As of August 20th Keith had a 3 day break from work. It would be ample time to take the boat to Pictou if the weather cooperated. Dawson could come with us and we would shorten the long run by heading over to Summerside PEI for one night en route rather than a direct trip along the mainland coast.
So Day 40 on the water we departed Shediac harbour for Prince Edward Island and arrived in Summerside early in the afternoon. Dawson was quite the sailor. He did not get sick and was enthused to learn what was going on and loved being at the helm. He exposed his inner thoughts to the captain - Since he saw himself as the “Admirable” he was higher in rank and was in charge here. He was pleased to learn that he was able to remain on course using the electronic chart plotter. He was not as interested in discussing the concepts of sailing or the dynamics of wind on the sail or the safety aspects of the gear we had. He was thrilled to be in charge of the bilge pump and checked it regularly to see that it was functioning properly spewing over the side of the boat. He liked having to check the oil and pulling out the jib line around the winch. He liked trying to locate the markers he saw on the chart plotter in the harbour as we approached. But he was not excited by nor could he fathom how his grandfather and I would choose the quiet and serenity of the sailing over the churn of the motor and extra speed it offered as we darted forward in the wind. We have to remember that this guy has been riding clamouring 4 wheelers and motor bikes since he was tiny and seems to revel in speed and noise. Disappointing but true – we were just happy to have him aboard with us anyway.
We landed without incident. We secured the boat and followed our regular routines for dockage. Dawson liked scouting out the new area. The wind had picked up and he liked dodging the spray of the swell as it smashed against the breakwater. He liked the popcorn machine in the marina lounge that he frequented. And he made plans to lower the dinghy from the davits to explore the harbour himself. But by the time we had our supper and cleaned up it was too late for any more exploration and he slept soundly in the gentle rock of the bunk below him.
We awoke to fog and rain and there was no departing for anyone in the harbour that day for anywhere due to the severity of the wind and swell. We spent the day exploring with Dawson. He did take out he dinghy – it was a bit more of an adventure than I think he was counting on but he was very brave and wise and his actions told us that he was ready for the challenges and could handle them without panic.
The captain helped him ready the dinghy, he boarded and he was allowed to take her on his own around the harbour. This because the two of us could follow along on the floating docks and help him out if he had any problems. We watched as he made his way through the slips and we giggled as he weaved in and out trying to remain in line with another couple on their boat who suggested that this was a perfect place for him to learn. We knew he would figure it all out for himself. He was not allowed to go out of the sheltered harbour into the basin outside and he had agreed to that. But he did not account for the rougher waters near the mouth of the breakwater that pushed him onto the rocks under the boardwalk around the harbour nor did he account for the little engine stalling on him. And neither did we! So he crashed his vessel into the rocks and he was dismayed and mortified that the boy on the boardwalk above might think he was not in control. We arrived in seconds to coach him from the boardwalk above. I chatted with him while his grandfather climbed under the boardwalk to offer his support if necessary. He was fine but excited about his crash. When he saw that we had arrived we could tell he felt much more confident. He had been discussing his peril with the father of the boy on the boardwalk 25 feet above him. He was explaining that his grandmother had told him he had to go slow and he was going so slow that his motor quit and he could not get it started before she was pushed into the rocks because of the wind and swell. The captain and I smiled at each other as he carried on. We could see that he had the extra line he had aboard ready and coiled to heave to someone on shore to help tow him in. Between the two of them he and his grandfather righted things. The other couple who had been watching him with us did not speak but gave him the thumbs up sign as he passed them on his return to the safety of the stern of our boat. I saw as he nodded, once, politely, but without a word. He helped his grandfather haul out the dinghy onto the dock to check for damage. We talked of his adventure and told him we were proud of him but I could tell by his demeanour that he was proud of himself. We, reacted, as most grandparents do when so affected by their grandchildren, stirred almost shivered, by that innocent feeling of true love for him.
On August 22 we made our way out of the Summerside harbour early. We knew it was going to be a long day so we were away before Dawson even woke. We were heading toward the 8 mile long Confederation Bridge joining PEI to NB on very rough water before he came up through the companionway, sleepy eyed. And it was not long thereafter that both he and I were seasick. The sun was warm and bright but the storm had left over uncomfortable waters that would not quit. They remained rough and we were tossed about until we were off Cape Tormentine. True to all of our reading about the area, the waters calmed there. The funneling effect near the bridge affects the wind velocity on either side of the cape so much so that there can be a 15 knot difference on either side of the bridge. I find that if I am at the helm I am more apt to be staring at the horizon and less apt to get physically sick. By the time we had reached Cape Tormentine where the waters began to calm it was almost unnoticeable. That was because Dawson and the captain were stilling howling over the fact that I had run over 2 lobster buoys as I drove through the arches of the Confederation Bridge. I had not even seen them. I was trying to concentrate on the arches, my distance from them, the rough waters, the additional 2 knot current we were experiencing upon our approach and the swell that was forcing us over toward one of the high cement viaduct like abutments that made up one of the arches. The 2 buoys apparently exploded into millions of pieces to the stern of the boat but I didn’t see that as I ran over them either. The buoys were positioned close to my port side while I was focussed on going forward with the boys on watch. They watched all right, as it all took place with a huge bang and I was none the wiser. We were just lucky that I had not tangled their lines in our prop but the buoys were toast. They are made of heavy styrofoam and once the prop pulled them under it they exploded out of the water with the band and into pieces. Dawson had noticed a trawler following that was gaining on us. He was sure that its captain had seen me run over his traps and he was after me. I do not think the captain was after me but I do think he had gone in to assess the damage. I also do think there was nothing that could be done – those buoys were shredded. I questioned as to whom the heck would put lobster traps right under the bridge between two bridge arches anyway? Dawson only continued to howl at me calling me a pirate who stole the fisherman’s goods. Within the next nautical mile the seas had calmed, so had our stomachs and we had not been run down by any angry fishermen. All was well for the time being ………..but we still had a long way to go.
We expected a 12 hour day on the water and knew our friends, Bev and Frank from Truro , half an hour away, would be waiting to see us in the Pictou harbour. We knew we would be there after dark, hoping that the approach would be as easy as it could be at night. Dawson was very brave and helpful; and was as good as gold as he remained on watch like a real sailor offering encouragement and support all the way. There are 3 marinas in Pictou so we knew we would be fine but Ben had dropped our car off for us in the parking lot of the Hector Quay Marina so that was our destination.
The approach to the Pictou Harbour is through a channel called the Pictou Road. It is marked by 2 sets of range lights and red and green marker buoys that are not lit. The range lights and our chart plotter were absolutely essential to enter. We could see the lights from afar as we approached . We had our jib raised to aid with the stability. The wind had come up again and it seemed like forever before we arrived at the marina. But we had been through many much worse approaches and we were fine.
Pictou is considered to be the birthplace of New Scotland (Nova Scotia) and the first settlers to arrive here from Scotland in 1773 came by a sailing vessel called the Hector. There is a replica of the ship, the Hector, berthed in the marina as a tribute to those people who first arrived. The early Scot inhabitants established a community through which tens of thousands of other Scottish immigrants arrived to set up communities in other areas of NS, PEI and NB. Pictou, therefore, seemed to us as the most fitting port for our new immigrant vessel from Ontario to arrive at, on her first voyage to NS.
We arrived just before 10 pm. We secured our berth with the harbourmaster for the next few days before we were to be back to continue our journey onward and eastward. Our car was awaiting us and so were our friends. We had a brief visit and headed back to the Annapolis Valley and reality again.
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