Captain's Log

7 August, 2014
Posted by tuck on Thursday, August 7, 2014 - 21:35

Goooood Morning,

The ride to Bouctouche was pretty smooth, seas less than 1’, wind 7-8 knots.  It was pretty hazy, and one of those “close” days, with high humidity.  2 hours out of port, we started seeing lightning on the shore, a couple of miles away.  Checked the satellite weather (again), and it looked like the worst of it would track past us, and work its’ way down the shoreline.  …….This weather satellite thing that I keep talking about is a pretty awesome tool.  Software is on one of the computers, and the data comes in piggybacked on an XM or Sirius signal.  When projected on our monitor, it provides all kinds of data (radar, satellite view, fronts, surface conditions, marine forecasts, and etc.), overlaid on a map of North America.  All this stuff is manipulated by the mouse in hand, and allows us to make some pretty accurate appraisals of the weather now and for the future.-I frikkin’ love science!  The water’s pretty skinny on the way in (always a little tense for Y.T.), and we’re going in on a falling tide, which means you go aground-you’re not floatin’ again until the next high tide.  Okay, get tied up, and the Admiral says it looks like rain-guess so, the clouds are purple.  Thirty seconds later, the sky busts loose and drops about an inch in half an hour.  Formidable! (oops..Francais).  I can sit and read instead of washing the salt off The Girl.  Kind of a long day, so it’s a 5 to 7 with Lauren and Bill, and we all agree that dinner is overrated, and head off to bed.  By the way, wildlife tally for today is 2 whales (species undetermined), and 8 Harbor Seals.  Today is exploration day in Bouctouche, but first have to call Shediac (the self-proclaimed lobster capital of the world), to book a spot for tomorrow.  Justin (marina guy) takes all the info., tells me there’s plenty of water to get in (BUT STAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CHANNEL!!).  When we finish up our conversation, he asks where we’re coming from.  “Bouctouche”.  No, where did we come from initially.  “Michigan”.  Says he thought so, as the only English speakers that come here are usually from the Great Lakes, and then only 1 or 2 a year.  (??).  Fun day!  24km. of riding on nicely groomed trails through mixed forest and lowlands took us out to the Eco-Centre and back.  The trails and Centre were built and are maintained by the Irving family.  Originally from Bouctouche, the Irvings built a corporate empire, starting with a sawmill and general store.  We talked to a lady who told us that about half of the folks in New Brunswick cash a paycheck from an Irving company, and besides their properties in Canada, this privately held company is one of the largest landholders in the U.S.A. (I’ll have to Wiki that).  Anyway, they ought to call this village Irvingville instead of Bouctouche.  The family has given back to their community in a BIG way-righteous.  The channel on the way out was a snap-amazing how your perspective changes once that unknown has been banished.  A little rain and some lightning on the way to Shediac, fortunately the electricity stayed onshore.  The Shediac Yacht Club is pretty tiny, The Girl is the biggest boat in here ever. We’re met at the dock by the Harbormaster, Mike and the Commodore of the club, George.  Barely before we’re tied up, they want to know “How did you pick our marina?”, and “We’re so glad you’re here.  Is there anything we can do?  There are bikes to use”, and etc.  Story is, the village owned the marina, and it was falling into a major state of disrepair.  The local boaters got together, formed a non-profit, and bought the property from the village.  The results of their efforts are pretty clear.  The docks are in good shape, good electricity and water, and their clubhouse looks new.  That old preferred future thing again.  It’s fruit, veggie, and lobster shopping-empty the backpacks back at the boats, then out for some essential liquid supplies.  After that, it’s the tourist thing.  Out to see the “big lobster”, a statue at the mouth of the river.  We wait our turn, chase the kids off, and climb up so the nice lady can snap one of the 4 of us.  Then it’s off to the other marina, which is situated out the bay a ways.  The lightnings’ snappin’ all around, so we’re hustling to get to the watering hole there before the rain hits, ‘cause it’s getting really black.  The free rental bike is giving me just what I paid for, the pedal’s coming loose from the crank and it ain’t workin so well.  The trusty Leatherman tool tightens it up (somewhat), but the bolt is stripped and it comes loose about every 200 yards.  One-legged pedaling gets us there just before the sky lets loose.  Dan’s is pretty proud of their beer-$8 for about a 10 oz. pour.  The rain slows down, so we relocate to the Sandbar for our second round.  Mo bettah!  $5 brews, and mussels that you don’t have to get a second mortgage to buy.  Rain stops and we’re on our way to dinner at “The Bayou” (where the locals go).  Surprise, surprise, surprise.  All you can eat fish ‘n chips night, and they’re not makin’ any money on us, Suz and I haven’t eaten since dinner last night.  (This is potato country out here, and The Admiral and I haven’t eaten this many fries in the last year.  The fried stuff kinda’ sticks with us, so we really don’t feel hungry.  It’s a good thing, as we’d both weigh about 300 by now).  One-leg pedaled back home.  Right leg got a workout, but we made it before the rain (and this one’s a real turd-floater).  0720, and on our way to Prince Edward Island.  Supposed to be rainy, but calm today with very little wind.  Well…..we got about a 3 on the Beaufort scale, and a beam sea of 3 footers, with an occasional 4 thrown in-rock and roll, baby.  Fortunately, it starts to pour, making the seas lay down a bit.  The rain is coming down in sheets and looking down the rows of waves racing away from us, the wind-whipped droplets look like fog about 6” above the water.  Rain has stopped, seas 1-2’, and P.E.I. oysters are only 9 miles away..…Later.

