I spent over three weeks in Trepassey, waiting for weather and for parts. People were wondering if I was going to winter there!

I did not want to winter in Trepassey, as it's not a completely protected place, though it's fairly well protected if one moves around as necessary.

I had an unusually good weather forecast--a moderate tailwind. The winds are almost always from the west on this coast, so headwinds--this forecast was for a much-less-common SE.

I figured the trip would be about 18 hours, plus time to get in and out of ports. That was fine, but since I was singlehanding, I needed to think about the possibility of adverse currents or less wind making for a longer trip, since I needed to be awake and alert the entire time, especially approaching a downwind destination at night.

I prepared the boat for sea, cooked some food to be easily available, and got to bed early, setting the alarm for 0400. It still took almost two hours to get up, eat, download latest weather forecasts and get underway.

Motoring out of the quiet harbour was easy enough, and first light arrived as I did. Outside the harbor, there was good wind, so I quickly set sail and turned off the motor.

It was awesome to be sailing as the sun rose on a sunny December 1st! A pleasant close reach took us down to Cape Pine, then we turned to the west, broad reaching and running downwind. This is living!

About 1700, shortly after sunset, a full moon rose, causing the waves to sparkle. The temperature also rose, as the SE wind brought relative warmth (8 degrees C).

By midnight, I was approaching the coast, and lowered the sails and started motoring. Visibility was still good, with some mist, but the shore was quite visible in the moonlight.

Some twists and turns around islands and rocks, and we were soon out of the waves and wind.

I anchored in Ship Cove, Burin, at 0200, tired and happy.

The wind went to the north, and strongly blew the warm air away overnight. By sunrise, the boat was covered in a very light dusting of snow.

The fish plant was shut down a long time ago. There are some businesses in the buildings on shore, but the wharf has seen very little maintenance for the last thirty years.

The view south, from where Issuma is anchored in the Norhwest Arm, on a calm (it's usually not calm) morning.

In the distance is the old Fish Plant wharf.

The northern part of the inlet is divided into the Northwest Arm on the left, where Issuma is anchored, and the much longer Northeast Arm, on the right.

It's a nice walk down from the highway to the harbour.

Issuma is anchored in the picturesque town of Trepassey, in southern Newfoundland.

I stopped here to rest, wait for weather, and see the area. I wasn't planning on being here for more than a few days, but just before I was about to leave, I noticed a mechanical problem (with the hydraulic oil cooler). While this problem does not prevent the engine from operating, it should be fixed.

So, now I'm stopped here for longer, as I wait for parts to arrive.

Which gives me more time to see the area...

Docked in southern Newfoundland, north winds suddenly brought the temperature down sharply.

The cracking noise of hundreds of crystals of ice forming or joining together woke me from my sleep. Too close together to be hail hitting the deck, too sharp to be rain, they could only be ice crystals forming and surrounding the hull...

You can just see the entrance in the picture--around the corner, to the left. There is a big rock at the outer entrance that onshore waves break on.

It was calm and peaceful when I entered Newport Harbor, as the sun was setting. The entrance opened up into a beautiful, totally protected harbor, lined with rocks and some cottages. A great place to sleep soundly at anchor, which I did.



My first anchorage this trip wasn't nearly so peaceful. I didn't need to anchor--I could have stayed at the dock I was at a few miles away, but I wanted to test out my anchoring system, after so long with the boat having been stored ashore. The anchorage was protected from three directions, and had a little sand on top of rock, about 20m down. The winds were very light, and forecast to stay that way, but every time they shifted, the boat swung around the anchor, and the chain dragged across the rock bottom loudly. It was an adequate anchorage for the conditions, but not a quiet, peaceful place.

Yesterday, a friend mentioned being a (stand-up) paddleboard instructor.

It reminded me that I had once taken paddleboard lessons in Mexico.

By mistake.


I was staying overnight in La Paz before flying to New York the next day.

I had met up with some couchsurfers, and we were in a bar, talking about beach volleyball.

My Spanish at the time was really bad, and I didn't understand that the conversation had changed to taking paddleboarding lessons. When I was asked if I wanted to sign up, I immediately said yes, thinking I was signing up for beach volleyball, on the general principle of
Just Say Yes.

The next morning, people started changing into their swimsuits and I began to realize that I'd signed up for paddleboarding lessons, not beach volleyball!

I left my wallet and passport with the paddleboard company, and really hoped to be able to learn paddleboarding without falling in the water, as I was wearing my only pair of short pants, which I would also be wearing on the plane that afternoon.

I didn't manage to avoid falling in, but I learned to paddleboard!
And by the time I got on the plane, the shorts had mostly dried, and the dampness of the shorts as I sat in my seat just reminded me of how much fun I'd had because I'd
Just Said Yes.

After my plans to sail to Greenland this summer fell thru due to lockdowns, I decided to do more work on the boat while it was conveniently ashore. One thing led to another, and by the time I launched, it was the end of August. But it was great to be back at sea!

Rover is the name of the plant in the picture. My grandmother had this plant, which she gave to my aunt. I was given three leaves from this plant, in a ziploc bag, with instructions to keep it moist and plant it in some soil.

I knew nothing about plants--this was the first plant that I'd ever had, and I was determined to not kill it. So I asked lots of people what kind of plant it was (I didn't know), and how to look after it. I was given soil and fertilizer to feed it, and lots of instructions. I was so determined to look after it that I'd take it on deck whenever it was sunny, and bring it below at night or when it was cold. Seeing how I looked after the plant, Sarah (who did the artwork on the plant box) started calling it Rover, as she said I was walking the plant like I'd walk a dog.

So, Rover has traveled thousands of miles on Issuma, as well as on buses, cars and planes, and is still growing (slowly).

Now that I'm sailing again (more about that later), Rover also has returned to sea.