Parting is such sweet sorrow

With the fridge in and working perfectly, and all our stuff either stored aboard or moved to Lewisporte, we finally ran out of excuses to stay. We had one final cockpit drinkies/going-away party with our good friends Gord & Leona, along with Brian. Then the next day we were off.

 

 

On the way out we passed another of our many Corner Brook friends, Kenny. He was just coming back from a night out at Woods Island. We said our so longs as we passed by, sadly going in opposite directions.

Given what happened to us last year, we were somewhat nervous about stopping at Woods Island. Last year we did that and didn’t move for almost two months. But it was the perfect jump off point to leaving the Bay of Islands. So we slid in through the narrow passage and dropped the hook one last time. It felt like coming home!  

We waited two nights for a good weather window to open up for our first big hop north to Bonne Bay and mountains of Gros Morne. It’s a 35 (nautical) mile jump, and the longest we’d travelled in over two years. We passed  Weeball (Gurnsey Island) and headed north.

The last time we had been to Gros Morne it was on a road trip some 25 years ago. It was quite a bit different arriving here again in our own boat.

 

The sail up was great. It felt wonderful to hoist the old rags and feel Pachina Mia show us what it meant to be a sailboat once again. And though the wind and seas piped up a bit, we made it safe and sound in a few short hours. We sailed, then motored up the fjord to Neddy Harbour, then dropped the hook just outside of a mooring field.  

 

 

People think of Newfoundland as wild and remote. It is that, but it is also thinly but pervasively populated. It seems that nearly every nook that is remotely safe from the elements has some sort of town, village or just gathering of shacks. And so it was in Neddy Harbour.

 

 

While we waited for a good weather window to make our next big hop (over 80 nm) we relaxed in the relative calm of this snug little harbour. After a few days we had our chance.

 

 

 

 

Getting up before dawn, we ate, hauled anchor, and  motored, then sailed our way north to Port Saunders area.

It was a brisk sail with 25+ knots of wind, and large rolling seas. Luckily, most of it was on our aft quarter, so we managed with reefed main and small jib. We flew into Hawkes Harbour just south of Port Saunders, and found a beautiful little bay to drop anchor and enjoy the life around us.

 

 

Our next jump was to be an easy and relatively short one. Unfortunately the weather had not checked with the forecasters, so instead of south winds blowing us along, we ended up with north winds on our nose. This, along with a counter-current, produced those steep choppy waves all sailors love to hate. The short easy sailing day turned into a long, grinding slow slog.   

 

 

We finally made our destination for the night: St. John Island. At the mouth of the bay we were greeted by some very odd shaped rock outcroppings, and a reminder that not all boat journeys end well. 

  

 

Inside the harbour we found a couple of fishing camps, and gentle waters. and were treated with our first new animal sightings; first caribou, then moose. I’m used to seeing Lake Superior caribou. This big boy looked twice as large!  

We left early the next morning for yet another large jump, heading for Flower’s Cove. With Ann at the helm we pointed our bow north once again, heading for the opening of the mighty Strait of Belle Isle. On our way we spotted our first seals, and then some dolphins!

Someone once called the Strait “the world’s most dangerous waterway.” 😉 This may have been a slight exaggeration, but it is certainly a stretch of water to take very seriously. The cold Labrador Current cuts through here. Winds funnel and build, and the tidal currents ebb and flow, sometimes reaching over three knots. We had to get both the current and winds right if we were to have an easy passage.

All this meant another stay, this time anchored just inside the harbour mouth of Flower’s Cove. We dropped our hook off the fairway and set up to watch the trawlers and smaller dories go about their constant business as they fished the waters off the cape.

     

While sitting in Flower’s Cove we enlisted the aid of Donna to help  us figure out when we should run the Strait. We needed to find the right combination of tides and currents; a task that Donna took to like the old crusty salt that she is (or dreams of being 😉 . With Donna’s guidance we found the right moment, so hauled up anchor once again, and headed around the cape. 

The sea temperatures, which had started at a balmy 15 ºC in the Bay of Islands (Corner Brook), was now down to around 7.5 ºC. This quickly makes everything a lot cooler, so out came the fleece and toques. It truly felt like we were north.

 

We left with the early light of morning.There are few safe harbours along the Newfoundland shore of the Strait, so we had to make our next anchorage before the tide turned. This was another 40 nm hop. Our TOP boat speed is 7.5 knots, so we were counting on the current and winds to push us along fast. 

The currents did their job. Unfortunately the wind never really materialized until far later in the day. So our grand scoot through the Strait was done entirely under motor. Easy peasy… Who ever said it was the “world’s most dangerous waterway” 👿

 

 

But while the journey itself was uneventful, the sights more than made up for the boredom of motoring. First there were the gannets torpedoing from great heights to spear their fishy prey. Then there were the dolphins and whales which were becoming a regular, but always exciting, sighting. And finally there was the distant white thing on the horizon. 

“Is it a ship … nah.” “Must be a building on the Labrador side of the Strait … but that doesn’t make sense.” Wait!! It’s an ICEBERG!!!!!  Our first Iceberg!

 

It was distant, but unmistakable. What a sight! 

We eventually rounded Cape Norman and Cook’s Point and headed into our safe refuge of Ha Ha Bay. On the way in we spotted numerous minke and humpback whales. I’ll never tire of seeing these amazing animals.

In Ha Ha Bay we anchored somewhat off the village of Raleigh; a “traditional fishing village” — or so the tourist signs said. We didn’t actually see any fishing activities. But the bay was big  and beautiful, and the village looked tough and rugged and very northern.

We had seen a number of whales as we entered Ha Ha Bay, but they seemed to stay outside — until nighttime! 

I awake to a “poosh”. Then another, much closer. Then our boat starts rocking as if a big rolling wave had just hit us. Then more poosh, poosh. Whales! There are whales swimming right next to our boat! 

I bolt out of bed, and run to our cockpit. It is nearly pitch black, but I can hear a whale swimming very close off the stern, and then I hear it breath: poosh! And then I can see the boiling froth of water not 20 feet from our stern as the whale breaches and breathes. 

By now Ann is up and we both watch and listen with amazement. But it’s freakin’ cold, especially in naught but our skins, so we head back to bed, only to be awakened shortly thereafter by more poosh, poosh as another whale comes in to take a look at us.  

Amazing… 

The morning dawns, and a somewhat threatening forecast convinces us to to move on from Ha Ha, and head a short distance over to what looked like a better protected bay. It was also close to L’anse aux Meadows — a place Ann had to visit. So, perfect.

We head out of the bay to navigate a short, but tricky cluster of islands and sunkers. No sooner are we out of the bay that we begin seeing our nighttime visitors once again. Whales are incredible.    

   

As we round one of the trickier points I spot a large vessel washed up on one of the islands. This is a reminder that this land takes no prisoners. It is beautiful, but we can’t get lulled by this.