well (no treatment plants here, everything goes into the harbors).  One of the old boys who helped us tie up tells me that they “Han’t worked on da dock since she’s built”  “When was that?” “Noneen sistah tree”.  We had read in one of our cruising guides that there was a trail over to Piccaire (say pick-a-ree) Bay, that was a beautiful 5km trek across scenic valleys past pristine fresh water ponds.  Our buddy at the dock, Earl confirmed this, and pointed out the trail head up next to the church (by the way, mostly everyone in these parts is Anglican, if you wanted to know).  The hike to Piccaire was as billed.  Pretty rugged, and lots of bugs, but the terrain afforded some spectacular views.  Our only disappointment was that when we got within view of the bay, the trail petered out, and there was NO WAY to bushwack down the last ½ mile to the water, as the brush was too thick, and disguised lots of ankle-snapping holes running down through the rocks.  On the way back, we were treated to a little swimming exhibition by Mr. Beaver on one of the ponds.  The ladies found that the tiny, but really sweet blueberries were ripe, and came home with a fistful to top the frozen Mango concoction that the Admiral had whipped up for desert.  Oh yeah, did I mention that Bald Eagles are in view every time that you turn around up here?  Back in town, we headed over to the B & B for a libation while waiting for the 16h30 ferry.  Seems that a lady from Ontario saw that the “hotel” was for sale on Kijiji (a Canadian Crags list), and bought it for $5K (yes, she did volunteer that info).  After she did the rehab, she bought the general store (from whaling days), and is currently remodeling that as a music venue.  Recently, she has purchased the old bait shed, and will build artist’s studios there.  After the ferry came in, and the part wasn’t on it, she took us over to the store to show us around.  She has a vision, and I guess she figures “if I build it, they will come”.  Matter of fact, a group played there to a sold-out house the night before, and wants to record their next album there.  That night, another Newfie group was playing, which explained to us why the public dock and the B&B were full. The “Gaultois Days” festival-every town has one, right?  The pump was on the 19h30 ferry, so we were all happy campers.  We missed the music, but I suspect that a good time was had by all, as we heard the revelers breaking up at 0400.

We were off the dock by 0800.  It was windy, but no rain.  The seas were big on the ocean, but our course took us through “Little Passage”, running up and between a group of islands into McCallum, our next outport stop.  Along the way, we passed numerous aquaculture sites, where the main crop was Salmon.  Growing fish in these pristine bays seemed like a pretty good idea to Suz and me, but none of the locals that we’ve talked to had anything good to say about the process.  Stories about fish dying in droves from under oxygenation and disease, as well as pollution from overfeeding ran rampant.  Bill and Lauren recently saw an expose on CBC revealing that these undertakings were not economically viable, the government pouring in lots of $$ to keep things afloat and make payrolls.  Maybe not such a good idea, after all.  While underway, I reworked the new pump as the outflow nipple was oriented 180 degrees from where we needed it.

It was only a 3 hour cruise, so we got into McCallum before noon.  Terry, the Harbormaster, met us at the dock and guided us in.  We had a bit of a crosswind of 20 knots blowing us off the dock, with shallow water all around, so his help was appreciated.  Once we got the boats nestled in, it was time to get to work.  The new macerator went in with a minimum of expletives, and before long Seastar was ready to be sh#tless.  Since I was grubby anyway, I figured that it was a good time to change the Girl’s oil, check all her hose clamps and hydraulic fittings, and clean out the shower sump.  While I fussed with that stuff, Suz got the housecleaning done.  The clouds were lowering, and the winds were increasing, so we decided that it was a good time for a walk before the rain moved in.  We strolled the boardwalks from one end of town to the other, and climbed to an elevated vantage point overlooking the harbor.  Along the way, we passed Marion and Didi’s house, which doubled as the bakery (we met them in Burgeo, where they keep their home built sailboat that they sailed from Germany several years ago).  With rain, fog, high winds and heavy seas, we decided to stay a second night.  Marion made us some fantastic loaves of almond raisin bread, braided to perfection, and Terry brought us a couple pounds of Halibut steaks cut from the fish that he had caught 2 days previously.  After the last ferry of the day left, a 100’ research vessel from Memorial University in St. Johns came in to the dock, seeking shelter from the nasty conditions.  The captain had a heck of a time getting her in to the dock with the high winds, and several times, as she drifted towards us, I wondered out loud if we’d be getting a new boat.  Terry was incredulous at the skipper’s inability to handle his vessel, but all ended well.  Once he was safely tied up, my only worry was having to listen to his generator running all night a few yards from our bed.

