About the boat

 Sélune is a RM1050 built in 2005.

It is designed by Marc Lombard as a fast cruiser, building up on the original RM concept (RM stands for Résolument Minimaliste): simple, robust, seaworthy, swift. The hull is plywood/epoxy, with a steel keel inner structure. 

She is rigged as a cutter (it has a 110% genoa, and a staysail), which in Newfoundland was ideal for adapting the sail plan continuously though the day. The water can be ballasted, which gives the boat a nice edge upwind.

Another feature we enjoyed, is the full-view saloon. In combination with a well protected companionway, it gives the person on watch a constant view of the surroundings, while not being fully exposed to the weather.

The boat is very beamy, which gives plenty of room inside for storage, including the usual kit for a cruise (folding bike, dinghy and engine, fender boards, not to mention the extra diesel that other boats would have to carry in jerrycans). All this finds room inside or in huge cockpit lockers, keeping the deck profile lean, although I sometimes looked with envy at other cruisers storing a hard dinghy on deck or on davits.

The cockpit is open astern, a feature that seems rare in North American cruising boats. We had quite a few questions about its safety – in fact, it is safe, as the cockpit floor is quite high on the water. I even believe that this open transom would help a lot in case of crew overboard recovery. It surely makes life wo much easier when using the dinghy !

We made full use of the AIS; we had a radar, that we barely used. Our energy was provided by two 100W solar panels, sufficient for our needs (autopilot, fridge). We had 2 two tanks of 120 l of fuel, and two tanks of 250 l of freshwater, which gave us great piece of mind.

 

The technical issues we had:

We worked hard in May (see Paul’s blog entries !) to prepare for the cruise, and as a result (as I like to think), we only had minimal issues:

• ·       The mainsail battens car track got misaligned, making it difficult to hoist or reef. It was fixed by re-positioning the slug joining the tracks – but while doing this I created a larger issue, as I dropped a critical segment of the track overboard…this one got solved by 3D-printing an new piece.
• ·       The alternator fails to engage in some circumstances, but we found a workaround before it became a true issue.
• ·       There is a persistent leak in the front berth, that can only be fixed by lamination work this winter.
• ·       We broke slats at the bottom of the dinghy – and never managed to get the outboard started.
• ·       The wind sensor starting acting up halfway in the cruise, and ultimately became unusable.
• ·       The navigation lights stopped working in the last week.
• ·       The radar remains a mystery: is it working as intended ?

Retour - SPM to Scituate

 St Pierre – Troisiéme escale !

This is the third time this year that I stop in StPierre. The customs are quickly expedited: the have all my details already, the actually know me !

It is going to be a long-ish stay: I arrive in SPM on Wednesday, to shelter from a near-gale that will blow on Sunday (and a second one to follow up on the Monday!). This leaves me some time to get organized. There are a couple of sailboats when I arrive. I like this, as it gives me the opportunity to discuss weather strategies. But we all are in the same situation: it is our first time in this region, and we have to make our plans according to our own perceptions of the risks.  One of the options  is to sail Westwards alongside the South Coast, up to Port-aux-Basques. This opens the possibility for a series of small “tactical” steps to make progresses when the wind is favorable. Two of the boats have been there a couple of days, and will leave today for this small-steps strategy towards Port-aux-Basques. An American single-hander will also take this option the day after. For the moment the weather is nice, it is frustrating NOT to use those nice days.  Later in the day,  I happen to talk to a local, who races a Mini (21ft Mini-Transat class), that I actually met a couple of years ago in Newport. His view is that onwards, there will be fewer and fewer weather windows that will give 3 days gale-free. Apparently his own passage to Newport made a lasting impression. Although his foundation view seems a bit pessimistic to me, it gets my attention, and orients my strategy: I will make haste to reach at least the South of NovaScotia, and use whatever window I have.

