Alls Well After Earl

On the way to Halifax we stopped in Liscombe Mills as the weather forecasts were starting to look ominous.  Hurricane Earl was still in the southern Caribbean and it was unclear if it would make it up to Atlantic Canada. Liscombe Mills is seven nautical miles inland along the South-east coast of Nova Scotia.   There is a large lodge owned by the provincial government.  While looking for a safe place to keep the boat to wait out the bad weather we had also happened upon a paradise for the children.  Beautiful walking trails along the river, swimming pool, playgrounds, kayaks and canoes, bicycles and a recreation centre with daily art classes.  

We tracked Hurricane Earl (and Hurricane Fiona and a number of other tropical storms) for four days almost by the hour.  There were few moments when neither Seb or I were checking weather sites or discussing potential storm tactics with fellow boaters and/or the marina staff.  As Saturday, September 4th approached it looked more and more as if we would be hit by some sort of storm, whether it would reach hurricane strength or not was still tied up in meteorological probabilities.   

Coming straight for us

On September 3rd we started to put our hurricane plan into action.  Along with Jackie and Robin, from s/y Black Thorn from the UK we battened everything down.  Jackie and Robin were an invaluable resource for us.  Together we discussed tactics, plans to secure the boats, helped each other with the heavier tasks and shared encouragement.  By the end of the day we had added several extra lines, put out two anchors from both the bow and the beam of the boat to keep us away from the dock in the southerly winds, unhooked electrical equipment, and either lashed down or removed anything on deck that was liable to fly around  or produce any unnecessary wind resistance.   

We bedded down early on the night of the 3rd.  The world around us was incredibly still, few clouds marred a clear view of the starry night and the barometer was holding at 1015mb.  The latest forecast predicted that the Bay of Fundy and Yarmouth areas would be hit but that we would only feel some slight winds along the edge the storm. 

The morning of the 4th showed the expected slight increase in wind. Seb went up to the lodge to check the latest weather.  He came back with the news that the actual storm was moving East and that Liscomb Mills would not, as expected, be on the edge of the storm but right in the middle!  The barometer started falling steadily at around 0900 and bottomed out at 986mb. The forecast was for high winds to begin around 1100. 

And indeed they did.  Starting with 20-25 knots, and gradually building to a sustained 35-40 with gusts up to 60 knots!!! Fortunately in our protected inland hurricane hole the seas did not build so there were no waves, just spray on our decks.  Outside, just seven nautical miles from us, the seas were building up to an average10-12 meters (with a maximum recorded wave just off the coast of 25 meters!!!!)! The winds alone had enough force, however, to twist the dock that we were tied to out of its iron frame and it was touch and go for a while if the entire dock would be ripped off.  Seb spent 1 ½  hours hiking heavy lines through the woods (being careful to avoid being hit by a falling trees) to try to send out a long line to reinforce the two anchors and long line already holding us off the dock.  The lodge lost all power at 1100 and was without power or water for two days. The heavy winds continued for approximately five hours and then slowly started to abate.  I spent most of the time in the hotel with the monkeys and Seb spent most of the time working with the Black Thorn crew to make sure that both boats were safe. 

Fortunately although the winds were high we did not experience sustained hurricane force winds, only gusts to hurricane level, and the duration of the storm was relatively short. Had the weather been any more severe or lasted longer, I expect that the dock would not have held under the pressure. Our plan in this case was to use our forward anchor to pull ourselves off the dock and head out into the wind into a protected spot in the river where we would have enough room to swing and throw our anchor out there. In the end we came through the storm without any damage and having learned a great deal.  It also served to strongly reinforce our conviction to do everything possible to avoid heavy weather, it is simply too powerful.  

** View short video of early stages of storm here

Eye of the storm seen from space

Back in Baddeck

St. Pierre is separated from Miquelon by a 3 nautical mile wide strait with very fierce currents. Fishermen call this section of ocean "The Mouth of Hell". The waters around St. Pierre and Michelon are very treacherous, and there have been over 600 shipwrecks along the coasts of the islands.  We departed St Pierre through the Mouth of Hell in sustained 20-25 knot winds knowing that the first six hours of our 200 nautical mile journey would be intense but trusting the forecasted decrease in windspeeds to bring us safely to Baddeck.  

