On Friday September 9th, our 47th day of actual life on board our boat we departed the lovely little harbour of Eddy Point to head across the Chedabucto Bay, around Cape Canso and into the open Atlantic Ocean. We wanted to reach Charlos Cove in Tor Bay this day to visit with our friends Doris and Wayne Leblanc and it would be a full day sail.
We left early in the morning and by 10 o’clock the sun was shining and warm but we were dismayed by the fact that we had a strong headwind again. We were able to motor sail using our jib to help give us a little extra speed as we crossed the Chedabucto Bay but we knew we would have to furl it once we headed around the Cape for we would be cleanly nose into the wind then.
We had purchased a new hard copy chart for the Strait of Canso (and beyond) and it was this one that I used to plot our way to Tor Bay. Since we were heading out into the Atlantic Ocean around the very rough coastal terrain at Cape Canso I had plotted our course to the outer side of the shipping lane to avoid those hazards. I found out later that this was a huge mistake on my part but what is it they say about hindsight? At any rate, we headed forward toward Cape Canso looking forward to rounding the Cape. As we were crossing the Chedabucto Bay we had seen 2 large ocean going vessels anchored out into the centre of the bay. I asked the captain if he thought they were anchored there to wait out the upcoming storm. He didn’t think so – he thought they were awaiting pilotage out of the area and he was right. A couple of hours later as we began our approach past the entrance to the town of Canso we could clearly see the pilot boat had arrived and was giving lead to the large ship. We motor sailed on, without further notice, moving toward the Cape.
What seemed like just moments after we had seen the pilot boat leading the ship our VHF radio blared out a message. We were both in the cockpit and our radio is mounted below in our cabin so it took us a few seconds to register that the radio was actually sending out information. The captain went below to take note of the information. The call was coming from the Australian Spirit, the vessel we had seen anchored in Chedabucto Bay and then piloted out into the shipping lane.
The Australian Spirit’s captain was calling “the little sailing vessel off the coast of Canso approach.” The captain answered the call. The Australian Spirit was requesting that we alter our course due to the fact that it would be overtaking us in 13 minutes and wanted to make sure we were aware of it coming up on our stern. The captain of the Australian Spirit suspected that we may be turning to the west. (heading straight out would take us to the British Isles and although we were in the shipping lane we did not appear equipped for an ocean crossing) Should we be turning our vessel toward the west we would be crossing the oncoming path of the Australian Spirit and the captain could not change the big ship’s course in due time. So the captain of our vessel obliged, changed our course to port to accommodate the big guy. We reduced our speed as we were heading further out to sea due to our course change. The captain of the A Spirit called on the VHF again to thank us for our attention – we are a sailing vessel and do have the right of way but we were right in his way and we moved at his request and he appreciated it. And within the 13 minutes the Australian Spirit crossed our bow, pulled away from us and headed up into the outer field of the shipping lane into the Atlantic Ocean. We altered our course again and turned around the Cape and into the inner edge of the shipping lane heading south west finally toward what is known as the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia.
Trust me when I say, the shipping lane is the shipping lane for a reason. It is meant to accommodate ships – the big guys – and there we were right in the heart of it. We saw no other ships once the Spirit had passed us but we were wishing we had. The waters out there are heavy and deep especially after the passage of a hurricane. It was a beautiful day but the swell from the hurricane had not subsided as much as we had hoped and we were 14 miles offshore. So our introduction to the open Atlantic Ocean was rough. We could see the shore off to our starboard side. But we lost sight of it every time we ran down the other side of a wave into its trough. We would regain sight of it every time we drove up to crest the next wave. And let me tell you, although the shoreline is beautiful along the northern coast of the eastern shore it could also be very ugly in a situation such as ours. We were travelling along it with a 20 knot headwind and 3 meter swell. That shore would be considered our “dreaded lee shore” and it is rocky, shallow and has many low ledges and shoals that could take an awfully big bite out of our hull if we headed or were pushed too close. We chose the shipping lane in the first place to avoid that.
Bridlewilde handled this sea superbly. It was we who decided that we had had enough of the rough forward thrust. We were surprised at how well the little boat took the waters – we were not rocking at all – thanks to our deep full keel. Every time a huge wave force was thrown at her she responded within 20 seconds and re righted herself. She did crash over the waves and pound down on her bow which produced a huge salt spray that blew back on us. Bridlewilde only has a small engine. We decided we did not want to cause any undue stress to it so we headed inshore to the shelter of the next upcoming harbour. We had hoped to get to Charlos Cove, Tor Bay but we needed to get off the water. The force of the sea was just too much for the boat and the captain and I. We were not making reasonable headway. We were dropping to 2.5 knots – at one point we were reduced to 1.9 knots and it seemed as though we would never get past that darned tower light warning of the Canso and Gamnet Ledges. Heading inshore was a much more difficult crawl as we were now crossing the wave so we felt the roll of the vessel more prominently but our speed increased dramatically and that helped. We headed into Dover Harbour and arrived safely there at 3:30 pm. Securely tied to the wharf in the calm waters of the little harbour, with the sun shining warmly and a light breeze shifting across the harbour entrance, we knew some might wonder what all our fuss was about but we are not about fighting with the sea nor Mother Nature. Safety is and will always be our first priority so we will always wait out her outbursts. It won’t be until she calms herself down that we will work with her.
Dover Harbour is another lovely spot. There are minimal services here but the rates are fabulous. $5 for the boat per night and $5 for power per night. The wharf is in very good shape, fuel is available both diesel and gas and the wharf is managed by the local fishermen. Someone eventually shows up around the wharf who will give you the scoop about what is going on there. We have noticed how the failed fishing industry here in the east has diminished so many of these wonderful little communities. But it sure has not diminished the calibre of the people who remain living in them. They are phenomenal in terms of being helpful to transient boaters, at least they have been to us.
We spent the night at the wharf and the following day we called Doris and Wayne to let them know what we were up to. We all decided they would drive the half hour from their place to pick us up in their car and we would leave the boat in Dover another night and drive back to spend the night with them. They would return us to the boat the following morning and that would eliminate the time factor that it would take to head in to Charlos Cove for our visit there. It was a good plan and it worked out well. We had a great visit, chatted, laughed a lot, ate lots of lobster, drank really good wine, and visited with people we have loved for many years. The following day we sailed past Charlos Cove in the beautiful sun. Doris snapped a couple pictures of the boat as we sailed past the entrance to their little cove but she did say she needed her binoculars to see us well. Again, we were sailing offshore (just not so far)
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