The Bays - Chaleur and Miramichi

Day 36 we departed Chandler as early as possible.  We knew we had a long run ahead of us across the bays.  We expected an overnight crossing, our first, of the Miramichi and needed as much daylight sailing as we could get in. Our planned departure time was 5:30 am but by then held that back by 3 hours while the fog burned off the water in the morning sun.

The water was a bit choppy as we motor sailed out into the Bay of Chaleur.  Due to the height of our mast, we knew we were not going to be able to travel under the bridge at Shippigan without stepping it, so our destination was Escuminac, located on the opposite side of Miramichi Bay; it was  the first safe harbour for us. That meant we would have to round the northern tip of the Isle of Miscou, hug the coast westerly  until we reached the  Miramichi to cross it before we  would arrive in Escuminac.  The route was a 90 nautical mile run and our calculated ETA was 18 hours from departure.  We knew Bridlewilde  would average  5 knots an hour and at that speed we expected to pull in at 2 am the following morning.

The wind was light, we  motor sailed, we had no problems with the propeller shaft, the sun was clear and warm and all was well until 2 hours later, 10 miles offshore, where the water was deeper and colder, and the fog had not yet burned off.  We watched and watched and watched as we approached it knowing full well we were going to head into it.  We could see it hovering on the horizon from quite a distance away and we could see the clear waters and rays of  sunshine to the west of it. Our only hope was that it would lift before we reached it.  But it did not and we crept into the wall of it.  It is an eerie feeling to be out there in it on the water.   We do not have radar on our boat.  We do have a large radar reflector mounted on the mast so that other boats with radar can detect us but we could not locate or see any other vessel that may be approaching. We had 0 visibility – it was hard enough to see each other in the boat. That created somewhat of a tension for both of us as we continued over the smooth waters of the large bay, our horns and whistles  ready and blasting periodically over  the dull quiet.  We were so thankful for our plotter which held us in position for the 3 hours we were engulfed in that grey damp blanket of the monster Mother Nature had thrown over us. We eventually outran it, we drove out of it and back into the sunshine quickly  just as though we had squeezed through an invisible wall.  We looked back at it as we sailed further and further away.  It appeared to me, as ominous and foreboding upon its departure as it did upon its entry.  But that is the fog, that is Mother Nature and that is the sea – all of which I will not test without the greatest amount of honour and respect.

We saw a couple of minke whales and a finback and an occasional seabird but no other  vessels.  We sailed along easily, listened happily to the weather reports of two good days ahead.  We were far from land sailing along in Bridlewilde, now on a clear warm sunny day without a cloud in the sky. Keith prepared a wonderful dinner of ceasar salad served with a toasted French bagette garlic bread and cheese curd (What will we ever do when we leave Quebec ?  We have grown so accustomed to the ease of access to fresh cheese and breads and wine here) and  spaghetti.  He had purchased some wonderful linguini in the fish market in Ste. Therese (who would have thought?) We ate in the cockpit, each relieving the other at the helm as we ate with tea and cookies for dessert.  We watched the sun go down over the open water and we felt the lovely evening creep into night.  It was clear, no clouds, we could easily scout out star formations, and we sailed on into the moonlit night as the air cooled and the wind picked up slightly.

While setting our sail plan earlier we knew we were going to head into rougher waters.  The charts and our plotter notifications gave us fair warning and we were prepared for it.  We had crossed the Bay of Chaleur.  I had been concerned from the early stages of this voyage about the Bay of Chaleur as being problematic.  I wasn`t worried about the spilling out of the St. Lawrence into the Gulf; I knew we would handle that experience easily; it had always been that great offshore distance in the Bay of Chaleur that kept churning up in the back of my mind as an unknown and here we were across it already with the ease and relax that I did not expect.  Yes, we had had those few hours of fog but we had fog experience before at Les Mechins on the St. Lawrence which had given  us an added level of confidence. I revelled at my inner peace and was amazed that I had not once sensed any fear or horror of sailing or being on the water.  As I thought about this, I looked over to the captain who was gazing out at the moon reflecting  over the water.  He was tanned, with his hand easily grasped to the wheel of our sailboat,  his glasses pushed up onto his forehead   and I smiled.

Our crossing of the Mirimichi at night was exceptionally rough.  We were crossing the bay with the wind and waters to our port side as we crossed. We were also crossing the waves so we tossed and rolled and it was dark.  We were okay but not comfortable.  We knew that Bridlewilde would recover any pressure thrown at her by the sea within seconds due to her deep heavy stabilizing  full keel.  But that did not make the ride any smoother.  We had our jib furled to help with stability and were destined to ride it out. We have a small wheel on our boat and it does impact on rough seas.  I have talked with the captain about installing a larger one so that the pull on my arms and wrists is not so heavy when I am at the helm.  We had talked about this earlier as well when we were in huge swell in an oncoming storm on the St. Lawrence River. The following seas were coming so heavily to the stern of our boat that it was all the captain could do himself to hold onto her through the wheel.  We were really happy to have pulled into the safety of the Berthier Sur Mer port on that occasion.  The captain told me that he has considered the option and we may well do it but it requires more than upgrading the wheel.  Apparently, we will need to adjust the rack and pinion steering mechanism that guides our vessel and if we are doing that then we will make other alterations to upgrade at the same time.  It seems to me that the captain has not just been idly looking out to sea as he quietly steers our boat along.  It seems he`s thinking --- thinking much more than I know.

