Monday began with Maryam motoring down the Strait of Belle Isle. The winds were 25 knots on the nose. The Strait is sufficiently narrow that one could only go straight down the channel. As the tidal current was against us, we moved out to the center in the big ship sector where the current was less. The seas were building. It was getting rather rough, and we weren’t making much progress. All systems on the boat seemed to be working fine, but we were out of fresh water and our fuel was getting a little low.
At 0030 UTC we reached call-in point 4A. I reported my position, speed and course to Belle Isle Traffic Control. As part of the report I had to give an estimated time of arrival at the next call-in point. I knew that the current would change from against us to slack to with us, and I thought that the winds against us would diminish to 15 knots or so. My expectation was based on my extending the forecast we had got in Greenland past its five-day expiration.
Sailors want a totally different weather forecast than most people. Most people want to know the temperature and whether it will rain or snow. They may also be interested in how much sun there will be. Sailors don’t much care about these things. They want to know the speed and direction of the wind. They want that to be precisely forecast for all hours of the day for the next several days, and they want a forecast that will allow them to pick a specific spot and a specific time and see what the speed and direction is forecast to be. If they are at sea, they want to know what the sea state will likely be, but they can derive this from the current and previous wind state. Weather forecasting for sailors used to be a long and involved process. I’ve read books on the subject and even went to a two-day course at the New York Yacht Club. All that has changed with the electronics revolution. One can now download a GRIB file that synthesizes all the extant forecasts and shows the forecast wind speed and direction for any point on the globe for the next five days. New files are posted twice daily. An updated GRIB file is what I was going for when I went swimming in Greenland.
At the end of my report to Belle Isle Traffic, I off-handedly asked, “How much longer are we going to be bucking 25-knot winds?” The answer was, “Not too much longer. The winds are expected to go to 40 knots Monday morning.” The force of wind rises exponentially with its increase in speed. A 40-knot wind exerts four times the force of a 20-knot wind. I told Belle Isle Traffic that we would seek shelter and wait for the winds to diminish. Thus, at 0300 we anchored in Schooner Cove, L’Anse a Loup, Labrador, on the north shore of the Strait of Belle Isle. We spent a very comfortable night, but it did lessen the chance of getting to Halifax in time for David & Delphine’s visa appointment.
At 0900 UTC (0700 local I think) I was on deck trying to stop a halyard from slapping against the mast when 4 men in a 20-foot open boat came by to say that we should go to the town up the bay where we could tie up. They were tending their fish traps in the area. There was a 30-foot fishing boat working traps or a net not far away. It had an inboard engine and small shelter for the operator After a short while I noticed that the 30-foot boat had apparently anchored and the 20-foot boat now had seven men in it. They were all facing to one side, and they were hauling in a net. It looked like a painting from 100 years ago. I woke David who took some pictures with his telephoto lens, but by then they were going behind the 30-foot boat, and the rising sun was in our face.
At 1400 we decided to go up the bay to the town to get water. The wind was blowing hard, but there were few waves in the bay. At the town there was a small man-made harbor for fishing boats. There was a nice space at the entrance where we could easily tie up even in these winds, but a fisherman said there was no water way down there. So I decided to try to tie up next to a fishing boat at the head of the dock. It would be rather tricky because of the wind speed and direction and because it is usually difficult to find a good place on another’s boat to tie our lines. A man on board offered to take our line. Accepting help with lines from a stranger on shore is almost always a mistake, but I thought he might know what he is doing. We tossed him our bow line -- another big mistake -- as it was the easiest to throw and he was close to our bow, not mid-ships where I wanted the line. He tied our bow line off fairly short just as a wind gust started to push our bow hard into his boat. Ordinarily, I can swing the bow back away by gunning the engine with the rudder full over. Foolishly I tried this now. Just as the bow started to move away the short bow line pulled tight and slammed our bow into the corner of his boat. We severely damaged the teak toe rail at the port bow. The damage was not dangerous, but it was ugly. As I write this on 19 September, this damage is the most expensive we have suffered on the trip.
