Out of the Fog
July 28
I just checked on Harald who is on deck tightening the rigging. In the NE wind the thermometer shows 3.5’C, here in Henley Harbour. None of the information we have read indicates there could be katabatic winds coming down from “The Devil’s Dining Table” rock, but we can’t otherwise explain the 20+ knots and the white caps at 5:00am.
We arrived in this otherwise beautiful place yesterday at 2:00pm, after a pleasant 5 hours coming from Red Bay. The wind picked up and the rain started just as we dropped the anchor, in this very isolated and deserted place.
Our last days in Red Bay, while we waited for the fog to lift, were filled with pleasant conversations with the local people, especially the Parks Canada staff at the Interpretation Centre. We had fresh cod “tossed” onto the deck of the boat, compliments of Bob’s brother, Ian. Another meal of fish soup and a cloudberry sundae was enjoyed at the Whaler’s Restaurant. While we waited for the replacement paddle to come from L’anse au Loup, I found the one that had slipped off the attachment point on the dinghy while it bounced in the water behind the boat in 25knot SW wind. It was wedged at low tide between some rocks between the wharf and “town”.
Many bus tours came through including a few with guests from Southwestern Ontario. They stopped by our table in the restaurant after learning we are the couple they heard about who has been stranded here for 5 days on their sailboat!
I ask where they are going next and where they have come from. Not many can actually clearly state the names of any places. This is a mystery to me but I guess if someone else is doing the planning, navigating and driving, maybe the names aren’t as important as they are to us.
We will be so happy to leave the wharf, yet have thoroughly enjoyed our five day visit, the people and the sights. We were immersed into the community and thoroughly enjoyed listening to the stories and seeing all there is to see. As Chris said, “you’re not guests, you’re now one of us now.”
At 4:00pm on Tuesday, we slip our lines and anchor in the Western Arm after finding the recommended Basin too shallow in the protected area. The wind is still strong as we dine on pork and veggie kabobs in the sunny warmth of the enclosed cockpit. Harald checks the anchor frequently and I watch from the cockpit where many stars finally show their faces….nice to be off the wharf and away from its lights.
The morning departure routine seems foreign to us after so many mornings at the dock. We remove cockpit cushions and most of the enclosure, uncover the sail, fill water bottles and don our warm foul weather gear and life jackets. The InReach is hooked to the binnacle and instruments turned on. Raising the anchor takes nearly 30 minutes - weeds - but by 8:45 we are on our way out into the open Strait of Belle Isle.
Always on the look out for any marine life, we are only an hour into our trip when I spot three orcas port side: appears to be a family with one calf. Watching in front, waiting for them to pass, I avert my gaze back to the cockpit when I no longer see them in front of us. I recall the horrific stories we have heard of them attacking boats in Portugal and listening to a fisherman, with tears in his eyes, as he relives his witness to an orca attacking a humpback. Most recently, and most like what happened to us, Jim & Janice’s tale of the pod that swam across their bow on their way north from Codroy, Newfoundland. Jim was on the bow videotaping the scene, when one broke away and came up from behind their boat, almost brushing Jim’s legs as he sat over the bow sprit.
It appears the same thing is happening here! I gasp and probably let out a little scream, as an orca appears so close to the boat, I could touch it. It eyes me and then dives. A warning or just checking us out to make sure we are no threat to its young? Regardless, it scares me and reminds me we are in its space, not ours. I am wary the rest of the journey, today, and now understand why they are called Killer Whales and that we have been fooled all these years watching them frolic at Marineland.
Later we spy spout spray on the horizon: probably two humpbacks but too far away for any concern.
The long red sailboat we saw arrive into Red Bay late yesterday, follows out behind us. We can’t determine its destination as it seems to be crossing over to the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. But as we enter Chateau Bay, she is close behind us. We never see her again, though, so we can only assume she chose the bay off the old village of Chateau. Maybe so she can depart easily in the morning.
See “Henley Harbour” for the account of our stay in this mystical place.