StJohns part 2

 

As Paul explained, I put myself in a fine mess by trying to remediate the mainsail track issue – I woke up with an idea for the fix, and stupidly decided to check out this solution even before I had breakfast…  I should never start working before a first coffee ! Totally fumbled it. I still have in mind a slow-motion  of the mainsail track segment  toppling out of position, falling on the mainsail cover, then bouncing form the deck into the water.  Amazing how a fine day can be ruined in an instant…. Remediation solutions started to flash through my brain, but there was a haze of panic and desperation shrouding everything. But Paul wisely recommended that I let go of it, and I decided to burn off my tension by cycling off to the shopping area, which is a good hour ride away from the harbor. All industrial (and big-name) vendors are lined up there, and I though it would be a good start to check if I could find some replacement.

The drive is pretty uninteresting (and even unpleasant,  as this is a high-traffic road where cyclists do not belong) but in some ways, those outskirts of large towns are also part of what is “typical”.

The marine supply shops turned out to be very limited in what they stock (and in what they can order). But it was a nice day, I was already 5 miles out of town, and I decided to cycle the remaining 5 miles to the RNYC, thinking I might get some connections or ideas over there.

So after a 3 hours cycle, I had a good break at the RNYC. As I was leaving I advised a gentleman that had talked to us talked during our “research” evening with Windwood crew, and I explained my situation.  We talked about machining a new part (no good, it is extruded) and then the guy suggests that I try with 3d printing local shops. And THAT immediately sounds like a solution – I already have a fairly accurate design from the manufacturer catalog. I mail the design to my son, who confirms that he can build a 3D CAD file next day.  Even better,  as we have dinner with Windwood crew, Molly mentions that her brother is a pro at 3D engineering – and by next morning he has sent me a file, with exact quotes – what I could do with my son in comparison is very amateurish, in retrospect, the printed part would never had worked, as the specification would have be too far off (and in the wrong material, etc…). But I am slightly embarrassed, as it is clear that Michael (Molly’s brother) has spent probably the best part of his Sunday working on this. …

And my streak of luck continues, on the Monday morning, I submit Michael’s CAD files for  quote to a 3D print shop, run in the usual IT upload problems, but the guy answers immediately and, and by mid-afternoon I hold the new part !!! There is a bit more of it of course, but in short, an amazing feat. Cheap too, it costs me more in taxi to collect the part, than to fabricate it !

It takes me a morning to fit the printed track (there are ball bearing tracks on each side, a rod that runs through it with quite strict clearance, all that needs to be quite perfectly aligned, I do it with careful filing) but by noon I am done, and it works beautifully ! In addition, it was quite interesting to experiment with this 3D printing process, which has a bit of a black art to it.

Eric arrived on time, July 23. Of course I was eager to see the friend, but equally interested in meeting the courrier, as he brought a bunch of parts for the propane cooker. Greetings were expedited and we started to work on that right away.

Sure enough, the ideal solution (Europe to US connector), failed, and we had to revert to plan B, which was not too dodgy, as Eric had brought a good sample of hoses and alternate connectors. As you might guess, some sealant was involved, and by the evening, we were cooking on good US propane ! A good problem solved – well, if we assume that the connection patch is durable and safe. It should last a season.  That gave our first evening together a good positive spin.  

By next morning, we went to the shopping malls to purchase a spare tank. By then I was getting familiar with this area, which extend for miles on the plateau in the back of StJohn, and connects suburban neighborhoods that seem to be the economic engine of the area.

 

A very common activity for cruisers – criss-crossing the industrial outstskirts, fetching cans, gas, spare parts, calling cabs….

St John’s Part 1

We are at the coastguard pier, our small boat dwarfed by all the other craft surrounding us. Nearby, there’s a security cabin with what, is at the moment, is the solution to my most pressing issue, a flushing toilet. Yes, it’s time to say a not very fond goodbye to the kitty litter. This is definitely one thing I won’t miss. 

In parallel with the intermittent stench from the water treatment plant across the road, there is a large coastguard vessel on the dockside being sandblasted as part of its refit.  The constant noise of the high pressure hoses for most of the day  is matched by the drone of the engines from the other large vessel just down the way.  This is not very yacht marina’esque. But for some reason we get accustomed to the din and stink and don’t really notice it after a while. The good thing about this location is that we have 24 hour manned coastguard security and of course access to a flushing toilet.  

