Wind southwest 20 to 25 knots diminishing to southwest 15 late overnight then backing to south 15 to 20 Tuesday evening.

This is the marine forecast today.  If we had a dollar for every time we’ve checked the weather and said the word “weather” over the last three weeks, think we’d be rich.

With all those challenges, er opportunities (glass half full people that we are), it is hard to believe that we are actually only 2 days late in achieving our goal of introducing Come What May to her new home in Bay Roberts.  We didn’t meet the goal established, but hey, it is sure starting to feel like success nevertheless.  Tomorrow is definitely the day.

The window of opportunity in the above forecast means another early morning departure and an eight hour sail.  Living aboard a boat has been a slice, so much more to share about that, but every sail day is consumed with so much energy, writing about it once docked is often ominous, believe it or not.

Reprovisioning yet again…..  So gotta go for now.

Cap’n hasn’t had a proper dark and stormy in any port of call.  He believes he will get one tomorrow at this next one.  It is well deserved 😀

P.S.  Cape Race was a perfectly executed plan of attack – we nailed it!  Cape Spear, on the other hand, surprised us with a very angry sea.    The playful 15 or so dolphins that surfed with us in those waves though made it an experience that we can remember with smiles in front of our hearts in our mouths.

We are under sail – Where we are now – as south NF as you can be – don’t let the “south” fool you – it is freakin’ cold !!

The lighthouse at the entrance to Francois sets the stage for what’s to come. Perched on its ramparts, it is the only beacon for miles and miles along this rugged coast. It marks a narrow, hidden entrance to the kingdom within and with its castle-like appearance it looks to stand guard against any unfriendly invasion.

Turning the corner and entering the fiord, Francois, (pronounced “Fransway” by the fewer than the one hundred souls who call this home) will immediately cast its spell of enchantment on you. The fiord walls are deep, the water below the keel likewise and the colourful homes standout toylike in the distance. A small, trap-skiff boat carrying two young Fransians comes out to greet us and offer us advice and any assistance we might require, while two more wait to greet us on the floating, public dock, glad to offer a hand to their latest “invaders”, a welcome Come What May had not yet and has not since experienced. After setting our lines and bumpers, we soon tie up and after introductions to our dockside greeters, Lawrence and Valentine, the conversation flows and in no time Lawrence offers us an invitation to visit his home and we are provided visual directions to the grey house perched above. We feel very privileged to be here and thank them for their generosity. Valentine expresses a desire to someday own a boat like ours. The black flies are deadly and we immediately screen our floating home from their tenacity.

You can’t help but feel the special uniqueness of the place. It truly does feel magical. Standing on the dock after a long day at sea, we feel overwhelmed by the beauty. After settling in, we stroll up the gangway into the townsite. All the homes are arranged in about five layers ascending the terrain, fish stages with dories on log ramps to the water on the first level, homes for the next few and then the school and post office second from the top. The church and generator station enjoy the most elevated positions, demonstrating the importance of both to this tiny community. It is all interconnected by a maze of solid timber boardwalks or concrete “streets”, each no more than a mere eight feet wide. We’re later told that the resident women walk from place to place, the men and older children ride the streets on quads. During our walkabout, the place is eeriely quiet, we don’t see a soul.

Boardwalks have been extended in terraces to look-off points (with picnic tables!) and one even manages to offer a bridge over the very top of the cascading falls near the peak of the fiord. Amazing! If you have ever had the feeling of landing in a movie set, this is it! Any of the fantasy movies, from the Lord of the Rings to Star Wars would fit right in here. And the Storybook genre, like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, would also feel right at home. It’s just that unique and intrinsically beautiful. Once, when the community was larger, a “suburb” clung to one of the outer ledges of the bay and was only accessible by a boardwalk, which once upon a time hung from the cliff’s shore edge suspended out over the water. 