Our arrival in Baddeck was just like old home week.  Jared and Leah from Baddeck Marine welcomed us and especially the monkeys with great warmth.  We spent two days there sitting out some nasty rains and high winds before finally having some really warm summer weather. Ahhhh. Nice to put the fleecies, long pants and rain gear away for a little while.   

stayed to see a demonstration of experiments Bell apparently used to show to his grandchildren.  Emma even volunteered to assist with one of the experiments in front of an audience of 30 people.  She stood very bravely at the front of the group and demonstrated that if a candle burns off oxygen in a jar held over a plate of water a reduction in the air pressure in the jar causes the water under the jar to be sucked up into it.  Her favourite part was adding the food colouring to the water so that we could see it in the jar.

As we walked back to the boat we passed an antique store with a suit of armour outside and Emma spontaneously shared a little wisdom with me. “Mama, do only smart princesses know that dragons are really nice? Because then they could tell all of the other princesses that dragons are really nice.  And then they could all tell all of the knights that they didn’t really need them anymore because dragons are really nice.  So then they could all do other things together than fight dragons.”

More Fog, a Squall and French Cheese

The two day sail from St. John’s around to St. Pierre was unpleasant.  The winds were 15-20 knots to start but coming from a good direction so we had a nice sail down the coast. By the time we reached Cape Race the wind had gone down and once again we motored around this notoriously windy cape.  From then on it was almost all fog and relatively light winds against us.  About 30 nautical miles out of St Pierre we were sailing with full sail (including the cutter sail) into 10-15 knots of wind with a light rain and uncomfortable waves.  The rain started to become heavier and suddenly the wind picked up giving us little time to reduce sail.  We found ourselves in a nasty squall with 40 knot winds including a shift of 40 degrees, pelting rain and thunder and lighting.  We quickly started the motor and took down all of the sails.  It lasted about ½ hour and was quite alarming.  This was our first squall of this magnitude and it came with no warning.  We hadn’t seen the telltale black smudge indicating a squall due to the fog, and the weather reports maintained a steady 10-15 knots wind prediction. We tied up in St. Pierre feeling a little battered and greatly relieved.

St Pierre and Michelon is a group of islands located only six nautical miles from Newfoundland's Green Island. The archipelago has the status of overseas collectivity within France and is the only remnant of the former colonial empire of New France.  The people here hold European passports, speak Parisian French, use the Euro, consume mostly products imported from France and every grade 12 student has the opportunity to go to university in France for free.   It is a strange combination of European French culture coupled with a landscape, architecture and community structure similar to what we saw in the Burin Peninsula in Newfoundland.
 
Our fridge was full of lovely creamy cheeses and dry salamis, all of which needed to be consumed before we went back through Canadian customs in Nova Scotia.  Two of the three nights spent in St Pierre saw us dining in local restaurants on lovely French delicacies – although I have to admit that the children’s menu consisted of the standard fries, fish sticks and chicken wings.  The monkeys are learning a little French while we are here.  Although a little shy with much of it Macsen loves to greet people with a loud  “BON-jooor” coupled with a little dance of glee. 

On our last morning in St Pierre we had coffee in the Hotel Robert and caught a glimpse of the hat that Al Capone gave to the proprietor of the hotel when he visited the island in the 1920s.  St Pierre was the rum running capital of the North Atlantic and played an enormous role in the supply of contraband liquor to the United States during prohibition both as a warehouse for alcohol from Europe and as a haven for Canadian distributors to set up operations to service their American clients. 

Fogo, Twillingate, Moreton’s Harbour: All around the circle

“ I asked my colleagues where you should camp”  Vicky announced innocently on our second evening in St. John’s. “They said you shouldn’t camp in Newfoundland.”  Apparently the consensus at work was that the cold would freeze us and the mosquitoes would deal with the leftovers.  Only slightly daunted, we set off the next day with our brand new tent in the back of the car and a solid agreement to head to a cosy B&B if either threat became unbearable. This was balanced with the awareness that it would be virtually impossible to disappoint the monkeys (and secretly ourselves) who had been looking forward to sleeping in a tent for ages (and ages according to Emma).
   