I make my way into town to locate a warm shower and walk towards a gym which allows visitors to trial their services 3 times for free. On the way I am surprised to see that Water street has been closed to traffic and turned into one long strip of outdoor restaurants and pubs, some with live music….at 1030AM.  Most of the pubs are Irish too…it shouldn’t be a surprise to me but the sheer scale of it does. Newfoundland was heavily settled by Irish immigrants from the 17th to the 19th centuries and their descendants are everywhere.  Some 20% of the population claim Irish ancestry but the figure is probably understated. There is a road tour called the ‘Irish Loop’ down the coast the way we just came which some locals tell me has very strong regional accents which they find hard to understand. In the street, I chat to a guy with this huge 180lb Newfoundland dog. Nothing about the dog is normal size as he stands there patiently for us to take our snaps, drooling a small puddle on the road. 

Smelling as fresh as we can muster, we grab an Uber to the other side of the peninsula to collect the new radar which F had delivered to a yacht club over there. We lunch on a couple of beers and somehow forget to eat.   We get talking to the club manager to try to arrange a meet with some local sailors to get advice on conditions here. They are super friendly. We resolve to come back that evening for dinner to try hook up. Uber must love us. It just launched here a couple of weeks ago and I think we may be already on their high rollers list. 

Over the next days, F continues his ultimately fruitless search for a refill or replacement gas bottle for the boat. It’s clear that there just isn’t enough gas left to complete the trip and the emergency gas stove is just too precarious to use at sea. Eric is tasked with bringing all sorts of hoses and connectors with him and F does the unthinkable and breaks faith with his beloved Euro gas bottles. He buys a US standard one and even considers buying a second. He pedals off on his micro bike with it in his rucksack to get a fill. 

With the gas situation (probably) resolved, the other task outstanding is to get the radar going. In Halifax, I purchased a new iPad to run the navigation and radar software. Leaving Halifax, I discovered I had made a  schoolboy error when the navigation system reported our position on the bank of the harbour and then promptly stopped when we were at sea. There was no GPS chip in this version of the iPad.  You need a cellular version to get that for $200 more. Thanks Apple. 

Once again I crank F up the mast. We are definitely getting good at this. The radar is hoisted aloft and we hook it up to the shiny new 2nd iPad and then try to make sense of the mess of images on the screen.  Selune is  surrounded by the dock and big metal hulks so we see a splurge of reflections so this is not surprising. F and Eric will have to figure this out for themselves when they get clear of here.

Then just when you think everything is sorted, disaster strikes. We have had this recurring problem with a misalignment of the main sail track high up on the mast. There’s a slug of metal which seems to have dropped to the bottom which was probably the part keeping the two sections of the track aligned.  Whilst I am dozing, I hear this crash of something hitting the deck and get up to investigate. I meet F looking sheepish as he points to a gap in the sail track where the source of the noise used to be. He was investigating the slug from above and removed the part of the track used to install the sail track cars. It has gone overboard into the murk of the harbour. Bugger.  I get my camera out on a 4m pole and wave around under the boat.  It’s so murky I can’t even see the boat above me never mind a 20cm billet of aluminium somewhere in the silt. The sail can’t be raised until this part is replaced. This is serious. 

St Pierre to St Johns

Monday morning comes round and with still no cafes or eateries open, this spurs us on to think about leaving for St John’s. We wander round town for one last look and come across this beautiful black cat posing for us. We make a last dash to the Super U to top up on provisions and pack some essential tinned casoulet. When I suggest to F that this will do nicely for dinner this evening, he reminds me that this is for ’later’ in his trip (when I am gone home). I rush back to the aisle to make sure there is another one on the conveyor belt. I’ve had my fill of snacks and soup and fancy something tasty whilst we are at sea. 

We motor sail out of the harbour in pretty good visibility but bugger all breeze. Nevertheless we stop the engine and begin to sail slowly east towards Cape Race at the bottom of the Avalon peninsula. It’s about 100 miles away and when the small breeze we have drops, I suggest to F that we start to motor again. This does not go down well. I am reminded that we are sailing. We continue to ‘drift with style’ to the east and eventually the wind gods wake up and give be is a healthy 8-12 knots southerly which speeds us along nicely on a close reach to the cape. It feels great to be actually sailing on my last leg of the trip. 

