Log Book (August)

August 4-6

August 8

Rolland is getting ready to shoot laser beams

Deb ties my shoe after putting nice warm wool socks that have been hanging above the heater. She is a keeper. We leave the Marina locks in the rain. The wind is from the northeast against the current so the waves are steep. Our guidebook says to leave two hours before the tide is high, but with the waves we should have left four hours before high tide.We hit the point of heavy current just as the tide as against us.

August 9

Anse a la Barque, Suagenay Fjord

Anse a la Barque, Suagenay Fjord

August 10

August 11
Today is Jannelle's golden birthday. We woke up to mist, but the sun is breaking through, and the heater keeps us dry. Jannelle gets to request meals and this morning we had pancakes with Maple Syrup (Thanks Ron and Hugh!!). We are writing letters and getting ready to go to town. If Newfoundland wasn't calling I would spend the rest of the month here. We will probably spend the night here and set sail if the conditions are right. We aren't going to budge if the wind hasn't shifted in our favor. We are out of the small part of the St. Lawrence river and we can tack if we have to and there are many more places to anchor. We have had it with Marinas. We will probably cross over to the south shore and head to the Iles de la Madeleine. Then maybe Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia and then Newfoundland. Or not.

  August 11 Part 2

Pancake Breakfast for Jannelle's Birthday




Birthday cake extraordinair at the end of the day. Deb does amazing things with the Boat stove.


Jannell's birthday was a great day. When you start off with pancakes and maple syrup you know it is going to be good. Our walk to town included a little detour that Deb took us on that had us nearly backtracking to the beginning of our trail. We needed the walk anyway. We went to the post office and mailed a bunch of letters and then found a coffee shop where the four of us shared a single can of soda so that we could spend a couple hours using their wireless Internet connection. This allowed me to update the website for the last update. While I am working on the update, Jannelle goes to a pay phone and makes calls to the grandparents and friends burning up our calling card. We then went and did a rare thing, we ate out. Our waitress knew a little bit of English and did her best to answer the girls questions about the food. The trench can't make a car to save their lives, but they know how to cook. I tipped the waitress well, which for me is 25%. Bad Horrible service = 5% (Grace is a good thing, I never leave nothing), OK service = 10%, Good service = 15%, Great Service = 20%, and wonderful memorable service = 25% of the total meal cost. It has been years since I have left a less than a 20% tip. The restaurant industry is far far ahead of other industries when it comes to service, unlike automotive repair. I believe in tipping good tips for the people who take care of you. Maybe I believe that good works will get me a better spot in heaven? Saint Peter patting me on the back saying "Good job with the tips"? After out meal we have just enough sunshine to walk the mile back to the boat on our hiking trail. At the boat we have a absolutely delicious birthday cake and we sing the requisite song. Twice.

August 12

Precipice at anchor, Anse a la Barque



Bianca standing next to our beached dingy tied to two ropes so it doesn't escape with the tide.



Deb and Jannelle having a snack.



Precipice at Anchor. She is held there by two bow anchors and two long ropes to shore. Another sailboat tried for an hour to anchor near us and gave up.We had already started making bread for them and were sad to see them go.



Deb reading Anne of Green Gables to the girls. The space behind them is Jannelle's bunk/bedroom. I wake up at 0430 and check the weather. The wind is coming from the wrong direction and it is raining. I decide to have a laze around the boat day, and nobody argues with me because they are all sound asleep and I let them stay that way. We eat breakfast at 1100 and lunch at 1400. Anne of Green Gables is read and nothing much happens. As good as any other day on the boat.

August 13

This is a whale. This is a good way to see whales, from a distance. Like with binoculars.





