03 August 2014 | McNutts, NS, Canada 43’39.39N 65’18.32W – North Head, Grand Mahan, NB, Canada 44’45.77N 66’45.02W via Yarmouth, NS, Canada & Westport, Briers Island, NS, Canada
Our minds have been dwelling on the achievements and saying farewell to great men. This time a year ago we were saying goodbye to a great man, Fiona’s father, John. A couple of hundred years earlier this coastline was bidding a farewell the to first single handed RTW sailor, Joshua Slocum, and thousands of years ago the world said goodbye to King Canute as he tried to turn the tide.
The lessons we learnt from John have been used daily as we readied to turn around the corner of Nova Scotia and head into the Bay of Fundy where the tides get bigger and the currents stronger. The seafaring skills honed by Joshua have been deployed as we sail through fog with no radar and knowing that not even Canute could turn the tide has meant that our timing everywhere has had to be impeccable.
The alarm was set to the eye-watering early time of 3.45 and so when we woke we realised that either dawn had come very early or we were very late. Knowing that the world doesn’t revolve around us we were clearly late and we’d have to do something pretty spectacular to catch up to the tide rushing around Cape Sable.
Around Cape Sable we were swoshed and our trusty engine pushed us towards our destination of Yarmouth. The miles ticked down as did the time to when we’d be punching tide; unfortunately they weren’t ticking down at the same rate. We busied ourselves hiding all sharp objects as with the change of tide depression would be imminent. We’d be watching our eta go up and up and up as the tide built and built and built. That extra hour in bed was going to have pretty painful consequences.
Yarmouth was within spitting distance for hours and we finally bucked all the nasty tide as the sun disappeared under the horizon. The smells of the working harbour flowed over us and bought back fond childhood memories of playing around fishing boats and having to defend our hard won ice cream from the rampaging gulls.
Leaving Yarmouth we couldn’t have a repeat of our terrible timing leaving McNabbs Island. We were bound for the childhood home of the world famous sailor Joshua Slocum, which as guarded by a narrow passage where the tide rips at up to 7 knots and slack water lasts for about as long as a packet chocolate digestives in Fiona’s presence.
Our timing was perfect. All those skills that Fiona was taught by John in his beloved waters of Scotland have never been needed so badly and deployed so well. Minute perfect we tied up, chatted to some fishermen and then watched the show as the tide turned.
The water ripped through the narrow inlet resulting is swirling pools, standing waves and white water across the whole entrance. The seabirds, ‘sponsored by Redbull’, added to the spectacle as they excelled in the extreme sport of riding the rapids and taking off just before they got pooped by the boiling torrents.
The draw of Briers Island was it’s most famous once resident, Joshua Slocum. We sought out his childhood home, which was just a little shack, his monument, which was just a little plaque and realised just how forgiving the south Pacific must have seemed to him after growing up around the tidal rips and fog banks of the Bay of Fundy.
Across from Briers Island is Grand Mahan Island and between Briers and GM are the most prolific whale infested waters in the world. The flat sea almost boiled with life. Everywhere we looked we could see the tails and fins of whales, basking sharks serenely scooping up their catch, dolphins leaping in every direction and all with small flocks of birds hanging above them enjoying the pervasive fishy breath.
If we thought that there were no more sights to be had after seeing all the wildlife we were happily wrong. North Head on Grand Mahan was throbbing with people; the population of the whole island lined the shoreline. Were they just here to welcome us? No it was New Brunswick day and as we docked the sky was lit up in celebration. Our timing was once again perfect and seemed to be a fitting way to once again let our thoughts turn to John.
Dum, dum, dum dum, dum. Our poor engine gets another proper workout.
The excitement of motoring for 70 miles is just too much for Fiona.
The sun sets before we get to port. That’ll be another night entry in front of us then.
The flocks of birds are as active as the fleet of fishing boats in Yarmouth.
Buoys.
Such a little house for such a massive man. This is where Joshua Slocum grew up.
The birds are safe on their island surrounded by 7 knots of tide.
Even Larry pays homage to Mr Slocum.
The unabridged history of Westport.
The fog is so bad the light house is lit during the day.
Off the beaten track.
Ruffian getting familiar again with the gnarly fishing boats.
Brrrrrrr. This is supposed to be August.
Cool. A 30ft basking shark cruises by.
Whale watching Ruffian style.
The natural fireworks before the man made ones.
You’ve got to love fireworks.
And there are more of them just in case you’ve never seen fireworks before.