There's an old sailing superstition - never set sail on a Friday - it's bad luck. Why? Goodness knows.
I suppose I was really asking for trouble; it was not any old Friday it was Friday the 13th!! It started innocently enough with breakfast of coffee, toasted roll and soft cheese as the wind outside gradually started to build. After breakfast I completed a small electrical job that had already taken up hours of my time - I connected up the new power supply to the helm position so that I could charge the new robust tablet I had bought to make close quarters pilotage easier. The boat's chart-plotter is too far away from the steering wheel to be really useful for that purpose. Previously I had identified an old redundant power cable that appeared to run from the fuse box to the bottom of the steering column and had run a new cable down the column tube and connected it up. Result: no power at the waterproof USB socket I had also installed!! Then a day or so later whilst scrambling around under the cockpit floor I found another identical cable that also ended up in the fuse box but was unconnected. Maybe it was that one. It was. The only trouble was as I later found out - the USB charger can't keep up with the power consumption of the tablet when it's on maximum brightness which is needed outside in bright daylight! If I turn the screen off when not using it the charger can just about keep up.
I motored out of Cape George Harbour at 1115 and shortly after set sail into a stiff headwind that required two reefs in the mainsail. After an hour as the wind increased further I suddenly realised that I had forgotten to stow the anchor properly and so hove to to sort that out. I carelessly put the boat hook down on the deck and watched helplessly as it slowly rolled over the side. Bugger! In case you're wondering that was not the "near disaster".
We could just about lay the course we needed to get through the Great Narrows about twenty miles north at the head of the main body of water in the Bras D'or lake. The narrows are crossed by two bridges - one to the north and one to the south - I approached the southern one a few hours after losing the boat-hook. One of the bridges is so high that the Queen Mary could probably pass through it, the other needs to be opened to allow boats with moderate plus masts heights to safely pass under it. Boaters are required to radio ahead to request the bridge to be opened. Familiarity breeds contempt! I had been under both bridges twice before - last year. Are you beginning to get an uneasy feeling of events about to unfold? I got within a few hundred yards of the bridge - funny I remember it being much higher than that. Another hundred yards - we were nearly in the narrow approach channel - of fuck - it's the wrong sodding bridge, hard a port, we just manage to avoid the wall of the approach tunnel as I scramble to find the hand-held vhf. I notice the bridge has started to lift despite me completely failing to observe the rules. I get on the radio and very sheepishly apologise to the bridge operator. I expect a severe and well deserved reprimand, but instead get a very pleasant "no worries - have a nice day" response. Canadians must be the most polite people on the planet!
Phew!
A couple of hours later I dropped the hook at Beddeck near 'SV Chelsea' with Iain and Sue on board who left St Peter's the week before me.
It's still windy and I'm pretty tired after my first full day sailing in nearly a year. We agreed to meet up the following day - Saturday.
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