I am certainly happy on the Sunday, and even more on the Monday, to be safely moored in Le Barachois: we do have two nasty fronts blowing over in succession, and things out there are quite ugly. But by Monday late afternoon, the sea state seems to subside (I am a short walk from the Belvedre, a good vantage point to the ocean). The forecast is for a SW direction, this is not great for progresses, but in line with my strategy – use whatever safe window  – it is acceptable. Eric is also watching the weather for me, especially the long-term synopsis. He confirms that the next days should be practicable.

Wind-wise, it is possible to leave in the evening (20 knots, easing). The question is the sea state: earlier in the day the sea was covered with wild horses, by 17:00, I see some,  but much less. Decision … it is always tempting to wait for the next day, but on the other hand, it is energizing to start the trip right there, and clock 12 hours of progress “ahead”.  So, packing dinghy, getting ready to a night passage, and off we are.

By now I am familiar with the harbor, and use the “small pass” to exit directly to the South-East of the StPierre – nice, because within 30 minutes, I am in the open ocean, able to assess the actual conditions: I start beating  and, encouragingly, the sea state is manageable. The wind is SW as predicted,  I am not on the ideal course, but the  boat moves nicely at more than 6 knots, and certainly counts as progress. In fact, I don’t know it by then, but the next time I will be able to head straight to the target will be in Gulf of Maine, 6 days later …. I sometimes wonder: if I had been told me that, would I have left ? (answer: yes). 

During the next days, I will play the shifts, trying to wrench any progress I can towards West and South (it is funny,  how I cannot persuade myself that this is actually a trip WEST. Not South !). On the second day, I get a nice lift fueling my hopes, that there might be more variation in the wind direction that the forecast mentions, but this is short-lived. Still, I have a big motivator:  according to the Gribs I downloaded before leaving, and to the text forecast from the In-Reach,  a shift to NW is due on Wednesday. If that happens, I would make significant gains on the passage.  Wednesday arrives…  at about 2am, which is the time the NW should set, I am in proximity to a cargo ship. I keep an casual watch on this guy – but then suddenly it is gone, just like that !. The night is totally dark, there is sheet lightning going on since hours over NovaScotia, but none of the usual signs of sea-level thunderstorms; still, the only way a cargo can disappear, is to be “swallowed” by a very dense rain. I quickly furl and secure the genoa, set a reef in the main and sure enough, within a few minutes, I am hit by an enormous squall of rain and 40 knots gusts that put the boat in its ear. I try to ride this for a minute or so, before its gets even uglier, and I take the main completely down (yet another time I blessed the ball-bearing mainsail batten cars!). There is one single lightning strike, accompanied by a colossal crack of thunder. Fortunately it strikes a bit North of me. Within half an hour, the system has rolled away to the East… and the SouthWest resumes !

So, that’s very frustrating. Eric, who uses the Canadian forecast, refuses to commiserate and sternly writes that there was never ever NW in the cards. The conditions are not horrible though;  by now I am already across the tip of NovaScotia, the days roll a bit indifferently one after the other, a matter of patience, as usual offshore. I decide to continue to Halifax –  again, I have a forecast telling me that I might be able to clock a few miles on the direct route ! I wait the whole day for this to happen, while I tweak Sélune to every degree upwind I can. Finally in the night, I sail around a strange, low-lying, placid, very dark cloud, and behind it, I find a nice lift that puts me on track. But this is short-lived, and the wind stubbornly reverts to the SW. Oh well.

By now, I would rather continue all the way; I do make progresses after all – between 115 and 85 miles per day, of which about 80% are “efficient”, which is, getting me closer to New England.  There is a vague menace of something coming up in the week after, so I continue.  

 

I am running onto company here…. In the Gulf of Maine, I met fishing traffic, very concentrated. Although if you look closely, most of those dots are buoys making nets, not actual boats... the irony is that very often, the boats themselves do NOT transmit on AIS.

And then, I reach the Gulf of Maine, a 2-day crossing in very calm and sunny conditions; i wonder what is is like in a blow, because there are incessant current lines, chop episodes.  Anyway, as far as I am concerned, there is a bit of motoring, even a bit of spinnaker. 

