Not a fun day

Sept. 3 - We left Escuminac at 7:10 a.m. and arrived in Bouctouche, New Brunswick around 8:45p.m. What a day! We fought 20-30 knot winds head on and waves as high as 8 feet under sunny skies. It felt as if the boat had become possessed by a herd of wild mustangs. The waves pounded us relentlessly and crashed over the bow, sometimes hitting the dodger (windshield) with what seemed like the force of a fire hose. To make matters worse, we had to navigate our way around a minefield of lobster pot buoys - hundreds of them - and it would be a very bad thing to get one tangled in our engine.

Our diligence in avoiding the buoys did not help us avoid engine problems, however. Three times it overheated, Wayne turned it off, let it cool down, and went down below to investigate. The first time he added coolant, the second time he extracted seaweed from the filter, and the third time he discovered that the intake hose was totally clogged with seaweed. He managed to dig it out with a wire coat hanger (one of his favorite tools) bent into a hook on the end, but this whole process took a long time, and with each engine shutdown the wind blew us more off course.

Keep in mind that as Wayne worked, lying on his belly on the floor, the boat lurched, heeled, and catapulted itself through the wind and waves, oblivious to the fact that Wayne had all he could do to keep himself from being thrown about the cabin while using both hands to complete his tasks. He finally decided to “heave to,” which, in simple terms, means to stall the boat by turning it into the wind so that it drifts (relatively) calmly. This made it much easier and safer for him to work.

He finally made the engine happy, but were our problems over? Oh, no, they were not. Claus radioed us as we neared Bouctouche; they had just docked and were calling to warn us that there were five miles of channel markers to navigate to get to the marina and that we needed to make sure we got there before dark. Wayne looked at the chart and determined that we would arrive around 8:00, just at sunset, so we continued to plug along instead of stopping short of Bouctouche. We reached the outer harbor at 8:00, then realized we still had five miles, 35-40 minutes, and countless channel markers yet to navigate with daylight vanishing rapidly! It wasn't obvious from the chart that we were as far away from the marina as we were. We had no other option but to stay our course at that point, so I grabbed the binoculars to search for the buoys and guided Wayne through them. They would not have been easy to spot under normal conditions  because they were small and easy to confuse with lobster buoys, which dotted the entire channel. Shallow water surrounded us, so if we strayed outside the markers, we would almost certainly run aground.

It was extremely tense and the markers were getting harder to see as we went on. Claus radioed us with explicit navigational instruction given to him by the harbor master ("Go towards the church steeple, now turn right," etc.) We followed blindly and were guided in by Claus, standing on the break wall with a flashlight. It was the only way we could have found the marina, much less found the entrance and docked.

By the time we tied up and turned off the engine at 8:45, we could have kissed the dock. Instead, we gave a silent prayer of thanks and gratefully accepted Rachael and Claus's invitation for drinks and snacks on Kyanna.

Tongues and cheeks

Sept. 2 - Tonight we are docked in Escuminac. Along the way, especially in the small villages, people have been fascinated with our boats. Countless times we've been down in the cabin and looked up to see people on the dock checking out the boat or even peering in the windows. Often ours are the only sailboats, and in the last couple places ours have been pretty much the only non-fishing vessels in the marina. Tonight after dinner dad must have said to mom and the kids, "Hey, there are a couple of yachts in the marina; let's go check 'em out," because there was quite a parade of people on the dock. Everyone we've met has been so friendly. This afternoon we were chatting with a fisherman and asked about internet service; it wasn't available at the marina, but he invited us to come over to his house and use his internet service. A family came by and chatted with us; they were visiting the dad's parents and pointed out the house, saying, "If you need anything, just come on over to the house."

Tonight we ate dinner at Claus and Rachael's. Besides trout, Rachael served us cod tongues and cheeks - really! - which she bought at the same seafood market where we got the lobster. Well, it was unanimous: the cheeks were delicious (as was the trout) - think filet mignon. The tongues, well, not so much. In fact, they were awful - even Charlotte the cat turned up his nose at them (yes, Charlotte is a boy). They were all mixed together and hard to tell apart with their battered coating; although Rachael tried to separate them, I think each of us ended up with an extra tongue or two by mistake.

One of the fishermen we talked to said there hasn't been any cod this year, so what I’d like to know is, where the heck did all those tongues and cheeks come from??

Change of plans

Sept. 1 - What is the saying? "We cannot change the winds, but we can adjust our sails." Something like that.

We intended today to be leisurely, having planned to cover a shorter distance and allowed time to hike, birdwatch, and take photos on Île Bonaventure, which has the largest colony of Northern Gannet in the world. The island has high cliffs with numerous ledges and fissures which make an ideal habitat for them, as well as many other nesting seabirds.

