Greetings from the SE corner of Newfoundland, a cruising ground worth travelling miles for as indeed you must in order to get here! We left from the Bras D’Or Lakes some 700 miles and 6 weeks ago and have spent most of that time alternating between thick fog or brilliant sunshine. Sometimes both at the same time...
We left a small anchorage, Kelly’s Cove, on the east side of the lakes and headed through the narrow channel back into the ocean. The "forecasted" wind didn’t arrive and we spent a restless few hours trying to work Hannah toward a 90 mile distant Newfie. Half way through the morning we heard a voice calling us on the radio. Calling US not the boat and we heard Rick from WanderBird asking where we were. We had suggested we might meet them in Mickle’s Tickle, a favourite anchorage, but weather had not worked for us and we found ourselves with another day to go. What was amazing about this call was that they were in the Tickle and so 90 miles away and yet we were able to speak via VHF. Normally we would expect 15 mile or so. We agreed to meet up along the way and slowly drifted toward Ingonish for the night. The sail to Burgeo the following day worked well although we ended up sailing through the night and got into Burgeo to find a disappointing anchorage and hearing that WB were in nearby Rameo decided to head over to catch up.
We spent the next few days in their company before we moved in different directions. From there we wandered into Hoon and Aviron where we were lucky enough to see an otter. Actually we didn’t move much at all as the fog descended and the chart we were using carried the cautionary note that positions from a GPS needed to be moved x in order to agree. It then went onto to say that even doing this would leave the navigator out by as much as 1/3 mile.... We stayed put. ...
Interestingly, well for me at any rate, I was reading David Lewis’s book Ice Bird where he took his boat down to Antarctica in the early ‘70’s. After days in fog and gales he managed to snatch a sun sight which placed 50 miles north of where he believed himself to be and here was I worrying about 1/3 mile. How times have changed. Another change, for us, is we have found ourselves having to use the electronic charts on the lap-top as we don’t have anything that covers this area in enough detail and can now understand why CMap is so popular. We know cruisers who no longer bother with paper at all but use this free system to get themselves about.
Eventually, tiring of the fog and running short of wine we headed for the French Islands of St Pierre & Miquelon – accurate charts! Some 12 miles off the nearest Canadian coast these two islands are part of France and have a long history of booze smuggling. Not now of course but... We arrived in Miquelon having failed to see the 500’ cliffs until ½ mile off the coast because of the fog and worked our way into the anchorage. Into the dinghy the following day to book in and then a rapid wander around town to find wine and cheese. But with the wind due to blow in hard from the east in a few days we had to leave the anchorage as it offered no protection and so headed down to St Pierre. Different again from its other half; more of a town to a hamlet I guess, St P offered bigger shops, more tourism, and a lot more shelter. We anchored off the French Sailing School, spoke with another yacht (the first we’d seen on this coast) who provided us with the code to unlock the showers and settled down for a few days to await the passing of the weather. We stocked up on wine, wandered the streets and read. One day offered a slight break in the weather we hoisted anchor and motored out of the harbour. Some 3 miles out and still working our way clear we shipped a sea over the bow that hung, malevolently it seemed to me, in the air for several seconds before coming down on top of me.... at that point I thought “Now hold on we don’t need this we’ll end up in a harbour we don’t want to be in ‘cos we need to book back into Canada...” so we turned and ran back in to St P at twice the speed we’d come out at. Anchored off the Customs building and stayed there until the winds were favourable.
This time we chose to head for Argentia in Placentia Bay. However as the distance from St P to Argentia was about 180 miles and the wind usually drops in the late evening we thought we’d break it up by anchoring. We found a couple of small places that certainly whetted the appetite for what was to come. Burin, for example, is very reminiscent of parts of Scotland but is now a shadow of what it used to be. As with so many of these places the collapse of the fishing industry has left many communities without work and consequently populations have moved to areas that could support them.
To Argentia, a forsaken outpost that once was a US Navy base but now seems to be little more than a ferry and container terminal. We spoke to Placentia Traffic, the CG who controls the movement of ships around the bay and they tried to put us through to Customs. Apparently the Customs like 2 hours notice of your arrival so the can meet you. As we couldn’t phone them a connection was provided via the VHF but it didn’t. Connect that is so we had the CG asking us the questions and relaying our answers to Customs. Wish that it was always that simple!. In the end we were cleared in without having to land, given a recommended anchorage and headed to it for the night. To be joined, soon after, by an American boat, considerably smarter and bigger than us. Placentia Sound, where we were anchored is a long, deep, winding fjord that’s easy to enter but ends in depths comfortable enough to anchor in.
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| Valen Harbour |
But the following day we were anxious to be away and headed for a place called Indian Harbour which, although very photogenic, was too narrow to anchor in any comfort so headed out for Dog Harbour. Over the following days we had easy sails to places you can only dream about.
Valen Harbour is almost landlocked with a narrow, possibly 60’ wide cleft between the rock face. Inside a ledge is there to catch the unwary (not us this time) and then a pool offers a sublime anchorage.
We crept in, waving at the few fishing families about and dropped the hook, idly watched by a leaf chewing caribou. Or was it a moose? Whatever 4 legs and a lot of antler stood showing little interest in our antics. Unlike us in him!
Western Cove, St Kieran and then onto Marystown and one of those situations that we occasionally bump into. We’d anchored off the Government wharf, decrepit and falling apart when a figure was seen rowing out to us. He told us we could use the other side of the wharf (it was in very good condition) turned and rowed back. We moored alongside and were chatting to George (the rower) when another guy turned up, beer in hand. Introducing himself as Neil he had, within 5 minutes, established we needed showers and the internet. As he was drinking, had to go and see his mother and sister that evening he pointed to his truck, then his house and suggested we make use of both to do what we needed. George offered to guide us to the house and within 30 minutes of being tied up we were in a hot shower. In set the tone for the few days we spent in the area. Neil suggested we’d be better moving to Little Bay, where he kept his fishing boat. What a lovely spot!. In a bay and well protected from most winds the small community seemed very peaceful. Visitors came down to the dock and chatted but mostly we were left alone.
