Relax

Sailing without a plan

One of the decisions that we postponed as long as we could was where would we go to after Sable Island. Well, we knew it would be going north, but we didn’t pick a place. Early on we decided that going to St Pierre & Miquelon would be too much. Even if it would have been great to get some French croissants and wine. We considered going around Cape Breton Island on its eastern side, but between the sailing distance and uncertainty of which places we would ultimately want to see, we rejected the option of entering Bras d’Or Lake from the east. Canso, right on the tip of the NS mainland sounded interesting at first, but then the cruising guide kind of steered us away from that. It mentions Guysborough as a nice place to visit, so we set the direction towards Canso, and kept thinking what we should do. Ultimately we decided to go for Arichat, a small village on Isle Madame — Guysborough would be too much of a loop.

From 5:30 onwards we had decent wind. It rained a bit, so the deck and the sails were clean, then the rain went away and there was some sun shining through the clouds. Sasha came out around 7 and Mark came out at 7:30 or so. Pasha and Katya were sleeping. Then the wind picked up and we started heeling. Our expectation was that one of them would come out pretty quickly out of the cabin that they are sharing. Turned out that Katya rolled onto Pasha, so they kept sleeping for at least half hour at a relatively steep heel angle until they woke up and came out.

The wind was steady with a relatively flat sea, so we handed the wheel to Katya, who hasn’t sailed before, so that she could get a feel for steering the boat in perfect sailing conditions.

As we were at the entrance of the inner harbour, the wind died down. English breakfast and coffee were ready, so we slowly drifted under mainsail alone while enjoying the meal.

With only a couple of miles left to go, the engine was on, the mainsail furled, and we followed the advice of the cruising guide to go into the easternmost part of the harbour and drop the anchor there. Suddenly the VHF came on. “The sailing vessel that is going towards Isle (ah-eel) Madame Boat Club, please come in.” We responded and ultimately got an invitation to pull into the club. Why not? We didn’t have a plan for where we would spend the day nor the night, and perhaps we could learn something from the locals.

We were greeted by two gentlemen on the dock who took our lines and welcomed us ashore. For all of $67 we could stay the night, get access to the “pristine showers” (per cruising guide and totally true) and use the fresh water to clean up the boat after the passage. They even offered us a ride to the grocery store or the hardware store should we need that.

The club is on the opposite side of the bay from the village, so the options for getting into “downtown” were an hour-long walk or dinghy across. We opted for the latter, and the guys pointed out a spot where we could land. There was more useful information we did get from them. One of our ideas was to go around Isle Madame on the north side through Lenox passage, but we were informed that the bridge is not operational, so we wouldn’t be able to pass! Well, we know how we get to St Peter’s.

Once the boat was practically spotless, life vests washed, jack lines stowed and laundry loaded, we hopped into the dinghy and motored across the bay. 

The “downtown”

Arichat is not exactly a tourist trap. Its location on the hill is somewhat similar to Lunenburg, but the village is much smaller and doesn’t have the same charm. The French landed in the area in 1600s in Port Royale and according to historians mixed with the local Mikmaq population: interracial marriages were common and both groups learned from one another. The French named this colony Acadia. Abundant coastal fishing led to significant expansion of the colony and fuelled the growth of Arichat to the point where it was home to multiple wharves. I’m sure having a big protected bay helped. In mid-1700s the British fought for the control of the region and seeing the Acadians not exactly amenable to becoming British subjects, plundered towns and deported a large number of people. Ultimately some form of bilingual coexistence prevailed, at least in some regions of Nova Scotia.

After landing the dinghy on a small beach we had to walk down a street with no sidewalks, but then route 206 which runs a bit higher parallel to the shore did end up having a sidewalk, so the last 50 meters to the cafe we were finally off the road.

One of the things that was immediately clear: this island is bilingual. Yes, the guys at the dock both spoke French and English, but then all the official signs were duplicated. It took me a while to decipher “Ch Binets Ln”: “Ch” for chemin and “Ln” for lane. The fact that it was (almost) always “Ch” first and “Ln” or “Rd” last helped.

At the cafe, which also serves as a gas station and a gift shop, we were informed that the espresso machine is broken. They had a choice of sandwiches, but otherwise nothing particularly interesting food-wise, so we continued down the street until we saw a little restaurant specializing in “seafood and home cooked food”.  There was a variety of food on the menu: fish & chips, burgers, and even liver & onion. Figuring that we are in a place that was heavily influenced by the French culture, Sasha and I opted to split the liver and a haddock. Both were ok, but the flavors definitely drifted far away from the French cuisine.

The waitress, a young girl, said that she grew up in a bilingual household, but since her father did not speak French, she mostly spoke English. Oh boy, was her French accent thick. No, it was not a typical American accent, it was a mixture of Canadian French and English, and it took all of my concentration to understand her. And then a quarter of the words she said while speaking Frenglish were English.

