9/12/10: Waiting for calmer seas in Rose Blanche

Sunday, sunny and windy and not much to cold front other than name: COLD!

Ann writes:

During our boat-made mocha's and cinnamon rolls, we were treated to a carillon (bell) concert, presumably from the local Church, although I was surprised to hear Anchors Aweigh which Americans will recognize as the fight song of the US Naval Academy.

After lunch @ Fisherman's Friend of crispy chicken caesar salad, we walked down main street and took more photos of the picturesque village.

Anomaly's 2nd visit to Rose Blanche

Looking out towards the Lighthouse

We then walked back to the Lighthouse shops; Jon for Scotsburn chocolate icecream, and I for a book I couldn't quite recall. Fortunately, the Grub Box hostess remembered it was Writing the Sea, by leading Newfoundland author and Rose Blanche native Cassie Brown, but I guess the only copy sold. We bought souvenir hats instead.

I walked to the end of the local road across from Big Bottom and had a nice chat with a fellow from Calgary who said his family spends several months a year here. He'd originally bought in The Petites, but that nearby outport is already abandoned.

The locals stopped by on the dock to watch a young fisherman insulate his exhaust pipe, and as I was trying to photo an odd bird, they told me it was an immature ("this years bird") "Sea Pigeon". I've tried finding it on the internet and the descriptions for non breeding Black Guillemot, Common Guillemot and Pigeon Guillemot are difficult to distingish. Anyway, right then, another "otter" appeared, and we all agreed it is really a Mink.

The only mammals we saw in Newfoundland were squirrel, mink, mouse, dog and cat.

9/11/10 "Fog implies visibility of less than 1 mile" : Ramea to Rose Blanche

Ann writes:

The early morning forecast wasn't great, but we decided to move on. We followed the ferry out of the harbor in the fog. I tried taking just half of a meclizine pill which seemed ideal, but I still dozed off staring into the grey fog.

Reefed Mainsail

By 2 there was hazy sunshine, and it was quite nice around 5pm when the other Morgan caught our lines off the floating dock in Rose Blanche.

We ran up to our favorite Newfoundland Restaurant, Fisherman's Friend, where I had a more sensible meal of Seafood chowder and pan-fried cod. Jon and I had to share the last partridgeberry parfait for dessert. Meals at the restaurant are accompanied by recordings of Newfoundland folk songs which are a bit sad, speaking of the difficult lifestyle, death of the fishing industry, and leaving ones family village forever.


Jon writes:

The forecast was light for this day, but then a north east gale warning for the following day. The wave rider buoy off the Burgeo Bank was still reporting 8 ft seas, but it didn't look that bad and the wind was predicted to be southeast shifting to southwest at 10-15 which would not be too bad to work our way west. The strategy was to get west far enough to make the sail back across the Cabot Strait to Nova Scotia a single day's sail, rather than overnight, because the weather had become rather unpredictable more than about 18 hours out. So we left Ramea and found no more than 6 knots of wind from the southwest, motorsailing all the way to Rose Blanche. We knew this harbor to be well protected from a north wind. We tied to a float at the end of the public dock, and as we were talking to the locals in relative calm a sudden puff of cold north wind signaled that the gale was coming. And it blew that night a steady 32 knots gusting up to 38. But tied to the float directly into the wind in that small protected harbor it was much quieter than the two days at Ramea, or the one at Harbor Breton. The following day was calmer, but still a gale warning in the Cabot Strait, so we explored Rose Blanche more thoroughly and prepared the boat to leave early the following morning.

Rose Blanche from the lighthouse (click to expand)

9/10/10 Another day in port.

Friday- complete silence in early AM, but downpour again by 10.


Ann writes:

Uncertain if we should try to move west today; locals say "I hears a bit of a roar out there". We certainly had the 60-100 mm of rain predicted. Real Newfoundland weather! We waited until 1pm, but the seas were still almost 7ft.

During lunch again at Eastern Outfitters, I did get to see the Women's SF, but Wozniacki choked against Zvonereva, and I'd been sitting so long waiting for it, that I persuaded Jon to go for a walk. Little did I know what a great spot we'd discover!

First we did the obvious and ascended the highest point, Man O'War Hill for a commanding view of the island. By now it was clearing so we continued on the road to Muddy Harbour. At the end of the road, we could see some signs indicating the Walking Trail which turned out to be a very nice boardwalk skirting almost the entire island. It passed by the lighthouse and many little named coves along the back of the island, while keeping us comfortably suspended above of the boggy, peaty ground.

Fishing stages, Ship Cove

Ship Cove, Ramea, from Man O'War hill (click to expand)

Ann climbs the steps to Man O'War hill

Lots of steps.....