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| Oderin |
Neil came over, collected us and our jerry cans, and took us off to a local spring for fresh water. Introduced us to his family, invited us to a wedding, and really looked after us. But and isn’t there always a “but” in these stories we were meant to be heading out to sea and hadn’t seen another “must see” place called Oderin. We kept pronouncing it as Ohdurin whereas locally its pronounced Odarerin. And the accent sounds Irish to us although Jackie may not agree. So up to Oderin we went. Like so many of the places we have been to this had once been a settlement of fishing people who were enticed/cajoled to leave their generational homes in the 60’s after the confederation of Canada. I’ve written, briefly, of this before and can’t begin to say I know the whys and wherefores of it all. Certainly from the privileged position of the deck of your own boat and in the height of (what passes for) summer these places are absolute gems. Looking at the settings it must have been heart-breaking for the families to have left behind everything they couldn’t carry.
Now, 50 years on, few people talk about it and the houses that are now springing up are often the sons or grandkids of those families. The homes are just for summer use but in some way seem to be an attempt to re-establish their identity amongst these wonderful islands. And Newfoundland is full of such places. Little, if any of the original settlements remain in most places but there is an air around them. Placentia Bay, I guess because it is not really on the way to anywhere else, is possibly by passed by many boats and perhaps that’s to its advantage. But if you are reading this and are planning to cruise Newfoundland we would say it has to be one of the best cruising grounds we’ve ever experienced.
From Oderin we went back to Burin, (pronounced Bjorn!) to set ourselves up for the wind direction and a good sail to Trepassey. Although Rick and Karen really like the place we have found the “softness” of the country compared to the cliffs and hills of the bit we have travelling along a bit disappointing. But the bay offers a couple of wharves to tie to and lots of anchorages to escape the wind. The entrance is easy and probably the only drawback seems to be the belief that most of the fog in Newfoundland starts its life here. But not at the moment. In fact the locals deny there has been much fog at all this year although concede that easterly winds are not common. Of course they don’t consider visibility of less than 200 yards foggy so all things are relative.
Much of the last 6 weeks have been spent on the endless discussion of what do we do next. We had a plan, which involved a lot of miles to an area that has its share of windy weather, but we’ve hummed and hahed about that. Should we winter here or somewhere else or go to the Azores and take it from there. Well today the decision is Azores but from the boat to the library is about ¼ mile so by the time this is posted we may have changed our mind. Certainly by the time this is read by anyone we’ll either be on our way or still cruising this area with a winter abode in mind.
We left Cary’s jetty in very heavy rain, not helped by an emotional and tearful farewell. With the weather forecasting favourable winds for a couple of days we felt if we didn’t move we’d get stuck both emotionally and weather wise so we headed off into a miserable day. Initially the wind stayed with us and we made reasonable progress down the Bay but as the day drew toward evening the wind died and we made slow progress north. If there is one word that, for us, sums up the east coast of the US it’s “volatile”. Because it is. We’ve lost count of the number of intense electrical storms we’ve either been part of or close to. The journey north was no exception as storms came off the coast, illuminating whole tracts of sky but luckily for us they were either ahead or astern of us and heading out to sea. Had we been heading for the Azores of course we wouldn’t have been so “smug” but sometimes you win, sometimes.. We’d listened to the weather channel on the VHF. Strong wind warnings were being given and as we had a lot of sail up we thought we’d reef well down. To windward of us lay a big expanse of black sky, billowing cloud, and general nastiness. Minutes after we’d reefed and dumped the jib we were hit, without any prior warning, by a huge slab of wind. We had gone below and suddenly felt Hannah roll hard to starboard! Bee honestly thought we were sinking the motion was so violent and sudden. We rushed on deck but the worst had already gone through and Hannah had righted herself, pulling the starb’d rail from under the water and was moving steadily on. I’ve said before that Hannah is such a stable boat that we don’t, in our mate Geoff’s terms, do “tipping” so the wind strength must have been around 50+knots.
We toyed with the idea of heading up through the East River and using Long Island Sound to anchor and proceed at a more leisurely (!) pace but we’d need to get the tides right for the entry into NYC and also Bee had concerns about being in the big city with out of date paperwork so we plugged on and eventually made Point Judith about 4 days after leaving the Bay. (Point Judith stands between Long Island Sound and the Buzzards Bay/Martha’s Vineyard area.) Temperature was noticeably colder, particularly at night but generally more comfortable for us. The great thing about this anchorage is you’re ignored and going ashore is not an option unless you head up river and into the towns. We moved a little further up Buzzards Bay the following day, anchoring in a sheltered cove before heading on up to the Cape Cod Canal. We had intended anchoring for the night but at the last moment opted to get closer to the canal, anchor and wait for the tide to stop running so hard. In the end I got that wrong leaving an hour earlier than we should and took several hours to transit the 7 or 8 miles which, with the tide running hard with you takes about 40 minutes. Light winds greeted us on the northern side and we got into P’town about 2am, briefly considering heading on to NS.
The following morning was grey and windy with a strong SW’ly. Leaving the anchorage with a single reef was effective but as we cleared the peninsula we reefed down again before finally dropping the main and cruising blissfully on under mizzen and heads’ls as speeds were exceeding 8 knots and 7 knots felt more comfortable. We’d battened down but were horrified or more likely pissed off to discover that we had a leak in our doghouse where some of the adhesive had come adrift. Why on earth we couldn’t have discovered this when we were happily settled with Cary who’s experience would have been invaluable. Aah well. Off the coast and amongst the shipping lanes we spotted breaching whales throwing themselves about but a defunct camera means you’ll have to take our word for it!