I got this serious rope caught in the propeller. Fortunately, it choked the engine slowly, and there was no damage; plus, the sea state was calm, and it was easy to remove. Overall, during this cruise, I did see much detritus, a nice surprise. 

Because I might have to show up in-person at a customs interview in a port of entry,  I decide  to arrive near Boston (Scituate). The approaches to cape Cod and crossing the Cape Code bay are a bit more tricky – fog, drizzle, calms, traffic, and fishing boats, constant watch is necessary. And on morning of day 8, I take a mooring in Scituate. It is not quite the end of the chapter though, because I still have to go across CapeCod Canal to reach my “home waters” (I have written off going round the Cape on the Atlantic side, that would be a big unjustified detour). 

Arrived in Scituate: nice boats, cure lighthouses, American flags…In fact the contrast with Newfoundland is clear. So much more disposable income!

Retour - Trepassey to ... SPM

Onwards, this blog will not be about visiting new interesting places, it will be about making it home: much more utilitarian I fear. There wont be much pictures, because the days will be (hopefully) mostly at sea. And, being on my own, I will probably let the narration drift to the technicalities of the trip. 

 I start watching the weather. From now on, this is one of my main activities (and source of worries). So, let me explain:

I have 3 sources of weather: the Marine text forecast (an internet page from the Canadian met agency), wind that map to charts (Sailflow, or the weather data for TimeZero – the boat navigation software- , or Grib files that I sometimes use for running routing programs). When offshore (no internet access), I can request forecasts from my InReach beacon, which works with satellites, like Iridium;

With InReach I can also communicate by text messages: I have asked Eric to assist me in with the routing for my trip down to NewEngland: once I am offshore, it is much more difficult for me to have awareness of the general situation. This is of particular relevance for this trip, because  it will be crucial to get warnings for hurricanes as soon as possible.  Mairéad also watches.

My plan is to sail directly to Canso, in NovaScotia, which should take 3 to 4 days. The forecast  is not great, adverse winds all the way, with episodes at 25Kts. What makes the plan difficult, is that I am not sure what kind of progresses I can make in those conditions, it will depend a lot on the sea state. As I am trying to work something out, Mairéad advises me of a gale developing on the  Carolina coast, that will reach me by Saturday. I have a very brain-wracking evening, trying to find a workable strategy: I have to make sure to reach some shelter by Saturday. I decide finally to let a first blow by in this evening, leave next day early, and sail a course in proximity of StPierreMiquelon, with the option to stop there in case I see I cannot make it on time before the gale hits.

Leaving Trepassey is really bleak moment – up at 0400, it is cold, it is pouring rain. The first hours are slow, I have to struggle to pass the cape Pine, followed by a more productive stretch alongside the coast. Unfortunately, this is quite short and the rest of the day is beating in increasing wind. The forecast call for NW but the actuality is more like SW, and I miss 20 degrees to progress as I had planned; but I press on regardless, bating small tacks towards the West. By noon next day, I am reasonably pleased with my progresses (although it is a mere 80 nautical on the direct route), even though the wind was actually more in the 25-28 knots than 20-25. I exchange a few texts with Eric on my chances of reaching Canso; it is a very tough call for me – in the good scenario,  I might beat the gale to Canso by a mere few hours. If I don’t reach Canso, I will lose an “opportunity” that might be difficult to find again. But the wind is weakening and shifting more against me, and it looks like the good scenario is a slipping by. By early afternoon, I decide that I cannot make it to Canso, and turn to SPM instead. Heading there in the afternoon is actually a very nice sail, sunny and stable.  I am frustrated, but also pleased to have left Trepassey and be on my way: if I had stayed there marooned for a few more days, I would have gone crazy. Not only because of the place, but because of the growing anxiety of letting the days fly by.

