On the 5^th, 3 ups ‘n downs got us from Bangor, ME to Asheville, NC.  I took it as a good omen that all of our flights were on time, and our luggage arrived intact (although the Admiral carried her wedding clothes).  Turned out that the first day of our 11 away from the Girl was just the beginning of an incredible happening.  Leading in to the 12^th, we spent some quality time with Suzanne’s sister Sheila, her husband, Mike, and our nephew Ian.  My Dad came in early from Michigan, and Suz’s Mom lives in Asheville, so we had some one-on-one with them too.  Our son, Jeremy came in on the 10^th with his family and immediately filled in some holes in our planning, ferrying people here and there, and generally being the “Go to” guy.  Suzanne’s other sister, Sharon, threw a brunch for the ladies on Friday before the evening “Welcome” party at a local microbrewery.  The weather was typical “Asheville Fall”, and the outdoor ceremony and reception at Mike and Sheila’s home on the top of the mountain went without a hitch. (I lied.  We ran out of wine after the cocktail hour, but none of the guests were the wiser, as emergency supplies were brought in before the first glass was empty.  I told the owner of the wine shop several times that we were dealing with real professionals here, but he still underestimated by 5 cases or so.  No harm, no foul.)  Anyway, the Bride was gorgeous (of course!), we got a chance to see most of our friends and relatives (who travelled from long distances), and we gained another son in the process.  Not bad for a weekend’s work.  The flights home were smooth.  Our luggage even beat us back to Bangor.

So………….our routine maintenance-Hmmmmh not so routine.  We had the impression that things were not going as smoothly as anticipated due to receiving a few calls from the mechanic asking us about this’nthat.  When we returned to the Girl, her prop was on the ground next to the boat, and the shaft was pulled out.  The engine room looked like a war zone.  There are some things that you just shouldn’t see out of context, so we closed up the hatches and unpacked our bags.  We got a call from the service manager at Hinckley, informing us that the mechanic, Jay, would be there in the morning to reassemble the drive train.  Launch was scheduled for the tide at 13h00.  Cool. We were up by 07h00 cleaning and waxing.  Jay gave us the short version of the tale of woe.  Seems that the bolts in the entire drive train had been coated with a permanent thread sealer when the Girl was built.  This entailed bringing in a torch to cook the sealer on each and every bolt as it was hauled out with the aid of a 3’ lever attached to an over-sized wrench.  A special tool had to be fabricated, which took a half day of machine shop time.  Long and short, it took a day-and-a-half to do a 2 hour job.  (Ka$$Ching).  All of the rest of our jobs went smoothly.  Well, we got about ½ of the hull waxed, and then it was time to launch.  When the Gal was lowered into the water, she started hemorrhaging water from the new shaft seal.  No worries, I had  them put 2 spares on the shaft.  New seal out, 1 spare in.  Still leaking.  Tide’s going out, so Alizann is re-hauled and wheeled back to the yard.  The shaft needed to be pulled again and new parts installed.  New parts to be overnighted ($$$), try again tomorrow.  The silver lining was being able to wax the rest of the hull.  Next day, prop and shaft out (1 hour, 47 minutes), part arrives at 13h30, we’re back in the water by 15h00.  Sea trial, everything’s working, and No leaks-Yay!  Hinckley puts us up at the marina again, the next morning we’re off to Merchant Island, 3 hours away (check out run).   All the way, the bilge was dry (new seals working), and the Girl was happy.  When we awoke in the morning for our trip to Rockland, there were a few drops of oil in the bilge.  Hmmmm.  Looks like it was coming from the gaskets where our emergency get-home hydraulic motor clamped around the main shaft-not good.  This is getting long, so suffice to say it was Saturday.  Hinckley closed.  Make decision to head back to Southwest so they can re-eval on Monday.  This is where it gets good.  As we pass the Hinckley service dock, we call Shaun on the VHF and tell him what’s going on.  He directs us back to the marina in town, and tells us that he’ll have Scott, the head mechanic give us a call.  No call from Scott, we’re doing the math on days until we have to be in Solomon’s, MD for the Krogen rendezvous (have to be there, ‘cause we’re chairing it next year).  Get a knock on the hull, and its Shaun, who drove into town after he was done with work to check on us.  Scott’s been trying to call, but our Verizon is not up to the task in these parts.  We call him on Shaun’s phone.  He’ll get to us first thing on Monday.  On Sunday we’re doing laundry and catching up on some chores when we hear a knock on the hull.  It’s Scott.  This has been bugging him, so he stopped by on his day off.  He’s already spoken with Jay, who said that there was oil in the bilge when he started the job.  Well, I say, “There was black liquid in the bilge, but it was from the leaky shaft seal”.  I feel a “he said, she said” comin’ on.  We’re down in the engine room, and he’s checking the gaskets with a mirror and flashlight.  He lifts his head up, looks me in the eye, and says “It’s our problem, we’ll take care of it”.  You coulda knocked me over with a feather.  We don’t have a day to spare, so I ask him if it’s likely to get worse.  He says “No, probably not”, so I ask him if we can continue the job when we are near the Hinckley yard in Stuart, FL this December.  “Yep, we’ll call them and set it up-see my guy Chris, a great mechanic who used to work for me here”.  I know this was a long tale (and I shortened it considerably), but I had to tell it because integrity and honesty are so often lacking in the world we live in.