At least we were able to fill up the water tanks. Alas, still no fresh water at Maryam’s water taps. Another pump problem. This time the brand new Jabsco pump bought in Reykjavik had stopped working. This really has been an unlucky-with-pumps trip. I spent several hours trying to fix it but got nowhere. There were no pumps available in L’Anse a Loup. Moreover, it was Canadian Labor Day. We would have to rely on the hand pump for fresh water until we got to Port aux Basques.
We had planned to clear customs & immigration in Port aux Basques. With our unscheduled stop in L’Anse a Loup, I contacted the Canadian Coast Guard to see if we should notify anyone. They gave me a phone number. Though there appeared to be cell phone service in the area, no one in Maryam’s crew could get a signal. So I used a few of the expensive minutes on the Iridium satellite phone. After a few perfunctory questions (name and nationality of persons on board), a very pleasant officer said, “OK, you’re cleared in,” and gave me a number to show anyone who inquired later. What a contrast to the US procedures, which I have normally encountered only in third-world countries.
The gale was not supposed to abate until evening, so we stayed tied up all day in L’Anse a Loup. The people there were extremely nice. Everyone tried to be helpful, including stopping to pick us up if we were walking somewhere. I spent the day in a funk because of the damage to the toe rail, trying to fix the pump, but mostly trying to figure out what we should have done differently.
Don’t throw a line -- particularly a bow line -- to a stranger on shore except in quite settled conditions.
A bow line makes an effective spring line only when it is longer than half the boat length.
If you find yourself tied off short at the bow and being blown in, accept that damage; don’t compound it by using the normal procedure when the bow is not tied.
The weather forecast said, “Variable 10 after midnight, southwest 25 until then.” This means 25 knot winds from the southwest until midnight with winds diminishing to 10 knots and coming from no forecastable direction after that. As we were going southwest, the forecast would indicate that we should wait until midnight to leave. It was unclear from the forecast whether “midnight” was local or UTC. After dinner, as it began to get dark around 2100 UTC, there was almost no wind in the harbor. We decided to leave. As we got out into the bay, however, we found a strong swell and the winds still southwesterly. We decided to go back to Schooner’s Cove and anchor until first light. We dropped anchor in the same place we had done so 17 hours earlier, had an anchor dram (a dram of whiskey taken after the anchor is secure), and started telling stories.
At 0030 UTC we reached call-in point 4A. I reported my position, speed and course to Belle Isle Traffic Control. As part of the report I had to give an estimated time of arrival at the next call-in point. I knew that the current would change from against us to slack to with us, and I thought that the winds against us would diminish to 15 knots or so. My expectation was based on my extending the forecast we had got in Greenland past its five-day expiration.
Sailors want a totally different weather forecast than most people. Most people want to know the temperature and whether it will rain or snow. They may also be interested in how much sun there will be. Sailors don’t much care about these things. They want to know the speed and direction of the wind. They want that to be precisely forecast for all hours of the day for the next several days, and they want a forecast that will allow them to pick a specific spot and a specific time and see what the speed and direction is forecast to be. If they are at sea, they want to know what the sea state will likely be, but they can derive this from the current and previous wind state. Weather forecasting for sailors used to be a long and involved process. I’ve read books on the subject and even went to a two-day course at the New York Yacht Club. All that has changed with the electronics revolution. One can now download a GRIB file that synthesizes all the extant forecasts and shows the forecast wind speed and direction for any point on the globe for the next five days. New files are posted twice daily. An updated GRIB file is what I was going for when I went swimming in Greenland.
At the end of my report to Belle Isle Traffic, I off-handedly asked, “How much longer are we going to be bucking 25-knot winds?” The answer was, “Not too much longer. The winds are expected to go to 40 knots Monday morning.” The force of wind rises exponentially with its increase in speed. A 40-knot wind exerts four times the force of a 20-knot wind. I told Belle Isle Traffic that we would seek shelter and wait for the winds to diminish. Thus, at 0300 we anchored in Schooner Cove, L’Anse a Loup, Labrador, on the north shore of the Strait of Belle Isle. We spent a very comfortable night, but it did lessen the chance of getting to Halifax in time for David & Delphine’s visa appointment.