A few words about the passage. For sure, I inflicted more impact to the boat during those 24 hours, than we had in the whole trip so far ( I speak to the boat slamming down from wave crests – Sélune has a large flat chime at the bottom, that can create some shocks).  Then, I had a collision with some animal. I would say a moonfish: it was softer than hitting something mineral, big enough to nearly stop the boat travelling at 5 knots; but not stop it dead (like a 10 ton whale would do). Still, some shock, reverberating in the rigging. Very startling (in ¼ second: “rock !!! no that cannot be a rock!! “).  No apparent damage. I also hit a couple of nasty waves, a reminder that although the sea state was manageable, it could degenerate quickly. 

It was a bumpy 24 hours; I had to tape Ali's mascot (and lash the table) 

Trinity to Trepassey

 

As the days fly by, I am getting more anxious of my trip down to New England, a d the necessity to make way before mid-September; I don’t want being stuck in StJohn for days, for instance. Eric is due to fly out Sept 3^rd, and we have a bit of slack left in the planning, so we agree to past StJohn, and aim to Trepassey: it will put me past Cape Race,  and in a good staging position for crossing the Cabot strait. The only difficulty is to find transportation from the South coast to the airport: there are no bus lines, nor the “taxi” service  some bigger towns have (it consists of a cab making the round trip to the capital every day). Fortunately, Paul had noted the number of “our” Uber driver,  who agrees to fetch Eric Monday 2^nd.

We have a good crossing of the Trinity bay, which is not a given apparently (all those bays and capes are temperamental, the sea state can vary considerably), we skip over the top of  Conception bay, followed by a night passage off the East coast, a fast one, windy and getting  borderline gnarly by midnight. I have to be extra careful at night, as my navigation lights are not working anymore (I made a trip up the mast to check but could’t find remediation).  We are sailing with the mooring lights instead, and it can be confusing for the other boats. Sure enough, just past Stohn I find myself squeezed between the coast and a freighter – I clarify the situation with a VHF call, something I will have to do onwards I when I will come close to a ship.

Some upwind work (see the video),and  we are Back to Trepassey! 

I must say, on our first call there, I had found it a bit lugubrious, and it feels the same this time too.

You really want to have your quite to setup a house here, right on the Atlantic shore...And then in the village, some folks make a nice cosy place. It is actually the only village, where I saw sheep, and even a cow! 

We are lucky to fit on the small quay, getting a good protection from the quite strong SouthWesterly. By coincidence, we learn that Patrick Favre just arrived in Baltimore (see our post on the first call in Trepassey) – as Eric remarks, he crossed the Atlantic rowing, whereas we are still at the same place ! I appreciate the irony, but it also makes me even more aware that I have to make tracks as much as I can.

I joked with the restaurant owner that he should setup a plaque commemorating the departure of Patrick Favre, next to Amelia Earhard ! It seems to like the idea.

 

We have a nice surprise, as three local boats arrive to spend the night there; nice evening taking with them. 

Trepassey ….not very cheerful…. but 3 local yachts called in the evening (Islay Mist, Resolute, and .....see their masts over the quay), that was a nice encounter ! 

Next day, the Uber guy is on time, Eric leaves, and for me it is a very different trip that starts for me...

Bonavista to Trinity

 

We are on plan, we even have a bit of slack time-wise, but we nevertheless have to pick the places we will visit, and Trinity was mentioned by most of yachties I talked to (I try to speak to any person with local knowledge; during our Mediterranean trip in 2015, I had nearly given up on Greece, and the morning  we were due to leave for a shorter version of the trip, the information from a yachtie I talked to on the dock flipped me to press on and cross to Greece, and it turned out this was the correct decision).

So, heading to Trinity; there is some weather coming, and it is supposed to be a good shelter; we might spend some days there.

 

Indeed, we arrive in a very nice place. There is a good quay, just in front of a restaurant – quite a change to fishing harbors.

We did not get many blows in harbors; generally we could find quays or moorings providing proper shelter according to the conditions. One can be selective, because there are not many boats to compete for the right spots!