We are close enough to the Newfoundland coast so that mobile service works pretty reliably for most of the time. This is new as we normally rely on Fs Garmin inreach device to get up to date weather forecasts via satellite. We get an updated weather forecast by mobile and  south westerlies seem to be on the cards for the next 36 hours which is great for our progress. We belt along towards the cape and look like making over 100 miles in 24 hours. Overnight, I survive on cups of tea and audio books to stay awake( we use red light torches at night to protect night vision)  The boat sails itself in these stable conditions so there’s not much to do

Next day, I wake from my morning nap to find F sunbathing butt naked in the warm sun.  If you are going to be a naturist, where better to do it than on your own boat in the middle of the North Atlantic.  No neighbours to complain. 

We reach Cape Race and decide to pass it close in as the southwest winds have been stable for over 24 hours. I am half expecting to be pushed strongly south by the Labrador current as we turn north but it is very mild at about a quarter knot. We hug the coast and try not to have to gybe away out to sea as all these miles are direct towards our destination..and keep this up for a few hours.  We can see the coastline only a couple of miles away at times with all the lights and there is definitely a different buzz knowing that this is actually Newfoundland. We have a stowaway in the form of a lost and exhausted dragonfly who stays with us for most of the day.

The wind picks up and we have to reef the main to safely gybe out as we are on course to hit some rocks 3 miles away. Only now the main won’t come down. There is something jamming the sail cars at the top of the mast. F asks me to turn towards the coast where there’s less than a mile of safe water. At this speed that’s only minutes away. It still doesn’t free the cars so we are forced to gybe with the full sail up.  It’s a tense moment but we are sailing out into clear water. We deal with the reefing issue offshore and later identify a problem with the rail on the mast. This needs fixing as this will recur. 

I retire to bed at 11PM and F takes over the watch. I wake at 3AM to find us 17 miles offshore, in 20 knots of wind and a bouncy sea. It’s pissing rain and F is tired. We make the turn back towards St John’s and are belting along on a broad reach in heaving seas. I am excited but squirming a bit. F stays at the helm hand steering as we surf the rollers for another 90 minutes. It’s not the time to let an inexperienced guy take control. I provide the only things I am qualified to do in this situation, tea and company.

Then it all calms down, the fog lifts (did I not mention that all this was happening in Fog?), the wind drops,  the sea calms and the sun comes out(ish). We see the fog blowing over the headland outside the harbour. It is a special moment. We are both wrecked but elated. Sadly our stowaway dragonfly didn’t make it.

Then inevitably, the fog comes back about 2 miles from the harbour mouth. This is after all where fog is made.  St Johns is the capital of Newfoundland and a busy fishing and shipping port. Large cruise liners come here weekly as well as all sorts of cargo ships. We hail the port traffic managers on the vhf and announce our intention of entering the harbour. They tell us there is a 100m cargo ship on the way out and we pass port to port a few hundred meters apart but can’t see it. Then weirdly the temperature rises about 10 degrees. I am dressed in foul weather gear with 3 layers of thermals underneath and I start to sweat. There is nothing normal about the weather here. 

As we enter the harbour, I get a flashback to the novel ‘The Shipping News’. The crumbly houses overlooking the harbour mouth have fantastic views but somehow look sad. I become aware that this is the last few miles I will sail on this trip. 

We tie up next to the coastguard piers and complete customs by phone. No inspection required this time. The fees to tie up here are a bargain compared to the US but it soon becomes apparent why. We are 100m from the new sewage treatment plant and when the wind blows the wrong direction, you get a good whiff. We celebrate safe arrival with a beer at 8AM. Somehow it doesn’t seem weird. 

Hanging in St Pierre

Tomorrow is Saturday July 13th and because the weather is forecast to be foggy, the town has decided to hold its Bastille day celebrations 1 day early.  

Today though, is about undoing some of the sleep deprivation we have put ourselves through over the past few days.  We talk this through and come to the conclusion that it is the switch from shore sleep to passage making patten that is the bugger. We never get in the groove when we are at sea as the longest period is only 3/4 days. I’m wrecked but don’t sleep that well. 

After a fitful doze, we are rested enough hit the town and a decent restaurant with a bottle of fine wine.  Lobster is on the menu and is surprisingly affordable at only 14€ for half. We go for it and are rewarded with the best meal for weeks. Sadly this high point is not repeated as the restaurants are either full or closed for the remainder of our stay. 

Saturday sees the town in full party mode with the mayor making a long speech in the town square to which the audience politely listens before then ploughing in to the mayors free wine and nibbles. For about an hour and a half I refill my beaker with red wine and canapés. I am feeling no pain by 2pm. 

It’s a glorious sunny day as we walk round. I even manage to get a little sunburn. That’s a pretty rare thing around here. We walk the waterfront and commercial docks and see the harbour navigation buoys clearly for the first time. All looks straightforward in this light. 

