RTW Leg 30: Canada

Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Labrador

Northbound: Steadily, it becomes colder and colder.

In a few weeks time it will be four years since Broadsword left the Isle of Coll and headed down the Irish Sea.  It is hard to think that this is my last blog, although the Captain will follow with his own last blog for the final leg of the journey. The first mate is definitely looking and feeling her age and more.  She is older and more weather worn. In fact, she looks so rough around the edges that the face recognition on her phone doesn’t even know who she is anymore!

The Fog rolls in from the Grand Banks, caused by the cold Labrador Current from the north mixing with the warm Gulf Stream from the south.

The crew set off for Canada from Provincetown, Massachusetts.  The fog was thick, the temperature cold and morale was low.  The whole of this coast line is covered in lobster pots and they literally are EVERYWHERE! Much as the first mate loves her lobsters, it was nigh on impossible to navigate away from them.  So one-hour watches and lots of swearing could be heard through the very thick fog as we basically had to play Mario Cart through hundreds and hundreds of the damn things.  

After a short two day passage and slightly knackered, we arrived in Canada. Lunenberg, Nova Scotia, to be exact.  Q flag up we approached the pretty town dock.  Travis and Coyle ran the town dock and were waiting to receive our lines and helped us find our way around. Customs officials duly arrived and cheerfully stamped our passports.  Lunenberg is a really pretty little town.  Very quirky and arty.  There must have been around ten or so art galleries there.  We stayed for two nights and restocked the vitals and bought a new gas cylinder.

Lunenberg where we made landfall Nova Scotia, Canada

Then on to Halifax.  Here we met Marianne and Marcus from Switzerland. They also had an Allures yacht, only a bit bigger, a 51.9, size is everything!.  We had a wonderful evening looking round their beautiful boat Castella, and then on to a lovely fun supper out at the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron, where hung a portrait of none other than our very own Princess Anne, their Patron. But there was to be no rest, we were off the following day heading up the coast again.  Our main objective was getting to Newfoundland.   But Nova Scotia still had plenty to offer. The further north we got, the more we felt we were nearing home.  Everywhere was getting very Scottish.  But….. there was still one more thing….the lobster pots!

 Diving to cut the lobster pot free.

On our way from Shelter Bay to Port Howe, we were in thick, thick fog when the dreaded happened.  The engine gave a whirring banging noise and we realised that we had hit a lobster pot line.  The captain lunged for the engine’s stop button.  The captain looked at the first mate and the first mate looked back at the captain!  There was only one thing for it.  The new diving kit needed to be dispatched. There was a large swell and the first mate was panicking about the captain hitting his head off the bottom of the hull whilst underwater.  She needn’t have bothered, as the Captain appeared, from below, in his new 7mm suit and a climbing helmet. It was quite an image; she can assure you!  But ever the safety conscious, he set off and dived down under the boat and unravelled and cut free the lobster pot’s line.  This had the unintended consequence of releasing Broadsword from its temporary anchor into the two knots of current. Meanwhile, the first mate was sure she could hear a noise through the thick fog, which was getting louder.  It was the noise of waves crashing on the rocks.  As the captain hauled himself and his gear aboard the fog suddenly lifted an all they could see were waves crashing off a very rocky and very close island.  With the engine set to malky, Broadsword did a huge screeching turn away from the encroaching dangers.  That wasn’t a near miss, more a near hit.

In the single lock through the canal into Brass d'Or in Cape Breton

The top third of Nova Scotia is the island of Cape Breton, connected by a single bridge. And within Cape Breton is the huge salt water lake of Bras d’Or.  Getting to St Peter’s at the start of the Bras D’Or was a welcome relief. You need to go through a canal and lock to enter.  Lock keepers Sonia and Janine helped us with our lines as the water level rose and we emerged out the other end into our first inner sea port of St Peter’s marina set in none other than Strachans Cove.  Again, amazingly friendly and full of local knowledge.  Laundry was done, a wee pizza  was “carried oot” and then with new local intel we headed for Marble Mountain, home to an old marble quarry.  Surprisingly the weather was much warmer and sea temp too, and the waters were awash with jelly fish.  Thankfully our anchorage for the night at the foot of Marble Mountain  was free from jelly fish and very few mosquitos.   A swim was partaken and the crew’s spirits were greatly lifted.

The museum told the story of migration, principally from Scotland

The next morning, we set off for Port Iona.  Now everything was very Scottish.  Gaelic names, Gaelic teaching in the schools and an amazing wee village museum.  All immersive. You would go into each house, which was individually built in accordance to the era.  Each building had a period costumed guide who spoke the Gaelic.  You really did feel as though you had walked through a time machine.  We were also looking forward to a nice lunch at the museum, or local hotel.  But there was nothing! A very hangry first mate and captain managed to buy some lovely scones in the museum and bought them back to the boat …they were delicious and we got very homesick.

