Yarmouth ----Land's End

The run from Port LaTour to Yarmouth took one full half day.  Bridlewilde slipped out around the breakwater just as the sun was rising in Port LaTour.  We very carefully monitored the designated markers guiding us through the nasty shoals near Northwest Creek to our starboard.   Safely positioned beyond the ragged crags of Baccaro Point light, the wind snapped Bridlewilde's sheets, challenging the boat to clip along over the water swiftly with ease. The wind was with us; the swell of the sea manageable and the sun was warm. It was a glorious sail without incident.  We had hoped to see some water life activity or another vessel but nothing at all came to us, nothing but the never ending roll of waves and the freshness of the cool sea air.   Once past Cape Sable Island, we charted our course inward, between Outer and Stoddart Islands, an effort to cut off a little distance.  With a long day behind us, we bid farewell to the Atlantic Ocean between the two landmasses, Cape Forchu to port and Rat Island where we entered into the lengthy channel in to Yarmouth Harbour, just as the sun was about to set.

Bridlewilde, with burgundy hull on outer dock - mast will identify her

We had already been in communication with the other two Canadian vessels we had met in Brooklyn.   They had moved on to Digby but informed us that the marina right in front of the Rudders Restaurant right downtown was closed for the season with no services available but could still accommodate us well. We drifted quietly into an outside dock there, secured the vessel lines for the night and fell into bed asleep almost as quickly as our heads hit our respective pillows. 

The following morning we consulted our “tools” to determine if we had a window to head across the Gulf of Maine to Cape Cod.   A window is referred to as a period of time for which sailing conditions are favourable for one to depart from, navigate through and arrive at ones destination. Crossing the Gulf of Maine is a 48 hour crossing at best and perhaps longer in our smaller vessel.  It was our preferred route, enabling us to cut off quite a chunk of the eastern seaboard. It had always been the route of choice, Keith was familiar with it as he had sailed it prior, and considering our late departure date it would put us in good position to remain in favourable weather by the time we reached Chesapeake Bay. But the window was closed and we spent the day scouting out Yarmouth for further provisions. 

We met Denis. We saw his sailboat on an outer slip further down the dock. What sailor could resist the temptation to find out who was aboard?   Denis was also heading south, recently arrived from Halifax, looking for crew and alone on his boat. 

We searched and purchased current flares.  Flares are dated with an expiry date just like groceries. We had perfectly good flares aboard but we knew that the US Coast Guard (as with the Canadian) can board a vessel at any time to do an inspection.  We were aware that some of our flares were outdated. We were also aware that should this be detected by a USCG search, we’d be held up for a considerable time until the situation was rectified.  (We learned this when we had an inspection of our boat done before we departed Gold River.  This inspection is called a survey.  It is an in depth detailed recount of everything that pertains to the vessel.  Because Keith had done so much work to the boat we needed our previous survey updated and our insurance agent would want a record as well. Prior to our departure, we hired Lunenburg Marine Surveys to do this work.  Choosing these professionals was an excellent choice.  We highly recommend them to any one requiring this work done.  They were thorough, informative, professional, highly experienced, prompt, detailed and to top it off they are the only Nova Scotian surveyors with the expertise to provide ultrasound equipment. Thereby, they were able to report a true picture of the state of our steel deck and hull.)

We searched for a GPS puck.  I noted earlier that Keith installed a Monitor Wind Vane unit on our boat.  I will provide more information about this piece of equipment in a following post.  The installation of this unit required that we remove the davits from Bridlewilde`s stern.  A very simple description of a davit is that two are required that usually mount on a boat`s stern. They are a series of poles, lines and pulleys used to lift from the water. One may most often see then used for hoisting and transporting a dinghy on the stern of vessels.  Ours were very valuable to us but everything in a boat is a compromise. The stern our a Mason sailboat, especially the 33`s such as ours, are very narrow. In order to mount the wind vane, unfortunately the davits had to go.    And they went quickly.  We advertised on kijiji, a young couple, Dylan and Karen, met us in a parking lot in the North end of Halifax and departed with our cherished davits however, not without a lengthy conversation; not without a friendship evolving; and not without a good deal happening for us both.  It turns out, Karen works with Joyce, Keith’s mom.  It turns out, Dylan has pertinent information that would be helpful in our charting courses to the Bahamas since he and Karen had done the trip on their boat the previous year. It turns out , Dylan installed the same wind vane on his boat. It turns out, Dylan and Karen set up a date to visit us in Gold River before we depart to see our boat and install some helpful electronics on our laptop.  All I can say about this destined connection is …it turns out….well!  The GPS puck does fit in to this narrative.  The data that Dylan so generously loaded onto our laptop is tracking mapping for the entire world. It is incredible. It is an additional electronic navigational tool that we use to track our routes south.  However, due to the fact that our vessel is steel, we occasionally cannot get satellite signals through the steel deck of the boat.  We need a GPS puck that has a magnetic base that can attach outside to the steel house companionway, with a six foot cord attached that will plug into a USB port into our computer inside. This would enable us to physically chart our courses in the comfort of our interior cabin as opposed to plotting on the deck in whatever weather conditions thrown at us. The GPS also links an image of the vessel to the track as the boat travels along it. But this tool was not to be found in Yarmouth.