The first stop on our inland tour was Twillingate, Iceberg Capital of the World.  One of the primary goals of our road tour was to catch a glimpse of one of these icy giants.  We'd checked the Environment Canada ice charts and were disappointed to see that there were no icebergs in the area.  Still, we drove the extra 300 kilometres to the Iceberg Capital of the World to see for ourselves.  Upon arrival we were told that the nearest icebergs were to be found in Labrador and although we considered it, we decided that the 36 hour ferry ride was too much.  Undaunted we enjoyed the lovely surroundings of Twillingate and found a small camp ground to set up our tent.  It was a indeed buggy and cold.  But the giggles of the monkeys frolicking about in the tent and our glass of wine around the campfire after they were asleep more than made up for a little itchiness and goosebumps.   On our way out of Twillingate, we stopped at the Prime Berth Twillingate Fishing museum.  While the monkeys searched for hermit crabs, Seb and I took turns wandering about the fish making stations and reading some exciting seafaring tales. A wonderfully whimsical museum with some interesting twists:    

“When anyone asks how I can best describe my experience in nearly 40 years at sea, I merely say, uneventful. Of course there have been winter gales, and storms and fog the like, but in all my experience, I have never been in any accident of any sort worth speaking about. I never saw a wreck and never have been wrecked, nor was I ever in any predicament that threatened to end in disaster of any sort. You see, I am not very good material for a story.”
Captain Smith, Commander of Titanic

Our next campground was in the Lockston Path Provincial Park.  Tenting remained exciting for the monkeys and Seb and I continued to enjoy our evening campfires, chatting and staring at the stars.

The town of Trinity is located at about a 15 minute drive from Lockston Path.  On Wednesdays and Saturdays in the summer the local summer theatre group performs its award-winning pageant. We followed the actors around the beautifully preserved town as they presented pieces depicting the life and history of the village.  Having enjoyed it so much we immediately bought tickets for the dinner theatre that evening.  Dinner theatre was a frolic of local music and stories and  Emma and Macsen had good fun dancing to the accordion, the fiddle and the ugly stick. 

Down in Bonavista, we took a tour of the replica of the Matthew, the ship that brought John Cabot and his crew to Newfoundland in 1497. The ship was actually named after Cabot's wife Mathea but ship's at the time were only given male names...even though they are all female...go figure.   Seb and I were quite astonished by the sparse living conditions aboard the boat and returned to the relative luxury of the Pjotter with pleasure. 

We returned for a last weekend in St John's with Vicky and Olous and the kids.  They took us to the Brigus Blueberry Festival and another local folk festival and we had some good barbecues in their garden. 

A weather window appeared for a trip to St Pierre and we readied the boat and ourselves for a late Monday departure.  After tearing Emma and Macsen away from Rogan and Naya and saying a fond and grateful goodbye to Olous and Vicky we were off.  We hope to see them again soon!
 
It is also time for a tearful goodbye to Newfoundland.  Our original plan was to return via Port aux Basques but time and weather has prevented us. In six weeks we have only scratched the surface of this wonderful province and it has left us wanting more.  Farewell Newfoundland, we will certainly be back to your beautiful shores!

**Bob and Kat, in Port aux Basques, if you read this please send us your email address! 

No Wind, Whales and Familiar Faces

After a brief stop in Trepassey on the South coast, to wait out some heavy winds, we headed of for a two day sail around Cape Race to Long Pond in Conception Bay just passed St John’s. Our weather checks were extra thorough before departing on this trip. Cape Race is famed for creating high winds, is located by the notorious Grand Banks of Newfoundland, has seen numerous shipwrecks in its history, Titanic's distress signal was first received here, and it experience 158 days of fog a year. 

We approached the Cape with conservatively reefed sails as the winds were indeed high leaving Trepassey but then ended up motoring around due to a lack of wind. This confirmed our experience of the extremes of Newfoundland weather, it either ‘blows the cows off the dyke’ as they say in Holland or there isn’t a breath of wind. We had no thoughts of complaints however, as we sailed along the 100 metres cliffs. As we approached the cape the air and water around us was suddenly chock full of thousands of sea birds, gulls, sea pigeons, turrs, razorbills, shearwaters, gannets and cheeky looking puffins to name a few that we recognised. We quickly jumped to the conclusion that there were capelin running in the area (we have slowly been filling in our knowledge of Newfoundland wildlife). 

