2012/06/20, off Codroy, Newfoundland

I am not going to lie, this has been a hard passage. We keep inching closer to Newfoundland, but aren't there yet. The waves are big and the wind is hard. My new best friend is Bonine, a sea-sickness medicine, been popping them like candy. When I lay down to sleep, my stomach sloshes around like a two-year old on a water bed. I place my 7-pound leg weight across my belly and it keeps it steady so I can sleep. We had water come in through the anchor chain openings and now my clothes are all wet. But we are safe.

Our boat was heading for an anchorage at Codroy, Newfoundland, I wanted a good night sleep so bad! But it was making Paul more and more nervous, coming up to a rocky shore and the waves and wind were building. So he called for "The Rule" and we didn't go in. We ended up heaving-to for the third time. He lit a fire, we ate, did dishes, relaxed, read and danced around each others' ego so we would not leave any lasting bruises. After three hours we went up to tack the boat and heave-to the other way so we would drift away from shore instead of to it. The plan was to take turns sleeping in two hour stretches. But the waves were smaller, the wind was down, and best of all, from a direction that was good for us. So off we went to our destination.

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Vicki
2012/06/18, Gulf of the St. Lawrence

Life is strange. When on land we ride in a car being driven by other people and rely on their paying attention and knowing what they are doing. Our lives could change in an instant of inattention. But we are so used to cars, and couldn't live with that level of daily stress, so we forget and relax. On the sailboat, especially during an overnight passage, our lives depend on our partner. Are they paying attention for other boats, are they watching the weather, are they aware of the boat? All you can do is get over it, rollover, and go to sleep.

We left the northeast of Gaspe Peninsula hoping to make Madeleine Islands the following day. All was going well, if a little fast. The winds were nothing like they were forecasted, different direction and much stronger. It became clear by morning that it would be easier, and just as fast, to head straight for Newfoundland and skip the islands, drat, we had been looking forward to that stop. By mid-afternoon the winds had changed again, strong and right on our nose! The only comfortable way to go was back to Gaspe, but we were not interested in doing that. So we are now hove-to, for you non-sailors, you can think of it as a floating anchor in 1,300 feet of water. The sails and rudder are arranged such that we are barely moving, and not drifting with the wind. The motion of the boat is much kinder for cooking, eating and sleeping. We still have to keep watch, we are about 10 nautical miles out of the shipping channel.

I cooked up some kielbasa with cabbage and potatoes, and with Paul's homemade bread it was a fine meal. So we aren't going forward but we are comfortable. The only crisis is that I have eaten the last of the chocolate.

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Vicki
2012/06/18, Gulf of the St. Lawrence

Life is strange. When on land we ride in a car being driven by other people and rely on their paying attention and knowing what they are doing. Our lives could change in an instant of inattention. But we are so used to cars, and couldn't live with that level of daily stress, so we forget and relax. On the sailboat, especially during an overnight passage, our lives depend on our partner. Are they paying attention for other boats, are they watching the weather, are they aware of the boat? All you can do is get over it, rollover, and go to sleep.

We left the northeast of Gaspe Peninsula hoping to make Madeleine Islands the following day. All was going well, if a little fast. The winds were nothing like they were forecasted, different direction and much stronger. It became clear by morning that it would be easier, and just as fast, to head straight for Newfoundland and skip the islands, drat, we had been looking forward to that stop. By mid-afternoon the winds had changed again, strong and right on our nose! The only comfortable way to go was back to Gaspe, but we were not interested in doing that. So we are now hove-to, for you non-sailors, you can think of it as a floating anchor in 1,300 feet of water. The sails and rudder are arranged such that we are barely moving, and not drifting with the wind. The motion of the boat is much kinder for cooking, eating and sleeping. We still have to keep watch, we are about 10 nautical miles out of the shipping channel.

I cooked up some kielbasa with cabbage and potatoes, and with Paul's homemade bread it was a fine meal. So we aren't going forward but we are comfortable. The only crisis is that I have eaten the last of the chocolate.