We scouted the town for services. We looked for the library, the local Y for swims and showers, the best coffee shop, a chandlery, laundromat, our last Frenchy’s, a grocery store, and all located within walking distance. Within hours we were provisioned, ready as we could be to leave our country, and land’s end, the following day for new horizons.

The following day did not come with favourable weather, nor did the next, nor the next.  We remained at the dock waiting with some time on our hands---11 days of time on our hands until we would depart.

We kept busy and remained in Yarmouth .  Yarmouth emits a rocky ruggedness about it in places.  Its terrain is rocky and washed by the sea. I cannot attest to being a rock hound; nothing to the like of my daughter and granddaughter, who at any given time, one might find either one of their pockets adorned with some volcanic remnant treasure they may have been compelled to pick up.  But I do like them. I have been known to carry a hammer with me on a walk just in case I encounter one that intrigues me enough to look inside it.  While tramping along some rocky Nova Scotian beaches, I have attempted to break them against one another in search of amethyst strains when a unique one has caught my eye.  So I suppose it was inevitable that the Yarmouth Runic Stone piqued my interest. 

The Yarmouth Runic Stone is housed at the Yarmouth County Museum Archives.  This rock, found locally, is a slab of quartzite said to have been deposited here by ancient explorers, specifically Leif Ericson, an adventurer and Viking sailor.  Supposedly the markings on the rock outline an inscription on it.  One field of thought identified by some historians is that the markings are Norse runes, a type of descriptive alphabet used by ancient travelers from Iceland and Greenland. It is an unconfirmed belief that Leif Ericson traveled to this area as early as the year 1000.  While history reports the MiKmaq nation to be the first inhabitants here, calling it Keespongwitk, meaning Land’s End, Samuel de Champlain named it Cap Fourchu when he arrived in 1604 and the French Acadians set up a small fishing village of about 50 people around the mid 1700’s  who called it Tebougere.

Considering my sailing adventurous romantic nature, I am inclined to lean toward the belief that Leif was first about the place, leaving the rock to mark his territory.

Another wonderful point of interest to poke about in when one has the time in the Town of Yarmouth is the Nova Scotian Art Gallery, Yarmouth Site.  I saw the most wonderful electronic image of a right whale scaled almost to size, projected in mosaic onto a darkened wall in this gallery.  I was mesmerized by the multitude of color, the immensity and the beauty of this piece as it moved across the gigantic wall almost as though it were alive and swimming there beside me.  It was one artist’s rendition of how the creature portrayed itself.   I was surprised by the impact this electronic piece of art had upon me.  Had I not seen the piece depicted in this manner, I am not sure that I would have been otherwise so moved.   True to form however, an art gallery is designed to house samplings with the intent of stirring ones senses. 

 The friends we met on the two boats from Lake Ontario contacted us from Digby.  Jimmy and Jacquie were visiting with family there but repairs were moving along slowly on Joe and Rose’s boat. They rented a car and came to visit with us.  When we met at Rudders for supper, of course, we recounted new sailing stories.  We talked of the vessel Painkiller, Denis’ boat, also still in the harbour waiting for the same weather window.   These four sailors knew Denis; they had stayed together in a marina in Halifax, and had exchanged good times and good stories also. Of course, Denis was contacted, dragged out of bed to join us at the restaurant for the remainder of an enjoyable evening together.

The sea was nasty outside the harbour.  The storm, Matthew was pounding the coast further down the eastern seaboard southern coast and it wasn’t letting up. The gulf stream dragged the remnants of the ugly water north; the water was mighty and confused.  When the sea is this angry, it takes its time calming, but until it does, a coastal community is at the mercy of what it brings with it.  It was so for Yarmouth.  The wind had risen in the harbour so additional lines were applied to Bridlewilde to hold her safely in place. We went to bed early, still positioned on the outer dock.   We didn`t sleep well; nor did we get to sleep easily listening to the wind howl through the rigging. We could feel the rise of the water in the harbour as the boat movement under us rocked a little heavier.  The screaming of the wind intensified, waking us, with something banging loudly against our steel hull. We could hear the water washing wildly against the dock. 