This is the tail on a beluga whale, the only whale that can turn it's head. They are pure white and rare.
Today we finally get underway. We could have spent the summer in the Fjord. Perhaps someday we will. Where the Saguanay river and the St. Lawrence meet is a perfect spot for whales to feed. We see many many whales. I wasn't expecting to see so much marine life, but I am used to freshwater. We see over 50 by the end of the day, but each time it is a surprise and a joy. Jannelle and Bianca have a great time spotting them (after I kick them out of the cabin and ban them from the Nintendo DS). We cross the St. Lawrence river, hitting the tide just right. The wind starts with great promise, but later dies down to a whisper. When this happens we have a choice of starting the diesel, or just drifting along with the current. Unless it is a matter of safety or a storm has just gone by leaving big waves with no wind, we usually drift. Drifting along lets us become quiet in a way that is impossible with shore life. As we pass one of the islands we hear wolves howling. This goes on for hours. Later in the night a fog sets in and the world around us becomes ethereal and sounds are distorted. A couple of hours after that the fog inexplicably lifts and the moon comes out. The wind comes in breaths and then leaves. It is quiet, calm, and peaceful. We are still. About 0330 we come by a commercial harbor called Matane. We sneak in using radar and anchor for a couple of hours and take a nap. We wake up before the harbor gets busy and sail down another mile to the yacht club harbor and take on diesel and fresh water and dump our trash.
August 14-15

Precipice stranded at Les Mechins. The water goes down another two feet after this picture is taken.
The above picture represents one of my worst nightmares. Not a good way to end the day. After we took on fuel in Matane we sailed out and the wind shifted right on our nose. We are no longer restricted to the tight confines of the river so we take a long tack out into the bay that takes us three hours out and then we take another tack and go three hours in. It is only about three in the day, but we are tired from sailing all night and we see on the chart a little "harbor of refuge" called Les Mechins. We fire up the motor and head in moving really slow. We stop when we see that the wharf wall is already double stacked with fishing boats. I ask Deb why we can't just anchor right where we are when WHAM we hit a rock with our keel. I immediately put the engine in full reverse and Deb runs up to the fore deck to drop the anchor. Both efforts are too late as the waves lift us over the uncharted rocks and start pushing us closer to shore. There is no noise I know that is more unnerving than to listen to your boat hit rocks after every wave goes by. The anchor catches and the boat stops moving, but the tide is moving out and we are stuck. Everyone in the family goes into emergency mode. Jannelle pulls the bilge covers and gives a report, and Bianca keeps the dingy rope away from the prop and gets it ready to launch. I get two of our anchors in the dingy and Deb ties them to halyards (ropes) that go to the top of our mast. I set one anchor on each side of the boat and then we pull them tight. The ropes going to the top of the mast keep Precipice from tipping over as the tide goes out and leaves her sitting high. Our world gets tippy and we carefully make sure we don't put much weight on one side of the boat. At this point we can do nothing until the tide comes in three hours later. A french speaking fisherman starts yelling something to me, so I row the dingy over to him. He knows no English so we try sign language and get nowhere. In the middle of this conversation a man in a dry suit pops his head out of the water holding a rope. He apparently was getting the rope from around the fishermans prop shaft. They speak French to each other with exaggerated movements and then the diver tries to talk to me with his ten words of English. At one point we all laugh loudly when we realize how ridiculous we must all look. The fisherman grabs the rope and makes engine noises trying to tell me that he can pull me out. I make my hand into an inverted claw and make horrible scraping noises trying to tell him that 20,000 pounds of boat stuck on rocks dont just nicely pull out, even if he had the horsepower to do this. Somehow they both translate this as me thinking they need money to do the work. The diver says "no cash, no cash" I point at my wrist and put up three fingers and make an engine noise while pulling on his rope and then move my hands up rocking side to side like waves. This they both get. I want to wait for the tide to come in three hours and then they can pull me out. They leave together to go to the bar after pointing at their wrists and put out three fingers.

We have three hours to figure out the next steps. We are all pissed. Pissed at each other, pissed at Quebec for hitting our boat, pissed at the waves, pissed at the charts; Deb even uses a swear word. We look at the chart and it shows two meters of water where we were, plenty for us. The rocks, however, are not charted. These are big nasty pointy rocks. A depth sounder doesn't help with rocks, because they stick up and you hit them before the finder sees them. There is nothing to be done but get ready for the next three hours and calm down. Three hours is just enough time. After balancing the boat with the two anchors to keep Precipice from tipping over and punching a hole in her side, we get another anchor ready out our stern to pull us out when the tide comes in. As the water comes back up I take a third anchor and put it out the stern. Deb and I start winching these anchors in together and get them set and the ropes taut so that as the waves start lifting us we will not go further ashore. Soon the boat starts to float on the bigger waves and then get set down with a horrible crunching noise every time. Thankfully almost the entire length of our keel is a foot and half wide and tall 7000 pound piece of lead that can handle the beating. Any other design would have had a very very bad day. Soon the girls who are watching a particularly nasty rock right next to our boat with a flashlight report that we are moving. We move about ten feet back and hit a rock. We try running the motor and sneak around it, but we cannot seem to find the track out that we took in. We start cleaning up and wait another hour for the tide to go higher. Suddenly, we are free. Instead of trying to go back in and raft up, we leave Les Mechins in our wake. The next morning another guide book tells us that "Les Mechins" translated into English means "the wicked ones". No kidding. Nice.