Our customs man said that there was live Irish music (sort of, the band were from St John’s) so we go to the venue at 9pm. It is pretty much deserted as the band limbers up. Once the tunes get going, a crowd comes in and the place is hopping….literally. Who knew the French were such keen set dancers. Then the penny drops and I recognise our Customs man as he joins the band for a few tunes. He is a really good whistle player. We get chatting and he is from Brittany where there is a big Celtic music scene. 

There are fireworks scheduled half way through the set so the band breaks but after 30 mins, we abandon the town square to return to the pub. Only sparklers we see are those on the main stage. 

We leave the pub about midnight and I am a little worse for wear. Now comes the challenge…..we have to paddle our micro 3 person dingy out to the boat in the dark. It’s not far but I am conscious that I have had a few so am really careful. A cold bath right now is a really bad idea. 

Next morning comes around and we discover that nothing is open. It’s July 14th and a Sunday.  The perfect storm for tourists. I wander the area for 6 hours hoping to find  a place to sit and graze but nothing doing. Lots of strangely weathered wooden houses and peeling paint match the misty mood. 

In my desperation for something to see or do in the mist, I take a walk out to see the airport which is empty except for two solitary lost souls and their baggage. It’s a small but very modern facility which boasts direct flights to Paris. Tomorrow is Monday and most restaurants are shut then too. Bugger. 

We retreat to the boat with a pack of readymade galettes, cheese and butter sourced from the most expensive (but at least open) convenience store on the planet and raid the ships stores.  F dons his chefs hat and makes us some tasty galettes. 

Tomorrow we head for St John’s about 200 miles away. 

Halifax to St Pierre (It’s France Baby!)

We leave the friendly yacht club behind and set off down the harbour in the mist. I didn’t see the banks of the harbour on the way in because I was asleep and I am no wiser on the way out again. We know the wind will not be available till later in the morning so it’s all in the plan to be motoring at this stage.

Eventually we get a little breeze and we are mercifully spared the engine chugging for a while.  F is actually strangely pleased to be motoring to use up some fuel as he suspects that he has filled the tanks to the brim. 

We break out the stash of tasty chocolate banana cakes that our kindly yacht club friend provided and celebrate the return to the high seas.

But the wind is driving us dead east which will be a pain if it keeps up in this direction. It’s better than no wind so we go with it for now. Eventually it just stops so we have a change of plan and begin to motor again. This leg of the trip is about 340 miles so we can’t afford to just wait it out. 

F has some fishing lures aboard so we try dragging a long line for a while but at 4 knots, the line never sinks deep enough do we get nothing.

Our crappy wind and fog continues as we approach the Cabot strait. Apparently this stretch of water can be lumpy so I have an underlying worry of seeing my breakfast for the second time. I have not been seasick yet but there is always the slight oily sensation in my guts which reminds me that Krakatoa could be just around the corner.

Thursday comes and we continue to motorsail.  At 6pm, there’s a small breeze go F decides it’s time to bring out the big guns and we launch the spinnaker. I need to get some shuteye before my watch at 9 so I leave him to it and go below. About an hour later, it’s clear the wind and sea state are not favourable for the big sail so we take it down again and motor sail. But at least we try.  We slow our speed to try time our arrival in daylight  

Approaching the islands, we stop motoring and try to sail the last bit and we succeed for a while but eventually the wind fails to play ball and we get the motor going  again. We skirt the cliffs along the west side of st Pierre and have to get within 250m to see them.  The pace is teeming with seabirds and I think it smells a bit like smoked mackerel. F corrects me that it is guano… birdshit. 

We get a gap in the mist for a few minutes and see the beautiful scenery as we pass between the islands.  Normal service is soon resumed as we approach the harbour with visibility down to less than 200m.  We are navigating now by iPad and gps from buoy to buoy.  It is a little tense as we inch towards the harbour passing an outgoing yacht on the way.

We are met 6 separate officials on the dockside, a new record. The yacht club members in Halifax had warned us that we would get a proper investigation with floors up and endoscopic cameras here but they were friendly and welcoming . I get a tip from one about an Irish music session tomorrow evening in a bar in town . Result! We are permitted to stay on the quay for 2 days and then we have to move to a buoy as they are planning to do works on the pier first thing Monday morning. 