Whooosh! Suddenly we were also surrounded by another, much larger, capelin fan. Humpbacks and fin whales were feeding around us. Water spouts kept erupting and you could hardly get a “Thar she blows!” past your lips before another one broke just next to us. The humpbacks showed us some wonderful acrobatics with their tail fins often coming incredibly close to the boat . Sadly, we also saw a humpback caught in fishing gear. After some complex satellite discussions with my parents they tracked down the Newfoundland and Labrador Whale Release and Stranding organisation and we reported our sighting. Fortunately, they were aware of this whale and had already removed the majority (and dangerous) part of the gear. We bobbed slowly around the cape glancing about in absolute rapture. Slowly the feeding activity diminished and we continued up the coasts towards St. John’s.

We met the Boag family, Olous, Vicky and their kids Naya (5) and Rogan (3) in La Gomera in the Canary Islands last October when they were sailing around the Atlantic on their boat the Atmosphere. The joined us for a trip to The Gambia and we’d promised to look them up again when we got to Canada (of course at that time we thought they would be in the more accessible Saint John, New Brunswick).

Olous had arranged a very secure and protected berth for us on Long Pond, close to St. John’s and the whole family came out to welcome us when we arrived. It was great to see their friendly familiar faces and Emma and Macsen were thrilled to have some people their own size to play with. The family Boag then took us in hand and cared for our every need (entertainment, meals, laundry, showers and the use of one of their cars).

St. John’s is a great city, lacking the harsh beauty and open friendliness experienced in other areas of the province but great all the same. It is located in a narrow, cliffy bay, is extremely clean, full of charming brightly painted houses and the city and surrounding area is full of festivals, great walks and stunning scenery. At the St. John’s Folk Festival all six of the children in our group spontaneously jumped on the stage to act as back up dancers for Rose Cousins. Fortunately, she took it with great humour (see video) On three occasions we took the kids for a short trips to the beach and were able to watch whales swimming in the bay. As a final touch, Seb and I were 'screeched in' on the famous George Street, which has more pubs and bars per square metre than any street in North America. Being screeched in involves drinking a shot of local rum-like alcohol, kissing a cod fish and answering the question "Is ye an honourary Newfoundlander?" with the phrase "Indeed I is me ol' cock, and long may your big jib draw."

Macsen and Emma are also integrating well. Their favourite bedtime song is now “I's the b'y that builds the boat. ” Not very lullabyish but a nice change and more seasonal than Macsen’s previous favourite “ Jingle Bells.”

Fjords and Waterfalls Along the Southwest Coast

From Grand Bruit we sailed on to Burgeo where we again encountered some incredible Newfoundland hospitality when a man named Jim took us for a two hour drive into the barren highlands of the Long Range Mountains. The rugged land was strewn with huge glacial erratics--pieces of rock left behind from the last ice age and full of lovely lakes (locally known as ponds).

Two of the most beautiful spots that we visited in Newfoundland were The Grey River fjord and Lahune Bay. Grey River is an outport with no road access housing around 160 people. It perches at the foot of the looming cliffs near the mouth of the fjord. The fog lifted as we navigated about six nautical miles into the Northwest arm. Otters frolicked on the shore as we passed and bald eagles flew overhead. It had rained earlier in the day (needless to say) and several waterfalls cascaded down the steep walls. A few small cottages were hidden in the trees at the end of the Southwest arm. We spoke to one of the residents who explained that his regular home was in the Grey River outport but they kept the cottage so they could “get away from it all.” He directed us to a spot where we could safely land the dingy and explore the waterfall and river flowing into the fjord. With the monkeys on our backs we waded up river (each only falling in once) until we found a nice picnic location. Desert consisted of M&Ms and a few blueberries that were just starting to ripen on the river banks. Lovely.

Our next anchorage in Lahune Bay (Deadman’s Cove) was equally beautiful. The high cliffs create some significant wind effects so we set two anchors (at 30 degrees off our bow) before heading in for a good climb in the hills and a splash in the waterfalls. Ahhh, the views were spectacular but words are inadequate so you are better served by switching over to the pictures to get a real impression. Our walks are becoming somewhat less tiring as Emma has taken to hiking herself and rarely needs to be carried anymore. Even on long hikes! Hooray!