We were hell bound for Shelburne as R & J had promised a delivery of Marmite and all the way across we had visions......
A passing Canadian Coast Guard ship called us up to check on what we were up to, their attitude and demeanour so very different from their US counterparts. But the easy passage was about to come to an end as the fog began to form. The wind kept up, the current stayed with us and so we sped on at 6-7knots peering out into the white blanket that surrounded us. Not a situation we enjoyed and in ordinary circumstances we would slow down but we were approaching Cape Sable where the tide runs hard and we wanted to get far enough past before it turned against us. However, as the day wore on and daylight, such as it was, faded life became more complicated. True we could (and should) have slowed down but for the reasons above we kept on. Religiously we came on deck to check around every ten minutes but even so Bee got the shock of her life when on her next look around a drifting fishing boat was visible less than 100 metres away and slightly off to port! The fear could be felt throughout Hannah and we spent the rest of the night on an almost continual watch-a wet and miserable experience for both of us. Periodically we’d give out our position on the VHF and received a friendly call from a passing ship who reassured us that the only signal visible to them on radar was a weak signal some 2.5 miles ahead of the position we’d transmitted. Luckily we realised from the lat/long he gave us that he was actually picking us up and the coast ahead was clear. Through the night we ran and began closing the NS coast. The fog stuck with us and despite using buoys as waypoints to guide us in we didn’t see a single one before we made the harbour of Shelburne. Back in Portsmouth we’d fitted an AIS receiver, which picks up a signal from ships and displays their name, course, and speed within a specified radius on a screen. And whilst not all ships carry them, certainly few fishing boats, we’ve been very pleased with the help it has given us so far.
Shelburne. What can we say? From a sailing viewpoint it is such an easy entry, wide open, safe and, for the most part, good shelter. Although it’s a Port of Entry no custom officials work there and have to come from Halifax - some 3 hours away by road.
They arrived, cleared us in and were on their way back about 15 minutes later. The Yacht Club hadn’t changed much although our favourite person at the club had moved on and after a night on the pontoon we moved out to an anchorage between the Dory Shop and the Barrel Factory and opposite the road Forbes and Yola our friends live in.
We met them 4 years ago, they’d spotted us again whilst we on the pontoon awaiting clearance, were so pleased to see us and very welcoming - giving us the run of the house. We’ve been here 2 weeks now awaiting the arrival of some packages from the UK. The 3 packages came from that duo of reprobates, Robin and Jackie, who dispatched some much needed Marmite for the coffers. Having said that on her first foray into the local supermarket Bee, making her usual beeline for the reduced section, had found 5 small bottles for 99cents each and then came the arrival of a further 1700 grams and then a further 7 bottles from Forbes and Yola.
So Marmite stocks are looking good for the moment...So besides awaiting parcels we also got involved with Forbes and Yola and their flute business and a house renovation project for a boat designer, Paul Gartside, who had recently moved across from British Columbia In between Bee has managed to get in a bit of gardening –too much like hard work for me - and hunt down every charity shop in town.
But the time came to move on, yet another sad farewell as we said goodbye to the Forbes and Yola. They’d made us more than welcome, entertained and fed us and besides being very nice people make the most wonderful flutes.
It is one of the amazing things about this life how we can get involved in people’s lives and businesses enjoying the variety and challenge and then just move on and meet more people.
The trip along the coast of NS was good. We picked our weather, made good and, for us, new anchorages and took the time to cruise up the Le Havre river which was wonderful. Scenic and sheltered, at times remote it is so often passed by as yotties push on for the “delights” of Bras D’Or as we did last time.
We spent time anchored off Dave and Mary Fran’s boathouse, a couple we’d met in Lake Worth last year but as we dropped the anchor a voice hailed us from the bank and offered us the use of a nearby dock. He was the owner of a shipyard and had never met us before. We stayed put as the mud was good and we had plenty of water. Bridgewater, the local town, is a good place to stock up – the supermarket getting Bee’s seal of approval and we managed to get Toots her annual Rabies jab. As we were waiting for the appointment who should come out of the room but Forbes with one of their cats!! Talk about surprise. And of course we met up with Yola later who’d just had a cataract operation but, knowing my reluctance to hear details, thankfully spared us the slice by slice account.
With a favourable wind we pushed on up the coast stopping at Rogues Roost, apparently one of THE places to anchor. The northern part is very rocky but the southern niche was mud but quite small. We hadn’t been there long when another boat came in...a small power-boat with a guy from Manchester on board but he only stopped for a few minutes, shared his champagne and headed back home.
Ever onwards but the light in Rogues Roost had pushed us into camera mode and we headed for Halifax for a two day stopover. The weather had swung round to the east with rain and we used to the time to tramp the streets looking for the one we wanted. Many hours and footsore miles later we returned tired and successful.
Over several days we made our way toward Cape Breton and finally reached St Peter’s on June 10. Easy passage through the canal and we spent the night tied to the canal edge on the lake side. Got taken, by a local, to view a wooden boat he wanted to rescue – seems like a lot of hard work to me, particularly as he is doing up a house at the same time but Jack thrives on challenge so no doubt when we next go through he’ll have completed both!
Ever since we were last here we have talked about one of favourite anchorages - Cape George where we anchored in such a way as to be able to climb into the dinghy and onto the shore without rowing at all. As we approached we viewed the new houses we could see around with dread and sure enough the entrance to the tiny bay now has 3 houses facing it. True the bay itself was untouched, although a stroll along a track shows that some logging and land clearing has started as yet another place gets a summer home. Such a shame.