4 August, 2014
Posted by tuck on Monday, August 4, 2014 - 19:05

Good Morning,

Yes, good morning.  Back to English in New Brunswick, Canada’s only bilingual province.  Still no internet, so no posts.  It’s Monday morning, August 4th, and it’s New Brunswick Day ending a 3 day weekend in these parts.  We’re on a 9 hour passage, so better get caught up on the log. One could call this Hhrbor seal alley. The water is calm and a curious head pops up and watches the boat pass. We are officially out of the St Lawrence River. Pte Rosiers is the official southern boundary of the St Lawrence River. Perce Rock was pretty spectacular.  It was visible from a distance of 15 miles or so and the closer we got, the more out of place it looked.  The sun was out and it provided great light for snappin’.  The scale of this incredible formation can be appreciated by observing the black specs (people) in the lower left of the pic.  Cool.  L’Anse Beaufils provided our harbor for the night.  Formerly the home of a fishing fleet, it is now dependent on tourism for survival.  A renovated fish processing plant now houses a music venue, a bar, and gallery for local artists’ works.  A recent addition has been the Pit Caribou microbrewery, built and owned by a young man with local roots.  We’re closing out the day with a Pit Caribou (or 2), rappin’ with Jacques, who runs the marina, and he gives us a recent history of the harbor.  When the fishing industry collapsed, locals bought up the property, and the local guys refurbished some of the buildings, and obtained provincial $ for harbor work.  From there, property was sold to a non-profit, so the money generated stays in the community.  The music venue, Vielle Usine de Beaufils, brings in 30 acts per year which sell out routinely.  Okay, so there you have it, a small community joining together and working for a preferred future.  (This account may not be 100% accurate, but it’s pretty close as related by a Francais-speaker to an Anglais speaker) 0653 hrs. the next day, and we’re off to Shippagan in New Brunswick.  On the way, we lose an hour, as NB is on Atlantic Daylight Time.  Six hours later, we’re opposite the marina which is too small for The Girl.  Good news is, we’re between fishing seasons, and most of the fish boats are on the hard.  Into the commercial harbor.  We have to climb up a steel ladder on the wall to tie our lines as it is low tide, and this place was built for the bigboys.  The old tires hanging from the walls have provided Bueno casas for the local spiders, and there are some lunkers in there.  We’ll be on a killing spree for the next few days-Oh well.  There’s nobody-and I mean nobody around, buildings are locked up tighter than a drum.  There’s an aquarium a half mile or so down the waterfront that’s gotten good reviews so we’re hoofin’ over.  On the way across this paved area which is about as big as 5 football fields we pass a little building with one pickup in front.  The guy is just getting in, so I ask him if he knows who to ask about the harbor.  Yep, its him-he’s the head of the Port Authority, no problem.  The aquarium is really cool, all about the environment, flora, and fauna of the St. Lawrence Bay.  Very well done, with all signage in French and English.  The Admiral (marine biology chick) is in heaven, but we have to get out as its closing time (we’ve been the only ones here for the last ½ hour).  Next day we have a 10 hour passage to Miramichi to join up with Bill and Lauren aboard Sea Star, so up at 0600.  Exiting Shippagan Gully, the tides racing out against a 15 knot breeze, and the waves are standing at attention as we cross the bar.  Water is swirling around like a blender, and I’ve got the power on to push on over (welcome to the ocean, Lakeboy).  The cruise up the river to Miramichi takes four extra hours, but we’re hearing that it’s worth it.  Pull up to the Ritchie Wharf, and there’s Sea Star.  Tied up, no water, no power, no problem-just happy to be here.  Turns out Bill and Lauren were out on recon, but didn’t make it past The Boulevard (watering hole).  Good news is they got an invite to a private lobster party for special patrons and friends to be held the following day at 1400 (their friends from Michigan too).  Dinner is at Esty’s, the best fish ‘n chips place in the world, about a mile and a half walk outside town.  We’re thinkin’ it must be good, ‘cause we get our order in, and we’re number 81.  They’re presently on number 53.  You mighta guessed that it’s take out only-right on.  Out to the parking lot to wait our turn as its hot and crowded inside.  The guy coming out says he had number 75, so we should get in there.  Next guy says “were You number 81?-she already called you, and she’ll skip you if you’re not there”.  Back in with my tail between my legs and the 5’2” blond bulldog that some kid probably calls Grandma tells me that “You’re in the shit”.  No kiddin’.  She skipped me and made me wait for 3 more orders to come out.  So, livin’ large sitting with our backs against the cyclone fence, under the basketball goal on the blacktop parking lot eating our F & C out of a see-through (greasy) brown paper bag.  I was a little hesitant to go back in to get a couple of Cokes, but thought I’d brave the storm and tempt fate one more time.  She’s barkin’ numbers, but has to come up for breath so I slip in my request and plunk down my cash (cash only).  No acknowledgement, so the lady behind asks where I’m from.  In the nanosecond that I turn away from the bulldog, my cash is gone, and there are 2 Cokes on the counter.  Her lips are moving, but I haven’t refocused quickly enough-“pardon me?”. “And you don’t listen either!” she barks.  I figure she’s probably a sweetheart-this is just her shtick.  Well, they’re celebrating New Brunswick day this weekend, so there’s live music all day in the town square (which is circular), and an old car show.  We just spend the day bangin’ around this little village which looks like it’s dying a slow death since the mill shut down.  The lobster party is just a buy your own beer, the lobster’s free kind of deal for about 12 or 15 folks.  We all finish our first, and the owner Chris’s dad Colie is there with a second lobster for all of us.  After some tough negotiation, we agree to split one amongst us.  I could go on for hours about all of the gracious folks that we met here, but I won’t.  After the river tour boat captain, Azide (?) offered to take us with him (free) to learn about the area, he proceeded to give us the local history for the next 45 minutes.  It seems that his family, French Acadians, have roots here that dated back to the early 1600’s.  The boat thing is not his “regular gig”; it’s just what he does in the summer when he’s not teaching French and History at the high school.  Ahh…. There I go again.  Guess I am pretty impressed by “those people back East” that other Canadians talk about.  For the past 2 days, everyone’s been buzzin’ about the party at Ile Du Vin, which we passed when coming in from the ocean a few days ago.  “Everybody” goes out on their boat, and rafts up with other boats for a 2 day party on New Brunswick Day weekend.  We have to anchor there anyway as our next port is a long way, so we’ll ride the tide out the next morning.  We’ve seen some big parties, but this one’s BIG.  There are over 100 boats at this deserted island.  There are 15 fishing tugs with their bows run up on shore.  Other boats, ranging from go fasts to pontoon boats, are either grounded, or anchored in 2 feet of water, and everybody’s rockin’.  After anchoring a couple hundred yards away we get the tender in the water and cruise over to check things out.  Lotsa smiles, and lotsa beer (and, as Colie said-lotsa skin).  These folks are professionals.  A man has got to know his limitations, so we opt for a little boat ride across the channel.  Bill and Lauren are feeding us tonight at our place.  They arrive, armed with 2 fondue pots, Elk, Duck, Beef, cheese and raw veggies.  We spend an hour or so doing battle with this pile of food, washing it down with redpop.  We didn’t completely vanquish the enemy, but it’s safe to say it was a complete rout.  At dusk, the raft was breaking up, and by nightfall we were the only 2 boats in this deserted wilderness anchorage.  The beach was swept clean of trash, and after high tide all evidence of the festivities will be gone.  That just about catches us up; we’ll spend the next 2 nights in Bouctouche, as there is an eco-centre there that Lauren wants to see.  Hopefully we’ll get some faster WiFi, and get some pictures up.  ………Later

