Shoals, Quilts and Painted Rocks
We are barely awake at 7:15 Saturday morning when we hear a female voice gently calling, “hello, hello”.
As we thought, someone is bringing in fish and we have to move the boat back to allow for the 25 foot fishing “speedboat” to access the crane with its catch. It is the fisherman’s girlfriend on the wharf, who is quite happy to learn more about us as we adjust lines and fenders, in our pyjamas.
The fisherman kindly allows me to videotape the procedure of unloading his 600 pounds of cod. He says, “it can’t make me look any more foolish than I already am.”
Determined to make the best use of the hydro, we have bacon and eggs and toast before leaving the wharf at 9:30, heading just nine miles across Green Bay to our weekend destination of Harry’s Harbour. There is to be wind and 20-25mm of rain at various points over the next few days so we wanting a good sheltered anchorage.
Someone comes out of a house on the hill overlooking the harbour and takes our photo. This is becoming a common occurrence in inhabited areas. We wonder how many phones have a photo of Seabiscuit, really meaning nothing to the camera owner, except that maybe they are recording a rather rare occurrence.
Passing Harry’s Harbour
The fisherman told us the sea state was extremely calm when he came in at 7:15. Our water journey will be very short and we expect will be under engine. We are off the Nippers’ wharf at 9:30 and passing the village of Harry’s Harbour at 11:15, after giving ample room to The Green Bay Rock and The Brandies - both rocks and surrounding shoals.
We have to cruise past the village and enter the narrow northeast-southwest channel from the southwest, being mindful of Harry’s Harbour Rock in the entrance.
After studying all the charts and guidebooks we have access to, we know there is a small bite on starboard coming in, after we have passed Harry Harbour Rock in the middle of the entrance channel. We stop, drop the anchor but believe only temporarily until we can get some local knowledge on the larger basin at the top of the .5nm channel, with the community just beyond.
We approach slowly, Harald at the bow ready to drop the anchor at my signal. With the wind on starboard, I choose to pass between the two shoals so I can turn into the wind after passing safely through. The “safely through”, however doesn’t happen as I had planned. It was my mistake to have the chart plotter “zoomed in” too fine so I was just mere feet from the northern shoal when I made the turn. We kissed the Newfoundland rock - there had to be a first time!
It isn’t a minute when Todd comes racing from the public wharf, ties a line to our starboard deck and gently pulls us from our position on the ledge. (I expect it would have only taken high tide to pull us off but the wait would have been rather unnerving.) He tells us that rescuing boats from the shoals is his usual summer pass time while not working on renovating his childhood home.)
Naturally, feeling a bit embarrassed, we are assured we are not the first. He is off as quickly as he appeared, taking his daughter’s Great Dane, who drank too much salt water yesterday, to the vet.
It is only 12:30 so we enjoy a charcuterie board and Harald lowers the dinghy for a shore visit. The sky is blue and the air is warm, unlike the forecast for Sunday and Monday.
Only 200 feet from the nearest shore, we paddle to the stony beach, where a house trailer, boat and fishing store sit, unoccupied today. The walk to town is short and enjoyable along the trail lined with black spruce and pine. The scent is incredible.
The Safety of Harry’s Harbour
Passing through town we wonder about all the houses with quilts hanging from clothes lines and porch railings. The effect is spectacular! (We later learned from some rug hookers we met in King’s Point, that this was a regional initiative: “Show Your Quilts Day.”)
It is lawn mowing day, before tomorrow’s rain, so we get many waves and “good days” on our way through to Salmon Cove where we meet up with the Harry’s Harbour Hiking Trail. Perhaps a Covid-19 initiative, but for whatever reason they are there, we enjoy a few moments pondering the painted stone collection along the way.
The trail takes us along the rocky shore, with high ridges above us and then into the woods. We walk about thirty minutes when a couple approaches from the other direction. He is calling out to us “go back!” They have been walking for ninety minutes and didn’t get to the end of the tra. They have a car at the trail head. We still have the walk back to the dinghy.
Sitting a moment at Salmon Cove, we are treated to a pair of loons gliding by close to shore.
Once back at the boat, a couple from St. John’s comes by in their kayaks. We enjoy the conversation with them until the wind picks up and they leave to cross back to the other shore. She was born here but grew up in Elmira, Ontario. Such a small world.
