On Friday I visit the excellent Alexander Bell Museum in Baddeck.
Most Brits will know him as the Scot who invented the telephone, but how many know he moved to Baddeck and that he was the inventor of the hydrofoil and designed some incredible craft; was a pioneer aeroplane designer responsible for the first powered flight in the British Empire at Beddeck and worked tirelessly to help the deaf. Quite an incredible man.
Finally secured to the dock we were blown off repeatedly on arrival
I chat with GP son Stephen on the phone and send him pics.
After the museum I wander aimlessly around the town and do a little shopping including for a new boathook to replace the one I lost overboard on the trip up to Beddeck. I have a beer at the yacht club too. I want a local one and when the Barman mentioned a Raspberry something or other, I am so intrigued I have one. Interesting - but not sure if I'll repeat the experience.
I visit the charming little church of St Peter and St Paul
One of the earliest in the region - built in 1873.
In the evening I'm fed once again by Iain and Susan on board SV Chelsea. They are from the Toronto region and sailed down the St Laurence three years ago and have spent the summers exploring Nova Scotia and Newfoundland ever since. In the winter they park Chelsea up at St Peter's and house sit for friends and family back in the Great Lakes. Susan is the most wonderful cook and serves up a sumptuous Italian dinner complete with home made bread rolls.
I leave Baddeck around 1300 on Saturday and enjoy a delightful sail up the Great Bras (the long finger of water that eventually empties into the Gulf of St Lawrence via a narrow channel at the northern end of the Bras D'or Lake.
The tides there are very odd and with wind over them can kick up a nasty chop. Last year I got out and back in again unscathed, but more by luck than judgement. This year Iain passed on the formula for getting the timing right - which ironically he had found in the British magazine, Yachting Monthly. Counter intuitively the trick is to time one's exit so as to pass through the narrows 2-3 hours after LOW water. The easiest way of getting the timing right is to stop at Otter Harbour, just 5 miles south of the Narrows. So that's what I do and because I had visited there last year I am familiar with the very misleading soundings shown on the charts.
I anchor at about 1715 in a charted depth of two meters, but which was actually more like seven. I sort out an issue with the Genoa - the tack (the bottom front corner) had pulled out of the furler. As I am finishing up, a Dutch boat - Lujte, I had waved to in Beddeck pulls in and anchor's just past Bonny. The chap comes over to say hello and we have a nice chat. They are heading up the Great Bras for Newfoundland in the morning and so we would both be leaving around 0730 to make the tidal gate at the narrows at around 0900.
I get the anchor up at around 0715 and motor to over to Lujte to say goodbye and continue around in the deep water channel that surrounds an extensive shallow patch and promptly run aground. The chart shows 7 meters of water, my echo sounder which I had foolishly not looked at reads 1.2 meters. The echo sounder was of course right. No amount of full astern would get her off! The Dutchman notices my predicament and hails me on the vhf radio.
He kindly agrees to try and tow me off. The water to our starboard quarter from which he would approach was deep enough but on my port side there was only a foot or so of depth. Once Lujte is close enough I heaved a line on board and with Bonny in reverse and Lujte towing, Bonny is eventually dragged off the bank!
I sort the tow rope out and go and stow the anchor while I remember, not wanting to repeat the cock-up of Thursday. On returning to the cockpit I fail to remember that I had left the washboards (small planks that close the doorway to the cabin) on the cockpit floor leaning against the inside of the cockpit. I step down into the cockpit with my right foot, it slides off the washboards with all my weight on it and turns. Pain jerks across the outside of my foot but to my intense relief not through my ankle. I hobble about gingerly, complete my tidying up and take some painkillers. The discomfort will last for the rest of the trip to St Pierre and possibly beyond but nothing is broken - or so I thought!
Bonny and Lujte motor up Grand Bras and through the narrows and then part company; Lujte heads north for the south coast of Newfoundland and Bonny east for St Pierre.
A few hours of light variable winds follow with occasional bouts of motoring. I take the opportunity to pump out the bilges which I hadn't wanted to do in the lake. Bonny has three bilge pumps; two manual ones, the original in the cockpit a second which I had fitted in the galley before departing the Medway in 2023 and an electric one that Mick replaced at the same time. I discovered all three were malfunctioning! The diaphragm on the cockpit one had split. The galley one leaked from its joints and a split in the outlet hose. The electric one sounded like it was working but no water came out. I affected a temporary fix to the galley pump but will have to sort out all three properly when in port.
The wind fills in from the south around 1300 as forecast (although for a few hours it was east of south which required a close reach). In a brisk 15 + knots of wind we were soon making 6-7 knots. The sun is out but it's getting pretty damn cold. By 1800 I am wearing my long johns, a pair of jeans and a pair of lined trousers over them and on top, a T-shirt, shirt, and two fleeces. Oh yes and neck warmer and a woolly hat. I suspect even more layers will be required tonight.
Now at 1900, I'm getting hungry. The menu? I think, cup a soup and hot dogs (I've grown rather fond of them - best fried with onions, but too lazy for that now so will just boil them).
That did the job!
2113 16/6. God, how thick can one get? I have just spent a couple of hours dodging round a fleet of stationary ghost fishing boats that showed up on the dedicated masthead AIS (not the combined VHF/AIS receiver or the radar) with strange names that included the words "fishbuoy". I finally realise why, despite being almost on top of them I can't see them - it's because they are, you guessed it, fishing buoys!!! Never come across them before! LOL.
One more layer on. The outside temperature isn't that cold, around 12°C but the wind has a bitter edge to it.