31 July, 2014
Posted by tuck on Thursday, July 31, 2014 - 18:19

Bon Jour,

July 26, and the day is kinda’ gloomy for our run to Rimouski, but the wind has died to 11 kn, and the seas are pretty calm.  On the way, we see a Harbor Porpoise (the smallest whale in these parts), and a seal.  The commercial and public harbors are side by side in this port, so we follow an Oceans (company name) tug in the channel.  These guys seem to have a stranglehold on the market from Quebec City out, as they are the only tugs that we’ve seen.  Their boats are immaculate, and look like they really mean business.  The Admiral has a bad case of tuglust.  Every time she sees one, she mentions how much she’d like one.  You know-the boaters’ disease-you’re always looking for your next boat.  Anyhow…we’re tied up at Rimouski by 1100, and it’s time to explore.  At the dock across from us is the sailboat that went missing the night before.  It’s all buttoned up tight-my theory is they’re sleeping below after dragging anchor during the blow.  Our buddy, Nick, (the dock dude, confirms that they got in before he got here) prints us a Google map, and I.D.’s the poissonnerie (fish market), the mall, grocery store, and a pizza joint.  The highway runs right along the ocean, and there is a 2 lane bike path separated by a divider from it-makes for easy walking.  Fish market is our kinda’ place.  Lobster is $8.95 Canadian francs/pound.  I donwanna even tell you how cheap Crevettes (shrimp), Moure (cod), and Turbot is.  The lady at the market speaks English (un peu), so we get her favorite lunch place located on the Googlemap.  Gotta pass the marina to get to town, so the fruits de mer go into the fridge.  An hour of hoofing later, we’re thinking damnitsalongway, but the Target sign is visible in the distance.  Yours Truly has grabbed an empty Sodastream CO2 bottle off the boat, and Target exchanges for new ones (so I thought).  Nope they sell new ones, but no exchange.  NOOOBODY speaks Anglais here, but after much gesticulating, and begging for the manager to s-p-e-a-k s-l-o-w-l-y, we find out that there’s a kitchen store in the mall that recycles.  Cool-done.  If you don’t have one of these, you might need one, especially if you’re interested in diminishing your contribution of plastic to landfills, or if you’re CHEAP.  Their product is good, and more and more retailers are carrying their stuff.  We’ve had ours about 5 years.  Next stops, check out both grocery stores for fruit and veggies.  We always get weird looks when we do these recon missions and have backpacks, then walk out without buying anything.  The recommended bistro is still a ways down the line, so we’ll get the foodstuffs on the way back.  Dang! 1600 and we’re just getting lunch.  We guess we’ll just make it a two fer, and skip dinner tonight.  Early morning tomorrow for the long haul to St. Anne Des Monts.  Up at O’Dark-thirty, off the dock at 0525.  It’s 10 degrees C., and cloudy, but the wind is down, so we’re cookin’ along at 8 knots.  WHAT IS THAT NOISE? BAMBAMBAMBAM nonstop.  Throttle down, frequency drops, but still loud.  Sounds like it’s under the guest stateroom sole (floor).  Pull up the hatches, sure enough, there it is, outside the hull, knock knock knockin’.  Okay, throw over into reverse and rev ‘er up.  Off the starboard bow, a half a tree floats up.  Back on our way, the sound is much diminished, but it’s clear we still have a hanger-on.  Repeat-no joy.  An hour or two later, the twigs(?) are gone.  A few whales (ho hum) and seals along the way, but nothing up close.  The Gannets are becoming more numerous.  They’re white, fishing seabirds with beige heads, and black-tipped wings (span around 2-3’).  They fly either in formation when going somewhere, or in ones or twos when fishing.  At altitude (around 20-30’), they fold their wings against their bodies, and do a “suicide dive” into the drink, usually coming up with a fish.  I’m absolutely fascinated by them, and could watch for hours.  They remind me of the Boobies that we see in the Carribean.  Although not on the Endangered Species list, they’re one step away, mostly due to environmental pollution.    1524 puts us on the dock at St. Anne Des Monts.  Ain’t nobody here Parlez’s Anglais, but luckily the folks from Atlanta that we met in Baie Eternite are docked, and guide us in.  It’s raining pretty hard, so we don’t feel like setting up the grill.  We need a walk, anyway, so we head out, foraging for food.  We spot a little Resto-Bar with a bunch of pickups parked outside, and figure this is the joint-it was!  Good seafood creations and cold beer-all good.  I’m a happy guy and doin’ the “food dance”  (you know what I’m talkin’ about).  Back at The Girl, where we have interweb amazingly enough, we check the GRIBS and the satellite, and it looks like after tomorrow afternoon, we have a couple of days of dogmeat (crappy weather).  Don’t want to be stuck here for a couple days at this industrial floating dock which is rockin and rollin’ and creaking with each swell (and there are plenty), with no power or water, and nothing to do on shore…….so it’s early out tomorrow.  Depart at 0425 (it’s light by then), wind is S.E @ 8kn, and the seas are 1-2’, just as we thought.  We figure the fun to begin around 1200.  After breakfast, we get everything locked down.  Chairs, cabinets, computer monitor, kitchen appliances put in the sink.  Lunch is made ahead of time, just in case.  At 1000, we are at the highest latitude that Alizann’s been-49.2 degrees North.  