 As we will realize in the next days, Trinity is a town geared towards tourism: no ice factory, no fish logistics, no piles of nets or cod traps.  No, Trinity is all neat and clean. You can see that there is some intent (from who ? town council ? a group of local citizens ? the church committee ? ) to shape the village this way. It has a bit of a MysticSeaport vibe - no derelict house in sight, on the contrary, they are very well maintained, in coordinated colors. A number of quite luxurious holiday cottages;  3 restaurants, including one that only serves a 3-dishes course, for $65. Alltogether, a very big change from all the other places we have seen in Newfoundland. I’d say, the” gling gling” of the cash register has here replaced the “beep beep beep beep “of the forklifts backing on the fishing quays we got accustomed to. 

We haven’t dined there. But Trinity seems to position for high end tourism. It seems most of the village are holiday cottages, BnBs, or vacation home owned by foreigners. Lots of foreign residents. 

I take a tour with a local guide, very instrcuctive.This town had a huge economic presence in the past centuries. It is quite clear that all the fishing (there was no other resource) was leaving nearly no added value to Newfoundlanders, as the trade was entirely controlled by merchants – in Trinity 2 or 3 families from Poole controlled the whole town for a couple of centuries (funny enough, today all the holiday rental cottages seem to belong to one company, and the restaurant, the quay, the souvenir shop to another guy).  Those merchants provided the ships, the crews - the crew situation is unclear, but they were mostly compensated in goods, not in money. For shore crew (to work the fish), the merchants were picking folks in Ireland for the season, and were supposed to bring them back home in the fall, but many were left to their own means and quite a few ended dying of exposure and hunger during winter (the tour guide read this interesting compilation of interments records). Some of the crew were also “escaping” to try to make a living on their own inland, or in the outports.  Altogether, the vibe is that the system was rather medieval, and I suspect that it was quire deliberately kept so –  until newfoundland became part of Canada, it is not clear to me what political body was caring for the inhabitants, and the merchants were probably very determinant in shaping the “regulations”.

Winter was definitely a hard season there, but with Eric we agree that summer was probably much more easy to live, probably close to what we experience, which is, pretty similar to a Breton summer. We understand that this summer might be exceptionally good , it might bias our judgment, but there are many hints that summer was a good season:  just consider for instance that  for drying cod on the beaches, you need dry weather …Locals were also keeping a few animals and gardens.  So, it was not survival, for the whole fishing season.

Trinity is a nice place, but after a while it feels a bit contrived. We are looking forward to move, but we wait out to let some weather blow by. 

Salvage to Bonavista (void)

 

That’s a day trip. We are looking forward to a bit of more urban settings, as Bonavista is a “big” regional center.

We have nice things to say about Bonavista! I will have to backfill this. 

Fogo to Salvage

     

There is a cape to round past Fogo, and as we enter Bonavista bay, the weather changes from Fogo-like to a light wind pushing us, and as it is due to turn against us later, we motorsail for a good while. Overall we have a faster-than-expected passage, and hove-to for a couple of hours in front of Salvage bay, waiting for the day to break.

Salvage is another very nice, classic refuge. We have the impression to discover those places as “remote” or even “untouched”, but as I go through a book about local maritime history, it becomes clear that all those remote places were not small at all a hundred years ago and were playing a big role in the maritime routes and even the economy. They were building ships in unexpected places, large vessels were calling in regularly (although unfrequently) even tiny coves like RoundHarbour.

The boat here is called LastOne, probably a reference to the dying fishing coastal fleet, or at leat to the owner: all fisherman we see are well into their fifties (or more). A few young crew on offshore boats, but rare. In villages,  we hardly see any kids.

 

I ended up in there driven by my quest to connect to the living, not the dead: I mean, searching for good cellphone reception. "That's Clew bay ! "said Mairéad.

This is the view from the well-fenced Anglican cemetery. Even small villages like Salvage have (had, I should say) at least two churches (generally Anglican and some other protestant denomination) and matching cemeteries (or, as explained in another museum, one for Anglicans and one for all the other). From a few artifacts that I keep seeing in the local museums, like portraits of the English royalty,  sashes from the Orange Order, maps showing the “original” settlers, etc, it seems there was much more identity politics (strife, even ?) than one would think.