Alexander Graham Bell

We would never have known that Sir Alexander Graham Bell was actually Canadian.  Yes.  He was born in Edinburgh but most of his life was spent in Canada and his summers were enjoyed in Baldeck on the shores of Bras d’Or.  Here, they have a fantastic museum dedicated to the great man.  An amazing man who was not only the inventor of the telephone but also had a lifelong dedication to deaf education.  His little known claim to international fame was the invention of the hydrofoil boat in which he set a world speed record.  Bizarrely, one of newly elected Prime Minister Mark Carney’s first initiatives was to make entry to all National Parks and Museums free! Thank you Mr Prime Minister.

After a very educational day, we were, at last, on our way to Newfoundland, ‘The Shipping News’ was re-read and the film was re watched as we made our approach to Port de Basque. Thoughts of seal fin pie on the menus were worrying. The food was different and there seemed to be a lot of maple syrup in everything, including the butter!

Near Norris Harbour, Gross Morne, 806m, from above and below.

The route option was much debated; to either go up the west coast into the Gulf of St Lawrence, or the longer and perhaps more interesting east coast.  West is best, with more favorable winds and currents and most importantly fewer ice bergs. We leapfrogged through a series of really fabulous harbours, including Norris Harbour where we had great difficulty trying to negotiate fishing trawlers but with the help of some locals we made contact with Hubert, the lovely harbour master who duly arrived having spotted us from his window, and gave us a lovely welcome.  He is the local celebrity in the jam making world.  He proceeded to list us all nineteen of his recipes,  asking us which would we like, we answered that the chilli jam sounded interesting.  He bought us a jar which is probably the best jam the first mate has ever tasted. Whilst we were here another yacht appeared and came along side us.  S/Y Langa.  Woulter, Rob and Lynne.  Woulter, from the Netherlands and Rob and Lynne from Aberdeen!  Happy days.  This was the start of many lovely weeks together.  Exploring, supporting, eating and watching the Lions win the rugby! 

Port Saunders: Much of the fleet is mothballed as fishing is in decline.

The first mate is smitten by the kindness, the beauty of Newfoundland and Labrador.  If a wee speedboat goes by, you don’t just half-hearted wave. You get an excited wave, their boat doing a U turn, photos taken and then they pull up alongside and chat about where you’re from and where you’re going.  The ‘Newfie’ and Labradorian accent is the weirdest we have ever encountered.  A mixture of west country and Irish.  It’s enough to make your ears burn trying to tune into it and understand.  But the hospitality is unlike anything we have encountered before. In Port Saunders, Maurice the harbour master was amazing.  He told us everything we needed to know about the area.  Drove us all to the local museum (we had been joined by SY Idril with Katie and Jerry), local shops, supplied laundry facilities.  Nothing was too much trouble. He then waved us off laden down with moose meat he had gifted to us.  We could go on. But suffice to say we’d go back in a heartbeat.

Lucy does like a church. This one in Red Bay. Broadsword in the bay behind.

Time to cross the Gulf of St Lawrence to Labrador and Red Bay.  Unbelievably this was a 16^th century Basque whaling station.  From 1530 there were over 3000 Basque whalers each summer returning to Spain with the oil before the sea froze in the winter. 

Battle Harbour with Broadsword on the dock. The post office, Homes, Woulter, Rob and Lynne (crew of Langa), With Jerry and Katy of Idril and Jim (Director of Battle Harbour Trust), Cod, Blocks, Ghosts of the past

We continued north to Battle Harbour. A village which had changed little from when it was known for two centuries as the “saltfish capital of Labrador”. It totally blew us away.  Granted, the weather was stunning, but we were essentially tied up to a wharf in the actual museum.  There is a trust which has taken on the preservation of the village. Jim, who helped us tie up Broadsword, was a trustee and had stepped in to help out for the week.  How lucky were we? The hospitality was unsurpassed. There was a wee bar in the village, where you could have a few drinks and find out everyone’s life stories. Jim would take his boat out in the morning to find an iceberg and hack off a lump or two.  Gin and tonic service with ice lumps hewn from a glacier 10,000 years old.  Jim and his lovely wife Cavell really took us under their wing and looked after us like long lost friends.

10,000 year old ice in your G&T

But we had to get going. Greenland was next, and I was really wanting (needing) to get home.  So, with heavy hearts we set off with the worries of the icebergs on the horizon.  Then the captain got a new weather report and it was not looking good for the day of arrival with a huge depression whipping up a high sea and a gale around the south tip of Greenland.  A hand brake turn was applied and back to Battle Harbour we headed.  With quiet smiles we returned, tied up again and took great delight with the enforced extra day at this wonderful place.

 Nothing beats a fine wood stack, The Hole in the Wall, Forrest walks, Feeding the Goslings, Harvesting Iceberg ice, Shut eye

Finding a new weather window was hard.   The Labrador Sea that stands before Greenland hosts a never-ending succession of depressions launching a fresh attack every three days. A four day window was needed. We simply had to patiently wait and decided, rather than hang around, we would keep pressing north up the coast of Labrador and explore.  We spent the next two weeks discovering this remote wilderness anchoring in beautiful bays surrounded by breathtaking scenery.  There were no roads, no people, just the wild.  Pilot whales ever present popping up along the way.  We arrived at Indian Tickle. A small anchorage next to a tiny settlement of six or so cabins, most often holiday properties which are handed down through families. Only accessed by sea in the summer or skidoo in the winter. Houses that were hand built with every piece of wood bought over from Cartwright, a four-hour boat ride away.

