Land Of The Long White Cloud
19 July 2023 | Drookit
A few years ago we pitched up in New Zealand - The Land Of The Long White Cloud.
This week, we pitched up in Nova Scotia. Land Of The Long White cloud mark ll.
The difference is that in New Zealand, the cloud is restricted to the mountains, creating the effect for approaching sailors of a, well, long white cloud streaming off the mountain peaks. As befits a cloud of any standing, it keeps itself to lofty elevations allowing those below to go about their business, mostly in sunshine.
In Nova Scotia, the cloud sits between sea level, or, more appropriately, SEE level and perhaps fifty or a hundred metres. Pea soup! Jeez, the wee radar has been whirring away continuously for days and as yet, while we've covered a couple of hundred miles of Nova Scotian coastline, dropping in at Clarks Harbour at the south east point for a fish supper. Shelburne to clear in with Customs and Immigration who threw a fit when I wandered out the yacht club shower and they found out we were all ashore pre-clearance. "Only one of you should be ashore. AND, you're not allowed to anchor on Canadian soil until you're cleared." Whoops. Four pissed off guys armed to the hilt, dressed like a SWAT team, Glocks, Tasars, pepper spray, extending baton, handcuffs and the essential little rubber stamps. You, know, the ones with the little spinning wheels to change the date and just Ian our son, Anne and one dripping bloke to vent their pent up anger.
After getting read the riot act we were instructed to up anchor and bring the boat into the dock so they could clump aboard in their SWAT boots and fill out all the usual forms.
Next morning, aiming for Ian's parting flight, we set off into the ever present murk and felt our way along the coast and parked up on Lockeport where at least we got to listen to a new tune, echoing from their harbour fog horn. We visited Lunenburg for twelve hours to tick that box and, in a few hours, finally Halifax. For the third day, continuing the effort to catch the plane, we left at six sharp - into the fog wearing full foul weather gear. Items of clothing that haven't seen the light of day in years. Fortunately it cleared a bit an hour or two ago so today, it's just cold, wet and rainy. Fog forecast later.
No wonder the first settlers called it New Scotland.