Part 2: The Lonely Little Dinghy
The dinghy is sitting about 225 feet from where we are anchored. Harald is determined to swim to shore but I do not support his plan. He would wear his floater suit and his cover his head and hands. I am concerned with the number of jelly fish and having been warned their sting is painful.
We check the tide chart and the wind forecast. She might just float back out close enough for us to nab her with our docking poles. We watch her all evening, until the tide comes up and she drifts beyond the first shoal and into the little basin beyond. Then it is dark and we go to bed, leaving her alone, adrift.
I am up early and pop into the cockpit. No sign of our dinghy. I figure there would have to have been five wind changes during the night for her to have made it out, back through all the s-curves, into the open water. We saw no such wind change.
I contact the Coast Guard so they know, if the dinghy is found, we weren’t in it. The operator thanks me for the call and apologizes for not being able to help with the retrieval. We didn’t expect their assistance and go back to the drawing board.
We look at the chart and think it might be possible for the low water area behind us to allow a shallow draft dinghy to float through at high tide. We, of course, have no way of going over to find out. We continue with our stay: playing cards, watching the birds and the jelly fish. I knit, Harald reads. We eat, we sleep.
It is now Monday. The forecast shows 25 knot winds in Hare Bay so not the day to cross north. We know Hare Bay can have swells as high as forecasted in the open water, which today is showing 2-3 meters. We plan to leave tomorrow.
A lone caribou wanders the shore near us. His head is down. He looks sad. I think about our lonely dinghy and the lonely caribou. Maybe a children’s book in the making?
It is the holiday Monday, but I prepare and send an email to our insurance broker and contact the marina in Lewisporte, asking them to begin a search for a new dinghy. We will need to have it shipped to St. Anthony, as we cannot go further without one. This is also our lifeboat.
As I’m heading into the galley to start lunch, I take yet another look along the shore. What is that little white “nose” I see at the head of the bay? Can it be? It is! The lonely little dinghy is slowly drifting out from behind the point at the other end of the shoal where we last saw her. She has been here all along, hiding for three days and nights and appearing just in time. But we still have to find a way to retrieve it.
No boats have visited since Saturday, before she slipped her line. We hope someone will come in today to fish, but the weather in the bay is not suitable for any boats.
We have lost the sun so the solar panels cannot do their job. Harald rigs up the generator, for the first time this season. It slowly charges are batteries until bedtime. It seems nature feels our pain. Pathetic fallacy, as I recall.
I start a conversation through Facebook with our new Coast Guard friends, Rob and Jackie. My hope is they will have access to a staff directory, finding the name of the engineer who assisted us last year when we sailed into Goose Cove, without a working engine. His father-in-law got us to the wharf after we dropped the anchor in the middle of the harbour. We had just enough information about both of them so our friends can begin the search.
Through a very intricate series of phone calls and text messages we have found our help! Wade calls and explains he can come to assist but not today. He asks why we cannot get to the dinghy ourselves. Without seeing the chart and the actual location where she sits, it is very difficult to explain how we cannot retrieve it.
There are rocks appearing between us and the dinghy, at low tide. These do not appear on the chart so what else is there we cannot see? Someone would still have to get in the water, even if we could raise the anchor and motor as close as we dare. This would be the last resort but Wade seems very willing to give us a hand - again. We are aware of the weather conditions and tell him if he can help, we can wait.
Cell phone service is sketchy, so I miss two calls from Wade telling me they are on their way Tuesday morning. A text is delivered, though, from his cousin, explaining “Wade would like to know if you are ok and he wants to come where you’re to and help out.”
We hear the engine of the fishing boat before it appears. Wade and his brother exclaim, “you are in a bit of a pickle”, after they see where the dinghy is now sitting. Now they understand why we could not rescue it ourselves.
Harald climbs aboard and ten minutes later they are back with the dinghy in tow. There isn’t a scratch on it and the outboard is working fine. I guess she just wanted a little time to herself.
We are so grateful for the assistance; our thanks so inadequate. The gentlemen will take nothing for their trouble or for the fuel they had to use to cross 9 nautical miles and return home. They will not stay long enough for coffee but instead offer us use of their family wharf in Goose Cove. They can provide power and water.
We explain we had planned on getting to St. Anthony for groceries and some other errands. That’s not a problem as Wade will lend us his truck. The giving continues.
“Thank you” is not enough, but that’s all we can say as the fellows head back home, mission accomplished.
Come to say farewell
We take down the enclosure and ready the boat for departure. I start the engine. No water coming out. This cannot be! Harald goes below and finds the belt on the water pump is loose. Quick fix. Water out the exhaust as there should be. Just one last little hiccup.
Harald raises the mainsail as we head down the last channel, passing Death’s Head Island. The wind has picked up and the swells grow as we move across Hare Bay. I have to sail about 20 degrees off course to pick up the wind. We motor sail and work the swells.
By 2:00pm we are nearing the marked entrance to the Goose Cove Harbour. I slow to let a minke and calf pass ahead of us. It is easy to find the Troy Family Wharf. Wade is there to meet us and to take our lines. “Stay as long as you need.”
We are eternally grateful for the network of people we have met - now and for some reason in the past.