There's a storm a comin. Wade and Collen consult before the horror unfolds

The second day at our anchorage we went over to say hello.  Here we met Wade and Colleen and their neighbor Ian.  Again, the hospitality was laid on with an invite for tea and cake and being shown round their property.  If it wasn’t for the killer mosquitos, black flies and cleggs, it would have been idyllic.  That afternoon, Wade, Colleen, Ian and their beautiful dog (whose name I have sadly forgotten) came over in their fast wee boat and invited us aboard for a trip. They gave us a grand tour of the area.  However, there were strange dark ominous looking clouds on the horizon and rain looked imminent.  The first mate and captain were in shorts and t shirts with buoyancy waistcoats on top.  Big mistake. The wind whipped up and the rain started. Then it came in a blanket of water that you couldn’t even open your eyes for fear of going blind!  Such was the torrent, visibility was all but lost. From flat calm to six foot waves in seconds.  Wade slowed the boat from 15 kts to 5 just to maintain some control. The first mate started praying (again). Everyone on the boat went quiet as Wade battled his way through waves the like we have never seen in inshore waters.  We succumbed to the cold quickly, shivering uncontrollably. The first mate thought ‘great, I have gone round the world and now I’m going to die and not even in my own boat’. But we lived to tell the tale.  Mainly down to the fact that Wade is a Newfoundland coast guard and had calmly dealt with it like a superhero.  Having spent his entire life on the sea, first as an offshore fisherman and now as a coast guard, he had never seen anything like it!   And what of poor Broadsword on our return.  Was she still there or had she been blown off her anchor? Thankfully she was amazingly still standing her ground.  But every shelf askew and every drawer was out. She looked like she had been picked up, shaken and thrown down again.  Judging what we just went through, I’m pretty sure that is exactly what happened.

Cartwright: The dock, crab pots, refueling at the petrol station

With fond and slightly shaky farewells we set off for Cartwright to refuel and reprovision. Wade had given us details of where to tie up, and they had spoken to their friend Darrell, skipper of a 60 ft trawler; White Cap II.  With a broken leg, Darrell was preparing for a six week fishing trip but still found time to help us sorting a fuel delivery for us and local advice, offer of use of his car, and when we left, a bag of frozen snow crab. Seriously, can Labradorians be any nicer…. I very much doubt it.

Smokey Tickle: We were being blown hard onto the dock for 48 hours. Shore lines deployed to try and keep Broadsword off the hard dock. They kept snapping, such was the loading!

The weather window continued to elude us.  North we pressed, 60 miles to a small group of remote uninhabited islands where we docked at an abandoned fishing station, Smokey Tickle.  Tragically, the Labrador Coast is peppered with abandoned settlements. Ghostly fishing communities and whaling stations.  In 1992 Canada implemented the cod fishing moratorium and all these coastal communities sadly had no choice but to leave.  A gale whipped up and Broadsword was pinned to the dock for two days. Then, finally, we had a shot at a weather window and grabbing it with all four hands, we readied to cast off for Greenland.

Icebergs became a regular concern. At night we would use the radar to try and give us early warning but it was not fool proof. The small growlers were shed from the icebergs and tended to lurk leeward of the bergs.

 Whilst the captain will be telling you about our final leg of the journey, and this is my last blog.  I am, surprisingly, quite sad. I know I like to bitch and moan and complain that the captain has dragged me off in the wake of his dream of circumnavigating the world.  And, that actually I would have been quite happy at home with loads of animals. Now, I’m telling you this in a whisper, so don’t tell anyone!  How wrong can a person be.  It has been an absolute privilege and incredibly humbling to have been able to do this journey.  Even if it took one year longer than agreed! It has been an education. It has shown me my limits and proved me far more capable than I ever thought. The people, the places have all been a phenomenal experience. So, a huge thank to the following.  There is the captain, my husband of nearly 33 years (quite honestly, I deserve a medal!)   He is very annoying but he is a rock in the difficult times and, as  he promised to my parents, he has kept me safe.   There are also the amazing people we have met along the way.  Far too many to mention but they know who they are and they have made the adventure all the richer. There are friendships that the Captain and first mate have made that will never be forgotten and are truly cherished.

But I also wanted to thank all those of you who have supported us from afar.    There are also all those who, before we had the wonders of Starlink.  You kept us going with emails and messages and after Starlink with WhatsApp calls, funny memes, general gossip and chat from home that have helped in more ways than you ever know. I even got a message from Gerard Butler (be still my beating heart!) - Thank you R&RW.  There are also those who we never got the chance to say goodbye to and those we’ve had to wait to say hello to. 

You are all amazing and quite honestly, the first mate couldn’t have done it without you.  Thank you so, so much.  Xxxxxxx

 Leaving Canada at dawn, heading east to Greenland into the rising sun