We departed Great Harbor Marina in Southwest, ME at dawn on the 21st, bound for Rockland, ME.  Last year, we visited the Farnsworth Museum there and really enjoyed their collection of Wyeth paintings.  The majority is Andrew’s, but there is a smattering of his Dad’s (N.C.), and his son’s (Jamie).  The paintings rotate through the museum, so you can have a return visit and see different works.  We went, we saw, we enjoyed.  Although our friends Randy and Cindy (Krogen Manatee “Morningstar”-recently moved here) were unable to join us, we had a delicious dinner at Cafe Miranda, where we sat at the bar in the kitchen.  As usual, we took pictures of the menu for our new son-in-law, Ben (Chef de Cuisine at The Edgewater in Madison, WI).  It was an early evening-we had to start making tracks on our 600 and some-odd mile slog to Solomon’s.  Portland for fuel and good eats tomorrow.

-Later

So……Sorry.  Long time, no write.

Thursday, August 21.  After staying on the Girl for dinner at the lock wall, we decided that we’d just enjoy the sunny evening and chill.  We had been in to St. Peter’s the year before with Bill and Lauren, and didn’t think that there was anything more that we wanted to see.  When we woke up and departed at 07h00 on Friday, there really wasn’t anything to see then either except pea-soup fog.  We were thankful that we had been through here the year before, as it was a little tricky navigating out in the fog.  We picked up another vessel on radar about 200 yards out, but got no reply from them on the VHF.  When we were about 50 yards away, we heard them off the port bow, but didn’t see them until they were about 50 feet away.  We shouted a “Hello” to the sailboaters working through the channel in the opposite direction by the “ Braille Method”, bouncing from one side to the other, and were soon alone again.

The rest of the day was unremarkable, as we were surrounded by a wall of cotton gauze for nine-and-half hours.  We dropped anchor on the South side of Nova Scotia at Fisherman’s Harbor-at least that’s where our instruments said we were.  During cocktails at 17h45, we caught our first glimpse of land since leaving the lock wall at St. Peter’s some 11 hours earlier.  No reason to drop the dink for exploration, as Fisherman’s H. is just an overnighter for us-nothing to see on shore.  Besides, the fog had closed back in within an hour.