Have been making excellent progress for a few hours now, beam/broad reaching at 6/7 knots. 112 miles to go! Should be there tomorrow.
The good progress at 6-7 knots on a beam to broad reach continues over night. I sleep in half hour spells and then check the course and the AIS and if all is well go back to bed.
I get up properly at 1000. The chart plotters says we should be in around 1400 but that assumes we continue at this speed which we almost certainly won't.
I have breakfast of toast, a hard boiled egg left over from yesterday and toast and instant coffee.
After breakfast I notice the main clue line (the bit of string that pulls the bottom back corner of the mainsail out to the end of the boom has either stretched a lot or has come loose at the mast. The block (pulley) that it runs through looks decidedly dicky too so I decide to put a reef in while I can still control the sail.
Around midday a ship bound for Halifax (the AIS tells me) heads in our direction from St Pierre. She then alters course to the west to avoid me but unfortunately I was turning north to maintain a better angle on the wind. I quickly turn back further east which means that by the time we are clear of each other I have a dead run up the gap between the islands. It's very uncomfortable in a building sea and dying wind - I didn't have any of the gear ready for that - preventers, poles etc. So after a while I give up, lash the boom amidships, start the engine and furl the genoa and we continue up the gap between the islands.
After an hour the wind returns with a vengeance as we head through the gap between the top of St Pierre and the little island of Grand Colombier to its north. As we round the top the wind shrieks to gale force. The water is flat because we're in the lee of the island but the wind hammers down the hills. Bonny surges along at 8 knots.
Outside the inner harbour I get the sails down but the genoa runs out of furling line while there's still some sail out. Normally I wouldn't be too bothered but in this near gale it was likely to be a nuisance
I hope for more shelter once inside the harbour but get none and am still desperately trying to get mooring lines and fenders ready as we approach the dock.
I see people waving to indicate where I should moor - on a pier with the wind blowing off it. Better than the other way round but it takes four or five attempts with lots of local help before we're moored up at around 1700 local time.
Finally secured to the dock we were blown off repeatedly on arrivalI'm absolutely knackered!
After the boat is finally secured at the dock, the local Police and Customs check me in - they came to the dock. They are extremely friendly and courteous but why 4 of them are needed to get one form completed is beyond me.
It's getting pretty chilly again so I rig the chimney and light the cabin heater. Dinner is a vegetable curry.
The next morning I hobble over to check in at the Marina Office. It's 33€ per night which seems quite expensive (but probably isn't, I have a habit of being shocked by every prices) especially after my free dockage at St Peter's for just over a week.
After breakfast I finally inspect my foot and am slightly disturbed at what I find...
I chat with GP son Stephen on the phone and send him pics."wow dad youve really fucked your foot, it doesnt look good that bruising and swelling could be from a ligament injury but could also be from a fracture
if you have any worry you've broken something you should see a doctor"
I hobble to the nearby health centre (1/4 mile). It's closed until 1330. It's currently 1130. I go off in search of a cafe and eventually find one and have a coffee.
Wednesday must be (very) early closing because the streets are deserted and the shops are closed. I find the chandlery to which I will have to return tomorrow to buy some new rope for the clue line. I had been concerned about the old one for a while but reasoned it wouldn't be subject to that much strain because when it got windy because I'd put a reef in. That's what I did yesterday but it could easily have parted before I got round to it! It would have been a self inflicted mess of major proportions if I had missed it or left it until I really needed to reef when the gale hit. It would surely have parted under the strain and I would have had a flogging mainsail to tame.
I return to the health centre at 1400. A charming nurse (I think) explains they have no Doctors and so I will have to go to the hospital. It's a half an hour hobble.
On arrival I ask a random nurse/doctor for A+E. She takes me there and hails a colleague. I explain (via google) I have hurt my foot and would like to see a Doctor. She beckons me to follow and asks for my passport I hand it over and my International Health Card - remember I am in France. I'm led immediately into a consulting room where the nurse takes my bp, pulse and temperature and asks what happened and when. Explaining my weight and height clearly gets lost in translation because we have to go through it again with Google's help. Smiles all round.
Shortly afterwards she tells me they have entered my details on their system and have asked the Doctor to come. My post code has to be clarified for some reason. Perhaps my bad hand writing!
The Doctor who speaks excellent English arrives after half an hour and examines me and says he'll arrange for an X-ray. I wait in the consulting room.
After another half an hour or so I am wheeled over to x-ray by a porter who speaks excellent English. I am so ashamed of my appalling language skills. A young woman technician takes 5 x-rays. I say "merci mademoiselle" which causes a great deal of humour. I'm wheeled back to the consulting room.
A little later, I'm presented with a CD containing my x-rays! It's a shame I have no way of viewing it.
In an hour or so the Doctor delivers the bad news. I have broken and displaced the fifth metacastle in my right foot. The recommended treatment is a cast for six weeks!!!! An alternative - not recommended - would be a walking boot but that runs a significant risk of the foot not mending properly.
A cast will really screw my plans for the summer.
The doc and other staff are wonderful and after discussion with Stephen I decided to go for the cast for now and decide what to do in the longer term later. The plan to meet Vincent's in St John's in two weeks to cruise Newfoundland is shredded, the family holiday in 4 weeks in Cape Breton is severely affected.
The silver cloud is that on returning to the boat and discovering I can't get on it at low tide due to the drop in height, is that a lovely American couple Cynthia and Mike, on their ocean going motor boat take me in!
The other silver lining is that I should be fine for the return trip to the UK at the end of July!
Not sure what happens next but will update once a plan is formed.
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