We visited the church Notre-Dame de l’Assomption built in the 1830s. From the water it gives a certain charm to the village. Inside was not pompous, but pretty and it was worth our time.

Fishing and scavenging

I spotted a bight on the nearby Jerseyman island which looked quite promising for mussels. The low water was due at 7:30pm, so for the first time that day we were somewhat time constrained. Mark got new lures for mackerel, Sasha and his kids got ice cream, and we went back to the club house.

The wind picked up to 15 knots, but leaving the dock was easy: the wind swept us away from it and I just had to motor forward.

At Jerseyman island the anchor held right away. The chart says that the bottom should be rocky, so we attached a trip line to the anchor, but when we pulled the anchor up it was clear that the bottom was thick mud.

Rowing towards the nearest shoal covered in seaweed took all of 3 minutes: the wind was taking us directly there. Before we reached it, Mark caught the first mackerel!

An hour later we had half a bucket of mussels and 8 oysters. But rowing back was not easy. The wind picked up to 20 knots and kicked up waves. The combination was quite a force that pushed the bow away from our intended direction. Katya and Pasha were rowing, but since their power was not equalized, the dinghy was zigzagging back and forth. As soon as the bow would get caught by the wind, the dinghy would start to quickly turn away from it and then it would take a while before the bow was pointed into the wind. I was “directing” the operation from the back: “Pasha, stop”; “Pasha row”. Then I saw Mark signal me that he was ready to throw us a line. I signalled him back not to do it: I was pretty sure that the brother and sister would want to persist till we reach the mothership. After all they eagerly opted to row together.

Aboard we found Mark with a few fish. He threw the small ones back and was very giddy about the success. He handed the rod to Pasha and then to Katya. Each caught one fish pretty quickly. By the time it was Sasha’s turn, the fishing luck ran out, so after he cast the rod in vain a few times we picked up the anchor and went back.

Docking with a side wind of 15 with gusts to 18 looked a bit challenging. Since the dinghy was still in tow, Mark and Sasha rowed ashore. Pasha on the bow and Katya on the stern were ready to hand them the dock lines. I backed in, ready to abandon the attempt should the wind start to sweep the bow into the shoal some 20 feet to leeward. The decisive manoeuvre worked on the first try!

Late dinner

We had quite a bit of work to do: pick up the laundry, clean the fish, start cleaning the mussels. Mark and I went to the clubhouse to clean the fish, thinking that maybe we can eat there. However, once we started to clean up after the fish were gutted, we realized that we may not live up to the cleanliness of the club house, so we left the kitchen as spotless as it was before and decided to eat aboard.

Sashimi for appetizer and grilled fish with potatoes for the main course arguably was tastier than the local flair. After dinner we took showers in the club house and ended up having tea till 1am. We were not doing an overnight. We were getting into a much more relaxing mode.

Off to the Canal

We took it rather slow in the morning. I made a tuna salad for lunch, we took out the rest of garbage and recycling. Mark caught a couple of mackerels and filleted them to make ceviche. At 11 we left the dock, unrolled the main while motoring against the wind to the buoy marking the first shoal and then turned off the engine and sailed. On the south side of Isle Madame the wind was in our back, so we set the spinnaker.

At 2pm the wind gods decided to take a break. Sails down, the usual four of us jumped into the water.

When we were ready to come out of the water, Neptune came back from his coffee break, so we just set the jib (yes, the captain will sometimes sail without a huge foresail!) and proceeded north toward the entrance to St Peter’s canal.

The attendants at the canal informed us that the locks were already opened in our direction, so we should just pull in. This was the first time any of us transited a lock, so I was a bit nervous, but the two women who greeted us were very helpful and nice. Mark asked them about fishing and once he was allowed to cast the line while we were waiting for a fishing boat (that ultimately misjudged their timing), he and Pasha were busy.

The gates closed behind us, then the gates opened in front of us. The rotating bridge was turned and we proceeded into Bras d’Or Lake.

St Peter’s

The attendant a the marina told us to take any of the red buoys. Each buoy was occupied by a cormorant drying its wings. Dinghy unfolded, lowered into the water, engine attached, we were at the dock.

I could read some hesitation in the facial expression of the young fellow who said that we could go into the village. “There are couple of restaurants,” he said. Indeed, that is an accurate description of St Peter’s. The harbour is lovely! The ice cream, according to the rest of the crew, not so much.

Back at the dock we met Gerry, the fellow who runs the marina. He informed us that we could get propane refilled, but only on Monday, and elsewhere on the lake the ride will be much longer. As we were ready to part, he looked at us sternly and said, “there is only one rule here, and if you can follow it, then we will have no problems.” Seeing our questioning looks, he added, “relax, that’s all”.

Aboard we had part two of the seafood feast. We may not specialize in cooking it, but the fish soup made from what remained after filleted mackerels and mussels steamed in white wine was our version of local flair.