Muddy Harbor at low tide, actually should be called Rocky Harbor

Ann dressed for the boardwalk

The Ramea lighthouse and Coast Guard transmission tower on Northwest Head

Ramea boardwalk from the lighthouse. The boardwalk goes clear around the island. (click to expand)

Ann laments that this field of iris growing in the bog was not in bloom

9/9- Laying Low in Ramea

Thursday- Rainy and windy with gusts over 30 kts by early morning.

Ann writes:

Jon gets no rest; something is always rubbing, scraping or banging and always when it's dark, a downpour, or a wind gust.

We had lunch at Eastern Outdoors which had very good fries but a small mealy burger. Note to self: avoid beef in Newfoundland. I actually found the US Open tennis coverage on TSN network; lots of , but it was a real snooze fest since they announced the score before the showing, and Nadal/Verdasco was scheduled for later. Boring!

I cooked veal scallopine and blueberry muffins for dinner. We're down to 1 propane bottle; I think we have a leak because it smells so strong in the cockpit when we're sailing that I have to move away from the side the cabinet is on.

9-8 Hare Bay to Ramea

Wednesday- Our beautiful starry night has turned to wind.

Ann writes:

I didn't think we'd be able to leave, but it calmed at sunrise. We set out for Ramea since a gale warning is in effect for tomorrow.

Jon navigating the Fjord Coast of Newfoundland

At least we had time to see 2 other fjords. Rencontre Bay was definitely the most dramatic. The high walls are more sheer rock and the falls carry more water over longer drops. At the end of the bay, a pair of bald eagles were soaring over a waterfall. 

Rencounter Bay

 Francios was one of the last viable outports in a much more shallow fjord. Many cottages here are still brightly colored, and a waterfall cascades through the middle of town. The floating dock had space which is rare in this little harbour, but we couldn't stay due to the coming storm.

Francois- an outport hangs on

We reached Ramea around 6:30 and got to see the shoreline that was obscured by fog previously. 


 Then commenced an almost comical congregation of the town men advising Jon where and how to tie up for the impending storm. Everyone had a different opinion, (and probably very little experience with sailboats.) Jon had quite a difficult decision to make Anomaly secure. 


Jon writes:


The forecast now called for a gale to blow from the southeast that night and the advice of the cruising guide was that these bays were not tenable in those conditions, so we would not be able to anchor the next night in either Rencontre or Francois bays. The next harbor west on the coast was Ramea, so we toured those bays on the way to Ramea. The charts of the area carry a warning notice stating that they are based on surveys from the 1800's and may not be up to modern charting standards. In the entrance to Rencontre Bay we encountered a sudden rise in the bottom sounding from over 400 ft to 28 ft in less than 2 boat lengths with nothing shown on the chart. I discounted this as perhaps a fish, which sometimes happens. But we found it again as we exited the bay in the same place. Noting the shear cliffs surrounding the bay above the water, one can imagine that the bottom under the water must have similar precipices. 

From Francois to Ramea was 19 miles, the forecast northwest winds in fact turned out to be east southeast - directly from Ramea - and wanting to get there in time to be securely docked for the gale we motored upwind to get there. We arrived and took the same spot on the public wharf we had a week earlier, however a local came by and suggested that it was going to be pretty rough there and we should move. So we moved to a smallish float further into the harbor. 

This collected a crowd of locals, all of them arguing about where 'Anomaly' should best be tied up, given the expected conditions. The argument was very difficult to follow, taking place as it did in that peculiar foreign language of Newfoundland. However the consensus was that we should move again, this time to a very tight spot on the middle of the fishing wharf. Being a fishing wharf, it is all rough timbers and covered with old tires used as bumpers. Fine for a working boat, but very bad for the yacht finish. I blew up all of the inflatable fenders I had (6 of 'em). These are made like a Zodiac inflatable boat and are large enough (the largest is 8 feet long) not to slip between the timbers of the wharf and tough enough to bounce off of the tires and rough lumber. Since we were bow into the corner of an "L" in the wharf, I was able to run a line from the bow down the leg of the "L" to help hold the boat off the dock. 

'Anomaly' tucked in at center frame, Ship Cove, Ramea

As it turns out Ship Cove at Ramea is not well protected from a southeast wind. As darkness fell it began to blow, fortunately more east than southeast and so quartering on the starboard bow. The line holding the bow off began to stretch and I had to use the anchor windlass and a second line to warp the bow further off the dock. It blew than night and through the next day, shifting to the southeast which was nearly broadside. It was rough enough that the ferry, which is something like a 120+ ft very stout motor vessel did not leave Ramea, good thing as it was created a bit of a lee - "a cut" the locals called it - for 'Anomaly'. We ended up getting steady 35 knots with gusts to 40, somewhat higher than we had seen with the remnants of Earl in Harbor Breton. The fenders and dock lines had to be checked periodically, because the wharf does not move up and down with the tide as a marina float would, so the lines must be either left loose enough to accommodate the 6 ft tidal swing every 6 hours, or tended to night and day. 

