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 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!