Rigolet
Up to a gorgeous sunny day after an absolutely totally quiet night with the bright near-full moon shining through the hatch.
We wake, though, to water dripping off the ceiling and walls so we start up the furnace and open all the cupboard and closet doors, hoping the dry, warm air will help remove the condensation.
Breakfast at 7:30 is simple: yogurt, fruit, granola in the lanai in the morning sun, which has been up for three hours already.
I send another beacon home so everyone knows we have stayed put for another day.
Morning off: (an “off” day is a good day to get organized)
Some laundry by hand
Open hatches to dry the boat
Sort the dry food bins and redistribute
Sort laundry into empty food bins
Tidy the aft cabin (again)
Clean the head
Trim Harald’s hair
Pump up fenders
Do maintenance on the traveller - probably the victim of salt spray
Tighten life lines
Lower the dinghy and outboard
After an early lunch of “Poppers” we crawl down to the dinghy armed with GoPro and cameras: first excursion off the boat in four days. We “toot” around the little basin and grab photos and video but the trail to Ha! Ha! Bay is very overgrown so we don’t go ashore. Funny to see the 30km speed limit sign on the shore - must be for the snowmobilers who would travel through here when all is frozen.
Getting up early and getting to our chores makes for a pleasant afternoon. I work on writing, editing and saving photos to the iPad for later use when I can actually update the website and blog. Harald empties the outside port locker looking for the source of an odd noise we’ve had now for weeks. No luck, but he does check the auto helm and confirms all in good working order. (We have come to rely heavily on its use as it can usually steer better than we can in heavy or boring seas.)
After some deck-scrubbing I suggest we have cocktails on the clean lido deck. The wind is cool, even from the south west so we are soon back in the cabin and cockpit where I assemble burgers and Harald cleans the cockpit “windows” - maybe some more star-gazing tonight, unless the full “blue” moon makes that impossible.
The BBQ’d burgers are long overdue. We enjoy them with fried hash browns and raw vegetables, now rationed until we have to open the cans. Harald wins at Skipbo, again, and we are finally visited by something other than a grey gull when a loon makes his presence known as he flies by to parts unknown.
The light is quickly fading as I try to knit and Harald reads. It is so very quiet. Other than the jet that flew over late this afternoon, we are alone in the world. We think of that world and all its troubles: hurricane in Haiti, unrest in Afghanistan, flooding in Europe with great upset to our friends there, forest fires in BC with great concern to our family who call that province home. Let’s not forget the dreaded Covid-19 and the fourth wave now taken hold at home in Ontario.
It is only 7:30 and already so dark Harald reads by the solar light and I write by the light of the Ipad screen. The day is nearly complete. Now we just wait for the blue moon and then we will head to bed, hopefully after some star-gazing in this awesome and rugged place, our home for two days.
We wake Monday to a cloudy morning after some light rain during the night. We decide to stay another day rather than move the 10 miles in rain to another spot further down the rigolet; until I tune in to St. Augustin Radio to hear tomorrow will be “nasty” with wind and up to 30mm of rain. We will move the short distance, getting ever so much closer to our next major stop, Riviere Saint Paul.
These days spent at village wharfs, or anchored, are like mini vacations after our long “slog” down the St. Lawrence River. It has been a long journey but we are now at the culmination of those days fighting current, navigating around freighters and busy shipping ports, marinas and tourist locations, to where we wanted to be. We know future years will be “easier” without the struggles of getting “here”.
We leave at 12:30, taking advantage of the high tide, after realizing the auto helm was left on which explains why I couldn’t steer. It’s a much warmer day: seems odd to be heading out in tee shirts but eventually windbreakers are needed. We tow the dinghy with the hope of a shore exploration at today’s destination.
Accompanied by a loon, perhaps a golden eagle and many great black-backed gulls we sail through the narrow passages, eventually adding some push from the engine as the wind subsides.
As we pass through Lessard Rapids, I relay the story to Harald of Mrs Lessard who drowned when her dog sled broke through the ice. There was a memorial cross erected those many years ago but we can’t spot it.
We marvel at the lack of wildlife as we cruise through this very desolate place but we can now catch the scent of the coniferous trees so close to shore. The reindeer lichen is beautiful, caught under the afternoon sunlight.
Harald drops the main sail between the Coffin Islands and Tucker Point and I steer us down the one and half mile passage on port side. Three cottages sit at the entrance from the Fournier Passage. At 3:30 we are anchored at the bottom of the long channel within I’le du Petit Rigolet - just 10 miles today, but we celebrate our 40th harbour.
We are biding our time in anticipation of expected bad weather tomorrow and are happy to still be within the inside passage. Radio St Augustin advised of strong winds and up to 30mm of rain tomorrow (after the reading of horoscopes, local birthdays and obituaries)
I am thrilled and distracted by the 3 osprey, flying overhead, their high-pitched “scream” the only sound between these rocky shores. (There must be enough prey here for them to survive) A ringed gull sits at the backdrop of rock, lichen and shore turning russet from the setting sun.
Supper is butter chicken and rice with beets (rationing the fresh food now) followed by Skipbo and I win!
There is supposed to be up to 25 knot SW wind over night but the forecast is for the entire NE Gulf which includes west coast of Newfoundland so we might not get the full brunt. We are also always thinking of katabatic winds while nestled in these rocky passages.
At 9:00 the moon rises and we have turned around now facing north. The basin is dead calm, so flat. Not a sound except our bilge pump and our music. It’s warm too. No furnace tonight and an open port in the v-berth.
The forecast was accurate for Tuesday. We wake to a cloudy morning and decide we’ll stay to sit out the expected rain.
The last view we had of the hurricane tracker had Henri running west to east below the Bay of Fundy, heading south of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, showing at 3:00pm today as a post tropical storm with winds up to 45nm per hour. Seems we will be saved from its force but not from this rain.
It develops into a real “cottage” day. We chart our course for tomorrow and make our plan for crossing to Newfoundland. We hope to be there by Monday, crossing from I’le des Esquimaux after our visit to Riviere Saint Paul where I hope to locate more relations. (And maybe some produce and internet)
Harald cleans the engine air filter, we fill the diesel and watch as the rain cleans the salt from the boat and canvas.
By noon the deluge begins. It is so heavy at times we can’t hear each other as we play cards in the cockpit. We made the right decision to stay. In nearly ten weeks this is the first day we are confined by rain so we rejoice in knowing we didn’t have to be “out”.
Unfortunately, we are still without internet so I take the time to finish writing my posts with the hope we have some service in Saint Paul so I can update the blog to current day.
We retreat to the quieter cabin and, with the heat on, continue our Skipbo game and eat the remaining snacks, drink London Fogs, nap and read and still it rains.
Our conversation turns to the end of the season and plans for haul out preparations: all laundry done and items sorted for going home and what stays, which then needs to be stored in vacuum-pack bags; all remaining food sorted and packed, if we can keep for next season; enclosure washed and stored; all resources and used charts packed and sent home, engine repairs completed, if we can locate a diesel mechanic; cushions stacked or stored; engine and all water appliances winterized……the list seems endless and somehow we have to manage this while living onboard. Let’s deal with all of this later…still lots to explore and enjoy.
Dinner tonight is potluck: Harald’s yummy lentil soup and I bring fresh biscuits and cheese. The sunset is just past 7:00 and with it come mosquitoes. The rain has stopped though but fog covers the entrance to our little anchorage. Again we retreat to the cabin for dishes, knitting, music and reading.
Tomorrow promises to be a sunny travel day.