9-7 Facheux Bay to Hare Bay

Tuesday- Mostly cloudy, cool and humid.

Ann writes:

Some strange cries echoed over the ridges from an invisible valley beyond the ridge: Moose? Disappointing not to see one. The birds didn't appreciate my iphone concert of bird songs, either.

We had a short pleasant motor to Hare Bay. There is a twin waterfall very near the entrance in Mare Cove. It looks like water levels are low; there are at least 6 visible falls and several other deep cuts in the high granite walls probably carry water in wetter periods.

Anomaly anchored in Hare Bay

This Bay is actually inhabited.  A motor boat, a runabout and a dinghy were anchored in front of a red cabin and we could hear voices occasionally. We anchored on the other side of the 2nd to last cove and could see 3 waterfalls from that vantage point. We dinghyed around the Bay to the bases of the waterfalls which tend to disappear into the gravel moraine below them. One had a nice little multi-level cascade into the bay. We were able to go ashore at Sandy point where I found periwinkles, mussels and butterclam shells. Also a bit of plastic trash along the high shore line of the beach that was rocky enough to make walking difficult at times.

Base of waterfall emptying into Hare Bay

I started to paint plain air and of course it started to rain, so was forced below. Cooked pork chops and potatoes. Note to self: Local pork is much better than the beef.


Jon writes:


With only 3 knots of west wind, a sloppy left over sea, and only 5 miles west on the coast to go, we motored out of Facheux Bay and into Hare Bay. It is even more spectacular than Facheux, and we chose the Northwest Arm at the head, leading to a large pool in which we anchored. There were two or three cottages there, one of them actually occupied. In fact there were two other boats in the pool, contrasting with the complete seclusion in Facheux Bay. Nevertheless a serene setting. We explored the pool and tributary waterfalls in the dinghy.

The entrance to Hare Bay

Double waterfall on Hare Bay

The North Arm anchorage at Hare Bay (click to expand)

9-6, Harbour Breton to Facheux Bay

Monday (US and Canadian Labor Day)- A cool and breezy sunny day.


Ann writes:


Viewed a Salmon farming operation on our departure from Hr. Breton.  Note to self:  write indignant letter to Julie Packard re: she shouldn't be so quick to criticize an operation that keeps this community alive.

Not exactly a polluting operation- this harbor is over 400 ft deep

Tending the salmon cages- I will order more Atlantic Salmon from now on, regardless of Ms. Packard's opinions!

Started sailing, but conditions turned from tolerable to terrible in a matter of hours. I became a useless lump barely hanging, pondering how to lose my breakfast gracefully.  Jon, on the other hand was a real hero, finding a closer alternate anchorage, and then hand-steering to reduce the bashing on the bow.  He got absolutely soaked by the spray.

I ended up with a mild case of hypothermia- I was shaking uncontrollably and somewhat hysterical. Jon had to wrap me in blankets and heat up the master berth.

Jon writes:

We left Harbor Breton with the intent of sailing to Hare Bay, one of the fjords to the west. The wind built through the morning until we had the 2nd reef in the mainsail close hauled, with a seaway that was very confused by the large left over swell from Earl. This made it heavy going. We had to round a point to the west and could then turn further off the wind. By then we had nearly 30 knots, the course to Hare Bay was going to be a wet and rough one, so I turned instead toward Facheux Bay - both closer and another 30 degrees off the wind. Hand steering to try to avoid the larger mountains and holes in the water, we entered the relative calm of the Facheux fjord feeling quite soaked and chilled, and anchored in Brent's Cove about 5 miles in on the west side. The fjords have vertical granite walls perhaps 1200 ft high broken occasionally by waterfalls. The walls continue below the water: much of the time the bottom was too deep to measure - more than 600 ft - only  a few feet from the shore.

At the anchorage, there was not a single artificial light visible except our own, the Milky Way shone brilliantly in the sky. The closest small town is 30 miles away, the closest city 130. There is no light pollution here!

Leaving the Facheux Bay anchorage at Brent's Cove

Across Facheux Bay opposite Brent's Cove is its twin, Allen Cove

This is the mid south coast of Newfoundland, cut every few miles by deep fjords. The two islands lower right are, peculiarly, French territory and one must clear customs into France to enter them.

The "fjord coast" of Newfoundland (click to expand)

Facheux Bay extends 9 miles into the Newfoundland rock, but is only about 2000 ft wide at its entrance. The depth soundings through most of the bay are about 380 meters - 1200 ft deep!

Chart of Facheux Bay (click to expand)

'Anomaly' is currently lying Baddeck Harbor, Nova Scotia