We had hoped to go up to Newfoundland, but our late start this Spring, and all the good stuff along the way has changed our plans-that’s boating.  1200 comes and goes, still 1-2’ waves (sometimes it’s nice to be wrong).  Oh hello, by 1313 the wind has picked up, and we’re getting steep 2-4 footers with an odd 5 mixed in.  By 1400 it’s a steady diet of close, steep 6 footers with an 8 once in awhile.  The tops are now blowing off.  Our little ship is getting a chance to stretch her legs with a white one coming over the bow pulpit (8’ above the water) every 5 minutes or so.  Oh, forgot something.  Our anchor snubber is attached to the pulpit with a small piece of line, and is working its    way loose.  Damn.  I don’t want to be trailing a line off the bow eye if it lets go from the stanchion.  Decision time.  PFD on, I shoot for a lull in the waves.  When I try to open the door, it resists mightily due to the wind on our bow.  Out front, I get the snubber fixed properly when one comes over the bow and I’m up to my calves in water.  Fortunately, 2 hands on the rail, and this got nothin’ on riding the horn, rafting through the Grand Canyon.  The wave did knock the anchor chain out of the gypsy though.  Cool, I was right there to replace it.  The breakwall was a welcome sight, and the Admiral got on the VHF to make arrangements for our stay.  Our French boat neighbors in Quebec City helped her make a cheat sheet with all the necessary terms and phrases.  Port or Starboard, what is the depth, my length, beam, and draft is and etc.  MDO took French in high school, and then again in college, so she does pretty well on her own, but our buddies, Guy and Lise, really refined her rap.  She’s been doing it so well, that she sounds like a native speaker.  Only problem is, when they go off script, there’s a lot of dead air on our side.  I, on the other hand, am hopeless.  I can ask for a beer, the restroom, and extra anchovies-what else do I need? Tied up at Rivierre au Renard at 0530.  The docks are brand new on the pleasure boat side of this heavily commercial fishing port.  You wouldn’t want to fall into the water, though.  Lotsa’ fish guts, with a rainbow sheen of diesel fuel to complete the soup.  The harbor was super picturesque, though, with all of the brightly colored fishing trawlers stacked a couple deep in places along the wall, anticipating the gale which will blow the rest of the day today into tomorrow.  The Girl is happy with all her big brothers and sisters around her.  She wants to grow up to be just like them some day.  What a great call to come here.  A working fishing port (the largest in Gaspesie), a fish processing plant, and a great staff at the public dock.  Suzanne and I do the usual recon over to the commercial dock, where a boat is unloading tons of Turbot, layering them into containers with shovels full of ice.  They’re then loaded onto a semi with a forklift, bound for who-knows-where.  There’s a chandlery (marine hardware store) for the commercial fleet here.  Darn, sign says ferme @ 1500hr, and it’s 1530.  The counterman sees me at the door and comes out to let me in.  He speaks a little English (way better than my aforementioned French), so we chat it up a little bit, and before I know it, I’ve got plans to change The Girl’s oil tomorrow (a few hours ahead of time, but she’ll like it).  How can I resist his offer to deliver 5 gallons of oil to the boat, and pick up my used oil afterword in the 2 buckets that he will provide?  Kindness to strangers is what these folks in “the East” are all about, almost without exception.  After the oil is changed the next day, we’re off to the post office, then searching for a machin d’argent (ATM), and of course, bierre.  Two out of three isn’t bad, the ATM can wait.  The processing plant has its’ own poissonnerie, so we have to check it out.  More fish purchased, along with hors d’oeuvres (pickled whelks, and dried salt cod).  The nice lady with the scary looking husband (tats, wifebeater, shaved head, and lotsa time in the gym) said the salt cod was good with beer-How could I resist her recommendation?  On the way out, her hubbie held the door for me “after you, Monsieur”.  You know what “they” say-Looks can be….  After cocktails, we’re hoping to have some friends over in the next few days to pawn off the salt cod (maybe it’s just an acquired taste).  The whelks were pretty good.  To be fair, during our travels today, we found out that one of the Captains fell asleep at the wheel, and ran his fishing trawler up on the rocks, then came back to the harbor with an arterial bleed of diesel fuel from the ruptured hull.  They got the boat hauled before it sank, so all is well, except the diesel in the harbor.  We’ve got a fuel truck coming in the morning.  Only need a couple hundred gallons, but it’s relatively cheap with the fishing fleet here, and it’ll probably hold us until the end of the summer.  The Harbormistress says she’ll have them come at 0800, but they’re always late, so come up to the office in the morning, and we’ll call them again.  All this communication is through a lady sailboater who speaks a little English as the Harbormistress speaks none.  That night, there’s live music on the porch of the marina.  The band was rockin’, but there’s something not quite right about ZZ Top’s La Grange sung in French.  0800, and the truck is here.  We are fueled up by 0900, and on our way for a 40 mile run to L’Anse-a-Beaufils, by way of Perce Rock, supposedly the most-photographed natural wonder in Canada.

