Grey river to GrandBruit

 

We motor out of the Grey River harbor to find a clear horizon in front of us (offshore), and an easterly breeze – the forecast was calling for calm, and this is a nice surprise. We hoist the spinnaker  (but not the main, in the American sailing vocabulary this, I think, is called wanking) and it gives decent traction. 

A bit of stress coming in, it is quite rocky, and there are no strait strategies to reach in the harbor using natural landmarks - and we cannot the main entry point, a masonry tower about 11 meter high. we trust the GPS to get in (in fact, we should not fret about it: trusting the GPS is what we would do, if there was fog, isn,t it ?). It is later confirmed that the tower has been swept by hurricane Fiona 2 years ago. We use electronic charts that are supposed to be updated immediately... In situations likes this, the difficulty is not so much finding a safe way to get in, than managing the uncertainty: if this tower is not there, what else should we doubt ? 

By the way, one notable landmark that is likely to be kept in place is a very tall communication mast (showing as a chimney on the nautical charts, this is traditional signage). It is probably 100 meters high - and the irony is that, in the harbor, there is no cell phone reception.

Grand Bruit  (it takes its name from a waterfall that cascades in the harbour, we actually take care of tying Séluneto minimise the noise).It has been "resettled" about 10 years ago, but there are still a few inhabitants - in summer only, probably. 

I see a kid fishing out of the pier (the one teenager in town ? ighe very well be), he is after mackerel, and shows me how his line is set. I will put this to work next morning as we leave for Port-au-Basques, we deploy a line and within 20 minutes we have 2 mackerels (well, 1 and half) although we were travelling at more than 3 knots... This is getting interesting, not to mention that 1) Eric knows how to cook mackerel 2) I have finally found the Maille Dijon moutarde and 3) are judging that this deserves opening a bottle of Bourgogne blanc. 

Another very nice spot.

Fortune to Grey River

 

We head to Grey River. We wanted to go to Isle aux Morts (not cheerful, those names – do we see a pattern here?) but the breeze won’t cooperate, so we pick an closer spot. There are so many option anyway… so, Grey river.

The entrance to is a bit tense, no visibility at all (let’s say, 250 meters), and we have to find a gap in the cliffs that is about 400 meter wide. In addition, there is a SW swell that MIGHT break at the entrance according to the nautical guide. If this is the case, we might found ourselves uncontrollably surfing towards the cliff but from where we are, maybe 500 meters away, we have no way to find if this is a real risk, apart guessing the situation from the rumble of the waves breaking on the cliffs. We feel our way in with the GPS. And then we are inside the fjord (the place IS really a fjord; plus I have to do a bit of marketing as Eric absolutely wants to visit fjords; a Fjord it is).  Inside, the fog lifts (somehow) and we motor to Frenchman cove.

We drop the anchor in Frenchman cove. I get the attraction for fjords Eric, but no, thanks. I find them lugubrious, spooky, lonely. Too Gothic for me, I prefer Roman.

One surprise is that we see a skiff power out of nowhere going nowhere (as far as we can tell). And back. And then another skiff emerging out of the fog (we are dressed with 3 layers, the guys are in T-shirt – where do they come from? ) and heading for a kind of tiny beach at the bottom of the cliff. One of them steps ashore with something (a roll of tape) and comes back a few minutes later and they are gone. Discreet wave.  it reminds me of a time I anchored in Minquiers (a minuscule, off the way archipelago way off Cotentin coast), it was same scenario – you are alone, then someone comes in from nowhere, does mysterious moves, and leave with a discreet wave from the distance…

Frenchman cove, the fjord...

After a couple of hours in Frenchman Cove, we move back to the village end of afternoon. We anchor in front of the village. A sundowner (have to trust the clock on that one as fog did and will not lift), and we row ashore - the whole thing turns out to be a very good surprise. Grey river, 70 inhabitants, is one of the few remaining  outports. Those are communities that are not connected to land. Most have been re-settled:  the government makes the inhabitants move to another, bigger place, say,  Port-au-Basques. But here, there is still a school, and (apparently) some permanent residents. We walk the village, basically a small lane running through the cluster of houses. They have a large diesel generator but even at night lights are sparse.

The Grey River outport

They have “Landlines” through a big aerial, but no cell service. We meet a local, Ira,  on the quay, the frustration with the government policies is not far below the surface (and that goes as far back to  questioning why Newfoundland chose to integrate to Canada…) . 

Ida makes his point

We elucidate the boat traffic in the fjord: it is a family going to their cabin up the fjord for the weekend. I check Ira: so people find it too crowded here ? the irony is not lost on him. He is born in Ramea island, which is in fact probably more populated and more open than Grey river… I also wonder why he has chosen to come to live there… and so his wife. Nice guy and very well mannered; reminds me of the folks in Western Ireland.   

Regarding outport people, I heard a good line in a local song about Ourport people yesterday"... we never asked to be found". 

Anyway, a great escale, really different from anything else. 

St Pierre to Fortune

 

Eric: 50 Shades of grey…

Sailing in the fog gives you a deeper understanding of this underrated color. A patch of darker gray in the North? Get your outer jacket and get ready for rain. Lighter tint on the horizon?  The visibility might increase to more than 100 yards. We need a new name for the fluffy, cottony gray that tells us that yes, it is possible for the fog to get thicker. The dirty white above is a nostalgic reminder that the sky once was blue. And what is this almost black blob on the horizon? The coast that we are expecting? No, it's just a trick of the all powerful God of the Mist. Among all this gray, the black and white flight of a penguin brings a welcome contrast, and the red beak of a puffin is an extravaganza of color.

 

A short sail today from Saint Pierre to Fortune to clear customs. Two tacks, broad reach, wind 10 knots, sea calm. A comfortable ride so far. We are leaving France, so today's sandwich is jambon de Pays et Ossau-Iraty basque cheese.

Francois:

Fortune is a mandatory call after St Pierre, as we have to clear our entry into Canada, and this can only be done in some designated places, like Fortune. Originally we were planning to do this passage overnight, but during our final dinner in StPierre (very nice, thank you) we figure out that it is best to  travel to Fortune early next day, and leave Fortune as soon as we get our clearance for an overnight leg to IsleAux Mortds. So, we leave StPierre at daybreak. Another navigation in thick fog – I will probably leave Newfoundland without ever seeing Miquelon, although we spent the whole morning alongside its coasts.

Fortune turns out to be a rather nice stop (and the fog lifts in the afternoon). Eric has a nice walk up the creek and 3 billions year back (the cliff just next to the harbor is one of the few places on earth where pre-Cambrian and Cambrian are visible). Dinner at the ferry ticket office (where else ?), and we are off at 19:00 for our next leg.

 

About those overnight passages: we find that travelling at night is a good way to visit multiple places, while keeping our pace. Of course it requires the effort to sacrifice some of sleep,  it leaves us a bit confused the day after, but it is worth it. 

 

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.