Despite Jack’s assurance that fog rarely gets into the Lakes we awoke to find thick fog everywhere and we waited patiently for it to clear. As the wind was due to go north the following day we decided to leave as soon as visibility improved and so set off with viz about ½ mile, a bit of rain and a small breeze. We called ahead to ensure we’d be able to get the bridge opened and eventually motored to push us on a bit. Going through the bridge we were swung one way then another as the current bounced off the piers supporting the structure. At one point we were a metre from colliding with the thing but slid through with a smiling bridge-keeper above us enthusiastically commenting on Hannah’s looks to us. Approaching Baddeck I chose a short cut but a combination of strongly gusting wind, fog, water that was rapidly getting shallower and the inability to correctly identify the channel through made me decide that we’d better go the long way round. Bee worked miracles and dropped the main with speed as we came round and headed into deeper water. Into the harbour in torrential rain to anchor in the same spot we had four years previously. Ahh the bliss of a wood stove and a glass of wine.
Tomorrow we push onto the south coast of Newfoundland and a hoped for rendezvous with Rick and Karen on Wanderbird.
Links:
www.windwardflutes.com
www.gartsideboats.com
www.wanderbirdcruises.com
What can we say about New York that hasn’t been said and written before? Well it took us a while to get there, involving a number of stops as winds were either too heavy, too light or from the wrong direction. We left Newport for Point Judith, the Harbour of Refuge between Long Island Sound and Buzzards Bay where we anchored for a few days. It was on the second day as we were idly listening to the VHF and the USCG and a yottie struggling to make sense of something or other that we heard a slightly hysterical “Mayday, Mayday” cut across the CG. A 42’ fishing boat with a lop-sided load was taking on water and the skipper had got everyone into survival suits whilst they attempted to stabilise the boat. The USCG took the particulars and put out a call for near-by vessels to assist until the CG boat arrived. Minutes went by and several boats indicated they were steaming to assist, including a tug pushing a huge barge. The fishing boat skipper came back on to tell the CG he had it under control and the tug skipper radioed to say he had arrived on scene. More minutes past and the CG came on to tell the tug that the CG boat would be arriving in 8 minutes or so and it was then the tug skipper came on to tell the USCG that the fishing boat ..”was going, it had begun to turn over and there were three bodies in the water, all swimming away from the sinking boat….” We were listening to this with horror as this was happening a little more than eight miles away on a day with winds of 25 knots max with seas of possibly 3 feet. Luckily everyone was picked up and came into Point Judith some time later but we felt very emotional about the whole thing and had us thinking about survival suits etc. The star of the whole thing was the tug skipper who manoeuvred his barge to protect the vessel from the breaking seas and offer some shelter to the crew once they’d abandoned ship. His radio communications were calm and very professional. Should it ever happen to us let’s hope someone like him is about.
And so into Long Island Sound and the slow movement westward toward New York. We enjoyed the time in there, not least when we heard the name “Blackthorn”, Robin and Jackie’s boat on the VHF. We called them up but later realised they were 30 or so miles behind us and we’d heard Towboats US talking to them with a powerful transmitter regarding the entry into Mystic. (That’s a harbour not a spiritual destination). We tucked up for a few days and then on a day with little wind we had a half-hearted attempt at calling them ourselves and were shocked to hear them respond. With one of those quirks of coincidence we had called as they were passing a few miles to seaward of us and on their way to a nearby anchorage. We headed out after them and have had the pleasure of company for the last few weeks. Returning to the USCG and rescues for a moment - it was the Sound that we heard the coastguard inform a searching CG boat that the person they were looking for had last been seen in the water…”opposite Billy Joel’s house….”
The entrance into New York from Long Island takes you in via the East River and where Harlem River joins it, is an area known as Hells Gate.
As ever with Pilot Books the warnings are stark and certainly if you were daft enough to attempt to motor against it then it would a very long journey as the tide runs at anything from 3-6 knots but it was, for us, fine and both boats cruised along on a misty morning with the southern end of Manhattan opening up alongside us. Building spotting became the pastime of the moment as we tried to identify the more famous ones….which in our case ended after the Empire State building as the rest just seem huge skyscrapers.
Which isn’t to say it isn’t inspiring; and then as we almost reached the end of the river we caught our first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, beckoning us toward our anchorage for the night. This city really is remarkable in that, as we crossed a very busy harbour with ferry boats going every which way and taking no prisoners, we knew we were going to anchor behind one of the worlds most famous landmarks. For free!
And so it was; true the channel is narrow and, for us, shallow, particularly at low water but as we dropped the hook and the sun set we could clearly see the head, shoulders and raised arm bathed in spotlights.
The following day we had intended to cruise up river to pick up a buoy at the 79th Street Marina but as it was foggy decided to stay put. But on Sunday, November 9th we pulled out into the harbour with Blackthorn on a beautiful sunny day. We cavorted around the Statue to get photos of each other and then began
raising sail to potter the 7 miles up to the marina.
We had the whole river to ourselves, the sun gleamed, buildings sparkled and Manhattan couldn’t have looked finer and many photos were taken as we took in the sights of this incredible city.
Of course the whole time here I could hear Rodgers and Harts wonderful “Manhattan” playing in my head…… even though most of the buildings you see here are actually in New Jersey…..
The anchorage behind the statue is on the New Jersey side and you needed to take a ferry to Manhattan in order to get amongst it but the marina rents out mooring buoys for $30 per night and it’s a 15 minute walk
to Central Park from there. With showers and free washing machine it’s a great place to explore the city and we wandered through Central Park, Times Square and back.
Unfortunately the current in the river rips along so timing is everything when getting from the boat to the shore and back.
Whilst we enjoyed the brief time we had, we much preferred the solitude of our Liberty anchorage so the following day, leaving Robin and Jackie to try and locate the camera they’d mislaid and enjoy the town we headed back. And ran aground in the entrance trying to get in too early but heh, no big deal.
We got off about an hour later and rowed ashore to explore a little of Springsteen’s home town – a local trucking company has lines from his songs emblazoned on the cab doors and found ourselves fascinated by a wood pulping company’s operation we viewed from a bridge. Took some photos and wandered on. A mile or so later we were “accosted” by a guy in a truck who asked what we were doing taking photos of the wood yard. He accepted the explanation but it left us feeling a little uncomfortable.