Gotta go, the Admiral needs a deck hand.

Au Revoir

P.S. Pictures take forever with the slow internet.  I'll do it if we get a faster connection

 

 

 

Au Revoir 

27 July, 2014
Posted by tuck on Sunday, July 27, 2014 - 21:01

Hi Y’All,

The trip to Charleston for the Admiral’s family reunion was uneventful, although clearing customs and catching our next flight in an hour and fifteen minutes at JFK was kinda tight.  Thank goodness for Nexus cards.  Told a Customs officer about our tight connection, and he walked us to the front of the line that snaked twice around the room, opened the barrier with a “have a nice day, folks”, and we were on our way.  Our niece, Emily, a Charleston resident, picked us up at the airport, and the three of us bar-hopped through the barrier islands to Wild Dunes Marina, where we met the rest of the gang (8) for lunch while we waited for our beach house to be cleaned and readied for our week of fun in the sun.  During the week, the gang swelled to 20, but no one went hungry or thirsty (we know the drill, been doing this for 28 years or so).  3 books, and lots of beach time for me is typical of these vacations, where we all parallel play, meeting on the porch for cocktails and chatter before dinner every evening.  Suzanne is a great cook and organizer, and her sisters Sharon and Sheila are no slouches in this department either-Betty Ford and Weight Watchers cross my mind often after our annual Julyfest.  The high point for me (and the Admiral) was having our Alison’s beau, Ben ask me if he could marry her.  Awesome-another kid to worry about (just kidding-sorta).  Problem was we had to keep our mouths shut, as he hadn’t asked her yet.  Back at the Girl, we found a boat card tucked into our door from “My Dreams”, a 42’ Krogen moored in the marina.  Unfortunately, between cleaning Alizann, farmers marketing, butcher shopping, and entertaining our neighbors, Guy and Lise-all in 25 hours, we couldn’t hook up with Ted and Sue who had spent the day touristing in Quebec City.  Hope to catch them along the way.  Had to catch the tide at 0400, so spent the night in the outer commercial harbor as the lock into the marina didn’t open until 0700.  The pilot boats going in and out at flank speed didn’t do wonders for a peaceful night, but we were wide awake at 0’Dark-thirty so left early.  Quebec City from the river at night was a sight, as many of the old buildings are illuminated, standing out beautifully against the moonless sky.  Eight hours later, when we arrived at Cap A L’Aigle, our stop on the way to the Saguenay, it was blowing around 17-20 knots, and we were happy to be there, as the seas were building (steep, close lake waves-not long ocean waves).  Not a lot to share about this stop, just an overnight.  Severe wind warnings were in effect for the following day, so we thought we might get stuck.  After checking the weather charts, our prediction was no wind until afternoon.  At 0500, the winds were light and variable, so off we went.  By 0700, winds were sustained at 24, with gusts in the 30’s.  Three hours later, we were happy to be at Tadoussac, the opening to the Saguenay.  So sorry, the docks are almost full, and your boat will overload them in this heavy wind-#@!&!!.  No way to anchor here in this wind and with water this deep.  Up the way to Anse St. Jean.  This time, the Admiral calls them on the phone-no problem, we’ll keep a space for you-whew!  The next few hours, we’re beating up the river in 28 knot winds which are howling down the fjord.  We’re in whale country, but there is no way to see ‘em, as the tops are blowing off 3 foot waves.  Turn the corner into the bay, and the waves subside somewhat, but the wind is still fierce.  MDO talks to the marinadude, he takes one look at us with the binocs, and tells us no way we’re coming in there in this wind-strike two.  Up at the head of the bay, there’s little wave action, and the wind is down to 15.  The bottom shoals up quickly from over 150’ to 5, so there’s little room to drop an anchor.  If the wind changes, the Girl will be laying on her side on the bottom when the tide goes out.  Looks like the wind will stay steady for the night, so we shoot the hook down for a good grab on a silty bottom.  