Well, it was tough sailing. The winds were too strong and the waves too rough to anchor, so plan B was to dock at Percé Village and take a tour boat to the island. Claus and Rachael were ahead of us scouting out our options. They thought the marina looked too small to maneuver and dock our boats in safely with the conditions we had, so we sailed past Percé Village, detoured slightly to photograph Percé Rock (quite impressive), sailed past the little harbor village, L'Anse-à-Beaufils, where we had planned to spend the night, and moved on to plan C. Claus and Rachael's next choice looked tenuous as well, so we went a little farther and docked at Grande Rivière.

We knew immediately that this was a fishing village (besides the fact that our navigational chart labels the waters here as a "fish farm"), and would have even if we hadn't been surrounded by fishing boats - the aroma made it obvious.

We tied up and relaxed for a little while, then set out to explore the village. Well, we only made it as far as the fish market, just a stone's throw from the dock, because dinner was waiting inside in the form of whole, live lobsters. We certainly weren't about to carry them around town or set them loose on our boats, although Charlotte the cat would have found that entertaining. I made it clear that I would have nothing to do with torturing and murdering the poor things myself, so someone else would have to do it (yes, yes, I am a shameless hypocrite). On the walk back I realized that I did not even want Lena Bea to be the scene of the crime, so I asked Claus and Rachael if they would do the deed at their place while I prepared the rest of the dinner. Thankfully, they agreed.

Now, before I bought the lobsters I mentioned to Rachael that we didn't have any equipment for eating them and she assured me, "No problem, we do." I was expecting nutcrackers, tiny forks, special knives, and individual butter warmers with votive candles, so imagine my surprise when Rachael walked in with tiny forks, special knives (of sorts), small stainless bowls...plus a wire cutter and an assortment of heavily-used pairs of pliers. We were not about to let the wrong equipment stop us from eating the lobster, though - sure, it took us a little longer, but the lobster was delish! Rust and all.

Tonight I proposed a toast in honor of it being our final night in Quebec. We love Quebec and the people are friendly and gracious, but after several weeks here, we look forward to the comfort of being in an English-speaking province once again.

Another whale of a day

This was another experience beyond words, but I'll try.

We were cruising along in the fog, the gray of the sky merging seamlessly with the gray of the water. Only Lena Bea broke the calm of the sea and there was no other boat in sight, creating a perfect backdrop for what was to come.

Suddenly something black appeared - a whale! - breeching and spouting. And another...and another...and another. They were everywhere, some so close to the boat (50 feet) that we could hear them breathe! I grabbed my camera and started shooting, turning to where the sounds came from, wishing I had four arms and two cameras with which to capture it all. Wayne cut the engine and we watched in awe - just us and the whales - no tour boats and no marine police to tell us to keep away. Were we afraid, knowing that some of these whales were nearly twice the size of our boat? It never crossed our minds.

We finally moved on and radioed Claus and Rachael, who were a couple miles behind us, to give them a heads up, excited to tell them about our whale encounter and hoping they would experience the same (which they did).

Spent the night tied up to the dock at Marina Gaspé.

It's all south from here

Aug. 30 - Today we reached the northernmost point on our journey, at 49.17.339 degrees latitude, about the same latitude as Winnipeg. That's a big turning point for the four of us - figuratively as well as literally. It seems appropriate that fog and chill (60ish) have been the order of the day. I think we're now in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, although my map does not tell me where the river ends and the gulf begins. It just feels like the gulf. One week from today we’ll meet Michael, in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. We are so looking forward to having him with us for a week!

Anchored at Grande Vallée behind the public wharf. We hope to have cell phone service back later today or tomorrow.

Blogging in a biker bar

There is no internet service at Marina Sainte-Anne-des-Monts and it seems the only place that has wireless is Pub Chez Bass. I asked Rachael if she wanted to go with me and she responded with a vehement "NO! That's a biker bar." She and Claus had walked past earlier and there were dozens of motorcycles parked outside.

Well, dedicated blogger that I am, I was not about to let a few bikers keep me away. Wayne agreed to escort me to the pub, which turned out to be totally unnecessary because all the bikers were gone by the time we got here. Wayne stayed for a beer and some fish and chips before returning to the boat, but I'm supposed to call him on the two-way radio when I'm ready to leave (we have no cell phone service here) so he can walk me back. He is so chivalrous.

We're stick-in-the-muds

Aug. 29 - We sailed the spinnaker again yesterday and docked at Marina Matane. Rachael bought fresh scallops and shrimp and made a delicious seafood bisque for dinner. We expect to eat a lot of seafood in the weeks ahead, and boy are we ready!

When you come into a marina, you call them on your VHF radio to tell them the size of your boat and your draft (how deep into the water it goes - ours is five feet) so the marina knows whether or not they can accommodate you. Normally they will then direct you to a slip. We didn’t hear back from them, so we ventured in. Well, after dinner we realized that the ebbing tide had left both of our boats sitting on the bottom of our slips. Thankfully this is not a serious problem unless you're planning to leave before the flood tide, in which case you're stuck - literally. During the night I felt the boat begin to rock and knew the tide had come in; we had set our alarms so we could leave at 6:00, before it got too low again.

