The Rival Harbour
CBC announced the national rail strike this morning, August 22. We anticipate supply chain issues and increased prices for gas and other products. For now, our minds are on traveling to God’s Pocket on Seal Bay, what is to be just as much a hurricane hole as Little Ward’s Harbour, according to the cruise guide.
We first visited this extremely safe anchorage in 2022 when we met Ann and Mike (Pachina Mia) and Mark (Kashmir). They have all become good friends we look forward to meeting up with when we return to Lewisporte. Mark completed his solo sail to Labrador and has rehung the “For Sale” sign. Mike and Ann have purchased a home in Ramea and have an offer from someone to buy their boat. Our plans for next summer are undetermined. So all in all, lots to talk about when we are together again.
Rounding Beaver Cove Head I steer north, briefly, to allow a large fishing boat room to pass south of Grassy Island. We can see the Little Bay Islands Ferry Dock on the south shore of the island. The ferry from Shoal Arm no longer runs here, since resettlement in 2019. I think of all the people who arrived there in years gone by, for a summer visit or permanent residents just returning from “town” for supplies or necessary appointments.
Returning to course I steer into the wind so Harald can raise the mainsail. The wind is now from the southeast and enough for us to enjoy a leisurely passage across Halls Bay to Oil Island and Long Island Tickle. It is slow but we appreciate the quiet without the engine, if even just for an hour.
The MV Hazel McIsaac is still loading vehicles, her bow raised, so we have time to run through the tickle before she crosses in front of us. We motor-sail through, heading east for eight miles until we reach the turn south through Seal Bay. The wind is now on our nose and the waves are fat “rollers” pushing us from behind, south toward God’s Pocket.
There is a small trawler anchored in the centre of the anchorage when we arrive at 2:45. I pull in behind our neighbours and Harald drops the anchor. We are in the top end of the cove, 200 feet from shore. The chart plotter is “off” in this bay - it shows we are anchored onshore, same as the last two visits so I use the last points, still saved on our chart, as a guide.
There is no wind here and the evening is very quiet. I make ground beef stew and buttermilk biscuits for our supper which we eat in the cockpit, warm and enclosed from the bugs.
The local news tells us of the death of Myrle Vokey. This man invented the “Screech-in” ceremony’s as a “way to give people a sense of belonging”. He is gone but the tradition for visitors continues with the rituals to anoint them as honorary Newfoundlanders.
It is cloudy on Friday, with hints of brightness. The trawler leaves while we’re having our breakfast and Harald goes out in the dinghy for a row around the basin. It is so quiet here. I hear nothing but the sound of the brook running through the nearby shore. Then a loon flies overhead, singing its lonely call. Such solitude.
Now it’s my turn for a paddle. I head to the open water, taking photos of the intriguing purple rocks, gathering painting ideas for winter days at home. The open Seal Bay and the view of the hills on the far shore are stunning. Last year this bay held three large icebergs while we were here. Not the situation this year, with only a handful of icebergs reported each day, mostly along the north Labrador shore. We have seen two, far in the distance. Unlike last summer when we saw at least two every day.
I take the rangefinder with me to measure the distance from the boat to the south shore. We thought we might have anchored a bit close when we arrived, but the measurement is good and so far the wind has all been from that direction - the bow has always pointed toward the shore.
The purple rock shore of God’s Pocket
Looking Across Seal Bay
It begins to rain at 2:45 and continues until we settle in the cockpit for our supper of homemade pizza. The cockpit is dripping from the heavy rain but we stay out long enough to play Skipbo, until the hint of a rainbow brightens the northern sky.
Threatening
I am awake early the next morning - at 5:00 the sky is clear and bright with stars. Orion is “laying” beside us. I crawl back into bed, only to hear rain start again at 7:30. It continues off and on all day but we are happy in our quiet place. There is a watch for waterspouts in Notre Dame Bay.
Our lazy days continue with reading, listening to the radio, playing cards and going for daily dinghy rows. A kingfisher has been taunting me for a few days while I sit on the deck. He now flies low beside me while I row out to the bay. A bird we rarely see here.
By Sunday the sky is clear blue and there is no wind. There would be no sailing if we leave today. It is still very warm, though, so we convince ourselves to take a quick dip and “bathe” off the swim ladder. The water is salty but there are few jellyfish.
Today we hear the cry of two osprey, flying overhead. Their wide, dark wings and white breast standout against the blue of the sky. They soar so high they eventually disappear from our view.
Harald raises and secures the dinghy, in preparation for our departure tomorrow morning. I start dinner, which is supposed to be barbecued chicken and sweet potatoes. The BBQ gas tank runs empty so I finish the chicken in the frying pan on the stove. It must be nearly time to return to Lewisporte.
The boat has now swung north, for the first time since we arrived three days ago. Our distance to shore is still safe and there is still plenty of room for Yellow Jacket, a Catalina 27, when she arrives at 6:15pm. Stacey and his guest chat with us by standing on their bow, Harald on ours. Our dinghy is already up and they are leaving in the morning so there is no long social visit. They are heading further west and we are going east, so we have no idea we will meet again in a few days.
Our neighbours, Yellow Jacket
Even though the days have been unusually warm for most of the last nine weeks, the evenings have been cooler and comfortable for swimming. Our last night in God’s Pocket, however is warm. We slept with the ports and hatches open for the first time this summer. There is a heavy dew, though, and the deck is wet when we get up to a sunny morning.
Harald prepares oatmeal which we eat in the cockpit. We think of those at home returning to work today and the school kids who have one more week of vacation before the beginning of the school year. Our youngest grandson is especially in our thoughts as he begins Junior Kindergarten next week and his sister will not have her constant companion.
Yellow Jacket weighs anchor and we shout our good-byes.
Our journey today should only take three hours, so we linger in the quiet of the cockpit, the water flat, no wind. We discuss the plans for our final week at sea and complete our usual checks - weather forecast, fuel, belts etc.
The aft water tank has finally emptied after fourteen days. We still have 190 litres in the forward tank so hot showers tonight! Conserving our usage to 20 litres per day has really paid off without the need to run to a “civilized” shore just for water. (Mind you, we are also out of potato chips.)
By 10:45 we are ready to leave for the open water. The forecast is for 10-15 knots from the southwest but Seal Bay delivers just 2 knots from the southeast. We will not be sailing this leg of today’s journey to Fortune Harbour.
Departing God’s Pocket