   
 We continue our stroll of the townsite observing the arrival of a fishing vessel from high above on one of the “streets”. It seems so tiny down below. Come What May looks toylike in the distance as she lays all alone alongside the “visitor’s” floating dock. The bay is too deep to anchor so the dock is a precious resource to both visitor and Fransian alike. One for the safe port of call, the other for the opportunity to have some outside contact. The only way to Francois is by boat and the ferry, which docks soon after us, carries only a maximum of 40 passengers and cargo.

We drop by the grey house of our new friend Lawrence and his partner Barbara. Lawrence and Barbara are from Hamilton, Ontario and bought the house sight unseen for $10,000 about two years ago. They come here for the summers and enjoy the tranquility. Why Francois? Because Lawrence would be “forced” to sail his steel- hulled ketch, the “John Keys” (named after a former skipper he worked these waters with) to Francois and use it as their means of transportation. Something he desperately felt a need to do. Unfortunately, last year, she was water damaged and now lays  on the hard in Burgeo. He hopes to sail her next year. Their living room is full of sailing boats and memorabilia. We take a quick tour of the house and just like the town and the cliff they’re built on, the home itself is terraced inside to reflect the topography. Four levels in all, it is a home of compact efficiency and workable spaces. All windows look to the fiord. Lawrence kindly filled a water jug for us, with pristeen water from the freshwater lakes above the town and we head back to Come What May before night falls, kindly accompanied by Lawrence showing the way. We sleep like the dead, cozy and warm in our snug little haven, safe from the bugs and the trolls that live under the bridges.

Morning’s sunlight fills the cabin bouncing off the walls of the fiord on its way to our snug berth.

  
Onward we go, leaving the little kingdom behind in our quest for Conception Bay and home.

  

Don’t like to use the word hate, but Cape Race must be at the top of the list as one of the things least liked by NF sailors.   Winds gusting at 30 knots today means that Come What May sits still in Trepassey – a lovely little town, with its annual summer festival in full bloom.  Reluctant to take it all in unfortunately as must be ready and able to go again TOMORROW morning as the forecast now suggests that that might be doable.

A long leisurely day spent recounting the last three weeks and playing the coulda, shoulda, woulda game and relishing the long awaited return of Alfred and DP – that’s Alfred Lamb’s Palm Breeze Amber Rum for anyone who doesn’t know that (is there any such one?) and diet Pepsi – the first since we ran out way back in PAB a week ago.  Was that really just a week ago?

Cape Race was the closest point to where the Titantic hit that iceberg.  It is known to be the devil to get around.  Analyzing the weather and determining just when to “make a run for it” is becoming something of a crap shoot. Problem is, once there, after 3 hours of sailing, if you don’t like what you see, there’s nowhere to duck into – no safe haven and no where to go but on up the dreaded East Coast or back to Trepassey.  No man’s land……

So you vacillate between thinking you are just a wimp after all and just wanting to go for it, then concerned that in your quest to get home, you may be less inclined to heed the warnings – so you check with all your advisors and they confirm your decision and then you relax again in the knowledge that there is absolutely nothing you can do.  But sit and wait.  Sound like fun?

It actually kinda is – beats housework for sure.  Although a daily pep talk seems to be the norm lately between cap’n and crew.   When life hands you lemons……. Every cloud had a silver lining……..Glass half full……….

Look very hard just above the waterline.  The first hint of the Avalon yesterday evening as we approached Cape St. Mary’s was a welcome site – shrouded in fog just as expected……..beautiful nonetheless with the battering we took crossing Placentia Bay.   St. Bride’s was our haven.   This morning as we got ready to set sail, a good deed from a week before was returned 😀.  The father of the Captain of the Blue Puttees, who a week ago we had ‘”let in” ahead of us in PAB, recognized our boat as the little vessel who had held back – in turn, he rewarded us with a hearty ziplock bag of fresh cod he was cleaning from his catch just an hour before.

Tonight we enjoyed it cooked on the BBQ just after sunset in Trepassey after we were able to pay it forward – a wonderful man Wayne helped us dock and gave us a load of desperately needed fresh crushed ice for our boat cooler and we gave him some of that fish – he was grateful as were we!