The last part of New York we’d decided would be to go down to Coney Island where, we believed, it was possible to anchor and then catch the “subway” into town. We set off but were soon overtaken by a USN aircraft carrier with its escort of Police and USCG as we were picked up by the ebbing tide and rushed away from the skyline. Working our way round the south side of Coney, crossing very shallow water we slid into Sheepshead Harbour to find it very crowded with moored boats and I felt we’d need to look for an alternative. But spotting a figure working on a mooring barge, Bee leapt into the dinghy and rowed over to ask him where a good place to anchor might be. She came back saying the anchorage was at the far end but the guy said we could use one of the club buoys, as could Blackthorn who had heard us on the radio and were only a mile or so behind us. Not only did we get the use of the buoy but he gave us a key to the club-house giving us access to the internet and showers!
In the end whilst we didn’t use the buoys as they weren’t suitable for heavy boats we thoroughly enjoyed the hospitality, the friendship and great advice. So, Coney Island –it’s a great place to get into Manhattan and we did , wandered around the streets, visited Grand Central Station and a wonderfully ornate Central Library. Unlike R&J and Pete & Lucia (now sadly, for us, back in England) our ability to take in the sights is minimal so whilst we can say we’ve been to NY we certainly haven’t seen much of it. But the following day Irving, our man from the mooring barge, ran us down to the Boardwalk area of Coney Island. I’m making an assumption here that the Drifters song “Under the Boardwalk” is based on this area but what it doesn’t mention, probably because they hadn’t yet arrived, are the amazing Russian shops. Carousel, hot dogs and French fries in abundance though and we managed to sneak a plate of chips in Nathans, an apparently “World Famous” for its Hot Dogs. World Famous in this case should be taken in the same context as “World Series” i.e. it’s something known or played only by Americans. Having said that, the chips were pronounced a winner by Bee, who considers herself an authority on said potatoes.
Shops full of the most incredible foods and beers (the ones we were interested in anyway) they stretch along a main street with a huge variety of smaller stores between them. Apparently Russians began arriving about 20 years ago and settled the area as it reminds them of Odessa. In that time they have carved out significant lives for themselves as retailers; property developers and more. We loved the area and rated it as one of our favourite experiences.
As we walked back from this trip we came across a Holocaust Memorial Garden. Simply done with granite “boulders” they carried names of individuals or background information on the death camps. It seems, to me at any rate, that no matter how well known the facts are to you, seeing something as physical as this is still very moving.
But time was moving on and we needed to get ourselves heading south, away from Coney, Brooklyn and this very friendly yacht club. They keep themselves to themselves, are very down to earth with no airs and graces but if you happen to fall in with them you’ll count yourself very lucky. And no, we’re not telling you the name of the club.
With a favourable forecast we all felt we could either do the 270 mile trip to Norfolk in one hit or, as was more likely if it proved very cold, we’d stop in Cape May on the edge of the Delaware Bay. We kept close to shore as we sailed south but that afternoon the winds became very light and with the forecast of a 40 knot blow for the following day we both motored to keep the speed up. Along this coast there are very few places you can creep into, especially with a deep draft boat, so we kept on through the night. In the distance we could see a glow of a city and as we drew closer the inevitable skyscrapers could be distinguished and then we stared in amazement at buildings alive with laser light shows and more. We were passing Atlantic City, home to Trump Towers and a well known gambling city (although not to us as we only realised this when listening to the local radio station) Onward we crept and 22 hours after setting off we motored up the harbour entrance with the tide flooding and into a very shallow anchorage. It blew that day and later on we watched as huge black clouds worked their way out to sea from south of us. Had we carried on we knew that it would have been a wet, windy and very uncomfortable ride. Luck was with us.
Couple of days later headed out for the longer leg down to Norfolk, Virginia but first had to cross the shallows outside the harbour where wind over tide combined with the shallows to produce steep breaking seas. Bee, who was on the foredeck sorting out a headsail, said she’d never been swamped by such seas since Greenland so we weren’t very happy. Luckily it was only about 10 miles across so we eventually cleared it and settled down for what we all knew was going to be a cold day and a colder night. Speeds were good, rarely dropping below 5.5 knots and we rejoiced in the fact that at this rate we’d be into the yard by early morning. We should have known better….. In the early hours of Friday morning it began to drizzle which rapidly turned to snow and life was miserable. (Remember this when you imagine us lolling around in the heat, sipping chilled drinks…)But things pass and we arrived off Cape Charles with a wind that was fading and threatening to head us. Although we have only entered the Chesapeake once before it left a scar; the town of Norfolk and Portsmouth lie about 30 miles from the entrance and its hard work getting there. This time we’d arrived off the entrance with only an hour of favourable current and so faced a long slog. We motored to clear the bridges and then set about sailing the remainder. Blackthorn wisely chose to push on as another band of low pressure was coming through but we played at sailors and beat back and forth until a wind shift put us the wrong side of a shallow bank and we came to our senses and motored to get clear and a better angle on the wind. However the wind now began to pick up and all the while a huge aircraft carrier was working its way up the bay escorted by Coastguard vessels. The CG were hailing small boats in its path and informing them that they must maintain a distance 500 yards under penalty of death or worse and eventually they hailed us. “Was this the best speed we could produce”? and “You must be prepared to clear the channel to enable the Dwight D Eisenhower to pass” As we were sailing at over 6 knots we thought that this was a nerve but we cleared the channel anyway then hove to whilst putting in another reef and then watched with ill-concealed annoyance when the carrier was manoeuvred into its dock astern of us and nowhere near to our position. We called the CG up, cleared with them, moved off, met up with Blackthorn already at anchor but agreed that we’d head onto the yard where Cary had offered us berths. Cary, you may remember, is the owner of Red Bird, the boat we’d worked on in the summer. Then the yard was a haven of tranquillity, but now the wind kicked up a chop and reversing into the piles would be a real trial with a strong wind from the beam. It went well enough to begin with but before long no amount of manoeuvring could prevent the bow blowing off and we found ourselves up against the piles. A struggle ensured but, with some judicious advice from Joe and Cary we managed to get in to the berth. Robin and Jack wisely chose to await a calmer moment before they reversed into the next door berth as they had our bowsprit to contend with as well as the stiff wind.
