Weigh Anchor!
After a very calm night in Gobineau Bay, we depart July 16 at 10:15am. Harald hoists the main sail and we motor sail out to Saunders Point when we hear a loud bang coming from the rigging. Close inspection determines a split ring on a block and tackle on the boom has broken! Really? So we return to the anchorage make the simple fix, grab a sandwich and regroup.
Our second attempt to depart is at 12:45, without incident and we pass Pointe Riche, our last view of such an alluring place.
The weather is fine so instead of only going the 17 miles to St. John Island, we proceed to New Ferolle, another 20 miles. The wind builds to 20+knots and with a following sea, Harald installs the preventer so we are protected from an accidental jibe. (The boom swinging accidentally across the boat risking damage and injury)
As we turn east at New Ferolle Point, I spot a huge splash in the distance and seconds later a breaching humpback! He is swimming fast towards us but breaches half a dozen times, full body out of the water. He is having a grand time and so are we! But we are now distracted and the boom crashes to the other side. I videotape as much as I can before my help is needed, but the memory will stay with us for a very long time.
The anchor is secure at the head of New Ferolle Cove at 6:45pm and we enjoy a quiet night after the wind finally dies.
Our destination the following day is Flower’s Cove, and once again we are able to sail and enjoy great weather so we pass our initial port of St. Barbe after the ferry crosses our path to Blanc Sablon, Labrador. Using the whisker pole and the preventer in 15 knots of wind, we see speeds of 5 to 7 knots.
The entrance is easy to find but we have to be aware of the shoal, the buoys and the range. We have visited here twice by car, so have some idea of the layout of the harbour. Anchoring is not an option as our chart plotter, Navionics and our paper chart all show different depths so we are glad to see an empty wharf.
I take us along side, remembering the warning not to stop beside the scaling machine, unless you want your boat covered with fish scales.
The fish plant doesn’t appear to be operating and a local confirms this when he comes down for a visit. The plant may not be operating, but several fishing boats come and go during our stay. They unload their catch and mend their nets along the wharf. Catching capelin along the bottom with nets brings the unwanted sand lance which get caught in the nets. The wharf is covered in these little eel-like creatures after the nets are mended and back on the boats.
Late in the afternoon another sailboat arrives and we run to assist with their lines. It is quite a bit windier now and we are grateful for the protection of this fine wharf.
Malekula sailed the 42 miles from Port au Choix, having come from Dingwall, Nova Scotia attempting a full circumnavigation before the end of August. Jim has already completed one trip around the island, in 2019. They are both very accomplished and comfortable with being on the water, both having worked on research vessels and Jim working on a lobster boat in recent years. We enjoy their visits, their stories and he and Harald start sharing tools and anecdotes.
Rain starts just as we finish a very late supper and we are heading to bed when the call comes out to move our boat back to make room for a 65’ fishing boat about to dock. The Atlantic Chance stops 3 feet from our bow and Jim & Janice move to “L” behind us. Now we are part of a busy wharf!
We wake Monday to blue sky but a strong southerly wind. The fishermen suggest we not attempt the crossing of the Strait as they aren’t going anywhere either.
Harald works on various chores and I walk to Capstan Point after visiting the old “Skin Boot” Anglican Church, (St. Barnabas). The door isn’t locked so I venture in to the century old, wooden structure. The name “Skin Boot” came from the making and selling of seal skin boots by the parishioners to fund the building of the church. A very small (2 1/2”) pair of boots hangs inside the door. Glass seal oil lamps line the pews and choir loft. The simple stained glass windows shed a gentle coloured light into the sanctuary as I explore in the quiet.
The cemetery is a short walk away, with a lovely view of the Strait of Belle Isle. There are many very old headstones for children, aged 5 hours to 11 years. A woman later told me many children died in childbirth and in the late 1920’s many died of cholera.
As I walk the shore, taking in the fresh air and snapping photos of Flowers Island Light and the many wildflowers at my feet, my eye catches a fishing boat offshore not moving, just bobbing and another smaller boat heading out straight for them with a small skiff towed behind. Something seems amiss.
Back at the boat, Harald explains there is a rescue taking place. Janice heard the mayday call on the VHF radio but the fishermen here aren’t taking any action. She alerted them which prompted the smaller boat to head to the site. The details aren’t clear to us as to who towed the boat - fishing boat from Labrador or the Cape Norman, Coast Guard vessel. There was, however, a lot of confusion and poor communication. The disabled vessel is taken to St. Barbe where a broken fuel line needs to be repaired. I had grabbed some photos of the situation and shared them with Jim and Janice. They apparently made their way to the owner of the disabled boat who is grateful for them as seems there were some charges laid.