Sunday, August 23^rd, 07h01 anchor up in thick fog; depart Fisherman’s Harbor-see land as we pass 100 meters from end of jetty.  At 09h15, 6 miles offshore, the fog clears, but still shrouds shoreline.  Under sunny skies, we had 3’-5’ seas on our port beam.  During the next 10 hours, we ran through several banks of thick fog, which, from a distance, looked like gray cotton balls sitting on the water.  The shoreline remained obscured by fog for the whole day.  As we passed Pearl Island, where we had seen the Puffins a month-and-a-half earlier, there were none to be seen.  They had obviously made their sojourn back to the Arctic seas.  In their stead, the rocky shores were jammed with seals, none of which were there the 2  months before.  As we rounded the point East of Lunenburg, we were again enveloped in the fog.  We picked up several vessels around us on the radar, but didn’t get a visual on any of them until a 24’ Searay blasted out of the fog about 150’ off our bow, heading straight towards us.  Nothing Suzanne could do, except pull back on the throttle and brace for the impact.  As he blew past us, not 6’ off our beam at 20+ knots (no radar), I couldn’t help thinking of the old axiom that “There are bold pilots and there old pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots”.  Good luck, Dude.  The weather was still thick as we rounded the jetty into Lunenburg.  We headed straight to the Zwicker dock, our old standby.  The fog became wispy enough that we could see that both sides of the dock were full.  The seawall up the harbor by the Maritime museum was also full, so it looked like we’d anchor out in the mooring field, which was also standing room only.  As we glided back past Zwicker, a lady appeared and told us that there was 20 meters of dock behind their sailboat, “Perseverance”.  Didn’t look like it, but depth perception can be tricky in the dusk and fog.  By the time that we were tied up, with our swim platform directly beneath their dinghy davit, we had about 6 meters of our 17 meter vessel hanging out past the end of the dock-no problemo.  After checking the predicted sea state (10-12’) for the next day, we decided that another day in Lunenburg would be fun.  Monday dawned bright, sunny, and warm, with a brisk wind.  We spent the day shopping and “touristing”.  Suzanne scored a couple of dresses for the events surrounding our daughter, Alison’s upcoming wedding, while I picked up a couple of kitchen gadgets at the culinary supply store in town.  Lunch on the harbor patio of the “Savvy Sailor” was unremarkable, except for the view.  That evening, we invited Terry and Denise whom we had met that afternoon, to join us for dinner at “Magnolia”, a favorite restaurant of ours.  Terry and Denise live in Halifax, but recently moved aboard their 43’ Mainship, ”Aquataura”,  after Terry’s retirement this Spring.  Denise is taking a year off to live aboard as the couple cruise the East coast of the U.S.  I’m guessin’ that they may not be coming back to dirt. 

By the morning of the 25^th, the seas had lain down to 3-5’ on a 6 second interval, and we were off to Shelburne, NS by 06h55.  Shelburne was first settled by the Acadians in the late 1600’s, and was known as Porte Razoir, given to the harbors’ resemblance to an open straight razor.  The Acadians abandoned their village after numerous raids by New Englanders during Queen Annes War in 1705.  The Brits appeared next, in around 1715 and established a small fishing village which was attacked by Mi’kmaq’s (First Nation) raiders and burned to the ground.  After a few other abortive attempts at permanent settlement, a permanent colony was established in the 1780’s by New England Loyalists escaping from the United States.  Shelburne was also the site of North America’s largest settlement of free blacks, mostly escaped slaves from the U.S., numbering some 5,000 souls.  By 1784, the population of Shelburne numbered around 17,000, making it the fourth largest city in North America.  Due to lack of good agricultural land and problematic transportation, economic growth didn’t happen, and the population rapidly declined over the next decade.  Shipbuilding and fishing have provided the economic backbone for the area from those times till the present.  Recently, the film The Scarlet Letter was shot here.  Anyway, I decided to wet a line along the way, but no bites, just pesky seagulls.  We hoped to catch up with our Bahamas pals, Julia and Steve aboard “Erben Renewal”, who were moored there.  We weren’t disappointed.  “E. R.” was on a ball outside the Shelburne Yacht Club, and we picked one up as well.  We had dinner and caught up on our Summer adventures at “Charlotte Lane”, often billed as Nova Scotia’s finest restaurant.  The food was noteworthy, sourced locally, and prepared with imagination.  The conversation was better.  The following day, a rainy one, was spent exploring town, knickknack shopping and visiting the Shelburne Museum.  Comprised of several restored buildings, reenactors  portrayed life as it was in the 1800’s.  In the restored dory building shop, a master dorymaker was still building a couple of Shelburne Dories per summer.  Between the buildings, under a canopy, a wheelwright was fashioning wagon wheels with hand tools, much in the same way as was done 150 years ago.    Suzanne and I had enjoyed our meal at “Charlotte Lane” so much the night before that we made reservations for another go.  We called S & J, but they had plans to eat aboard that evening.  As Steve was chomping at the bit to move the next day (they had been here for a few days already), we joined them for sips before dinner.  So much for the best laid plans-they came in with us for dinner on shore.  Over dinner, among other things, we agreed to join up on the 28^th to cross the Bay of Fundy as we both headed back to the States. 