Earlier in the evening, just after dusk, a small trawler, a new purchase delivery vessel from Halifax headed for St John, came into the harbour to get off the water. In the dark following, one after one, we watched as huge fishing trawlers inched into the harbour finding berths along the piers to secure their monstrous fishing vessels. Keith and I looked at one another, both of us understanding the look of frowned concern on each of our faces. We were well aware there was reason to worry if these big sea monsters well equipped for rough water, were inching their way into this now crowded harbour seeking refuge.  It was nasty out there. It was nasty in the harbour. We could feel the writhing of the boat under us. Six foot waves were screaming up the same channel we had come in just a few nights prior.  We could see from the large windows in our cabin.  The waves were capped in white, frothing angrily, coldly crashing against us and over the dock.

We had all the fenders we had positioned along the dock but the banging and crashing was too loud. Something was wrong.  Keith ventured out of the safety of our cabin to assess.  The small trawler tied in front of us had broken loose, held now only by one line and was crashing into the bow of Bridlewilde. We were terrified, not of the storm but of the damage that may occur to the boats.  Continued, it could be an insurance nightmare and an even longer hold on our travel plans than the weather.  We put a call in to the Coast Guard. It was two in the morning; we had no idea who owned the little trawler. The marina was closed for the season; there had been no one near the vessel for all the days we had been here.  The Coast Guard could not assist; no vessel was able to come to retrieve the boat in front of us. They wished us good luck. We called the local RCMP.  They responded and sent two officers in a cruiser to talk with us. They were reluctant to venture out onto the dock and had no safety harnesses or lifejackets available but could easily see the need to get the situation under control.

 

Keith was able to read the call signs on the flailing trawler to call them to me so that I could relate them to an attendant on the other end of the second VHF radio call I was making to the Coast Guard.  We wanted them to search their records to find out who owned the ship for contact information.  Again they were unable to assist. Their database did not support small pleasure craft vessel data.  I copied the info and provided it to a police officer who came to our boat to inform us that they were unwilling to board the trawler due to the intensity of danger to anyone stepping aboard.  By this time four more RCMP cruisers arrived. A constable was able to use the data to pass on to the marina manager who they had roused from bed. 

The storm intensified; we had to move our boat out of further harm but the weight of the water was so heavy pushing her into the dock.  We needed help.  The boys from the new trawler heading to St John came to the rescue. They were awake and out addressing additional securing lines on their boat parked next to Denis but came readily to assist.  We all struggled to get Bridlewilde off the dock, pushed out into the mayhem of water and using her trusty little engine she swung around to head inside to a slip opposite the outer dock.  Keith revved the engine to give her everything it had to help her bend into the tight entry, ravaged by the onslaught of huge waves.  Within fifteen minutes that seemed like fifteen hours even with the help of four able men, Bridlewilde was secured again, scraped and scarred, but not beaten. 

Of course there was no more sleep for the rest of the night. While the tide continued to rise, so the storm continued to build until late morning.  Had the tide been receding perhaps the strength and size of the waves may have been much less.  When we were able to venture out to assess the damages we were shocked to see the two 50 foot American vessels, a steel sailboat and a cruiser, also resting in the marina, had both broken free and had attacked each other. The owners were not aboard but the vessels were thrown against each other inside the harbour throughout the night.  With so much force , there was massive damage to both boats. We saw some of it taking place from the safety of Bridlewilde but we had no idea the magnitude of the damage.  Unfortunately, in a situation such as this storm one cannot become involved with an unmanned vessel unless you are willing to completely accept total responsibility for it, and as a result it is left to the devices thrown at it, alone.  It took days for the sea to calm down enough for us to sail out again.  Denis tried a departure in the midst of the wait but he had to turn around and come back to the safety of the harbour.   We waited it out and on November first it was a go. We had three days of good clean weather. With the fuel and water tanks full, all the provisions we needed aboard for at least 2 months, the passage charted, and an uplifted attitude to boot,  at 12:10 pm on an early grey afternoon we exited Yarmouth Harbour and the shores of our country for the  two and  a half day crossing of the Gulf of Maine to Gloucester, Massachusettes, US of A.

Nov. 1, 2016 Departing Yarmouth Harbour . A little chilly but we are on our way across the Gulf of Maine.