More DIY

 We left CT with a long list of stuff that was ostensibly to be fixed in Halifax. We now review the list and decide that some of it we just won’t bother with. A few leaks are not a big deal (they are in my bunk area anyhow) we shorten the list and focus on the critical areas. The locals in the marina tell me we need a working radar for Newfoundland. Apparently ‘they make fog up there!’ That cheers me up….

I take our stinky laundry to be washed and the lovely lady takes a bit of a shine to me and deals with our stuff whilst I go for a coffee. She has been on some CIE bus tour of Ireland years ago and tells me all about it.  Her daughter visited last year and apparently wanted to go back to live. We go there and they come here…

Later on Sunday afternoon we go downtown, me to take a look and F to try buy a backup gas ring. The boat is equipped with a single small Butane gas bottle and has European standard connectors. The only bottles available in USA and Canada have different connectors so either gas rationing will have to be enforced or a backup solution uses . Luckily for me, there will be enough gas to make a brew for at least the next 2 weeks😜 come September, the Coleman stove might be deployed. 

F has finally conceded this his ancient iPad might not be up to the job and dispatches me to the local apple shop to procure its successor. Our FD back in NY has approved the spend weeks ago so I am relieved not to have to rely on the ancient original. This is the source of all our navigation for the trip (apart from F’s equally ancient iPhone) so it is a critical component. It takes hours to transfer the contents but eventually we get there.

We prep to leave tomorrow and have one last meal and a beer in the clubhouse and say farewell to the waiting staff. They are run off their feet busy but still take the time to say a kind goodbye.

 

Arriving in Halifax

We arrive and drop anchor near the marina with a few other boats. We try to call the border service but their published their number doesn’t work.  It’s a beautiful still summer morning and the rowers are out in force. We disturb a resting cormorant and then retire for a couple hours rest and then dock at the fuel pontoon and try to get in contact with the customs again. 

The friendly marina  crew lend us a phone and it magically works. We register our arrival and 10 mins later a large black truck appears and out pop black clad armed and bullet proof vested serious looking guys and so begins our grilling.

They ask lots of open questions about what we did immediately on arriving and ask us to show our phone logs to prove we tried to call to register.  The number published is non-geographic which neither of our roaming eSims can access. Catch-22 and a bit of a fail for the CBP tech team as non local sims  (just the people that need to) are going to really struggle to call them. It dawns on the CBP guys that we are not international wine smugglers and they ease up. They reveal they have been tracking us on AIS all along so good thing we didn’t tell any porkies. In the end they stay on the dock and no rubber gloves are harmed. We begin chatting and they offer some local guidance, just the beginning of truly amazing Canadian friendliness. We remove the quarantine flag and are now free to get off the boat .

After a rest and a beer we decide to investigate our wayward radar. Our sum knowledge and experience with these devices is precisely zero. F goes up the mast (again) to retrieve the emitter dome whilst I worry about falling tools penetrating my skull.  

With the device on the bench we cable test the thing and find only one semi loose connection. Slightly concerned about microwaving our eyeballs (apparently a risk according to the ‘internet’) we lay the emitter on my bunk and fire it up from a safe distance to precisely zero effect. Still as dead as a dodo. F later bites the bullet and takes it to the local expert who pronounces the last rites on the motherboard. The only option now is to buy another which he does and arranges delivery to St John’s in Newfoundland.  Till then we will rely on water based technology. 

Friday night sees us as almost the entire audience for a local guitar club who use the marina. It is good fun and I get in the mood and sing along when I know the tunes.  The band as love it and buy us a drink. Next day, one of the band members appears with a bag of home made banana cake buns. This is Canadian hospitality at its finest.

Marthas Vineyard to Novascotia Part 2

After a good soaking whilst on watch overnight and being entertained for a few hours by lightning flashes in pretty much every direction, I go to bed at 2am and F takes over.  We had been due to swap over at midnight but I let him sleep till 2 to get some rest. I had woken him up as I was worried about changing sail on my own when the wind died so he is kind to me and let us motor for a few hours.  I had been warned by my sister Mairead that this was ‘not the sailing way’.  It seems only fair to let him get some proper rest as I was being a sailing wus. Anyhow put-putting along in very light winds gets us closer to our destination albeit at only 4 knots and given we (by that i mean me) are on a schedule and days lost to bobbing around cannot be added back in at the end.

I am due on watch again at 5am but F lets me rest and I awake to find us slipping along at a healthy 6 knots. Excellent news. That breeze helps up for most of the morning but by midday it is all a bit of a wet fart and we are back to bobbing along chasing every little puff.