Now it's noon and we're about to dock at Marina Sainte-Anne-des-Monts, where I hope to have internet service so I can finally get these messages and photos posted. Calm water gave us good visibility this morning, so we saw dolphins, a few whales, and seals.

We're on the south shore of the St. Lawrence, still in Quebec, but New Brunswick is just south of us.

A picture is worth a thousand words

Aug. 27 - I've decided to skip all the superlatives, as none are adequate, and let the whale photos speak for themselves. The photos don't begin to do them justice either, but they will have to do.

The long black whales are Blue Whales, the largest of all mammals. They're 75-80 feet long and eat four tons or more of food per day! They are protected and endangered; the St. Lawrence population is estimated at 60-100 and the entire North Atlantic population is probably less than 1000.

The Beluga or White Whale is also protected and endangered. Their numbers are less than 500 and declining due to environmental toxins.

Heading out into the bay this morning we watched the tour boats, and when they congregated and stopped, we knew to watch for whales if they had not already made their presence known to us. We watched Blue Whales blowing and breaching, heard them breathing and moaning. Rachael and I stood in our bowsprits, cameras clicking wildly, while Wayne and Claus kept busy trying to aim the boats to where we pointed.
The Blue Whales had disappeared and we were sitting back, relishing the experience. All of a sudden there seemed to be a lot of whitecaps on the water and my immediate thought was, "Belugas." Then I would laugh and say to myself, "Now I'm imagining that every little thing is a whale." Except they were Belugas and we were surrounded by them - over 100 for sure.
They swam past the boat, swam up to the boat, swam under the boat, and I couldn't shoot my camera fast enough. Wayne put the engine in neutral, as we understood the protocol to be. We realized we were in a marine park sanctuary when the park patrol boat interrupted our experience and set us straight: If we find ourselves in a pod of Belugas, we are supposed to leave the area immediately and stay at least 400 meters away (200 meters from Blue Whales). While they kindly educated Wayne about whale etiquette, I kept taking photos, including some of Kyanna with Rachael taking photos of the Belugas.

We saw other kinds of whales too, and quite a few seals. The seals don't photograph well; they just look like black lumps in the water.

All day long the thought kept crossing my mind: this is something I couldn’t even have dreamed about.

Dinner this evening with Claus and Rachael anchored off Île du Bic was a celebration of another kind. We bubbled with conversation about our shared experience, one of the most awesome of our lives. We had "show and tell," reliving the day as we shared our photos, oohing and ahhing as over a pile of precious gems.

"We get to do this!"

Aug. 27 - We spent the night moored near the marina in Tadoussac and are sitting in the cockpit sipping our morning coffee, preparing to start our day. We watch the rising sun glisten on the water and hear whales blowing in the harbor. A lone seal swims by occasionally and glances at us warily without changing course.

"We get to do this!" as Claus would say.

The four of us have marveled about how blessed we are to be realizing our dream (I didn't even know it was my dream), but it didn't happen by accident. First of all, you need to know what your dream is and stay focused on it. Then you need to figure out what it will take to make it happen. Finally, you need to commit yourself, sacrifice as necessary, and do what it takes. Just do it. Last but not least, never underestimate the power of prayer.

A birthday to remember

Today is my birthday, and it was a memorable one.

I woke up in this gorgeous boat, moored in Eternity Bay on the Saguenay fjord, surrounded by breathtaking mountains. The sun, which we hadn't seen since leaving Quebec, was trying hard to make an appearance.

Wayne and Claus did a dinghy run to shore with our garbage and met a family with four kids from Ottawa, who were finishing up a two-month sailing trip. They had been to some of the places we are headed for, so Claus invited them over to Kyanna to look over charts and give us suggestions. Coincidentally, one of the daughters was also celebrating her birthday.

We left at 12:15 and actually sailed the entire 26 miles to Tadoussac...with our spinnaker (the big, colorful sail)! An added bonus was that Rachael - a very competent photographer - photographed us while we were underway.

We moored in Tadoussac at 4:00 under heavy winds and took the dinghy in to shore. What a charming town! We walked around, took photos, and went to the grocery store before returning to our boat for hors d'oeuvres and to Kyanna for dinner. We had a surprise when we returned to the dinghy after our walk: the tide had gone out, leaving the dinghy sitting on the beach.

Rachael made a delicious birthday dinner of pork chops, green beans, a fresh baguette, French Rabbit chardonnay, and for dessert, a flourless chocolate torte. Yum! They even had birthday presents for me. Claus and Rachael have become such dear friends.

Seeing whales was the icing on the birthday cake, so to speak. No, I couldn't have asked for a better day. God is good.