From Bonne Bay to Port au Choix (Strait of Belle-Isle, 2)

 

Well, when we reach the open sea out of BonneBay fjord, we a smacked by an fresh breeze, a very-very dark night, gnarly seas. I feel like I would rather trade that for a glass of wine on Irv’s deck. Well, its ast progress, the forecast is reasonable, we push on, take it easy – setup the staysail and strike down the main. By next morning we are in sight of Port-au-Choix peninsula, and by early afternoon we are docked at the bottom of the bay among the fishing fleet. There are a few industrial buildings, but they can’t hide the original character the place, which the original sellers would easily recognize - it is one of the oldest settlements (Port-Au-Choix: form the Basque PortoChoa, the small port, and before the Basques, of course the Beothuks, as nice little museum reminds us).

There is a bit of industrial infrastructure in PortAuChoix, but it is not hard to brush them off and find an unchanged shore. 

Folk art.

I read somewhere in Port-Au-Choix that Basques have quite a strong tradition of sculpture / folk art, and I don’t know if the author was hinting at a link to what is going on in Western Newfoundland, but locals are bold and expressive. There was already a few blips of that on the South Coast, but its really prevalent. 

I will post my little gallery of folk art in a separate post. Mags, don't be surprised if by November there will be some stuff on our lawn.

 

 

 

From Port-Aux-Basques to Bonne Bay (Strait of Belle-Isle, 1)

 

Eric told you about the Tablelands, here is about our call in Bonne Bay.

As very clear on a map, the  way up the West coast is a long stretch, with quite a linear shore; it is notorious for weather, not only wind-wise but also sea-state wise. So, we have to spot the few places where we can / have to stop after leaving the SouthWest coast. Bonne Bay was attractive shelter-wise, and also because in case of being  locked in by weather, we can try to get some hikes in the Gros Morne park.

The first half of the passage, after leaving PortauxBasques, is pretty uneventful. We pass CapeRay in the fog, but it lifts and we had a nice afternoon downwind sailing, enjoying the sights of the coast (which is still a novelty for us, after so many days of NOT seeing the East or South coasts !).

The end of the night gets more sporty, dead downwind in 25+ kts, with steep seas. Sélune is not easy to drive in those conditions.  At daybreak we gybe to make the entrance to BonneBay, on a backdrop of high and dark cliffs – not unlike, say, the cliffs of Mohair, or SCotrland West coast. It takes forever to get in the lee (the shelter ) of the coasts, but finally and gradually we get out of the rough part. There are still stronger gusts dropping from the cliffs, 30kts plus. We spot something of a strange color, orange-y in the water – an upturned boat ? No,  it is a dead whale. It gets my paranoia engine going: I always fear of hitting a whale – the conequences would be real, it would be like hitting a rock, not a  – but I reason that they spend lots of time underwater, and then they do take some action to avoid us when at  surface, so overall a small risk-  but to this risk I have now add DEAD whales – just floating there in the surface to …. months ? years ? ). Brrr.

No, if the boat hit this carcass, it won't be like hitting butter. More like 50 tons of rock and bones. 

Back to entering BonneBay. We sail deeper in the fjord to a nice natural basin called Neddy harbour. We anchor and it looks like good holding, but the wind still a bit too strong to relax completely;  the kind of wind when you hesitate to leave the boat on its own at anchor. As I step on the deck to prepare the dinghy, a guy waves to from the shore, indicating that we can tie up to the (private, and only) dock – a very nice dock, with a very nice yachtclub-like building in the background. That’s an offer we wont pass, and promptly, we are greeted by Irv.  It is a really ideal place for us, and in addition Irv and his wife Melanie will be embarrassingly generous hosts for us (we are offered fresh cod, and blueberry muffins for breakfast !).

Water is super-clear and quite warm, 17 degrees. I have a quick dive to check my underwater paint, all good. All those hours I spent in the yard (and Paul's) are well behind now, but the effort paid, we have very few technical issues. 

Irv's and Melanie idyllic dock in BonneBay.

Bonne Bay is a tourist hub, and the vibe is a quite different from what we have seen so far  –  cottages for rent, boat tours, a few restaurants tuned to the urban tastes with ponytailed baristas. All quite tidy, it reminds me of Norway (but that’ very localized: next village, RockyHarbour, is properly Newfie). Offshore, the sea is covered in whitecaps, and we enjoy the day ashore. But the wind is due to abate, which opens a window for us to move up North. We have a nice dinner with the crew of Q-If, a boat that I had admired a few times when I was visiting Caen (small world). Last goodbye and thanks to Irv & Melanie & Valerie and we cast off by dusk.

 

Travelling at nigh

During this trip, we do often start our passage in the evening.  It might seem strange: for sure, when the day is over, the inclination is rather to relax with a good glass of wine and a hot dinner. But leaving at the end of the day enables us to do 100 + miles legs, while still arriving in daylight at the next harbor.  It is very productive in terms of mileage, and as we take watches, we are still operational the next day.

My good friend the pail

Quietly sitting aft on Selune is our third crew member. Sturdy and reliable, he is always here for me when I need him.

When nature calls, he answers the call. While some enjoy leaning over the ocean, he keeps me safe and my pants dry.

When it’s time for more serious business, the pail remains a comforting companion. The boat’s head is warm and inviting, but the pail offers a more spacious alternative and a moment of calm and contemplation amid the rolling waves.

