Having missed the opportunity to get to the storied Bras d'Or Lakes and Cape Breton last summer, we were determined to make it this time around. The Bras d'Or Lakes sounded idyllic - large inland lakes free from the Atlantic fog, with long arms, bucolic scenery, and a maze of snug harbors that "could not be exhausted in a month's cruising" according to the NS Cruising Guide. Our push along the coast would require strategy and good luck, so we decided to limit our stops to Shelburne, Halifax, and St. Peters.

Erin the club manager at the Shelburne Yacht Club caught our lines and welcomed us as her first customers of the season.



Although many of the seasonal shops were not yet open, we did have a delightful overnight stay in the clapboard-quaint downtown, which was settled during the American Revolution by refugees from New York. Apparently rich loyalists went to London, and the ones with smaller pocketbooks to Shelburne.






Hockey is not the only sport in Canada

We were welcomed to the club's weekly dinner, where we met some of the members. It turns out many of them were Nova Scotia transplants. When asked why they moved to here, they answered incredulously "It's the warmest place in Canada in the winter!" It sounds like NS is the Canadian Ft Lauderdale. Who knew?

Fair winds beckoned, so we left the party early and headed out of the harbor around 7:15PM for our 113 mile 16 hour sail to Halifax.

We arrived at the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron around noon the next day after a speedy overnight sail with winds 15-25 knots on the beam. The watches were cold but more pleasant than our trip across the Gulf of Maine, as the cockpit provides more protection with the wind from this direction.

After cleaning up we ubered into town. Our driver was a young man named Jiawei, who emmigrated from Shanghai a dozen years ago and now has 3 rental cars and some rental real estate in addition to the car he drives. Our other Uber drivers during our stay included an engineer from India making some money on the side and a student from Pakistan who was paying off his university loans. The city seems to have welcomed this diversity.

Halifax's downtown was surprisingly bustling in this pre-tourist season. The sidewalks were full with students and families enjoying their Saturday walkabouts, the restaurants were busy, and numerous construction cranes dotted the skyline.

Kitty treated me to a delightful sea-smoke cocktail and fresh scallop dinner.


We also wanted to investigate provisioning opportunities in Halifax for our upcoming cross-Atlantic passage. Based on recommendations from sailors at the yacht club, we found a great grocery store, a well recommended butcher, but couldn't seem to find a place to buy propane tanks. Until... it turns out that Canadian Tire is not a tire store at all, but carries everything from motor oil to patio furniture to, you guessed it, propane tanks. Nice.



Once again, a weather window opened up, and we left on Monday morning at 10:30 AM for a 24 hour passage to St Peters and Cape Breton. We bashed into unforecast 12-17 knot headwinds most of the way and arrived at the lock at St Peters around noon the next day, tired but happy. We made it.








The lockkeeper told us that we were the first non-Canadian boat of the year. Hmm, is there a pattern here? After we entered the lock, the lockkeeper sped off in an ATV and said to wait until they called us.

After a few minutes we headed up the canal to find 4 lanes of traffic stopped by a turning bridge. We looked up a little guiltily as we passed by the waiting traffic.



We were met at the Lions Club Marina in St. Peters by Gerry the manager, with a smile and a friendly "Watcha doin' here so early in the season?" If Nova Scotian's are some of the most welcoming people in the world, Gerry is the quintessential Nova Scotian. Need a car? Borrow mine. Restaurant recommendations? Well, there's the Cozy Cafe, then there's... You get the idea. A New Zealand couple sailing around the world came here and rated Gerry the most welcoming marina of the 200 they had visited.

After a good night's sleep we finally got a chance to sail out into the Bras d'Or Lakes. It was worth all of the effort it took to get here. Much of the shoreline is undeveloped, and we sailed alone on the lake past forested shores and uninhabited islands, imagining Mi'kmaq canoes and fur trapping Frenchman plying these waters hundreds of years ago. Kitty was reminded of her canoeing seasons in northern Minnesota's Boundary Waters.




We sailed downwind and practiced setting up and taking down our spinaker pole,



and then turned west and ghosted up a tight channel, past islands and through small bays and finally into the North Basin where we anchored for the night.

Are we crazy to be up here now? Maybe a little. But it is pretty amazing adventure.