Holy Mackerel!
(Settle in. This is a long one)
It’s now been a week since we were escorted into Cloridorme, and 4 days since we left that welcoming and hospitable village.
We are now anchored off the west side of Baie Quarry on I’le Quarry in the Mingan Archipelago, appreciating this most interesting place and it’s maritime tundra landscape.
Harald is changing the engine oil and I’m trying to get caught up on our news and photos, after an inspirational three hour hike around the east side of the island and picnic lunch this morning. (More to come)
I apologize for leaving you hanging without any update about our engine and electrical problem but cell service was spotty at best in the past week.
Our night on the wharf at Cloridorme was very uncomfortable. Harald had installed the fender board and all fenders but the rubbing along the wharf wall produced a loud squeaking sound amplified with the rising and falling of the tide. The lights on the wharf produced near daylight in the v-berth all night and with the sun rising at 4:45am, true daylight came far earlier than we wanted.
Fortunately, we had shore power so hot coffee and toast were on deck before Yali, the electrician, arrived right at 9:00. The “wharf guard”, Harald Cote, accompanied him so with things getting a bit crowded, I headed to town to check out provisions and get the lay of the land. (Anticipating a delayed stay)
A comforting FaceTime chat with my son, daughter-in-law and 17 month old grandson was perfectly timed, as I debated whether I actually wanted to return to the boat with the continued plan to go on to Newfoundland.
Finding the little boardwalk through the marsh lifted my spirits. The flowers, the birds, the peace.
As I approached the boat at the end of the wharf I was alarmed to find a diver just removing his gear. Ives Cotton was summoned by Yali after Harald mentioned we thought we had a line around the prop or shaft. We were of the impression that the line the Coast Guard saw as they approached us was actually the preventer line that had fallen from the deck during the rough ride the day before. (Lesson learned)
Ives and Yali both speak excellent English but Ives seems to be taking the lead on communicating with us.
After Yali determines we blew the main 250amp fuse, it is Ives who agrees to have one ordered and delivered to us within two days. We installed the spare 250amp fuse we had and will keep the new 300amp fuse as our insurance policy if needed in coming days.
Ives did find a line around the shaft, which he removed and delivered the good news that he saw nothing untoward or out of place on the bottom side of the boat.
The mystery though of how we blew such a powerful fuse is not answered. Yali runs each user of power on its own but nothing comes close to using 250amps.
“She’s like an old car: looks nice still on the outside but needs lots of juice to get going”.
Such a little gadget making such a difference to our plans, involving so many people and settling us further east than we had anticipated. But we like this place, it’s people and ambiance.
After leaving the fishing wharf, we move to the small dock where we can sit more comfortably, with shore power and perhaps less squeak and bright light.
We put the cabin back in order and walk to the head of the wharf to wait in line at the very popular Cantine du Pecheur (Fisherman) for our fish and chips and poutine. We reminisce over the happenings of the last day and agree we are in a good place, very appreciative of all the help that was so quickly arranged by others.
We find a shortcut to the grocery store by walking along the beach at low tide, finding a treasury of sea glass and photo opportunities. The store has all we need, including a full supply of beer and wine.
Dinner preparations are late and as Harald lights the BBQ we are visited by the first of many mackerel fisherman who stand on the dock beside the cockpit, reeling in at least two mackerel in the first five minutes! Everyone smiles and we try to engage best we can.
Little Nathan, though, is the highlight of all fisherman visits. Nathan is eight years old, reminding me of my son at that age with his little glasses sliding down his nose and his 8-year old curiosity. He seems intrigued by us and the boat. I wish him “bonne chance” as he drops his line in the water, under the watchful eye of “dad”.
Two mackerel are in the bucket in a matter of minutes when Nathan asks us if we’d like a fish. Well the BBQ is hot and the little pork tenderloin won’t go very far so of course we accept and gather foil and onions. Nathan apparently doesn’t like mackerel but when he returns later and asks if it was good, we offer him some and he liked it! “Dad’s” just been preparing it wrong - apparently most eat it smoked. We manage to understand his question about when we are leaving because he promises to be back.
Nathan returned the next evening in his little yellow rain coat, rod and bucket in hand and again wanting to keep us company with some French, some English and lots of sign language. What a special treat he was. (We make sure we find him the next day to deliver a little gift card for the ice cream store and to tell him “tu es un tres gentil garçon”.)
We have no issue with the 2 or 3 people who stand beside us for a few minutes to catch mackerel but there are others who come with their large coolers and basically set up camp on the wharf for the entire day. The coolers are for the fish and we later learned of a group who rented three rooms at the local motel where they processed their large catch for shipping to Montreal markets! The signs on the wharf indicate this is not legal but nobody stops them.
Later that evening a gentleman knocks on the side of the boat and asks for the $30 we owe for dockage. No problem but we had no idea. He asks how long we will stay and we try to explain about the fuse and waiting for good weather. No problem. He’ll be back tomorrow for another rent payment. “Oh yes, there is also another sailboat coming that will raft off with you for the night.” And within seconds, the boat rounded the point and together we got her lines and fenders secured.
The sailors have come from Riviere Renard with the hope to get further for the night but the wind was on their nose and the seas, once again, confused. She tells us how strange the river has been this summer - light-to-no wind and very high waves and swells. (Ah. It isn’t just us. Even the local sailors are having issue with the condition of the river and its weather.)
The night is not quiet as fenders are squeaking again with each gust of wind and tide changes. Our neighbours leave before breakfast the next morning.
As promised, Ives arrives Saturday morning with the coveted 300amp fuse and stays two hours, chatting over coffee and fresh muffins. He speaks proudly of his home at Riviere Renard (Fox River) where he was born and now works running the 300 ton travel lift and running to aid boaters like us when a diver is needed. He would like to one day own a sailboat and to travel as we are now. We find him engaging and would like to call him a friend.
It’s a cloudy, wet day as I head back to the main street in search of a few more groceries and a hair cut! Successful at both, I return to the boat for a taco supper and preparations to depart the following morning. The Canadian marine weather forecast is more favourable than Monday’s forecast and we don’t want to be asked to pay taxes to the village of Cloridorme!