In hot, humid weather, Suz and I spent the 27^th making a 3 mile round trip stroll to the grocery store and prepping the Girl and some food for our upcoming passage.  It was “race day” at the yacht club, with 3 buck burgers and lots of cold beer, so we had dinner at the clubhouse after the sailboat race.  “Aquataura” had come in during the day, so we got together with Terry and Denise for a (too much) fun-filled evening.  Live music was provided by a duo off a visiting sailboat (they were really good).

Fortunately, timing the tide and current (4 knot) as we rounded the southwest corner of Nova Scotia 4 hours after the start of our journey dictated a late morning departure.  We departed the Shelburne Yacht Club mooring field at 09h40, accompanied by “Aquataura”, who quickly pulled away from us due to their faster cruising speed.  Their plan was to visit a few more ports in NS and get closer to the U.S. before making the jump to the States.  As we passed Cape Negro Island, we contacted Steve and Julia, who had been anchored there the previous evening.  As they fell in next to us, it felt like old times.  Lines in the water, we were on our way back to the U.S.A.  We caught a favorable 3 knot current, riding the tide out into the Bay of Fundy and the seas were as predicted- 1’-2’ until around midnight, then rising to 2’-4’ until 04h00, when they began to subside to around 1’ as we entered Northeast Harbor at Mt. Desert, ME.  No fog, we caught a mooring, and then waited for the Customs officer who arrived and cleared us at 10h25.

Later (sooner)

Goood Morning!

When I got up at 06h30 on the 17^th, it looked like Seastar was in a different spot.  Nah, must have just been an error of parallax.  We got the “Q” up with very little mud or weeds-always a bonus when you don’t have to stand out in the wind spraying down the anchor and chain before your first cuppa.  It took B & L a while to get theirs up, with their windlass moaning and groaning.  I told the Admiral that I thought their clutch was dying.  When the hook came up, there was a monkey fist of chain wrapped around it.  In the windless night, Seastar had circled round and round the anchor, fouling it hopelessly.  Good thing that the wind didn’t come back up, ‘cause that anchor wasn’t holdin’ nuthin’.  As they got things sorted out, I was thinking (with my fingers crossed) that it was a good thing that we weren’t superstitious about inauspicious starts to long trips.

As the sun tried to crest the rim of the fjord, we were treated to some fog-free scenery.  Seven miles later, at the mouth of the bay, the seas were running 2’-4’ on 5 second intervals as predicted under partly cloudy skies.  The passage to Sydney, NS was uneventful.  I trailed a line for 8 hours, but no bites from fish.  The seagulls picked up my bait twice.  I heard the line screaming off the reel, only to see a gull trying to fly away with my Ballyhoo.  Increasing the drag gave him a big surprise-put on the brakes, and he dropped like a rock.  He was stubborn though, and we dragged him through the water like a rookie water skier before he finally got the idea and let go-bird brain!  We got another visit from Canada’s “eye in the sky”, and had another nice chat with them, but saw no sea life, except 1 Mola Mola.  Just after sunrise, as we approached Sydney Harbor’s seabuoy, we were overtaken by “Blue Puttees”, the Sydney-Port aux Basques ferry as she completed her 8-hour voyage from Newfoundland.  She looked big in P’aB, even bigger as she passed within 400 meters of us.  At the sunny dock, relief was written all over Bill & Lauren’s faces.  The boat problems that they had experienced, Lauren’s troublesome kidney, and the poor weather had really taken a toll on their psyches.  It was as if a cloud had lifted (in reality, it had), and our old pals were back.  After Bill grabbed a quick nap, his sister-in-law, Eleanor picked us up so that Lauren, Suz and I could visit the Miner’s Museum while Bill visited with his brother, Don.

We really enjoyed the Miner’s Museum.  We learned that this area of Cape Breton was THE economic powerhouse of Canada in the early 20^th century.  Ninety percent of the coal fueling Canada’s industrial revolution era came from within this 10 mile radius.  Mining, along with steel production made this northwest corner of Cape Breton the economic jewel of the nation.  However, like the Cod fishery in Newfoundland, an economy relying on a one-trick pony is on shaky ground.  When the mining industry started to decline, as was inevitable, the economy took a dive as well.  Since the early 1960’s when the mines ceased production, population and per capita incomes have declined precipitously.  Our walking tour belowground to a vein of coal was led by a retired miner.  Although his charge was to give us an appreciation of what it was like to be a miner in the 1930’s, he shared anecdotes from his personal experiences in 30 years of mining this very colliery.  We were fascinated to hear that it took him an hour and a half to ride a rake (underground coal-carrying cart) to the area where he worked six miles out to sea, 2,700 feet below the ocean.  He told us that an American investor has purchased one of the other mines nearby, and will be resuming operations in the near future.  This is certainly good news around here for the unemployed.  After our visit to the museum, we joined Don & Eleanor for dinner at a local diner for some good conversation and some mediocre grub.  They offered us the use of their car, and after dropping them off, we headed back to the boats for some much needed sleep.