Comments [1]

Vicki
2012/06/17, Anse de la Riviere-Au-Renard

The scenery along this shoreline is simply stunning, I don't know how else to put it. It would be a lovely drive, but it is so much better out on the water looking toward the land. There are steep, high hills right up to the water and then tall mountains behind, the beginning of the Appalachians. By Sainte-Anne-des-Monts there is a ski area, Vallee Taconique on Mont-Saint-Pierre, which has a descent of 4,400 meters. I believe that is in the 13,000 feet range. A group of young people we met on the dock have moved here deliberately, they downhill ski in the winter and sail on the sea in the summer. It is a slower pace of life than Quebec for raising children. Could life be any better?

There are pockets of windmill generators. This area has the world's largest vertical wind turbine, and they offer tours. I think that would be fascinating, but we are on the move. The hillsides look like they are the same geology as around Quebec. I still think it is shale (slate?), but don't know. Several years ago I took an Oceanography course at the U of M, now I wish I had also taken a Geology course. Sounds geeky, but there it is. If anyone has the time to Google this, please comment. Thanks!

We didn't see any signs of whale the whole day, and then just as we came through a shoal area into the harbor, we saw many blows, there could have been as many as 8 - 10 whales in the area. But the sun had set and we had to get our anchor down. There are katabatic winds blowing down off the hillside, but we are safe and secure with our 42 pound Bruce anchor.

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Vicki
2012/06/16, Saint-Anne-des-Monts

We have been on the move now for one month. The length of sunlight is becoming very long, but it isn't any warmer than when we left Buffalo a month ago. When the wind is from the north-east, as it is now, it goes over the icebergs and cold water of the Labrador current and can be quite chilly. When we did the overnight passage I wore long underwear and a wool cap in the middle of the night. While anchoring, we have a fire to warm up the cabin (see fireplace in picture), but at a marina where we can plug into electricity, we have a little heater.

The little towns along the Gaspe Peninsula run marinas as a way to make money, and have interesting ways of combining businesses to keep costs low. This Harbor Master is the school's sports director in the school year. Sainte-Anne-des-Monts combines the marina with a marine museum/research center. We have a key to use a side-door for the bathrooms, showers and laundry facilities. Last night I went in after they were closed and the alarm went off! Seems a new person set the alarm incorrectly. Thankfully, someone was still around and was able to turn off the alarm. And thankfully, they could speak English, as many of the French speakers here are not bilingual.

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Vicki
2012/06/14, Tadoussac

There are always compromises to make when cruising. We have to leave St. John's, Newfoundland close to July 15 to catch the weather window for the Atlantic crossing, so all decisions about our travel have to keep an eye to that date. Which meant we had one day, Wednesday, to explore the Saguenay River. And wouldn't you know, it was rainy with poor visibility. Which we could live with, but the wind was roaring down the gorge and we had trouble making head-way. We turned around and went to Tadoussac, a great little resort town. Think more like Bayfield, not like Wisconsin Dells. No water-slide parks, no go-cart tracks, no chain restaurants and hotels, just quaint little B&B's and an old-fashioned grand hotel. We did find the great little French bakery. We also visited a great marine mammal center and learned a lot about whales. We bought the Audobon Society guide to marine mammals, which is great. After two attempts to try to go up-river (we were motoring up but being pushed down, the thirty knots of wind plus reverse current was too much) we gave up and just anchored in the bay at Tadoussac for the night.

Thursday we left at 4:30 a.m. to catch a good tide out. There are ripple lines where the currents from Saguenay and St. Lawrence meet, there is an upwelling of good food and we saw three different types of whales. The beluga whales, being white, are easiest to identify and we saw two pods, but we have to keep our distance. We also saw a Minke whale (our best guess) and two Humpback whales. The naturalist at the center had mentioned that they were sighted. We wished we could have stayed longer, but St. John's called and we were off.

Oh my goodness. As I was typing this blog, Paul yelled for me to come up. We had a minke whale swimming along-side our boat, keeping pace. We could look down and see the large white area on the fin. He came up for air and then dived under our boat and come up the other side. He joined us again ten minutes later. This is so thrilling!

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