I had heard of a good restaurant (the only restaurant) in town the day I drove just past here to Savage Cove with the outboard motor. Jim and Janice join us for the rainy, windy walk up to the highway. My meal of pan-fried cod and a green salad is delicious and the conversation is friendly. We decide to chat even longer over cold beer on Malekula long past our bedtime but we know we don’t have to leave too early in the morning and the company is very entertaining.
Late to bed, late to rise.
What a difference a day makes!
Tuesday July 19. The water is dead calm and the sun is very warm. We sleep late and after a pancake breakfast, still no movement on our neighbour’s boat. Seems they also decided to make it a late morning.
This weather should be much better for crossing the Strait but when I walk up to the road I see fog on the Labrador side (“they’re shovelling it over there today”) We agreed, if we “Can’t see the lighthouse, we don’t go.”
Harald installs the safety jack lines and I get the radar working after use of a small fibreglass cleaning brush from Jim - thanks! We are more comfortable heading across with the use of the radar.
I get photo of our new sailing friends and they head out on their bikes for the day. The weather is still not favourable for them and they expect they might sit here until Thursday at the earliest - they can’t make the turn at Cape Norman in an east wind. There is a system coming up from Port au Basque - rain and wind - which I expect we will also see for most of the coming week.
A large fishing boat comes in from 270 miles north of the tip of the Northern Peninsula - from closer to Greenland than Newfoundland. It is carrying 21,000lb of turbot, with a capacity to carry 40,000 pounds but the captain tells us the large rigging used to lift the nets bent in a 3 day 60knot gale. They have been on the water for 9 days. What a life these fishermen have chosen. At $1.85 per pound, much of his profit will be spent on fuel and of course paying his 5-man crew.
Fisheries and Oceans Canada officers are on the wharf chatting with the captain. They turn up anywhere along these wharfs for random checks, uniformed and carrying guns.
After two more checks of the far coast, we decide it is time to head across The Strait of Belle Isle. The air feels much warmer than the 17’C and without wind, the flies are becoming a nuisance. At 1:30 we slip our lines and head north for L’Anse au Loup, Labrador!
The loon that visited us earlier this morning, accompanies us out past the Flowers Ledges. He is the only company until we spot another fishing boat and the Newfoundland-Labrador Ferry in the distance, coming across from Blanc Sablon.
We motor sail until we are half way across the downbound shipping lane, just 1.5 miles from the shore and the Amour Point Lighthouse. We can’t see either as we have entered a very wet, windy (25knots) fog bank. Harald activates the fog horn and I stay tuned to the radar. It is becoming difficult to hold our course as the wind is knocking us down so Harald rolls in the foresail.
I can see at least two other vessels on the radar so Harald locates them on the AIS to confirm they are steering opposite courses to us and are at least 3 miles away. I steer us into the L’Anse au Loup Bay as we come out of the other side of the fog to the stunning vista of the Labrador shore. I still didn’t get to see the lighthouse, but maybe on the day we depart.
Labrador! Another huge milestone for us!
Our lines are secure on the inside of the wharf at 4:20pm with the help of the friendly welcome committee: Kevin the harbour master, his assistant Logan, Roy and a fellow with smoked capelin we just had to try. It was small, dry and salty and we agreed should be enjoyed with a cold beer. He then gave us the bag, declaring he had a large box of the smoky treat.
We sense we are in a good place. Harald raises our Labrador courtesy flag.
The rain and the black flies arrive during the chat with our wharf guests so I get back on board and installed the enclosure while Harald hitches a ride with Kevin to the store to fill the BBQ propane which apparently wasn’t empty after all.
We have access to showers and laundry, the wharf is quite new and we are in the company of four fishing boats and a cabin cruiser. There is another wharf along the shore which belongs to the very busy fish plant which is at full working capacity when we pass by on our walk before dinner.
The head of the bay is a sandy beach with picnic tables and a fire pit. But we have not come for the beach, but rather to see the beached humpback whale which washed ashore, dead, over the weekend. It is large and starting to bloat. A sad sight for us after the wonderful private performance from a whale just a few days ago.
A couple come by and explain to us someone will come and shoot the large “pillow” of gas that is extending from near its head, then it will be dragged back out to sea. This all has to happen before it “explodes” on its own.
We are again reminded of the extremes of Mother Nature, this uncompromising land and shore and the resilience of its people.
