Au revoir à l'archipel
It is decided the evening before that we will stay for a rest day, for Harald at least, who spent most of Saturday with engine concerns and honing his French/English/Sign Language skills.
After pancakes and sausage, and a nice visit with Ethan, we put a load of rags in the laundry and headed out to the SAQ (LCBO at home), with a return walk along the shore on a beautiful, sunny and warm Sunday.
This area has a sand beach and further east we can see large sand dunes. This is not at all what we expected to see here as we know shores in our near future are strewn with rocks.
After another visit to the museum we sat for a bit and watched the loading of ilmenite on the CSL Ferbec. She was anchored off shore for most of Saturday leaving room at the dock for the Bella Desgagnes. (I have now saved her schedule on the iPad as we know we will be encountering her for several more days.) The museum had a very extensive display covering the workings of the mine and how it has impacted the people of this community for over 70 years.
Now it is Harald’s turn to sample the cloudberry muffin from Cafe Chez Julie and I enjoy a cold cloudberry tea. Delicious! We had only thought we’d find cloudberry products in Newfoundland. These are picked and processed in a small village east of Sept I’les.
We find some small souvenirs at the Parks Canada Reception and Interpretation Centre and visit the displays depicting the life of local poet, photographer and community leader, Roland Jomphe. Now we understand the name of the museum, too. One of his many projects was to photograph, name and catalogue all of the limestone monoliths in the archipelago.
His poetry is probably far more meaningful in French, but I would like to share a small sample in English:
The University of the Deep Seas
To the south: Anticosti, the Gaspe
To the north: the North Shore, the Mingan Islands
To the east: Newfoundland, the Ocean
To the west: Quebec, the Province, our Homeland
Above, no cover
No ceiling but nature
Space, height, infinity
Lighting
Night, stars, moon
The light of the entire world
To the lapping of the waves, the seconds
No windows, no curtains,
No window frame, no bars,
No walls; the horizon, the mirage,
The fog, the clouds, the open seas
One storey only, no stairs
Everybody on the same floor
In the basement
A great museum,
The Museum of the Tides:
Whales, halibut,
Cod, herring
All kids of life
It is spacious, it is moving
It is deep, it is alive
These are the classrooms
The gallery of life
The universe of the deep seas
Lessons
They begin at daybreak
Following the shore, skirting
rocks, every day
In the open seas of morning
Each had his spot in the room
In the open seas of night
Each with his dream in his heart
- Roland Jomphe -
Thank you to our Toronto birding friend, Irene, for confirming the mystery ducks we have been seeing for several days are indeed female and young Eider Ducks. Would so love to find the male after seeing one behind glass at the centre.
Monday dawns bright and again early, at 4:45am. The day looks promising for our short trip to I’le Sainte Genevieve, the last of the archipelago islands moving east. We remove the enclosure, fill the water and I make sandwiches for the journey.
Some little boys come to visit and to ask “how are you feeling?” This, we suspect, after they ran back to mom to ask her how to ask “comment ca va?”
Our departure is easy but we are sure to follow the local way of blowing our air horn before entering the small passage between the break walls. (Now we know it works!) The CSL Ferbec is not far behind but turns and heads up river with her load. She can only travel as far as Montreal as her beam is 100’ which is 20’ too wide for the seaway locks.
Our attempts at sailing are futile with light wind, again in the wrong direction, so we motor the remaining 10 nm to the passage between the larger and smaller Sainte Genevieve Islands. We are delighted by the company of so many puffins floating on the surface, diving and making low fly passes over our bow.
At 5:30 we are anchored and taking in the cacophony of bird sounds: many cormorants which seem to have killed the trees on the small island (not unlike the eastern gap in Toronto harbour), a dozen herons all standing on shore and one lone bald eagle being chased by kittiwakes.
Jellyfish float by as I secure the enclosure, expecting rain after seeing the large cell on the radar. Light supper and early to bed but we are up again at 2:30am checking the anchor. The roll we are feeling is just from the tide change in this very narrow passage. Will we ever get used to this?
Tuesday is cloudy and grey, the first in quite some time. After cleaning extensive seaweed from the anchor we head to Pontbriand Bay to anchor for the night. Two loons come to bid us adieu and I spot the eagle keeping a close eye from atop a tree on the small island.
We motor 23 miles at our 5 knot maximum speed visited by a minke whale and a few seals. The puffins are no longer with us, but we see terns again. Arriving in the bay about 3:30 I steer through the rocky shoal to the north end where there are a few small cabins and the highway! A couple of cars sit in a parking lot we assume is a rest area. We feel a bit closer to civilization.
The sun comes out and the air warms while we enjoy creamy coconut chai tea and biscuits. The long underwear comes off and we settle in for a quiet evening of dinner, reading and knitting, “sans chandails”.