Francois (pronounced Fransway by the locals) is a lovely community perched on the cliffside in the Francois Bay. It houses 134 people, 21 of whom attend the local K-12 grade school. Francois is one of the few outport communities that has taken advantage of its unique cultural and natural advantages and has successfuly marketed these to a very specific tourist community. As such, in addition to the still viable lobster fishing, there are a couple of thriving B&Bs. Hiking around the bay is wonderful and the community has invested much into the maintenance of the trails. There is a wonderful freshwater lake up on the hills above Francois but it was a little too cold for us to swim. Emma and Macsen still enjoyed sloshing about on the muddy banks and spotting bullfrogs. There are two small stores stocking a wide selection of food and goods and these act as a gathering place in the early evenings. The monkeys loved stopping in at these time as they were guaranteed to get some candy and compliments.

Grand Bank is located on the Burin peninsula and differs significantly from the outports we have seen to date. It’s current population is approximately 2500 people and it is accessible by road. Grand Bank was the nucleus for much of the Grand Banks fishery and a consolidation point for Fortune Bay and for trading with the French in St Pierre and Michelon (just over 20 nautical miles away). As a result a merchant class took hold here so the older houses are much larger, there is a fish processing plant (built to process fresh fish following the decline of the salt fish industry) and it has a more industrial feel and a more sprawling community. It is still at heart a fishing village. A group of older men meet almost nightly on the wharf to tell tales about the old days and make music if the mood takes them. These men have incredible stories of huge catches, colossal storms, incredibly dangerous and taxing conditions (year round fishing in snow and ice) and a wistful sadness when they tell of a livelihood lost.

In short, the Southwest coast of Newfoundland is absolutely magnificent, both the raw nature and the communities, and the people are extremely kind and generous. If it weren’t for the weather you might think it were perfect. We have experienced a few bright sunny days but much of our time is spent in the rain and even more is spent in the fog. This just makes the brief glimpses of breathtaking scenery all the more special. Our love affair with Newfoundland continues...

Outports and Fishing

Outports of Newfoundland are some of the oldest European settlements in Canada, many of them having been established by Portuguese, Spanish, Basque, French and English fishermen and whalers in the 1500s-1800s. Outports were settled where families could get shelter, fresh water and access to the fishing grounds and space to ‘make’ or salt process the fish. When all the existing shore space became allocated, or when more productive fishing grounds became known, some people would move to other areas leading to the high number of small outports spread over the length of shoreline and hundreds of islands of Newfoundland and Labrador. In 1934, more than 1200 outports spread along the coasts of Newfoundland, only 100 of which had populations over 500 people. Several have no roads connecting them to other communities on the mainland and are only accessible by boat or by footpath. 

Intellectually I know that the outport life was very hard and extremely cold but it is also achingly romantic (certainly from my outsiders perspective) as reflected in the many stirring songs and stories. Sadly, with government resettlement programs, the devastating demise of the fishery, and ongoing depopulation as young people move to larger urban centres, the outport is an endangered phenomenon. As we cruised along the South coast we were privileged to see several of these communities in very differing stages and sizes, but all abandoned or with rapidly reducing populations and economic opportunities.

Grand Bruit, located about 40 nautical miles from Port aux Basques, was the first outport that we visited in Newfoundland. Grand Bruit is pronounced locally as 'Grand Brit' but comes originally from the French for 'big noise' due to the enormous waterfall running through its centre. This town has twice been named the tidiest community in Newfoundland since 2000, held its homecoming in 2007 and as of July 11, 2010 has been abandoned. The huge waterfall running through the middle does create a racket of white noise, brightly painted houses cluster together on the hillside and well kept log wharves ring the cove around to a little grave yard with white stones in the meadow on the edge of town. Grand Bruit is not accessible by road and wooden boardwalks and cement sidewalks wind between the houses, creating a charmingly cosy feel. A picture perfect community but absolutely empty of people. The church was open and the guest book full of very emotional entries from the last service on July 11^th . We found the pub, Cramalott Inn, a tiny 1-room building with benches around and a few empty beer bottles lingering. It was so easy to see a group of tipsy comrades sitting around discussing the latest gossip or the last catch and making music and telling tales. In the houses, the curtains still hung, decorations were left, vegetable and flower gardens had been planted this season and peering into one house we saw a pair of eyeglasses left on the kitchen table. But noone around, not a soul to be seen.

