Arctic Solo Sail

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.

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 9th, 2009 at 4:40 pm and is filed under Saint Lawrence. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.