Twillingate to Fogo

 

Fogo is an island up there on the North coast, and somehow there is something wild about it (correct intuition – as explained later during a hike, see below). We enter the harbor through a very, very narrow passage between the cliff and a scattering of islands and reefs, no markers at all, to get through one must sail right up to the cliff and do a sharp turn, there is no room for error.  Once on the “inside” of the passage (like when the video was shot) it looks allright…

Later, it occurred to me that I ALREADY was in Fogo - the one in Cabo Verde Islands. Then on a walk we found this - 

Maybe the sharp turn to enter the harbor feels sharper because of the planet distortions at Fogo. It does feel that if you miss it, you will be falling out off the planet. 

Here as well, we are accommodated on the fishing quays.  Sometimes, there is not so much room tough… 

Classical landscape... we dont really get tired of this

Art-wise, apparently in Fogo they are more into installations. See the Wunderkammer. 

From LittleBay Islands to Twillingate (Notre-Dame bay, 3)

 

LittleBay Islands to Triton island.

We have time, so we try to visit places (and rate hurricane holes): we will stop in between in Triton Island.  Another small, quiet village with convenient floating dock and a small pub to have a dinner. Here, there is a road connection, and we start to see summer rentals and commercial hospitality for tourist. Another one night stop. It starts to be quite sure  that Ernesto will stay a bit off the South Coast and not impact us, if we don’t get East of Twillingate.

Triton to Moreton.

Another nice harbor, which might be safer that Twillingate in case Ernesto changes its mind, so let's check this - we have to wait out till Wednesday anyway. Maybe its safe, but we scrape the keels on rocks as we prepare to anchor, a bit more than a scape in fact, an abrupt stop but at low speed. A quick dive to check the bottom: no damage. The water is surprisingly warm (17 degrees).

 

Moreton to Twillingate.

Twillingate is a largish town and this is why we picked it, as we plan to stay three days (to wait for Ernesto  to move off the coast), better do that in a place where we have services. It is a busy fishing harbor, with large docks not very yacht-friendly, and continuous activity to the loading dock, mostly from “skiffs”, the open boats used for coastal fishing. 

Skiffs off Le Toulinguet. 

But contrary to France (and the Med?) the fishing crews do not mind us taking a slot on the quay, we are welcomed, and there is good infrastructure to enjoy, as in many fishing harbors: showers, washing machines, and even a lounge with Wifi ! The town seems to draw tourists based on its Northern-most location, and spectacular landscapes as well (Twillingate: named after Le Toulinguet, as it landscape is not dissimilar to its namesake in Brest’s Goulet). The weather is quite wet, but nothing out of the norm, and we feel lucky that we are not affected more than that by the hurricane. 

We are on the Red dot on the North coast.

This is the parking lot of Twillingate theater, a Tuesday night. It seems that many midsize towns have showplaces likes this (eg  Bonavista)

 

From LaScie to LittleBay Islands, via RoundHarbor (NotreDame Bay, 2)

 

This is a short leg, another beautiful day to sail, and we have time for a “lunch stop” at Round harbor, a very small cove that is shaped as a perfect …circle. It is one of those abandoned outports, and we see is a fair proportion of dilapidated houses which adds to the spectacular of the place, but there are few have summer occupants as well. It is quite intimate and you could nearly hear the conversation of the people sitting for lunch on their decks.

We stay for a short walk and proceed to LittleBayIslands. We are going to get blasés, but this is another perfect natural shelter.

Hurricane holes

I needed a criteria to pre-select what places we should visit. I decided to focus on what I considered “hurricane holes” (plus some Fjords, on special request): I had anyway to select, on each coast, at least one place where I could shelter in case of hurricane warning (assuming we would have a few days to get there). The selection tends to favor places that are surrounded from all sides, a bit off the way, so this makes also pleasant anchorages. Like, Frenchman Cove in Gry river, LittleBay Islands, Moreton harbour for instance.  When I have a chance, I try to talk with locals for better advice, (a good list would be a nice addition to the cruising guide we use). 

 

We meet with Jim from Malakula who has preceded us here; there is a nice bench on the dock, and we enjoy a beer together. Quite a perfect evening,  and in addition I get interesting comments from Jim: like most of the yachties that we meet in Newfoundland, he is a recidivist, all those sailors keep coming back, which is a good sign ! 

