Arctic Solo Sail

Daybreak brought a gentle wind…dead on the nose. Time for a change in tack. I had hoped for one more day of fair wind and following seas but it was not to be. There are two Straits between me and the Atlantic Ocean, The Strait of Jacques Cartier and the Strait of Belle Isle. I want a fair wind. I need a fair wind. But sometime I get neither what I want nor what I need.

Now there is a gale blowing across the north of Anticosti Island and of course from due east. I take a page for the “Captain Lem’s Verbal Handbook” and run-hide at Latitude 49° 48’ 44” ~ Longitude 064° 21’51”. From what I can tell of the chart plotter, it’s called Port Menier just inside of Cape Henri. The holding ground is lousy. I was blown out of my anchorage twice before giving up and coming in to moor in the barge basin. There is one other sail boat tied up in here doing the same thing. Kelp was the problem. It tangles with the flukes and does not let them bite.

Captain Lem was a hurricane fighter. This little blow in nothing like he would battle just about every year the last 20 years of his life. It seemed as if every hurricane that came up the east coast came looking for him, but he had his “hurricane holes”, places where he would take the TONI AND DONNA and just wait them out.

I remember him telling me about Hurricane Floyd. It came ashore around Georgia or South Carolina, I don’t remember all the details, and then turned to head back out to sea across North Carolina right where Captain Lem was hiding. Captain Lem was all anchored down in his hole when the eye of the thing went right over him. But Ol’ Floyd was a strange one because when it didn’t get him the first time, it went out to sea, stopped, revved up, reversed course and came back ashore for a second try at him. The eye passed right over the top of him again. Then, when it didn’t get him a second time, it reversed course again and went for him a third. The Cap told me he was getting pretty tired of Floyd by then so right in the middle of the third pass Captain Lem went out on deck, looked Floyd in the “eye” and shook his fist. Well, that was all Floyd could take, so he huffed and puffed and blew all the water out of the bay so the TONI AND DONNA just sat on the bottom as stable as a rock while Ol’ Floyd moved out to sea again and by the time the water came back into the bay, Floyd had blew himself into a nice summer breeze. Then the Cap said this, “Every hurricane has an eye, but they don’t see worth a dang.”

Well anyways, that’s the way I remember Captain Lem telling it.

The CAP’N LEM is clear of the Saint Lawrence River and is well into the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. They must have thought a lot of Saint Lawrence to have names such grand bodies of water after him.

I miss the interesting detail of the river bank and the islands. I miss the comfort of a safe anchorage with a good muddy bottom to hold the CAP’N LEM put. But it’s good to be in open water, water with waves and swells and unbent wind. Things change on the open water. The stress of many boats and few mariners is gone. Those out here are sailors whether motor, steam or sail. They have a reason for being here and that makes them easier to deal with, much less unpredictable.

Open water gives the mind freedom to roam the past, the present and the future. It gives the body so measure of freedom too. With fifteen miles of view all around it’s acceptable to go below to cook, clean or just tinker. I prefer tinkering. I put extra lashings on the trampoline. I made some new preventers using Cunningham hooks. Very useful in holding down the sails and boom to reduce chafe in the new added motions from the swells. I can read or write. I can even dose if I remember to set my alarm so as to not over do it. Something inside just won’t let me take my eyes of the horizon for very long. I search the horizon, check the radar and AIS for any hints of company and note my position on the chart. I’m right now seven miles off shore on a parallel course and making 2.5 knots. It would take me hours of being on the wrong heading to run aground, so that’s not a problem.

This longing to look is a leftover habit of many many sea watches. I loved getting a new ensign fresh out of the academy, to break in on watch on the POLAR SEA or the POLAR STAR. With binoculars around my neck I would jester out the windows and say something like this. “Your business is out there. Look at the radar, look at the chart, look up, look down but never forget to …look out! That’s your business. Out there. Best the Captain see the back of your head ‘stead of your smiling young face when he comes through that bridge door. It is your watch.” Later, when they were getting it, I would add this, quieter, for emphases, “Never. Never let the terrible weight of responsibility slip from your shoulders for even a moment of your watch.”