Our dinghy ride over to the marina doesn’t reveal a pretty picture.  All the boats (and docks), are rockinanrollin’, creakinanbangin’-looks like a real puker at the marina tonight.  In spite of this, the place is pretty proud of their docks-they want $10 Canadian francs to tie up the tender and go in to town to spend money on dinner and trinkets and trash.  No can do, bucko-it isn’t the dough, it’s the principle.  Back to our calm, but shallow anchorage for some red meat off the grill.  That’s what I’m talkin’ about!  Shallow water was a non-event, wind stayed steady.  Early A.M., and they’re pouring out of the marina like rats from a sinking ship.  Late breakfast, and we’re off to Baie Eternite (the prettiest anchorage in the Saguenay).  Cruising guides say that there are 8-10 mooring balls in the bay, as it’s too deep to anchor,200+ ft.  As we round the corner, cool, only four boats on the moorings.  Not cool, there are only 4 moorings to be seen.  We’ll do a drive-by and see if anyone’s leaving.  We approach the first; the Admiral shoots across a greeting in French, and gets the reply “we don’t speak French”.  Okay….So this American couple from Atlanta, doing the Down East route and is leaving on the tide in 2 hours.  We just hung and waited after I launched the dinghy and went in to shore to pay for the mooring.  Samuel, the ranger and I had a long conversation, made longer by the fact that he spoke very little English, and I very little French.  When he discovered that the Admiral is a marine biologist, he ran back to his boat to get a flag for our boat indicating the we were “Ambassadors of the Saguenay”, as well as phone numbers to call and report any whales in trouble, or humans not following the guidelines.  When I returned to our little ship, the Admiral was happy, happy, and happy.  Lunch, then on the ball by 1300, and we were off to hike to a statue of the Virgin, some 500 metres above the bay, and erected in the late 1800’s-good story, I think Suz will fill in the details.  When we returned a few hours later, the Girl was riding peacefully, as the wind had died.  Quick cocktail cruise before dinner took us past “Sunshine Express”, owned and crewed by Robert and Michelle, a couple from Quebec City.  After yakkin’ for a few minutes, they invited us aboard, and regaled us with tales from their 30 years of cruising from the St. Lawrence to the Bahamas.  They shared some favorite spots with us, and were just a delight to be with.  Finding our way home on this moonless night was a challenge for me, but MDO had us dialed in.  Just when I started to doubt her, the Girl loomed up out of the darkness about 20 feet ahead of us (no lights, ‘cause we were just going on a short cruise before dinner).  Dinner is overrated, bed is good.  After Robert telling us that we had seen the best of Saguenay, we decide to cruise back to Tadoussac to spend the night, and, hopefully, see some whales.  We’re beginning to feel jinxed, as we haven’t seen any yet.  From all reports, we thought this would be like our trip to Antarctica, where you saw a whale every time you turned your head.  On our way down the fjord, Suz spotted a pod of Belugas from over a mile away.  We crept over, and watched as about 20 or so cruised up the bank, moving upstream.  They are a stunning, pearly white, and just take their time ambling up the shore, cruising inches below the surface, and breaching (sorta) every few seconds.  Back at Tadoussac, we are refused a dock space again (strike three).  It’s late in the afternoon, and there are high wind warnings again, but we’ll cross the St. Lawrence and make our way 30 miles or so to Anse L’Orignal, a fairly sheltered anchorage.  Two hours into the trip, the wind comes up as promised, but its 20 knots on our stern.  We round into Anse L’Orignal (Moose Bay) after sunset, and anchor in 20 knot winds just before dark.  There are 2 sailboats in there as well, and we’re all rockin’ and rollin’.  Winds are now gusting to 32, and the wind generators are howling, but it’s a pretty big bay, and we have plenty of chain out, so we’re sleepin’ tight.  Get up at first light, and one of the sailboats is gone, the other pulling anchor.  We’ll be on our way after breakfast for the short run into Rimouski,QC.