This is yet again a port that has been emptied of its occupants, but is sort of being kept alive by temporary residents. It seems that for less than 50 grand you can get a house (or rather, its remains). I can surely understand why one would be tempted to spend summers here – as for ourselves, we will have to stay only one night. One of the reasons for us leaving is that there is no cell phone reception, and we need weather updates as Ernesto moves up the cost of USA. Our direction of travel is East, which brings us closer to the forecasted track of Ernesto, but we might lose too much time if we decide stay here until everything clear. So, we have to take calibrating risks to move, the plan beeing to wait Ernesto out in Twillingate, the next point North.

 

From StAnthony to La Scie (NotreDame bay, 1)

 

We had anticipated the past leg, the one up the West coast (from Port aux Basques to the strait of Belle-Isle), as unavoidable and unpleasant: not an easy sail, and apparently not many places to take shelter. But it turned out as a good surprise, as we found interesting ports, and although we had to compose with the weather, altogether it was engaging and it added another facet to our perception of the island. If we could have called in Labrador and l’Anse aux Meadows, it would even have been more interesting, but here the weather dictated.

In contrast, we expect the coming stage (Notre-Dame bay) to be the highlight of the cruise. It might not be intuitive us Europeans (or – Bretons / Normands) as a North coast is associated with harsher weather. But in Newfoundland, the NorthCoast is the favored ground (at this season): it is in the lee of the island, sheltered from the oceanic waves raised the predominant SoutWest, the wind velocity is lesser, and as the air dries over the island landmass, there is less fog at sea. In addition, we are now well in August, which seems to be a rather fair month on average.  Add to this an extraordinary number of islands and inlets:  this makes it for a promising stage of the trip. And in the end yes, it did hold its promises. The main topic of our executive planning conferences is not to spot the good shelters, but which tempting  places we will have to pass.

So, from St Anthony, we sail to LaScie. It is windy, but favorable and we have a fast 9-to-5 passage. As we advance in Notre-Dame bay, the weather turns to what we hope it to be (sunnier, drier).  LaScie is nearly perfect natural round harbor, we tie at a welcoming floating dock (a sign that says in big letters YACTHS MOOR HERE, fixed it for you…. ) besides another yacht,  Malakula; we briefly saw her in Port-aux-Basques and it is a nice opportunity to get to know Jim, the skipper. As you might have noticed, there is rarely a port we called in where we did not go in conversation or even friendship with fellow sailors: it is us being exceptionally gregarious, just that there is always curiosity and information to trade in the community. In this case I have an extra motivation, as Jim is based in NovaScotia, I am interested in first-hand experience of what the weather will be in September.

As usual, Sélune is somewhere in the picture...

About the weather. I planned the trip in part based on an observation from my years in New England, where September is actually quite a nice month (making abstraction of hurricanes…). Traditionally, in Brittany / Ireland the summer season ends past mid-August, but I made a bet that in Newfoundland, I would actually have a workable window at this period. II could not confirm that with first-hand conversations or weather statistic, but the bits I gathered seemed to go that way. And then the planning took a momentum of its own, and this calendar came up. But now we are nearing the end of the season, and I start speculating on my strategy to go back home (I will be single-handed). What I saw so far and heard matches the pattern I bet on (eg, fog season ending in July confirmed by StPierre locals, August settled) but I could still be very wrong; I did get a couple of sharp looks when I told sea-going locals about sailing in September. Let’s say it is a ticking bomb, and I don’t know where the counter is.

Back to LaScie. Lovely place, very tempting to stay (the weather is beautiful). There is a tiny museum, which hosts locals playing music twice a week. The room in the tiny museum is a tiny room, but the proper number of chairs to match the number of visitors in town is arranged as we arrive – the 2 of us, and five American couples that travel together in RVs – it is clear that the audience has been very exactly evaluated (and expected to attend).  Repertory is classic Newfie folk, by now we are able to recognize a few Nefie songs (I am not saying that I can sing them; of course I wish I could).  I did not mention it, but when in Port-aux- Basques, we went to a music festival, starring the biggest country/folk group of the moment. If you look at the video, you can see the band singing headwind, so to say, sheets of fog rolling in right in their face - no problem.  Quite a good evening, and an interesting way to mix with a large slice of the population that we would never meet otherwise.  Walk back to the harbor (upwind, soft rain in the face), hitchhiking is not a thing here.

 The concert in Port-Aux-Basques: 

So, a lazy day in laScie. You might wonder why I am not working on the boat ? Anything to fix ? Well, everything works as expected. Or more exactly, by now, what does not work is not expected to work at all, so that’s sorted out; but none of this is functionally critical, and I am happy to report that what MUST work does.