Now those days are gone. I only have myself to tell. “Never let the terrible weight of responsibility slip…” It’s my watch and this time my watch is endless.

My July 16, 2009 position report: Lat 50° 07’ 40”N ~ Lon 065° 43’ 36”W. WX wind w 4kts, swell sw at 4’

Partly cloudy with distant cumulous. C- 090T S-2kts

– This is Ken, helping out Tommy here on shore.  Sometimes posting at open sea can be a bit of a problem, two-way communication through the geosynchronous Satellite has a 43,000 mile round trip and posting on the web isn’t always friendly. Looks like today Tommy’s blog got garbled on its way to the Internet.   He read all your comments, and his picture came through just fine, but the text got cut off somehow.   He’s long out of cell phone range, so I’ll get him on the Satellite phone tomorrow morning and let him know.   News is his stern light is all fixed.  For now, here’s the latest, somewhere along the Saint Lawrence.

2000hr position 50 drs 12 min 9 sec North 66 drs 23 min 08 sec West

Moored in Sept-Isle QU to fix stern light.  Couldn’t do it underway.   Made 102 nm in 24 hours including low wind in the night.

Afternoon WX was wind w at 15  with a swell from south at 6-8 ft.

July 14, 2009: 2000 position report. Lat 49° 01’ 58” N ~ Long 068° 03’ 36” W course 056°T speed 3.9 kts WX: broken clouds, thunderstorms on horizon, wind W @ 10kts dying traveled 79 nm since 0730.

Sea room! Finally I have sea room to run, tack, hove-to, whatever I need. I feel rich with room. Not an ocean worth mind ya, but room I haven’t had before. Oh the lakes were big enough, but they were crowded too. Here, I’ve passed within a mile of only one vessel, a small sailboat making her way across the bay. The traffic lanes are to the south and my AIS is working great. There are tight spots up ahead but tonight I have sea room.

I saw a minke whale right off the little harbor I anchored in last night. I recognize him from his smallish fin located on his back. I have not seen any more belugas though. There is lots of interesting sea birds. One looked like a swan all white with a long neck and black tips on its wings. It soared dipping close to the water then up high again. Of all things not to have it’s my Audubon bird book.

I’ll stay underway tonight. I’ve got to start getting used to being underway over nights. Oh, I’ll make a few stops along the way but mostly it will be just sail. The wind will drop around midnight and I’ll hove-to then and sleep very lightly…in my clothes.

I chided myself for waking late. 0630 is late when there is a change of tide to catch. But the bay that was my home for the evening was so calm and I was tired from a good days sail. I could see by the wet tide line on the boulders on shore I had missed at least two hours of ebb. It’s the ebb tide I need to help the CAP’N LEM make the most of whatever the wind has to offer. But even at that, I still couldn’t get moving. So, I drank coffee, ate cereal, and then made some minor repairs. I just can’t rush away from a place so lovely. There is even a water fall at the end. I think of Yosemite Valley in miniature and it is mine for the anchoring at Latitude 47° 57’ 28”N ~ Longitude 069° 48’ 19”W. How was I to know what unexpected delight waited for the CAP’N LEM just outside, and that the timing was perfect? The timing is always perfect on a voyage such as this.

Finally, my chores done and the morning full on, I upped anchor and felt my way through the shallows of the bay and into the ebbing currents that would carry me toward the Saguenay River. Then it happened. First on the right, the water broke with a whoosh and a blow of air. Then on the left and behind at the same time. They had found us. The white whales had come to us! The Beluga had come to dance with the CAPTIAN. Oh, and dance they did. I ran below for cameras, back on deck and they would disappear. I put the camera down, back they would come. First the biggest and whitest of the males would charge then, as if to inspect the hulls, would dive under and swim the length. Next, the females, a mottled gray to their whiteness, came with their young at their sides swimming in perfect accord. I could sense their pride as they paraded by showing off their babies like proud young mothers strolling a park.