So here we are with a few days to go before R&J also head back to England/Ireland for a few weeks. We’ll stay on here a little longer before heading down the ICW to avoid the various Capes that lie between here and, hopefully, better weather.
Dec 12th A short update; last week we ran the engine to charge the batteries and heard an ominous rattling noise…. To shorten the long tale we removed the gearbox to get to the drive plate and found the input coupling had parted. A call to Greg in Belfast Boatyard started the ball rolling and within days we had a replacement, thanks to Alex and Howie, on its way from Herts. via California to here. As yet we still don’t know why it happened but will let you know. I can’t believe the problems we have had with this set up and wonder if the gearbox and drive plate are up to the hours we put in. Any ideas out there?
Is it really September? Already we’re behind with this update, as we shelter up Somes Sound from Tropical Storm Hanna which is due to hit Penobscot Bay tomorrow. Luckily we’re a little further east so the worst might miss us. We’re on Mount Desert Island and have caught a free bus into Bar Harbour to use the internet. It would have been fine had I remembered to bring the wireless connection bit with me but at least I can get this started.
The splashing of Hannah eventually took place and we settled in for a week or so of visits and last minute jobs. The day before we launched we got a message, via the yard, that Pete and Lucia were arriving in 5 weeks so we’d have that to look forward to when we returned from Canada. We spent the week-end after the launch sorting out the mizzen etc and then to our surprise we spotted a bright yellow boat creeping up the harbour and realised that P&L had indeed arrived. The message turned up to be one of those “send reinforcements..” and had actually been that they intended to be here on Monday and haul out in 5 weeks. Ah well at least they had arrived safely as thunderstorms were everywhere further south.
We tested the anchor system and found that worked perfectly. Well almost. We had to make a couple of changes but it has transformed the whole procedure and makes it all a lot safer and quicker. Next is to build and install a high pressure power washer to clean off the mud that clings to the chain and anchor*
So here all 3 Brits were in Belfast Harbour with various plans as to what we all intended to do. P&L left first to develop their “no more than 10 miles a day strategy” leaving 2 boats to finish off their work schedule. We’d got a local company called Art’s Canvas to run us up a doghouse shelter screen to stop winds blowing rain into the saloon and we were knocked out with the result. The effect is to create a warm, cocoon like atmosphere in which Toots stretches out and sleeps or sits peering through the ‘cathouse’ windows surveying her territory. We also took a friend out for a taster on Hannah but the lack of winds made it a poor sailing day and much of the winds for August have been like this. September it usually begins to improve and we’re looking forward to that.
October 12. As the world plunges deeper into financial market we’re back in Belfast getting a bit of cementing done and saying goodbye to fellow cruisers as paths split. We arrived back about a week ago having cruised up to St Andrews and hung about before re-entering the US and collecting a fresh visa. The biggest change from 4 years ago is the number of boats we saw beyond Schoodic and even our favourite anchorage, in this part of the world, had 3 or 4 other boats already at anchor when we arrived. We had sailed that part of the journey with Robin & Jackie off Blackthorn and a day or so later they headed off as they needed to complete more paperwork than us. We delayed our exit until the rising tide as the entrance is a little tricky. Didn’t wait long enough or I strayed too far from the, unmarked, channel and we found ourselves hung up on a rock, pirouetting gently until we floated off. Ah well we’d know better next time….. One of our anchorages was in the lee of 26 radio towers the US navy used to communicate with their nuclear subs in the cold war days. At night we would gaze out at these huge towers, each with several red pulsating lights as they formed some sort of sci-fi backdrop to lobster buoys, fir trees and seals. A bumpy ride took us up to Campabello Island where we snuck in for the night before heading onto St A to book in and spend a week or so with R&J and Martang, a Dutch single-hander. It was a much needed break from both work and the last week or so of intense social activity and we both tried to unwind and recharge our emotional batteries with some success. As time went on we took to rowing to nearby Navy Island to chop firewood and take Toots for a walk before returning to a welcome fire. Although the days were often warm – we’re still wearing shorts - the evenings turn cool enough to run the fire so we’re getting the best of both worlds. When we’d all judged we’d been clear of the US long enough to get back in with no hassle all 3 boats headed back into the US, cleared in and then sailed back into Canadian waters and moored up for the night. Early next morning we all headed off conscious that the NOAA weather was warning about the possible arrival of Hurricane Kyle in Maine waters in a few days time. Although the storm was about a thousand miles away we could already see the evidence as swells began to roll in from the SE as seas built up far to the south. Initially we pulled into another favourite, The Cow Yard, but realised that the nearby Mud Hole would give greater protection and headed slowly over as we were, again, too early. R&J opted to come with us and, as they draw less, went in first. They touched and stuck and we backed off rapidly, trying again some 30 minutes later. What followed was a pantomime of error as we touched, came off, touched and stuck and were, within a few seconds, beam on to the tide with our rudder eight foot from the rocks. All good things come to an end of course and eventually with the help of the rising tide, thundering bursts of throttle and time we slipped free and crept in to anchor. The pilot book now contains an instruction to ourselves never to enter this anchorage at less than half-tide……………… The next day we were joined by a couple of fishing boats and we settled down to wait the arrival of Kyle. NOAA gave regular updates and before long we found that it was possibly going to make landfall somewhere between East Maine (where we now were) and New Brunswick (where we had just come from)…… Now one of the great strengths of Mud Hole is the enormous amount of protection it offers and the Pilot Book rightly describes it as a Hurricane Hole. Perhaps another give away was offered by the two fishing boats that rafted up together and had in their crews, two young lads and a dog. Obviously these guys weren’t taking it too seriously. We later found out they’d sheltered from five previous hurricanes so were fairly blasé about the whole thing. In the event it was a non-event as Kyle swung away to the east and went on to terrorise those poor sods heading home to Europe from Greenland…
Once the seas had died down we all headed out and in sunshine and a pleasant northerly breeze we had a great sail back past Schoodic cramming on canvas and thoroughly enjoying ourselves. We headed further south and east over the next few days with a couple of cracking sails until we finally decided to get back to Belfast before the winds swung to the north. Under reefed mizzen and stays’l we raced along the east coast of Ilesboro before making the turn for Belfast and a final beat. By now we’d got a heads’l up and playing at sailors we tacked slowly toward the anchorage.