Maybe it is time for a bit of credit to discreet heroes. You got the celebration for the bucket already. Just imagine the other pieces of tech we got to work, and do work:

the engine – zero problem.

the electrics. Tidied by Paul - no issues. (Update, since yesterday we have a problem with the navigation lights…)

the sails (and the Michael Mullern bridge)  and rigging – zero issues

the rudder, autopilot  - zero issues

the toilets – already praised by Paul. 

Nothing to report. 

Wunderkammer (or: Newfie folk art)

A little collection of curiosities: 

(recent at the top) 

Fogo - like in Twillingate, they are more into installations, over there. 

La Scie

Twillingate - crochet

Twillingate

From Port-au-Choix to St Anothy (strait of Belle-Isle 3)

 

We have to time our leaving Port-au-Choix: there is a big messy thingy over the Gulf of St Lawrence, (the remanents of TropicalStorm Debbie ? ) and we are juuuuust North  of it  (pic below is actual windspeed, we are where a green arrow shows 10 knots, fine, but where it is purple – you don’t want to be sailing in there ). If we leave and the boundary moves North, we might be in trouble.  We decide to wait out another night. Next day, reveille at 06:00 am – last refresh of the forecast in the drizzle, boots and foulies, a tea, and off we are.

We are where the green"10"is. All the purple mess stopped creeping North...  

For this leg,  we will be in the thick  of things, the core of Belle-Isle Strait, where it gets narrow (about 10 Nautical miles wide).  The opposite shore is the coast of Labrador – a hint that we brush territories that are out of our usual geographic sphere.  the Labrador current flows South, and raises a steep sea against the prevailing southwest winds.  We have a plan – stop in red Bay, on Labrador coast – but we also have a tactic – be  opportunistic.

 

The weather is actually clearing up and as forecasted (a medium-strong SouthWest). Eric believes in the forecast, he seems to derive some internal certainty from it. This is a new and refreshing attitude to me; always the paranoid and the sceptical. But I am the skipper, it is also my duty to keep preparing for the worse. Gobineau has interesting words about this. Let me quote it (in English !) "At sea, the captain and his officers, feeling the weigh of their responsibility, are never enttirely free. If not of anxieties, if not of troubles, at least of very real concern. They spend their lives looking around them and thinking about what they see and do not see. Apart from the accidents brought about by the wind and waves, it is never certain at sea that one will never meet another ship at night, or if not a ship, an ice-floe. Near a coast, a miscalculation, a moment of inattention, the effect of current, a thousand causes can force ths ship aground. Even when the ship is at anchor, if the mooring is not safe, a cable broken in bad weather is sufficient to put everything in jeopardy".

We watch the sea temperature, that would give a clue when meeting the Labrador current, but the water temperature remains surprisingly  high, around 14 degrees (off Nova Scotia, it was down to 11 degrees). 

There is a little traffic in the Strait: we saw some cargo ships, and of course the ubiquitous Newfoundland costal trawlers, our harbor companions. 

We are making fast progresses, and by the afternoon, we reach the narrow part of the strait. There are a few signs that the place can be challenging – for instance, we come across a race, that creates some nasty chop, but would probably create a real challenge in stronger winds.

 

We are moving faster that we had planned to (was the plan made by a pessimist ?), and keep refreshing our projections and options as we progress. For instance, it is now clear that if we call in Red Bay (on Labrador coast) we might miss those favorable conditions (the wind will shift tomorrow). So we decide to press on and turn the corner (cape Norman) and forgo the stop in Labrador. But this also means that we it will be nighttime when we reach l’AnseAuxMeadows,  and St Lunaire, so it won’t be practical to stop there.  L’Anse is the place where the Vikings settled originally around year 1000, and Eric as myself were very keen to see it with our own eyes.  During a later pub conversation,  we realized that we both experienced the same feelings as we were watching the coast go by during our respective night watch, as Sélune was cruising in from of l’Anse:  the that what we were seeing  – dark silhouettes of buffs on the coast – was exactly what Leif Ericsson and his aclolytes saw.

Early next morning, we are around the Northern tip of Newfoundland. We now  have to beat against the wind to reach StAnthony, it actually gets sporty as we close to the harbor (again – high cliffs, high winds). Once in, we find a good shelter – the place lacks of charm, but we do have a decent anchoring spot (by now, we are accustomed to feel our way without super-precise information from the charts; for instance we have to do a couple of hard turns  – “you see this seagull ? it STANDS on something….”) . We had somehow the hope that we could rent a car and travel to l’Anse, but no luck there. That will be a one-night stop.

As you can see we are quite choosy when it comes to anchoring. What the plotter does not shows is a few bumps...

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.