It was, you know, like déjà vu all over again.

Under way from Bermuda to Nova Scotia (Halifax) about 3 days out, I realized that this passage was shaping up to be the mirror image of the passage in the fall of 2012 from Nova Scotia (Lunenberg) to Bermuda – and for very similar reasons.

On that passage the festive leaving window that I had taken from Lunenberg – and which I hoped would have the legs to get me to the north wall of the Gulf Stream – died about 30 hours out. The choice, as I noted in this blog at the time, was to bob now/burn later or burn now/bob later. I had known before leaving Nova Scotia that the Bermuda high was solidly in place in the waters north of Bermuda and that I would have to motor through it. And, I knew that the 300 mile fuel range on board KR was not sufficient to burn above the Stream as well as below it.

The key decision point was that traversing the Gulf Stream in “festive” conditions can be damn uncomfortable and, in serious conditions, potentially very dangerous. Better to get to it and through it before the next front arrives.

The long and short of it was that I chose the burn now option, which delivered me to the north edge of the Gulf Stream with good sailing winds building. These winds carried me to a point 80 miles north of Bermuda – with approx. 50 miles of fuel range remaining. It was time to “bob”. And I did, for most of the next day and a half, until winds built from the south – the exact wrong direction for my southerly heading. Go figure. I arrived in Bermuda burning only fumes and, after clearing in, proceeded straight to the fuel dock where KR took 32 gallons of diesel to fill her 32 gallon capacity tank. Whew!

For this passage the same story can be told, except that the course was northerly and the leaving window only provided winds for 16 hours of sailing before failing in a dying cold front. I then motored for 48 hours to a point half way across the Stream when lovely SW to WSW winds filled in giving KR a fast and fun 48 hours of sailing the rum line. The “Chinese Water Torture” of 4-6 hours of fair winds interspersed with similar periods of bobbing then became the norm. I burned when I could, always with an eye towards having enough fuel to motor the last 13 miles from the Halifax outer mark into the Northwest Arm and safe mooring. The last such bit of wind (SW this time) on Thursday had me crossing fingers and toes hoping that this one would hold together long enough. My mistake was in trying to get a short nap in with 10 miles to go. Halfway through the nap I heard the sails flog – once, twice… DAMN! I managed to work KR in to around 5 miles out on the remaining wind before it died completely. I knew that I had 13 miles of fuel – but 18???

I started the engine and headed on my way at reduced throttle – to milk as much as possible out of the remaining fumes - and was safely tied to a mooring by 0100 Friday morning.

KR’s 32 gallon tank took 31 gallons the next morning – so I actually did “much” better this time!

All together, this was a safe and pleasant passage – the fuel drama a good story but not lethal. Sooner or later sufficient winds would have arrived to carry us in. Having said that, it is also true that a calm, stationary night on a mooring and long, uninterrupted “sleep of the dead” was sounding better and better as the passage wound ever so slowly to its conclusion. All ended well.

As one further passage note: It seems almost impossible for me to make landfall after a significant passage when there is actually daylight. Yes, Jay and I accomplished that feat when we arrived in Bermuda from the Bahamas a couple of months ago. But my solo track record is not so good. Since there is no way to “time” your departure to assure a daytime arrival on any passage over a couple of days, it is, I accept, a simple matter of the odds. When in southern waters and the number of daylight hours closely matches the number of nighttime – well, then, I accept that the odds are 50/50. However, making landfall in Nova Scotia in mid-June when first light is around 0400 and it’s still light at 2200 hours, the odds should be 75% in favor of a lit landfall. And I STILL managed to hit land (not literally) at the darkest night. So much for the odds.

After a week in Halifax, the relatively few boat issues that cropped up en route have been corrected – the “dead” starboard side solar panel magically brought back to life when a corroded wire connection was found and corrected and the masthead Windex wind direction indicator bent back into shape (I assume some bird tried to land on it – wouldn’t be the first time). KR, a bit salty on arrival, got its first truly good hose-down since departing Florida in December – and has received sev naturally occurring wash-downs (ie rain) since. It is, in fact, getting another thorough rinsing/power washing as I compose this posting.

I am hunkered down on anchor in Whitehead Bay near the NE corner of mainland Nova Scotia – 9 miles as the crow flies (closer to 15 as the boat floats) from Canso, my first cruising destination this summer. The Stan Rogers Music Festival will take place there over the July 1st weekend. Cruising friends Phil and Sharon on their Cape Dory 36, Evergreen, have been to the festival several times and give it high marks. A diverse schedule of traditional and folk music is in the offing and I am looking forward to enjoying the scene before heading on to Cape Breton and the South coast of Newfoundland – this summer’s cruising grounds.

In December, I did a blog posting titled “The Needy Sailor” in which I told a few old and two more recent stories of connection and generously proffered assistance – just a few of the many that exist.

I now add one more, the most recent, such story to the litany.

I first met Rick and Tanya during my first cruise on KR, 11 years ago. They were beginning their own two-year cruising sabbatical on Auriga. We connected through good friends Suzie and Kirby with whom they were buddy-boating. We met in Annapolis, bounced around with paths crossing on the southbound journey and during that winter in the Bahamas. We have reconnected since in Lunenberg and in Mahone Bay on my previous trips to Nova Scotia.

As I prepared to head to Halifax I was increasingly in need of some one to “enable” the receipt of forwarded mail and knowing I could count on their support, emailed Rick and Tanya to ask for their help. I assumed that we could connect in Halifax, have some pleasant time together and complete the mail transfer.

They had a much better idea, inviting me to spend a couple of days with them at their home in Kentville on the Bay of Fundy side of Nova Scotia.

With KR safely tied to a mooring at Armdale Yacht Club, I happily accepted their kind offer. Rick drove over to Halifax, retrieved the needy sailor and we headed back to their home – as it turns out a veritable cruiser’s heaven! Not only did they have one of those enclosures in which you can stand under a constant, prodigious and seemingly unlimited flow of hot water, there was also this magical box-shaped device which actually kept beer cold and ready for consumption. And, this is to say nothing of the other two machines that would transform damp, boat-smelly sailors clothes, towels and bedding into clean, dry and sweet smelling versions. There was even a 24/7 bomber internet connection! Amazing luxuries.

We enjoyed Tanya’s excellent cooking, good rum and excellent local microbrews. Rick and I did a 10-mile hike out to the end of Cape Split – overlooking the upper reaches of the Bay of Fundy. And, we told stories. I should have more strenuously warned R&T of the dangers of getting a single hander talking – it is SO hard to get them to shut up. With all of the basic food groups (including very pleasant human companionship) located right there in the Kidlark home, they really had to drag me kicking and screaming to the car to take me back to the boat.

I’m joking with that last but am pretty sure that I was the epitome of the unfortunate guest that really did talk a bit too much. I’m sorry for that.

Thank you, Rick and Tanya, for helping this needy sailor and for your kind hospitality. It will be my turn to host the next time when you come to visit in the Colorado Mountains.

Today is a hunker down day – rain, fog, winds up and down and it is a bit chilly. No worries though, I have decided that there will be a Sound of Music matinee complete with hot chocolate and popcorn this afternoon. I may even fire KR’s cabin heater for the first time in over two years. And, bread dough is rising and will be ready to bake in time for dinner. KR will be snug, dry and (one way or another) cozy.

Best to all.