First and Second Impressions of Newfoundland

Our goal was to sail to Newfoundland as quickly as possible from Baddeck.  As such, we threw off the lines at 0300 in the morning of the 17th to catch the tidal current through the Great Bras D'Or channel expecting to arrive in Ingonish on the northern coast of Cape Breton by lunchtime.  The dock in Ingonish was deserted except for a few empty fishing boats.  We took a quick walk along the road but found no accessible walking trails so headed back to the boat.  It was a beautiful day so we set up a bath for the monkeys on the dock and they frolicked about for the afternoon.

We left Ingonish again at 0300 to sail the 75 nautical miles to Port aux Basques on the south west tip of Newfoundland.   About 15 miles from Port Aux Basques the strong wind (25 knots) turned against us and we were forced to tack back and forth making extremely slow progress under the coast.  As the boat pitched about on its upwind tack the outboard motor suddenly came loose from the aft stanchion and hung precariously from its safety rope.  Seb quickly pulled it back aboard but we were a little shocked an extremely grateful that we had tied on that silly little safety rope.  

A thick fog set in at the same time as the coast should have come into view so our first impression of Newfoundland was not as positive as we had hoped.  Fortunately, Port aux Basque harbour has a radio tower that is manned for 24 hours and they require all boats to check in at the 12, 5 and 2 mile radius lines.  They provide up to date conditions on fog levels, buoyage and marine traffic and make it an easy and friendly harbour to enter even in pea soup conditions.

As we tied up on the dock at 1830 the empty wharf slowly started to fill with people coming seemingly out of nowhere through the fog.  The evening was dreary and we were weary.  The welcoming committee consisted mostly of older men and they just stared at us initially and no one responded to our greetings.  When they finally spoke their words were almost completely unintelligible to us. Everything appeared to be closed for the night.  Fortunately a very nice lady named Katie (and her dog Olivia) directed us to a little fish and chips hut where we gratefully devoured a warm meal.

Our last conversation of the evening was as follows:

Owner of the F&C stand: “Brrr, she's cold tonight”                     

Me: “Oh, is it colder than normal? “                                                                             

Owner of the F&C shop: “Nah, she's allus cold ‘round here”

We decided to turn in early and re-evaluate our first impressions in the morning.

The morrow dawned as a bright and sunny day. We wandered about the town and were able to do a wash and dry out the boat (on the way Seb tried to close a hatch but a wave beat him to it). Everywhere we went we were warmly welcomed and had long and cosy conversations.  A lovely man named Stan drove us up to the Traffic Control Tower where Candice and Ray enthusiastically showed us how they guide boats into the busy, rocky and frequently extremely foggy harbour.  The tower is located on the top of the hill with a 360 degree view over the town and harbour, they definitely have the job with the best views.  

Week nights bring the local population down to the harbourfront stage to hear various musicians delivering traditional and modern fare.  On our second night we took a stroll around and listened to the music.  Emma danced vigorously in front of the stage and gave a deep and elegant bow as the applause began. On the following night there was an even bigger crowd and lots of kids to run around and dance with.  Emma and Macsen had such a good time that both cried when they had to go home.

We had more wonderful interactions with people in Port aux Basques than in any other place we have been to to date (and we've had some good ones). Bob and Katie (who grew up very close to where I did in New Brunswick) brought us preserves, beets, marmalade, prickleberry jam from berries only found in Newfoundland and fresh eggs from their farm chickens.  Stan drove Seb to the gas station to fill the jerry cans with diesel.  Stan lost his leg 15 years ago to an aneurysm while out fishing and although retired still spends a good deal of time chatting with the boys on the dock while sitting at the wheel of his car.  Stan's good friend Clarence took us to the fish store where we bought fresh scallops and halibut and Clarence gave Seb a hand line with a lead weight and feather hooks for catching cod and mackerel.  All in all our time in Port aux Basques was warm and wonderful.  I have never met such welcoming and generous people and we left with regret to say goodbye but eager to see what else this lovely island has to offer.