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| Maine foliage |
The glorious sunshine had given way to lowering clouds and we dropped sails and motored the final half mile in a vain effort to avoid the soaking that was heading our way. Too late of course. It has been this heavy rain throughout the year that has accentuated the wonderful autumn colours as the season advances. Stunning reds and oranges and all shades in between make cruising this area a visual joy.
So since then we’ve completed a few jobs, made good the damage to the keel that Jim Hammond had dived under Hannah and found and cashed and spent the $130 cheque that Epifanes had sent us as a refund on the paint we’d had so much trouble with. YES –a result!!
Before we had left for Canada we had been lucky to meet up with Rick and Karen who own and run a charter boat called Wanderbird. (Google Wanderbird and look at their website) They’ve been in the schooner business for years but got out to do something a little different-they charter up to Labrador in a converted Dutch fishing boat. The interior had been designed and built by Karen but it was their ethos about their business that really attracted us to them. And as we said our goodbyes to this couple we had really barely met they paid us a huge compliment and landed us with an enormous responsibility. A few years ago (2006) a couple finished the first human powered circumnavigation of the earth and bought a bottle with the intention of handing it onto anyone else they felt was doing something interesting and like-minded. Well it came to a Norwegian family and then to Rick and Karen and then to us and it now sits awaiting its next recipient. Rick was at pains to point out that it should be viewed as a “Good Luck” symbol and that drinking the contents would be bad luck………………… The thermal vest and hat they gave us were definitely not for handing onto a next party and have been put to daily use.
We spent the last week in Belfast saying goodbye to as many friends as we could fit in becoming increasingly more “socialised out” by the time we finally left. We really do feel as though this town is home for us and saying “tarra” to folks for another few years is very emotional. True to form Jonathan and Chris had invited 2 boat crews up to eat and didn’t bat an eyelid when we rang to add another crew. We had a great time with them and most of their families and earlier that
same week we’d called on Jonathan’s mum, Dawn who’d showered us with fruit and veg (including Maine grown peaches!) and the loan of her car. Definitely a radical family and an absolute joy to be with.
There are so many folks we owe such a lot too and for us they represent the absolute best of hospitality and friendliness. A day or so before departure Alex (the boat-yard owner) finally accepted our offer to stack wood in the cellar for
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| Bee and Alec |
winter and we rapidly shifted and stacked 3 cords of oak. I say rapidly but speed did decline a little toward the end as the sheer weight of all that wood took its toll. And on the last day, as we lay alongside awaiting the incoming tide to float us off we met up with a bunch of gig rowers from Cornwall who of course knew people that we know in Cornwall and won’t Nigel and Jude get a shock when they see our photos. That day also gave us an opportunity to spend a little time with a man who means a lot to us but sadly has stayed away suffering deeply with depression. We can only hope that he reads this and realises how much he does mean to us and that we may get to see him again in happier times. I spent a last evening with Pete in a pub, a “threat” we’d often voiced when Bee and Lucia went off on one and it was a sad trio that parted around midnight as he’d rode back to the other yard where Fair Grace and Lucia waited patiently.
Up early on Sunday to leave before our emotions overtook us but as we emerged from the companionway Pete and Lucia were there to say a “final” tearful farewell as was Kathy, the absolute gem of a harbourmaster, who has been SO good to us and counts as a great friend. A very difficult time, for me, made worse as we pulled away from the jetty, by the throwaway comment from Rick, the skipper of Wanderbird “…see you in Labrador next year….”
We left Belfast with the hope of visiting places we hadn’t yet seen and at some point of catching up with Robin and Jackie who had left the day previously (more tears) and so headed down to Vinalhaven, a place we’ve only just discovered on this trip and really like. From there we sailed west to Tenants Harbour and then further west getting ready to cross the bay and down to P’town. Found a couple of good anchorages and with a so-so forecast for the crossing felt we would have enough time to get over before the really bad weather arrived. Will we ever learn…?