But the Miramichi Bay-----it was testing us. Our first night crossing, again we were thankful for the chart plotter and its ever forward arrowed red line of our route.  It seemed like hours and hours that we were crossing it.  We were tired, chilled and exhausted from the heat of the day, the chill of the night,  supporting ourselves over the rolling and tossing, and hanging on to the wheel.  But we were still thankful.  Especially, for that light at Pte. Escuminac situated 5 nm beyond the harbour.  We could see it clearly after we first started across the bay but it never seemed to get closer, even though it was a point of reference for us as we crossed.  Without an autopilot on our boat we must steer her at all times. And that process can become difficult in times of low visibility because one must use the chart plotter life line as the only point of reference for course direction steerage.  Our plotter is great and well lit with excellent functionalities but it only has a 7`` x 3`` screen and that can become mesmerizing at times  when one is staring at it for hours on end to remain on course.  So the light became the life line in our course because we could physically see it for our reference point into the harbour of Escuminac.  We had been warned about the shallowness of this harbour at low tide both by Judy and the couple from Vermont.  Each of them had run aground there but told us about the deeper areas of the harbour and where best to navigate upon our entry. 

Eventually, we arrived as planned at 2 am. The swell was enormous and the entry difficult although assisted by the flashing green and red lights at the breakwaters of the inner harbour.  We were thankful for them but it was dark and the harbour unfamiliar to us. The captain is always at the wheel when we enter a harbour.  I cannot dock. I am quite happy to be on the bow guiding us in and readying the fenders and lines and preparing to jump off to tie us up. It is one of my jobs but in that rough water at the mouth of the harbour I had to hang on tightly to the shrouds to avoid being thrown around and overboard.   Escuminac has 2 harbours that are joined by a concrete wall that divides them.  The inner harbour is deepest and they both silt heavily at low tide.  We had decided not to anchor as we were unclear of the tidal range and because of the time of day.

Escuminac is  a remote harbour but houses the largest inshore fishing fleet in the Gulf.  The harbour is owned and operated by the fishermen and they set the dockage rates.  Upon our arrival the night security guard arrived to meet us at the wharf with information and to collect the $9 we owed for the night`s dockage.  As we quickly wisked into the harbour the security guard directed us to tie to the wharf directly in front of us as we entered. We did it but wondered what the heck he was thinking!  It was a difficult landing and tie up but at least the light from the poles on the wharf were a welcomed help.  The wind was pushing now to our starboard side forcing  us into the wall of the wharf.  We had tied on our port side directly opposite the open breakwater.  All the while , the security guard chatting away proudly expanding on the benefits of their little community and all that it offered us.

I now understood the American couple`s advice.  We had arrived at a harbour that accepted pleasure craft but the port was not equipped at all for them.  We had arrived late at night to instructions of a  security guard not those of a sailor.  He was unaware of the wind or water conditions and their effect on a pleasure craft in a harbour designed for heavy fishing vessels that had huge engines able to fight the moving waters. We had secured our boat to the wall as directed and attached our boards but the boat was still as turbulent as the waters below her.  We were both tired and sore from the long day and I knew there would be no sleep for either of us if the boat remained there.  And not only would there be no sleep, I would be seasick.  We had to move and you can imagine how well that went over with the captain who had already had a most difficult landing and tie where we were.  But he accommodated me; really he is a great guy- to put up with my insistence in the middle of the night- and further more to have to go tell the security guard that his wife was not happy and we had to move. But he did and we moved across the harbour to a wall tie up closer to the fuel dock.  We were protected from the wind and the waters were much calmer.

We later figured out why we had been positioned there in the first place and realized it was just a bad ending to a long day. It wasn`t the security guard`s fault. He was a night owl for heaven`s sake.  He worked an opposite shift and was on a completely different schedule than those of us who are awake during the day.  We figured this out after he later came over to the boat with 3 newspapers in hand for us wondering if we would like to catch up on the most recent news.  He had no idea where our head spaces were at 2:45 am after a gruelling day at sea, exhausted and aching, and anxious to curl into the warmth and comfort of the 8`` memory foam mattress in our V berth. This man was up for the night; interested in discussing world affairs and our voyage with us! It was all I could do to be courteous in return. As I have said before, everyone in every harbour we have visited has been so wonderfully accommodating. Sometimes it is the visitor who may be just the least little bit testy!

                                                                                   

The morning brought about the second day of sun that we had seen in a long time.  The captain went off to take care of refuelling and out to breakfast at the little café the security guard had so aptly described just hours before. I declined the invitation to join him in favor of the extra sleep and time to access the internet before our departure.  When he returned we charted the daily sail plan into the plotter. As we were preparing to head out of the harbour, a couple of young fellows along the wharf asked if we would like them to heave off our lines.  We were pleased and accepted their help while one fellow remarked how good it was to see a sailboat in their harbour.  The other relayed that it was so seldom that sailboats actually came in.  The captain waved as Bridlewilde`s bow slipped around and headed toward the narrow opening of the breakwater.  Within minutes we were back out on the open water heading toward  home but not without the captain having to gun the engine to dig ourselves out of the deeply silted channel we had just barely missed being bogged in.