I called to them. I laughed at them. I blew them kisses. I would have sung to them if I had known a song. I remembered a Jacque Cousteau documentary on gray whales in Baja. They took a boat up to them and Cousteau jumped on the back of one and held on for as long as he could then slip free. He said this. “To touch life is to know life and to know life is to love life.” How many years ago was that, 40? I have never forgotten it.

No, I did not touch them, not physically. It would have not been appropriate. But I did touch them with my eyes and with my heart and my voice. And the CAP’N LEM turned this way and that in the tide rip. They left and came back then left again to not come back. I waited, but it was over so I sailed away. But for a long time, off in the distance, I could see them come to the surface to breathe the same air as me.

Looks like Google Maps does just about everything. I’ve made a rough Chart of the last few stops over on the Chart His Progress page.

In the salt and waiting the turn of the tide at Lat. 47° 25’ 00.0”N ~ Long. 070° 24’ 16”W.  The wind is strong for the southwest wrapping itself around the island against the current of 3.8 knots to try and sail the CAP’N LEM against the anchor line.  It gives the illusion of great speed through the water without actually going anywhere.  A lovely little cutter is anchored near using the same tactic to go who knows where. 

Later the tide will change once again in our favor and we’ll get underway, sailing for the next waiting anchorage.  The distance given by the tide more than makes up for the time spent waiting.  I fancy the CAP’N LEM sailing the gravitational pull of the moon much the way the lunar space craft’s used it to traverse great distance.  When I anchor, I hold the ground gained and thus progress is made.

I read about this tactic for getting through the Saint Lawrence Bay in a fun little book call The Boat That Wouldn’t Float, by Farley Mowat many years ago when I was in the dreaming stage of my adventure life.  Sailors love books and remember useful little things while forgetting important big things like anniversaries and birthdays. 

The water is colder and still relatively shallow.  Its color is a milky brown from the tide churning up the silt of long gone glaciers. It will deepen later farther east.   The hills have risen to become mountains.  A new chapter in my journey has arrived.  

The last 60 miles to Quebec City were hard won against a stiff head wind that follower the contour of the river.  Were it not for the tide behind me, there would have been even less progress.  At the narrows under the Quebec City bridges where all the water of the Saint Lawrence must pass, we came to a complete stand still though motor and sail both pulled hard.  Good tides turn bad.  It was not to be this day to Quebec City.  My anchorage was questionable at best but I had to wait.  At midnight the bad tide turned good again so up and at ‘em.  But this was not the night to be tacking back and forth across the traffic lanes.  My AIS showed large vessels down river heading up, but still far enough away to allow me to get through.  And get through we did.  At the funnel created by the narrows and the bridges the wind was horrific and the waves the largest I’ve ever seen in a river, 10 feet trough to crest or more where the wind stacking them up against the outgoing tide.  The CAP’N LEM proves again she can take a sea even in a river and the only upset is in the pit of my stomach. 

The mile ahead I so often talk of shrunk to the 100 yards ahead.  I woke up Josh by phone to get a clearer idea of where the moorage was located.  The weather there sounded none too good either. He reported seeing a smaller marina between the bridges and the main city.   I watched for it and recognized it on the radar as I approached around the bend in the river, safe haven from what was becoming a very cold and uncomfortable night.  Being cold, wet and miserable even for a few hours proves nothing when there is an alternative, so I took it.  Coming into strange harbor in the dark is always time for heighten awareness.  Winds shift, currents change or stop so it’s dead middle of the channel, dead middle of breakwaters, grab first spot the boat will fit, get tied up, then adjust fenders, job done.  It was then the full force of the storm hit, wind, current, rain, the boat rocks and bangs even at the mooring.    I call Josh, “Go back to sleep, I’m moored.  All is well.”

Was I lucky?  No!  Believe in it if you will but I hate that word, that figment of mankind’s imagination that always fails at the moment it is most needed.  I’ll not trust my good life to luck.  .  No way.  But, I will trust my choices.  I will trust the CAP’T LEM.  I will trust the consequences of my action. 