We left in sunshine and lightish winds for the 130 mile jaunt. As progress remained slow we began to look around for options and found many tide dependent or shallow or with no obvious anchorages so we kept on. Half way across the wind finally began to pick up and we made better progress. We also needed to reduce sail as the wind kept on increasing as did the wave heights. How many times have we seen this movie? We ploughed on and as dawn approached we were closing P’town and the wind kept increasing. P’town lies in a bight that offers good protection but requires you turn north to head up toward it. The same direction the wind was coming from and we spent an hour beating into increasingly short, steep seas that would throw them selves skywards as we tried to batter through them. As we were heavily reefed and had only a stays’l set our progress tack to tack was about 160 degrees so very slow. We took the decision to abandon that destination and head for the Cape Cod Canal. An easy decision but with serious ramifications. The Canal lay 20 miles to the south of us, and with wind blowing heavily from the North we would be running onto a lee shore. The canal is very tidal with currents of up three knots for or against you depending on which way it is running. Realising we had missed the west going tide and needed to slow down we opted to heave to and then drop the main. Because the Bay has numerous shallow areas relative to the overall depth the waves were confused and breaking everywhere giving us our most uncomfortable ride ever when hove to. We then changed to the storm stays’l in order to reduce our drift even more and then set about working out when the tide would change in our favour. When we hove to it was about 12 miles from the Canal entrance and our rate of drift was between .8 and 1.5 knots but as we only needed a few hours grace it was a speed we could accept. To check our workings we called up the USCG to ask them. They rang another authority who reliably informed them it was 2 hours earlier than I’d thought. We set off under our trusty storm stays’l- a tiny scrap of heavy canvas that nevertheless had us sailing at anywhere between 5 and 6 knots. That speed gave us two hours or so to compose our galloping hearts for the task ahead. I went through the various scenarios that could possibly happen as we approached this narrow slot with heavily breaking seas all around us. One danger had been removed with the knowledge that the tide would be with us as a wind over tide situation may well have produced a solid wall of water at the entrance but the breaking seas could cause us to broach or be swamped at the wrong moment. We had implicit faith in Hannah and her sea-worthy hull shape and felt we were in little danger but the thoughts were there. We approached under sail with the engine running as a stand-by and, as so often happens, the entrance was an anti-climax as we swept in, found shelter behind the breakwater and immediately began to accelerate as the current picked us up. I’d already decided that we’d treat ourselves to a berth for the night as the forecast was for continued 50 knot gusts, so lined ourselves up on the entrance keeping close to the side the current was coming from. We came though the entrance, motoring fast to combat the current which was sweeping us sideways, found an eddy that immediately swung us 90 degrees and I found myself heading straight for the fishing dock. Chucking the engine in reverse and over-revving hard we slowed, stopped and began to reverse off. Bee, who had been on the bow getting lines ready, came astern to laconically remark “You do realise you’re over the top of the rocks…..” Luck was with us as we spotted a vacant berth just past the Coast Guard boats and were blown sideways onto it.
At US$60 per night (!!) we were never going to stay more than one night and so the following day we needed to turn Hannah to have any chance of getting off the berth without damage. Luckily a guy in his seventies turned up to admire Hannah and was prevailed upon to move various lines whilst we manoeuvred Hannah under engine and warp. We’ve done this often in the past though rarely in such winds and we struggled to get her past the point of equilibrium, made worse by the fact that the wind seemed determined to shove us onto an expensive yacht moored behind us. Still we managed in the end without touching and our helper was full of praise. I suggested that a hundred years ago it would have been common practice to move boats like this…”Hmmm, he said but they would’ve had a lot more people as well….”
So through the canal and a few days wandering the bays before we brought up in Marion, Mass. to await yet another blow going through. On the day of its arrival the harbourmaster came out in his launch to suggest we might like to use one of the town buoys inside the harbour as 45 knots gusts were forecast and the shelter would be better. He also dealt with all of the paperwork, calling customs etc for us. I’m certain it was all meant in the kindest possible sense but we couldn’t help feel it was oh so similar to the authorities in Cuba.
With a fine forecast promised we left Marion for Newport, RI. Leaving the harbour with Bee hoisting the still reefed main I was so intent on watching it go up I narrowly missed steering into a channel buoy and then we were off. As the day progressed we made a succession of sail changes and kept up speed until with a couple of miles to go we were headed by the wind and motored into Newport harbour in the dusk.
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| Blackthorn |
Of course Robin and Jackie weren’t here as an earlier email had told us they were still enjoying the delights of Maine but other friends were and we’ve enjoyed the time here. Newport is, as a local we’d met earlier told us, a bit like Cowes-except you can anchor for free off the town here. We arrived a few days ago and Robin and Jack pulled in last night so it was great to play catch up for a few hours. The rest of the week looks to be a no-no as far as the weather is concerned as storm force winds batter the outside and inshore forecasts carry gale force warnings.
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| Blackthorn |
Those of you who have read earlier pages will probably remember me writing about The Ring Anderson. We had an email from Richard a day or so ago with the very sad pictures of the boat. The Ring had been taking on water for some time and had been moved to a marina where the pumps could be connected to the mains and kept running 24 hours a day. A power shortage caused a lot of water to come in but it seemed to have been contained. The last photos show The Ring with water above the deck as she rests on the bottom. As the boat draws 10’ and the decks were probably 7’ above the waterline she is in deep enough to wreck much of her fine woodwork, engines etc. but for Richard, Pin and family it must surely be the end of a dream. What will happen now I’ve no idea, nor why the marina were unable to do more to help save her but for us it has been very, very sad.
So that’s it for another update. We’re sat in Newport Harbour with the wind coming out of the SW blowing somewhere between 25 and 35 knots. As our route is down toward New York for “dustbin sized pizzas” before we head further south it looks as though we’ll be stuck here until the w/e at least.
*This is a blatant lie!
Lastly, we’re now in New York but if we write this bit up it’ll be 2009 before we get it posted. In the meantime Happy Festivities where ever you are.
Neil came over, collected us and our jerry cans, and took us off to a local spring for fresh water. Introduced us to his family, invited us to a wedding, and really looked after us. But and isn’t there always a “but” in these stories we were meant to be heading out to sea and hadn’t seen another “must see” place called Oderin. We kept pronouncing it as Ohdurin whereas locally its pronounced Odarerin. And the accent sounds Irish to us although Jackie may not agree. So up to Oderin we went. Like so many of the places we have been to this had once been a settlement of fishing people who were enticed/cajoled to leave their generational homes in the 60’s after the confederation of Canada. I’ve written, briefly, of this before and can’t begin to say I know the whys and wherefores of it all. Certainly from the privileged position of the deck of your own boat and in the height of (what passes for) summer these places are absolute gems. Looking at the settings it must have been heart-breaking for the families to have left behind everything they couldn’t carry.
