Escale a StPierre

 

Luck – as I walk back to the boat, I spot guys doing underwater repair in the harbor. I ask one of the crew if they could dive to check Sélune propeller, they oblige, and indeed this was fortunate, because they extract a nasty bunch of rope from the propeller – I think that we have been really superLucky to have maneuvered with the engine, with this foul. Had the rope tightened around the propeller at high revs, it could have jerked the engine out of its mounting…

The local news interwiews the boats on the visitors pontoon. See here: 
https://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/saintpierremiquelon/a-chaque-voilier-son-aventure-au-quai-eric-tabarly-1510184.html.

Trespassey to St Pierre

 

An interesting leg,  as we have to beat our way upwind in solid wind. Somehow, I am looking forward to it, because this is a good test of our capacities for the trip: in Newfoundland the prevailing winds are from SW, so we will have to deal with this configuration probably all along the South Coast, and in addition I will confronted to this for all the return trip to New England. Therefore it is very important to have a good assessment of the boat abilities (and the crew abilities) to beat upwind in 20/25 kts and oceanic waves. I sailed a couple of days of this weather during last year transatlantic passage, so I have some level of confidence, but still. It turns out that we do pretty well  - good speed, the boat sails comfortably, some banging but tolerable. In fact it feels that we are still well below the limit. A few known leaks become much more annoying. There is one big frustration though,  our tacking angles are pretty lousy – 120 degrees or so - this means that we have to travel more distance when we sail upwind. I also see this as a personal challenge to solve…At the time of writing I haven’t found the solution … But overall, the passage is instructive – we learn a few more tricks, maneuvers and tunings, and the general feeling is that as we advance during the trip, our trust in the boat and our efficiency improves.

So, we arrive in StPierre about 20:00, pick up a buoy in the Barachois. Moving to the customs quay next day, cleared quickly; we plan to stay at least one full day. No fog, sunshine (but serious wind in the harbor, maybe more wind than offshore !) …Looks like we will have good time.

Witless bay to Trespassey

 

We leave Witless very early, as we want to round cape Race and reach Trespassey harbour before the nightfall. We hug the coast, staying well inside the shoals. We do not see discernable current, and have a decent sea state. So, my second time around cape Race, and uneventful again. Fog, of course.

Arriving in Trespassey, early evening, the fog is really thick, and we navigate with GPS-only. We also watch AIS for nearby boat traffic, and we are closing in another (French) pleasure craft, as they are classified in the AIS directory. This craft is just ahead of us but moving quite slowly, and we are  concerned that the position was inaccurate, of that we are misjudging the situation.

We finally recognize the entry buoy of Trespassey channel, and watch carefully the route, when we see something very close. It is looking like a small fishing boat.  As we got closer, it turns out that this is an ocean rowing boat. We hail the conversation with the rower - he is single-handed -  and offered a tow to the harbor, that he declines – this is obviously a sporting challenge. We proceed slowly forward into the Trespassey harbor, and when he arrives, rowed (in our modest dinghy) to invite him onboard.

C'est quoi ?

Patrick has left St Pierre a couple of days ago, so he is interested by the offer of a hot shower. I might not have mentioned that yet, but we DO have hot water on Sélune (fresh water,  heated by the engine), and it is indeed possible to take a shower; I only had one so far, but it does wonders.

So anyway, our rower does enjoy the shower, and we treat him with a slice of warm pizza. You might be surprised here too, but we do have an oven !  We don’t plan to use it often, as we would rather avoid to have to seek gas refills when we will be on the far end of the island, but it works pretty well.

So, our guest was well treated (at least by our standards) and we had interesting conversations. How can you not have interesting conversations with a guy who rowed across oceans 6 times and did 2 route du Rhum?

Patrick Favre and Eric discuss the weather – for Patrick, it is even more important than for us !  Once he leaves, it is non-stop for Brittany, so that’s a big decision to take, right there !

St John to Witless Bay

 

We leave StJohn harbour at 11:00 after a run of groceries, that we decide to call final, as we are eager to make a first move – even a small one: we plan is to stop at Witless bay. This is only a 20 miles (about an afternoon ) trip, but this is setting us in motion. It also eases Eric in the trip, in a nice way as the weather is beautiful.  Makes sense, no ? 

We motor out of the harbor, there are a couple of pods of whales hanging close to the coast, and we keep busy tracking them (and in some cases seeing them close).

As the weather is perfectly clear, it is a good opportunity to test the radar – the results were not very conclusive: I can see, with my eyes,  much more objects, with much more discrimination than the radar does – it fails to register even a large coast guard vessel that is 5 miles away. I hope this can be improved but I am not sure, most of the tunings seem to be controlled by the radar software itself.  Let’s say that for the moment, I know that we cannot rely on it. In fact, we had already an interesting conversation with George (Windwood) on this topic, as he, too, installed a radar just for this trip, and he, too, wonders if it yields anything at all: GPS and AIS are probably enough.

Witless bay turns out to be rather nice – we anchor in front of the beach, it looks a some anchorage in Brittany or West ireland.  A guy at the fish plant warns that in strong SE winds the place is not safe at all. SE is not in the cards at all for the night, but when I am at anchor my paranoia level raises a notch, and I wake up multiple times during the night, checking the sound of the waves breaking on the beach.  It remains perfectly calm.

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.