Have You Ever Been To Sea, Billy?
Within 45 minutes of our departure from Natashquan we are sailing with a reefed main and full jib, the 7 miles past the Natashquan River toward Cap Tiennot. We are sailing and we are happy! Saving diesel and not working the engine. But turning east proves to be difficult as the wind is not south, it is easterly and on our bow again. We run the engine at a low rpm and tack back and forth trying to pass the cape, now in 20 knot wind and seas building. (What are we missing in the forecasts?)
Then the fog. By 2:00 we are running the fog horn, checking the AIS and the radar, while one of us keeps an eye out all the time. Visibility is about one mile and we are running about three miles off shore. The tacking is strenuous and we realize we are losing valuable time, not wanting to arrive in Kegaska after dark.
But now darkness has set in and it is still quite foggy as we arrive at Kegaska Point, finally finding the green marker 1/3 of a mile off shore. The red lights are on shore so I am careful not to steer toward them, but I can’t see the red range lights to guide me in - pea soup fog.
Harald keeps an eye on the green marker as I try to leave it to port and steer the boat along the range line I can see on the chart plotter. But the waves are still two meters and the wind is still strong. I cannot steer through the channel. The boat is being pushed forward by the wind, rocking front to back through the swells, while the swells also roll us side to side.
We abort.
We will not be in Kegaska tonight.
(See photo of the Kegaska harbour as found in the Canadian Hydrographic Sailing Directions - on a clear day, with a warning about the difficulty entering the harbour. The yellow line shows the entry into the anchorage, assuming that big barge may not have been there but we wouldn’t have known what was there. We made the right decision.)
We turn back out to the open water, with no real game plan, but we know there is at least one more harbour and a couple of anchorages we can head to if the weather settles.
It is at this time I’m starting to feel unwell. The dim light, the fog and the light from the chart plotter are all playing havoc with my eyes, confusing my head and now my stomach. We expected the chart plotter to switch to night view automatically but it didn’t, which really made night vision difficult for both of us. (We eventually did get this resolved - so glad we have all equipment manuals on board.)
Some of you know how prone to seasickness I am! But I have gone 8 weeks in this strange water, without a hint of nausea. I play by my rules: 1/2 Gravol tablet each morning we are travelling, no coffee, I spend much of the day at the wheel and I do not go below deck. Harald fetches food and clothing changes and anything else I might need through the day. But this time, I could not get beyond the feeling that I was in for a bad night.
I stay in the cockpit, retching from an empty stomach for about 30 minutes before Harald sends me below to lay on a cushion on the cabin floor. I am so unwell I can’t even contribute to the plan but joke that maybe I will wake up to find we have crossed to Newfoundland.
The rest of the story is really Harald’s to tell as I stayed below deck for seven hours, only getting off the floor long enough to make it to the galley sink.
Dawn is breaking when I crawl up the companionway and can’t believe when I see both sails are up, Harald is in different clothing and an entire bag of bagels is gone. He has been awake and running us along the shore all night. Night sailing was not in the plan and we weren’t really prepared but he aced it!
He relays some of the story of how he managed with the wind still at 20 knots but the direction changed to let him sail a beam reach. (Wind on side of the boat). He gained confidence in his ability to navigate at night and to manage the boat alone. Now the overnight crossing Jayne and Mike took from Natashquan to Bay of Islands, NL does not seem as daunting as we thought. There is nothing to hit. Just freighter lights to watch for.
I can’t speak, just listen and when he shows me the chart plotter I cannot believe how far we have travelled. We are right at the entrance to Baie Coacoachou. I remember from my harbour investigations that this is the last safe stop before Cape Whittle. (Later investigation uncovers the translation of this Innu name to be “wolverine or "savage devil”.)
I am able to take the wheel while Harald lowers the sails and I steer us through the channel, past I’le du Crocodile and up into the marked anchorage past Baie Tertiary Shell. The fog is just returning but we can make out the low rocky crags surrounding the basin where we will stay for at least two days: one to recover and one to put the boat back in order.
By 7:30am I am in bed, grateful for a safe harbour and for Harald who got us here, 70+ nm, unscathed. He enjoys a cold beer and a sandwich before hanging up our wet gear and coming to bed, to sleep until 4:00 that afternoon.