I weighed the risk of staying in an anchorage I did not like against going with a current in the dark and the wind.   At anchor in a strange place with a storm rolling over is not a good place to be.  But underway though, courses of action can be taken and can be corrected.  .  I made my choices and they were the right ones for the time.  The consequences were good.

Ah, the course correction!  Now there is something I can believe in!  I set a course of action and stayed always ready to make a correction to that action to deal with what was at hand,… the wind, the wave, the current, the ever present unknown; each contributing to that choice of which way to correct.  Over it all, the goal… “Keep the boat safe, Tommy, keep the boat safe”.

So what is “safe’?  Well, safe is this; the time/space relationship.  Time will buy me space and given space, I can then buy time.  Is that circular thinking? No, No and again, No! They are interchangeable.  One becomes the other and together they become my safety.   Time and space.   It is everything!  Forgive me my passion but it is my life on the line… my life!  …for there are some laws God will not tolerate being broken, and one of them is this, “Two objects shall not occupy the same space at the same time.”  For that reason time and space become the price of my safety.  Do I have enough time to get enough space to be well and clear of the ever present dangers of the cold dark waters?  Run short of either one and disaster is as close as the bridge pillar, the rocks on the shore, or the ship around the bend.  I must not allow the current and the wind and the unforeseen and unforeseeable to eat away at my precious time and precious space.  They are as dear as my breath.

Oh my friends, who have stuck with me these 2,138 miles, a cold and stormy midnight on a strange and beautiful river is a good place to be aware of such questions, if one is to sail where one has never been and do things one has never done.

It will be interesting to note when the tide first makes its appearance on the river. Oh the wonders of the tides, the visible manifestation of unseen forces that so mystified the sailors of old.  They knew it had something to do with the moon, but what?  Why were they strong some places and weak others.  Why did the full moon bring such high high tides and such low low tides?  And then again why was it the same when there was no moon at all?  And who could explain the moderation of the tides at quarter moon?  No wonder they were so prone to superstitions.    Could anyone tell them it was merely cause and effect?  I doubt it.  Then Sir Isaac sees an apple fall and the whole paradigm of mankind’s understanding shifts.  Yes, the tides are important to me and I’m reminded how useful they can be and how frightening.   I’m reminded not to take the tide tables for granted and I silently thank everyone whose hard work made them available to me.

And later.

I found my tide in the mouth of a little no name river* on a big bend in the big river at Latitude 46° 33’ 05.8”N ~ Longitude 072° 12’ 06.4”W.   I had anchored in 6 feet of water but in the night I was awaken by the unmistakable stillness of a boat aground.  This was not unexpected.  I had raised the dagger board and rudder, made sure there was enough anchor line out that I would not likely rest on my own anchor.  The people in the lovely homes along the north bank must have wondered about the little boat anchored where they had seldom, if ever, seen one anchor before.  The CAP’N LEM doesn’t mind an evening resting in the mud unlike my other boat AVANTI which must fall to her side like a tired horse in a pasture if she is to wait out a tide on the beach.  (Shipmate Kari knows quite well of that which I speak having spent an evening with Capt. Tommy on the beach of Sandy Island BC!)

Ah, but this time, this is opportunity!  So over the side I go into the sand and mud.  If, like me, you’re old and have forgotten the feeling of mud squishing between your toes in a cool river bank, you really should try this.  The joy and the flood of memories of long past of swimming holes, creeks and mud puddles were mine once again!  I hear my mother’s words “Tommy, every time you get near water, you fall in it!” and she was right.  So, for a moment or two, I just wade and remember and chuckle to myself reliving things I had long forgotten.

Then the tools in my hand remind me I’m on a mission. I check the tension on the bobstay.   I tighten some nuts and bolts on the rudder.  I inspect the motor mounts.  I clean slim from the stern and board.  Sitting on the port ama, I slowly wash the mud away from my feet but cling to the memories and wait the incoming tide.

*It wasn’t on the chart anyway.  I’m sure those who live on its banks have a name for it.

AVANTI and the Tides of BC 2008