24 July 2014
Posted by tuck on Saturday, July 26, 2014 - 19:55

Bon Jour mon amis,

I’ve been bad, bad, bad.  Where do I start?  The transit of the Richelieu Rapids was a non-event.  It was a narrow channel, but no commercial stuff coming the other way.  We had a big guy a couple of miles behind us, but after some hasty calculations, and not some minor debate, we decided that he wouldn’t catch us until we were out the other side.  Immediately after exiting the rapids, PortNeuf was hiding behind an old freighter breakwall, augmented with a newer stone one.  We threaded our way in the “S shaped” entry, and found ourselves in a square, well-protected little marina.  There was only one dock big enough to hold us, so in we went.  We started out on a fairly long dock, where they also sold gas, but by the time that the harbormaster quit saying “pull forward, pull forward” (in French), we were wedged between the dock and a 20 foot finger with about 3’ to spare on either side, bow in (more on that later).  So, I pay Annabelle, the high school aged marina gal for the nights’ stay, and happen to mention that if she looks like her Mom (who I met earlier, and doesn’t parlez vous anglais), when she grows up, she will be very pretty.  The restaurant here is a good one, and the only one for quite a few miles, so making an earlier reservation was helpful.  The deck dining area is right above the yacht club’s patio, and I hear 2 women below my table chatting it up about how that American told Annabelle that her “Mommy was pretty”. I lean over the rail, and it’s Mom talking to one of her friends.  She blushes ever so slightly, and then asks me if I’d like to take a look at her bateau.  Given that the Admiral is in the washroom, I politely decline, as I value my life.  The next day at the time of our scheduled departure, the wind is blowing 24 knots, with gusts to 30 or so, with high wind warnings until midnight.  There isn’t much of a village, and the Catholic Church is in disrepair and locked.  They do have a bar, however, so after our 5 mile power walk, a few brews are in order.  Back to the boat, and dinner there, as the restaurant is pretty proud of their food (as evidenced by the prices).  After dinner, the wind calms down, and I think that we should turn the boat around to get ready for our morning exit.  Had a little redpop with dinner, so we figure we’ll just turn and leave in the A.M., as the winds are predicted to be light and variable.  Wake up to the 17 knot light breeze (we’ll talk about the veracity of Canadian weather forecasts later), and curse ourselves for not taking “the bird in the hand” last night.  Turning the boat in a 64 foot space (we’re 53 overall) becomes a production, as everyone around feels obliged to help, and offer advice without being able to speak a word of English.  We retie after turning, as we now have to take tide and current into account for our travels, and it’s not time to leave yet.  This really gets everyone on the dock’s panties in a wad, ’cause they just can’t understand these crazy Anglais.  By the time we’re ready to leave, the wind is a sustained 20-good call on turning the Girl early.  Just a quick comment about tides and currents.  Since Trois Riviere, the St. Lawrence River has been tidal, that is, sometimes the current is withya, sometimes agi’nya.  It can be as much as a 7-9 knot swing, depending on the state of the tide.  So…you don’t just travel when it suits you, you have to look down the line and calculate time, speed, and distance, and the state of the current on different segments of your course.  This is aided, in our case, by “The Atlas of Tidal Currents of the St. Lawrence River”.  Very important when you’re travelling in an 8 knot boat.