At 0900 UTC (0700 local I think) I was on deck trying to stop a halyard from slapping against the mast when 4 men in a 20-foot open boat came by to say that we should go to the town up the bay where we could tie up. They were tending their fish traps in the area. There was a 30-foot fishing boat working traps or a net not far away. It had an inboard engine and small shelter for the operator After a short while I noticed that the 30-foot boat had apparently anchored and the 20-foot boat now had seven men in it. They were all facing to one side, and they were hauling in a net. It looked like a painting from 100 years ago. I woke David who took some pictures with his telephoto lens, but by then they were going behind the 30-foot boat, and the rising sun was in our face.
At 1400 we decided to go up the bay to the town to get water. The wind was blowing hard, but there were few waves in the bay. At the town there was a small man-made harbor for fishing boats. There was a nice space at the entrance where we could easily tie up even in these winds, but a fisherman said there was no water way down there. So I decided to try to tie up next to a fishing boat at the head of the dock. It would be rather tricky because of the wind speed and direction and because it is usually difficult to find a good place on another’s boat to tie our lines. A man on board offered to take our line. Accepting help with lines from a stranger on shore is almost always a mistake, but I thought he might know what he is doing. We tossed him our bow line -- another big mistake -- as it was the easiest to throw and he was close to our bow, not mid-ships where I wanted the line. He tied our bow line off fairly short just as a wind gust started to push our bow hard into his boat. Ordinarily, I can swing the bow back away by gunning the engine with the rudder full over. Foolishly I tried this now. Just as the bow started to move away the short bow line pulled tight and slammed our bow into the corner of his boat. We severely damaged the teak toe rail at the port bow. The damage was not dangerous, but it was ugly. As I write this on 19 September, this damage is the most expensive we have suffered on the trip.
At least we were able to fill up the water tanks. Alas, still no fresh water at Maryam’s water taps. Another pump problem. This time the brand new Jabsco pump bought in Reykjavik had stopped working. This really has been an unlucky-with-pumps trip. I spent several hours trying to fix it but got nowhere. There were no pumps available in L’Anse a Loup. Moreover, it was Canadian Labor Day. We would have to rely on the hand pump for fresh water until we got to Port aux Basques.
We had planned to clear customs & immigration in Port aux Basques. With our unscheduled stop in L’Anse a Loup, I contacted the Canadian Coast Guard to see if we should notify anyone. They gave me a phone number. Though there appeared to be cell phone service in the area, no one in Maryam’s crew could get a signal. So I used a few of the expensive minutes on the Iridium satellite phone. After a few perfunctory questions (name and nationality of persons on board), a very pleasant officer said, “OK, you’re cleared in,” and gave me a number to show anyone who inquired later. What a contrast to the US procedures, which I have normally encountered only in third-world countries.
The gale was not supposed to abate until evening, so we stayed tied up all day in L’Anse a Loup. The people there were extremely nice. Everyone tried to be helpful, including stopping to pick us up if we were walking somewhere. I spent the day in a funk because of the damage to the toe rail, trying to fix the pump, but mostly trying to figure out what we should have done differently.
Don’t throw a line -- particularly a bow line -- to a stranger on shore except in quite settled conditions.
A bow line makes an effective spring line only when it is longer than half the boat length.
If you find yourself tied off short at the bow and being blown in, accept that damage; don’t compound it by using the normal procedure when the bow is not tied.
The weather forecast said, “Variable 10 after midnight, southwest 25 until then.” This means 25 knot winds from the southwest until midnight with winds diminishing to 10 knots and coming from no forecastable direction after that. As we were going southwest, the forecast would indicate that we should wait until midnight to leave. It was unclear from the forecast whether “midnight” was local or UTC. After dinner, as it began to get dark around 2100 UTC, there was almost no wind in the harbor. We decided to leave. As we got out into the bay, however, we found a strong swell and the winds still southwesterly. We decided to go back to Schooner’s Cove and anchor until first light. We dropped anchor in the same place we had done so 17 hours earlier, had an anchor dram (a dram of whiskey taken after the anchor is secure), and started telling stories.
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