So much to share about the fabulous sail today – glassy sea, sun, birds, whales!  More later – hoping to do a double day tomorrow so it’s up at 4 am 😦

Gnight from Trepassey – thanks to a friend John Devereaux for guiding us to the dock, sending along Wayne, taking our garbage, watering us with a stiff drink of rum, and reminding us of the wonderful time we were going to miss – this being the start of the weekend festivities in Trepassey for Come Home Year.

Not like the Cap’n and first mate to turn down a party, but getting Come What May home to her new home in Bay Roberts takes precedence……. And perhaps a bit of a party awaits there? 😃

Our sail today is simple – straight across Placentia Bay – taking us from the Burin Peninsula to the Avalon Peninsula – whoo hoo!!  Absolutely nothing to see along the way. We are halfway there.

Placentia Bay is not the friendliest today.  As we ride out the 2 metre seas, tethered to our little vessel, we nevertheless bask in the sun, grateful to the weather gods for giving us a break from the fog, rain and wind of yesterday.

For those of you who have never sunbathed in thermal underwear, wool sweater and bibbed coastal sailing pants, you should know it’s probably exactly as you imagine it.  The sun on your face is glorious and your nose takes the brunt of the burn if you’re not careful.

The Cap’n has been nicknamed Giovanni Caboto at times by the first mate.  His quest to reach the Avalon is admirable.  Today is the day.

Good news and bad news story in that.  Yay!  Reaching the Avalon Peninsula means we are practically home.  By road, we could be snuggled away at home in a couple of hours.  Alas, by sea, ’tis 4 more days in our little boat, freakin’ weather permitting of course. And, the hardest, least nicest sailing is yet to come – the last few weeks are like a walk in the park compared to fighting the northeasterly gales around the Avalon apparently……

Gotta go – rail is in the water, making it hard to write.  The sailors know what that means.😀

Signed, Still Smiling

This tiny town, with a population of 110, is nestled along the bank just as you enter Grey River.  Funny thing is, a little further up, there are a few cabins, apparently owned by Jerts Cove residents for when they need to “get away from it all”.  Reminds one of a George Carlin skit about “stuff” and how you can keep downsizing ….. Anyone’s whose seen it will understand.

And a small motor boat gives rides and tours to the locals it seems – something to do on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

Cute and quaint.

Oh, also learned that St. Pierre weather and Newfoundland weather – same thing !

You can’t see them but under that hair are wonderful Mark’s Work Wearhouse contraptions called Earbags.  Thanks to Lynn Oxford for that knowledge!

And those little gloves from the most wonderful City in the Province sure came in handy on July 7 – thanks to Connie Fleming for those.

Those of you who read The Route posted by the Capn several weeks ago will recognize his final summary – copied and pasted here:

So 18 days sailing over three weeks. We start with three days in the bank. Will they all be lost to weather? To crew? To the boat? Or will we have a day in Port aux Basque with family? A day in France?

How about ALL OF THE ABOVE ??

What we learned:

1) 3 weeks is not enough time to sail a boat from Chester to Bay Roberts without night sailing…..2) June and early July cannot possibly be the best time to do this – think our advice was wrong…..3)  Cell service is completely unpredictable as today we can blog from the middle of the Atlantic.

What we already knew:

1) The weather forecast is never that accurate……2) Newfoundland weather can change in the blink of an eye…3) Living on a boat with a set plan is a good test of the strength of a relationship 😀

Headed to St. Brides from St. Pierre 3 hours ago, but are now being advised to head to St. Lawrence due to gusting winds expected in Placentia Bay this afternoon….

So suffice it to say that any parts or service needed in St. Pierre happens on St. Pierre time – our regular early morning safety check and “tool box talk” resulted in some minor engine repair, oil change, etc., which although the Capn performed himself, took significantly longer than expected. As a result we find ourselves once more relishing the French cuisine of this delightful island.

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