The sunsets at sea can be truly amazing especially when the sea is glassy flat. Not great for sailing but beautiful. It puts you in a really zen mood with just the gentle burble of the boat slipping through the water. Like a good mug of camomile tea…maybe. I have never had the stuff.

Another very calm night sees us just off the coast of the southern tip of NS. Winds are now very light and from exactly the direction we need to go so we try to sail to windward, For the non sailing community, a sailboat cannot sail directly into the wind, it needs to zig-zag (called tacking) at angles towards the destination. The tighter the angle you can make, the better your upwind progress will be. Typically an angle of about 45 degrees is accepted as a reasonably good tacking angle i.e. you make 90 degree turns into the wind as you turn. Unfortunately, it seems as our sails have lost some of the spring of their youth and we are only making 55 degree turns. This turns out to be a bit of a ball-ache in these light winds as we do-not really make much progress to our destination.

We spend an hour trying out various tweaks to the trim of the sails and fly some ribbons up the rigging to try figure out what our issue is but all ultimately to no avail. We have made precisely 3 miles progress to Halifax in 4 hours and so we decide to start the engine and motor to the nearest port of entry which is Shelbourne about 40 miles north of us. Our first entry into Canada needs to be into an official ‘port of entry and this is the closest one & Halifax is still over a hundred miles away. The weather forecast is for virtually no wind for the foreseeable future and bobbing around out here is a waste of time so we make the decision to light up the afterburner and head to Shelbourne. 

The engine is duly engaged and after an hour, we notice the engine battery is not being charged by the alternator This is not good. We need a battery to run the engine and although we also have another ‘house’ battery to run the instruments and navigation etc, the engine battery is separate. Motoring to Shelbourne on a declining engine battery alone is probably not possible. The engine controls are also behaving strangely with odd alarms and the rev counter not working. This further raises the worry level. Shitty wind and engine not behaving normally.

Why the alternator is not doing its  is a mystery to us and we chase down loose connections and look for wiring breaks. It all comes back clean. As the battery comes closer to its fully discharged state, we connect the house and engine batteries and then magically, the alternator kicks into life. Woop! The relief is palpable.

This completely changes the calculus on where to head and I suggest to F that we just bite the bullet and motor sail to Halifax. We now have enough fuel and power to get to Halifax and going to Shelbourne would only delay the overall trip schedule. F nearly bites my hand off accepting the suggestion as he is thinking exactly the same way. We are mightily relieved to have a clear plan and head off across the still glassy sea with a beautiful sunset.

Overnight, the stars are amazingly clear. There is no light pollution and I can see the Milky Way. I can’t remember seeing it recently and it is an amazing sight. The sea is so calm, i can snap a picture of the plough constellation and the pole star. That’s pretty cool. And the engine goes on and on….eventually you don’t really hear it….like when you live next door to a train track. You come to miss it when it’s not there.

And all next day….we motor sail most of the time with a couple of short interludes of wind power but it never really gets going. We inch our way close to Halifax and as we approach to within 30 miles we deliberately slow down so as to arrive in daylight. This make slow going even slower as we drop the boat speed to about 2.7 knots but it is necessary. F considers a bath but even though we both identify the other to be the chief source if the odour problem aboard, I think the North Atlantic a step too far  

F goes to sleep and I have the boat until midnight but we make a simple but critical error by not stating clearly what the approach plan is. I have a different interpretation to F and whilst he is asleep, I plough on my merry way and take us towards a channel marked by a series of red and green navigation lights. The channel is well marked and easy to follow. F thinks we will go outside these and approach by the main shipping channel. 

We don’t have a paper chart for the approach and are relying on iPhone/iPad and have different apps with different chart applications. In theory, they are the same but the visibility of shallow points is more highlighted in his version. The current drifts the boat to the right of the main channel red markers and I check my chart and see no danger… but I make a serious error. I cannot see the 1.3M shallow close to us at the zoom level that I am using. By now, I have roused F for his turn on watch and he hears water breaking on something and and quickly steers away. I am oblivious…..it’s a scary moment as I am unaware of the danger. Shit. It is close but I don’t really know how close until I grab this screenshot later.

We navigate away with me now paranoid and spotting navigation marks for F for the next 2 hours and then I retire to bed. Our plan is to anchor up outside Halifax main harbour and then motor up the left hand channel to a Marina right at the end. 

In the end, F skips the anchoring outside a continues up the left hand branch of the harbour whilst I doze. I wake to find us beside the Marina on a glorious sunny morning and we congratulate each other on getting here.