The following day took us to Louisbourg, the site of a French fortress dating back to the early 18^th century.  During the nearly 2 centuries since it was abandoned, the structure deteriorated to the point that it nearly blended in with the landscape.  The site was recognized for its’ historical significance in the early 1900’s, and archeologists had excavated and researched the fort and surrounding town for years.  Then the mines closed in the early 1960’s, and unemployment skyrocketed.  The Canadian government created a public works project to reconstruct approximately 20% of the fortress city.  Unemployed miners were retrained in the trades of masonry, carpentry, electrical contracting, carving, blacksmithing, and etc. for the project.  The result, after two decades of work, is nothing short of spectacular.  Suz and I have visited many old forts these last years (as you can testify), but this one is a magnitude better than any others.  Re-enactors(?) are plentiful around the park, and we found all to be receptive to our questions, and knowledgeable with their answers.  We spent the whole day in the park, and could have spent another half easily.  On the way home, we hit the grocery store to reprovision fresh fruits and veggies, which were sorely lacking in the outports of Newfoundland.

Thursday, the 20^th.  After traveling with Bill & Lauren for nearly 7 weeks, it was time to part ways.  Bill wanted to stay in Sydney to visit with his family, then take a leisurely ride west, with a stop at Baddeck on the way through Bras D’Or, and short travel days as they headed to Maine.  We, on the other hand, needed to start boogieing to catch our plane in Bangor, ME, to make our daughter Alison’s marriage to Ben in early September.  As we readied to throw our lines at 06h00, Bill and Lauren were on the dock for a teary goodbye.  I’m sure that we’ll see them again as we make our way south this Fall.  We had a foggy cruise out of the harbor, and met “Blue Puttees” coming back from Port aux Basques.  The captain hailed us on the VHF for a one-whistle pass (I think that he just wanted to say “Hi”) as we headed out to the ocean.  Our departure was timed so that we could make the last lock-through (16h00) at St. Peter’s, some 10 hours away.  What I didn’t take into account was the 2 knot current running against us as we entered Big Bras D’Or passage-Oops.  Our ETA plummeted from 15h30 to 18h45 as the Girl chugged along at 5 knots.  Oh well, we guessed that it wasn’t the end of the world if we got stuck on the north end of the lock and had to wait until 08h00 the next morning when the lock opened.  The old John Deere need to stretch his legs, so we pushed the throttle forward a bit.  As the current eased, our speed increased, and as the day progressed, it looked more and more like we’d make the last opening.  We made the lock, and spent the night on the south approach wall, planning on a 07h00 departure.