Morning brought the sun and blue skies.  It sure makes a difference.  Now, 8’ seas on 6 second intervals didn’t look like much.  We motored along to Hare Bay, a fjord where we planned to anchor for the evening.  Along the way, multiple waterfalls cascaded from the 900’ cliffs into the sea.  What a treat to have the sun shining and the sky blue!  The 7 mile trip up the bay was filled with one ooh and aah moment after another.  We entered Hare Bay between two nearly vertical walls 1,000’ high.  The water calmed immediately, and we ran along a placid pool nearly 700’ deep for 7 miles.  Numerous waterfalls plummeted from above, the only sounds that we heard were from the roaring water.  Talk about magical.  At the top of the fjord, we rounded Sandy Point, and anchored in 18’ of water.  Down came the dinghies to view the half dozen falls within 3 miles of our anchorage.  We had hoped to hike along one of the streams pouring into the bay, but unfortunately, there were no sandy beaches to pull up our tender, and the water was so deep even close to the shore that we couldn’t anchor.  I let Suz off on a sloped rock face, and she gathered the trunks from a couple of small fallen trees to act as rollers, but we just weren’t able to pull “White Star” up.  I’m really considering picking up a second, rubber-bottomed dinghy for occasions like this.  We came back to the Girl.  Suz settled in for some reading in the sun, while Lauren came over to fish.  We had no luck casting or jigging, so we took the tender out for a troll.  We had zero luck in the fishing department, but had some nice one on one conversation time.  While we were gone, Suz threw together a pork stir-fry with the leftover Asian pork tenderloin that she had fed us the night before.  We were sad to talk about leaving, but the weather for the next day was lookin’ iffy again, and the clouds were moving in.  Lauren thought that her recurrent kidney infection was going to make another visit, and Suz and I thought it was prudent to get along the way where antibiotics could be obtained.

The next morning was cloudy and gray, and we made our way to Francois (say fran sway), another outport with a population of 73 souls.  With wind and 6’ seas, we didn’t have the opportunity to see much marine life along the way, but Bill did report seeing a Mola Mola.  As we backed into the floating dock at Francois, Dave and Krowe on “Mysti-Cal” were there to catch our lines.  This is the 3rd time that we had crossed paths with “Mysti-Cal”, having seen them in St. Pierre and McCallum.  Shortly after we arrived, “Shambalala”, a sailboat from Australia arrived, and the dock was officially full.  As with every other public dock in these outports, there was no water or electricity available-kinda like anchoring but mo’ betta ‘cause you can walk right to shore.  Walk ashore, we did.  A path led up to a rocky prominence around 700’ over the bay, and we had a good lookabout before the rain and fog started rolling in.  We tried to bushwhack our way up to “The Friar”, a rocky mesa at 1,000’, but when the top disappeared in a cloud when we were still an hour or so out, we gave it up and headed back to town.  Of course we walked every boardwalk in town, visiting the town dock where many fishing dories were moored, the grocery market, and the post office.  The rain began in earnest when we got back to the boats, and we hunkered down for the evening.  We had planned on leaving Thursday morning, but it was a pea-souper, and we had found an open network, allowing us to get some internet time, so we decided to stay.  It also allowed Lauren to call her physician back in Ontario and get some antibiotics.  Since we had no cell coverage, L&B walked up to Lawrence and Barb’s house (we met them in Burgeo, where they were working on their sailboat in the parking lot of the marina) to use their phone.  Long story short.  Her doc called the Rx into the pharmacy in Burgeo, where Sharon’s (the lady who owns the grocery here) daughter is the pharmacist.  Said daughter will bring the meds to the ferry that goes to Ramea and Gray River.  We’ll go to Gray River on Saturday and pick up the goods from someone that lives there.-Whew!  BTW, we have a veritable pharmacy onboard “Alizann”, but treating somebody elses’ kidney infection is way above my pay grade.  The rest of the day was “down time”, allowing me to catch up on some reading and writing, and for Suz to get some wedding bills paid (Ali and Ben’s wedding is 1 month away).  Unfortunately, there isn’t enough bandwidth on our borrowed internet to get photos up.  It took me about 30 minutes to get 6 pics uploaded, only to have the process “time out”, causing me to lose all 6.  I guess you get what you pay for.  The weather’s supposed to be crummy again tomorrow, but we need to keep moving west.

-Talk to you then

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