By 1300, the Girl is stern-to at the Port of Quebec (Quebec City), not without a little drama, as the young lady (who can’t see this whole huge marina from where she sits) is on the VHF, telling us to pull into a slip that already has a boat in it.  Who’s there to catch our lines?  Bill and Lauren (remember them?-Grand Banks Classic).  They’re fresh from Ottawa, and Canada Day, feelin’ real proud to be Canadians, and we want to hear all about their trip.  We take a look across the fairway, and there on the wall are “Texas Ranger” and “Spirit Journey”.  Lauren has wanted to meet Ron from “S.J.”, as they have carried on an email correspondence (long story about Krogen blogging), but haven’t met.  You know how much we hate parties, but it’s time to take one for the team.  A couple of calls on the VHF, and its cocktails aboard “Alizann” at 1800.  One of our Quebecois friends, Clairmont fondly calls these get togethers “5 to 7’s”-I don’t know if this is endemic to the region, or just one of his personal “isms”.  Anyhow, one thing leads to another, and soon we are all out in the Old Port, foraging for food.  A good time had by all, but an early night as the other Krogens are off on the tide at 0700, and we have tourist stuff to do tomorrow.  Quebec is really two cities, an old and a new.  Like Montreal, they have gone to great pains to preserve their rich heritage.  The Old Port, and area inside the old city wall could be any small village in western Europe.  With Bill and Lauren, we walked just about every inch of the old city.  After breakfast in an Old Port bistro, we walked every street, window shopping (and more).  Then it was a ride on the funicular up to the high ground, where the Chateau Frontenac, fort, Citadel and the Plains of Abraham (a sight of 2 historic battles-English and French) are located.  Next to the Citadel was an amphitheater, where some rockers were doing sound checks, and just havin’ a good time rockin’ some familiar riffs from various artists.  Of course, we had to see what was going on, so we strolled over to make some inquiries-Oh yeah, Billie Joel is the headliner for the Quebec Music Festival this week, and he’s playing tonight-cool.  From there, we walked the top of the old city wall from beginning to end.  Along the way, we had to stop at a few incredible churches, including the Notre Dame basilica and the Ursiline Nuns Monastery.  The day morphed into evening, and after a 5 to 7 at Bill and Laurens’ (where she informed us that her pedometer had recorded something like 8,990 steps today), we finished with dinner in an Old Port restaurant, with the promise of more fun stuff in the morning.  Sadly, Lauren was a bit under the weather, and anyway, they had to reprovision for their next days’ departure, so we left them, carrying an invite for dinner at their place after our day.  Suzanne and I walked up to the John Baptiste quarter, which is old, but not too touristy, where the Admiral found an “Aveda” salon.  (I don’t know much about this stuff, but our friend Jeff, who cut MDO’s hair for 20 some-odd years, told her that those were the places to go when out of town).  Yep, they could take a walk-in at 1330, and yep, they liked doing short hair, so the deal was on.  Killed a few hours going through the small neighborhood marches (markets), butchers, vegetables, cheeses, specialty foods and etc., as well as getting a personal guided tour of (of course) the St. John the Baptist church by a Master’s student from France.  Oh, did I forget?  There’s also the chocolate museum (actually a chocolate shop with a funky little “museum” attached) - a good spot to get a little gift for tonights’ hostess.  While Suz was getting sheared, I had a bierre at a sidewalk bistro, and watched the peeps.  Musta’ been close to the college, as there were lots of tats, piercings, and generally a predominately youngish population-good fun.  The Admiral was happy, happy, happy.  Short hair again.  On the way back to the boat, we stumbled upon another music venue, and listened for a while to some French-Canadian Hiphop.  Down the road was a street performer from the local street performing community (yes, there really is one) who entertained us for a bit.  Had to get back, as we were flying out the next morning at 0500 for the family reunion in Charleston, SC.  Bags packed, boat buttoned up, we ask Lise and Guy, our Quebecois boat neighbors if they will watch our babies (herb garden) while we are gone.  Heck yeah, and our boat too, if we’d like.  I love boaters.  Dinner at B & L’s, home too late, and up too early (0300), and off to the International airport on July 13th.  I’ll fire this up into space, and catch up in the next few days, got to catch the tide now.  No pictures, cause I’m on somebody’s home network up here in the Saguenay fiord with my Rogue, and it’s SLOW.  So slow, it didn't go.  Now I'm even behinder-I'll get some stuff written tomorrow-11 hour day.

 

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