-Later

Saturday, August 8, and we’re off the dock at Fortune by 08h00.  The prediction is for increasing winds and seas as the day progresses, and we want to get into Gaultois early, so that we can explore, get the pump, and leave the next day.  Gaultois is a little outport with a population of 150 people.  As with all of the outports along this coast, its’ population has been steadily declining since the collapse of the Cod fishery.  Along the way, we spy a couple of Mola Molas, but no whales.  As we round up into the harbor, we see that the small public dock is full of boats-no room at the inn.  Anchoring is out of the question, as the harbor is deep, deep, deep.  Hmmmm. The fish plant looks like it’s closed, so we pull over to the wall.  It is GNARLY!  There are a few irregularly spaced tires hanging from rusty cables, and many of the vertical beams are missing, exposing the 10” spikes that formerly held them.  Any port in a storm.  We dig out the fender boards (a couple of 8 foot long 2”x10”’s).  We’re tied up, but it ain’t pretty.  There’s a squadron of mosquitoes living under the dock, and it smells like a few sewer pipes drain out here as well (no treatment plants here, everything goes into the harbors).  One of the old boys who helped us tie up tells me that they “Han’t worked on da dock since she’s built”  “When was that?” “Noneen sistah tree”.  We had read in one of our cruising guides that there was a trail over to Piccaire (say pick-a-ree) Bay, that was a beautiful 5km trek across scenic valleys past pristine fresh water ponds.  Our buddy at the dock, Earl confirmed this, and pointed out the trail head up next to the church (by the way, mostly everyone in these parts is Anglican, if you wanted to know).  The hike to Piccaire was as billed.  Pretty rugged, and lots of bugs, but the terrain afforded some spectacular views.  Our only disappointment was that when we got within view of the bay, the trail petered out, and there was NO WAY to bushwack down the last ½ mile to the water, as the brush was too thick, and disguised lots of ankle-snapping holes running down through the rocks.  On the way back, we were treated to a little swimming exhibition by Mr. Beaver on one of the ponds.  The ladies found that the tiny, but really sweet blueberries were ripe, and came home with a fistful to top the frozen Mango concoction that the Admiral had whipped up for desert.  Oh yeah, did I mention that Bald Eagles are in view every time that you turn around up here?  Back in town, we headed over to the B & B for a libation while waiting for the 16h30 ferry.  Seems that a lady from Ontario saw that the “hotel” was for sale on Kijiji (a Canadian Crags list), and bought it for $5K (yes, she did volunteer that info).  After she did the rehab, she bought the general store (from whaling days), and is currently remodeling that as a music venue.  Recently, she has purchased the old bait shed, and will build artist’s studios there.  After the ferry came in, and the part wasn’t on it, she took us over to the store to show us around.  She has a vision, and I guess she figures “if I build it, they will come”.  Matter of fact, a group played there to a sold-out house the night before, and wants to record their next album there.  That night, another Newfie group was playing, which explained to us why the public dock and the B&B were full. The “Gaultois Days” festival-every town has one, right?  The pump was on the 19h30 ferry, so we were all happy campers.  We missed the music, but I suspect that a good time was had by all, as we heard the revelers breaking up at 0400.

We were off the dock by 0800.  It was windy, but no rain.  The seas were big on the ocean, but our course took us through “Little Passage”, running up and between a group of islands into McCallum, our next outport stop.  Along the way, we passed numerous aquaculture sites, where the main crop was Salmon.  Growing fish in these pristine bays seemed like a pretty good idea to Suz and me, but none of the locals that we’ve talked to had anything good to say about the process.  Stories about fish dying in droves from under oxygenation and disease, as well as pollution from overfeeding ran rampant.  Bill and Lauren recently saw an expose on CBC revealing that these undertakings were not economically viable, the government pouring in lots of $$ to keep things afloat and make payrolls.  Maybe not such a good idea, after all.  While underway, I reworked the new pump as the outflow nipple was oriented 180 degrees from where we needed it.

It was only a 3 hour cruise, so we got into McCallum before noon.  Terry, the Harbormaster, met us at the dock and guided us in.  We had a bit of a crosswind of 20 knots blowing us off the dock, with shallow water all around, so his help was appreciated.  Once we got the boats nestled in, it was time to get to work.  The new macerator went in with a minimum of expletives, and before long Seastar was ready to be sh#tless.  Since I was grubby anyway, I figured that it was a good time to change the Girl’s oil, check all her hose clamps and hydraulic fittings, and clean out the shower sump.  While I fussed with that stuff, Suz got the housecleaning done.  The clouds were lowering, and the winds were increasing, so we decided that it was a good time for a walk before the rain moved in.  We strolled the boardwalks from one end of town to the other, and climbed to an elevated vantage point overlooking the harbor.  Along the way, we passed Marion and Didi’s house, which doubled as the bakery (we met them in Burgeo, where they keep their home built sailboat that they sailed from Germany several years ago).  With rain, fog, high winds and heavy seas, we decided to stay a second night.  Marion made us some fantastic loaves of almond raisin bread, braided to perfection, and Terry brought us a couple pounds of Halibut steaks cut from the fish that he had caught 2 days previously.  After the last ferry of the day left, a 100’ research vessel from Memorial University in St. Johns came in to the dock, seeking shelter from the nasty conditions.  The captain had a heck of a time getting her in to the dock with the high winds, and several times, as she drifted towards us, I wondered out loud if we’d be getting a new boat.  Terry was incredulous at the skipper’s inability to handle his vessel, but all ended well.  Once he was safely tied up, my only worry was having to listen to his generator running all night a few yards from our bed.