He also proves his worth when the catch of the day comes aboard. Our pail holds the entrails without complaint, making the cleanup a breeze and keeping the boat fresh.

When my stomach gets queasy during the night watch, he is there for a comforting chat. Dinner being a few hours ago, our conversation is of little substance, but words are not necessary when you understand each other.

With my good friend the pail, life on board Selune is a little more comfortable and a lot less messy. Thank you from the bottom of my bowels.

Gobineau part 2: of the Irish and other thoughts

Dancing in Halifax and interviewing fishermen on the Newfoundland shores, our good friend Arthur de Gobineau had the time to form a strong personal opinion on a variety of topics, including the Irish people and american women.

In his own words, which are those of a 19th century aristocrat, and therefore not quite politically correct:

 

The Irish

• The [Newfoundland] population is therefore remarkable for a uniform shade of honesty, and if there are a few exceptions to this, they are to be found among the Irish, who are infinitely less serious minded than the rest of their compatriots.
• If the Irish are not to be ranked as the country's most solemn inhabitants, they are perhaps the most likeable, and they are certainly the most lively.
• What the baleful Englishman, the serious Scot, the hard-working Acadian may desire but hesitate to seek, the Irish will do what is necessary to obtain and be the first to throw themselves into the fray. What they have to lose is very little, what they have to gain always problematical.

What do our Irish readers think?

North American women

• From a purely sentimental point of view, Frenchmen, Italians or Spaniards may say that the American girl is lacking in naivety and, if not in the most impregnable virtue, at least in innocence; that one of the principal delights promised to the man of taste is having to teach his partner a great many things and delicately relishing the extent of her ignorance; that there is no great pleasure in entering into intimacy with a young wife who is, on the eve of her wedding, as advanced as an old casuist.
• Young ladies enter life as a speculators enter the Stock Exchange. Their beauty, wit and charm are their available capital.They want to marry, and do all that they can to pledge themselves to one husband, one might almost say to ensnare him.
• They are not scrupulous about making obvious advances. It is common to see a charming young lady at a ball clinging to the arm of a dancer who half an hour before was a complete stranger. Man is very frail in these circumstances and quickly reveals the weak spots in his heart and mind. If he is vain, she flatters him. If he is tender, she allows him to glimpse inexhaustible treasures of affection and devotion. If she thinks him passionate she contrives to let him think that the spark and the flame are only pale imitations of the volcano that fills her heart.

And on and on, but I think it is time to leave the Count of Gobineau to his musings... 

Gobineau

On Selune's reading list is Arthur de Gobineau "Voyage à Terre-Neuve". Gobineau was a french aristocrat, who fancied himself a man of letters and later became a diplomat. He was sent in 1860 to ensure that the English were abiding by the terms of the treaty of Utrecht.

 

Signed in 1713, the treaty ceded Newfoundland to England, but granted exclusive fishing rights to the French on a large portion of the Island shore. Gobineau was very proud of the savvy french negotiators, who let the English have a worthless island in exchange for lucrative fishing rights. Was he right or deluded? Your call.

The agreement was however a recipe for ambiguity: The French could fish, but not establish permanent settlements, why the English could establish settlements, but not make the only living possible on these shores.

 

Gobineau was therefore sent to investigate on the steam ship Gassendi along with an English counterpart on the Telane.

The two quickly became very good friends and, amid weeks of intense partying in Saint-Pierre, Sydney, Halifax and St John's, found the time to explore the most remote parts of Newfoundland.

They quickly established that all was well in the best of worlds. Certainly there were a few English settlements on the west coast, and they had to fish for a living, but they promised to stop and leave as soon as the French would ask. Certainly the French captains and officers on the northeast coasts established some nice homes, but they did leave them to the care of an Irish groundkeeper when they sailed home for the winter. A few years later small Irish villages grew around the captains houses but what can you do? In the words of Gobineau, the Irish, like all ichtyovorous people, multiply in a startling manner.

All being perfectly satisfactory, Gobineau could claim his mission a success and return to his Parisian life with a clear conscience and maybe a few broken hearts in NewFoundland, and his name to a remote inlet on the west coast

The Tablelands

The Skipper gave me shore leave for the afternoon today, so I decided to do a little exploring.

The nearby Tablelands are a unique area where iron rich rock from the earth mantle, called peridotite, has been thrust to the surface. This is believed to be one of the oldest rocks on earth, around 4 billion years old. Only in Australia and Antarctica can we also see this occurence. 

 

The Tablelands are visible from our mooring and too close to pass. A short hop on the local ferry drops me at the small town of Woody Point. Trying very hard to look touristy, like a child playing grown-up, it remains a quaint little village. 

A walk on the main road leads me to the head of the "Lookout Hill Trail." The name sounds promising and off I go.
The slope <pant> is steep <pant>, but <pant> the trail goes through a nice, peaceful wooded area. The view at the top is worth the hike, with a beautiful view on the whole Bonne Bay and the majestic Tablelands. At 404m, this is higher than the highest point in Brittany, which makes feel a bit like Sherpa Tensing.

Back to the village, and a nice cup of tea on the coffee shop patio.

Now getting ready to board the ferry, settle my bill at the Cat and Rooster and leave for our night sail North.

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.