Morning brought the sun and blue skies.  It sure makes a difference.  Now, 8’ seas on 6 second intervals didn’t look like much.  We motored along to Hare Bay, a fjord where we planned to anchor for the evening.  Along the way, multiple waterfalls cascaded from the 900’ cliffs into the sea.  What a treat to have the sun shining and the sky blue!  The 7 mile trip up the bay was filled with one ooh and aah moment after another.  We entered Hare Bay between two nearly vertical walls 1,000’ high.  The water calmed immediately, and we ran along a placid pool nearly 700’ deep for 7 miles.  Numerous waterfalls plummeted from above, the only sounds that we heard were from the roaring water.  Talk about magical.  At the top of the fjord, we rounded Sandy Point, and anchored in 18’ of water.  Down came the dinghies to view the half dozen falls within 3 miles of our anchorage.  We had hoped to hike along one of the streams pouring into the bay, but unfortunately, there were no sandy beaches to pull up our tender, and the water was so deep even close to the shore that we couldn’t anchor.  I let Suz off on a sloped rock face, and she gathered the trunks from a couple of small fallen trees to act as rollers, but we just weren’t able to pull “White Star” up.  I’m really considering picking up a second, rubber-bottomed dinghy for occasions like this.  We came back to the Girl.  Suz settled in for some reading in the sun, while Lauren came over to fish.  We had no luck casting or jigging, so we took the tender out for a troll.  We had zero luck in the fishing department, but had some nice one on one conversation time.  While we were gone, Suz threw together a pork stir-fry with the leftover Asian pork tenderloin that she had fed us the night before.  We were sad to talk about leaving, but the weather for the next day was lookin’ iffy again, and the clouds were moving in.  Lauren thought that her recurrent kidney infection was going to make another visit, and Suz and I thought it was prudent to get along the way where antibiotics could be obtained.

The next morning was cloudy and gray, and we made our way to Francois (say fran sway), another outport with a population of 73 souls.  With wind and 6’ seas, we didn’t have the opportunity to see much marine life along the way, but Bill did report seeing a Mola Mola.  As we backed into the floating dock at Francois, Dave and Krowe on “Mysti-Cal” were there to catch our lines.  This is the 3^rd time that we had crossed paths with “Mysti-Cal”, having seen them in St. Pierre and McCallum.  Shortly after we arrived, “Shambalala”, a sailboat from Australia arrived, and the dock was officially full.  As with every other public dock in these outports, there was no water or electricity available-kinda like anchoring but mo’ betta ‘cause you can walk right to shore.  Walk ashore, we did.  A path led up to a rocky prominence around 700’ over the bay, and we had a good lookabout before the rain and fog started rolling in.  We tried to bushwhack our way up to “The Friar”, a rocky mesa at 1,000’, but when the top disappeared in a cloud when we were still an hour or so out, we gave it up and headed back to town.  Of course we walked every boardwalk in town, visiting the town dock where many fishing dories were moored, the grocery market, and the post office.  The rain began in earnest when we got back to the boats, and we hunkered down for the evening.  We had planned on leaving Thursday morning, but it was a pea-souper, and we had found an open network, allowing us to get some internet time, so we decided to stay.  It also allowed Lauren to call her physician back in Ontario and get some antibiotics.  Since we had no cell coverage, L&B walked up to Lawrence and Barb’s house (we met them in Burgeo, where they were working on their sailboat in the parking lot of the marina) to use their phone.  Long story short.  Her doc called the Rx into the pharmacy in Burgeo, where Sharon’s (the lady who owns the grocery here) daughter is the pharmacist.  Said daughter will bring the meds to the ferry that goes to Ramea and Gray River.  We’ll go to Gray River on Saturday and pick up the goods from someone that lives there.-Whew!  BTW, we have a veritable pharmacy onboard “Alizann”, but treating somebody elses’ kidney infection is way above my pay grade.  The rest of the day was “down time”, allowing me to catch up on some reading and writing, and for Suz to get some wedding bills paid (Ali and Ben’s wedding is 1 month away).  Unfortunately, there isn’t enough bandwidth on our borrowed internet to get photos up.  It took me about 30 minutes to get 6 pics uploaded, only to have the process “time out”, causing me to lose all 6.  I guess you get what you pay for.  The weather’s supposed to be crummy again tomorrow, but we need to keep moving west.

-Talk to you then