We motor all night. We are burning diesel and we don't care. We just want to get away from almost losing our home, our dream, all our work. I am still shaky four hours later when my watch comes up.

A fog rolls in.

I have the radar set on a three minute watch schedule so that it turns on every three minutes gives me thirty sweeps and shuts itself off again for another three minutes. On one of these sweeps a very large blob appears on the outer range ring six miles out. No big concern at that range. Three minutes later when the radar comes on again, the big blob is coming right at me at the five mile ring. The big blob moved one mile in three minutes. This is just like those awful word problems I had to work out in forth grade, except this big blob on the radar is something huge like a freighter coming right at me at high speed. I do the math. This freighter is going 20 knots (23MPH). Next, what is he doing here? I am in the inshore traffic zone. He should be in the upbound traffic zone three miles north of me. The only reason he could be here is that he is heading to one of these little ports and will probably head closer to shore. I head directly out of his path away from shore at full speed - 7 knots. On the radar this doesn't seem like I am doing much, he is so big that it still looks like he is coming right at me. At the three mile mark I shift to a smaller scale on the radar and I can see that I am widening the gap between us. At the two mile mark he blasts out a fog signal, something that he hadn't been doing. This initially scares me so that my knees shake, but I realize that this is a good thing because it means he sees me because he wasn't sounding a fog signal before this. I get on the radio a signal a Securite call giving my position and direction. I signal with my little horn. While I am doing this, my radar freaks out because the signal is bouncing off of him and back so that is looks like he is right on top of me. I readjust and find he is a half mile astern of me just as his next fog signal tells me the same thing. Deb pops her head out wondering what was up with blasting our horn (one of those compressed CO2 things you hear at football games) while she was sleeping. As I am explaining the freighter gives another fog signal that is farther away. I hear his signals every two minutes getting fainter and fainter for the next hour. Well that was fun.

We motor the rest of the night and all the next day and there is no real wind and any wind we do get comes from the direction we are heading.

As the sun sets, we come up on another small harbor, Riviere - au - renard.  We move in really slow, but when we drop anchor this harbor is well over five meters deep.  We set the anchor and fall asleep totally exhausted, and fully alive.  


August 16

Gigantic jumping jacks at the entrance to Riviere-au-Renard


We finally get to sailing again


Riviere-au-Renard


This is a blue whale, the largest of all mammals. He is 20 feet away in this picture. Shoo whale shoo.

We leave our anchorage and it is a pretty calm day and there is just enough wind that we can barely sail along the shore. While I am figuring out my route for the day on the chart something makes a noise that sounds like a tire machine giving a blast of air to seat the bead on a tire. If you don't know what that sounds like, imagine what tire blowing up must sound like. I just about pee my pants. I turn around and right next to our boat eight feet away is a blue whale right at the surface. He is more than twice as long as our boat, and his two blow holes are each as big as my waist and he is looking at me. This would be like a semi quietly sneaking up on you while you are riding your bicycle and blowing his horn. I like whales and all, but I like them at a distance. I have heard too many stories of boats sunk by whales (later people tell me blue whales dont do this) and I am shaking. He dives and resurfaces twenty feet away, which is the picture above. He dives again and is gone. There be whales here. Again, I am shaking an hour later. I think that not having an engine running, and not having a depth sounder pinging away at full volume makes us an interesting thing for the sea life to check out.

Later the wind picks up and shifts direction slightly so that we have to go on the opposite tack. This takes us further from shore. I recalculate and figure that on our next tack we can just make it down the shoreline that is curving away from us. Just after we tack again, the wind shifts so that we cannot go the direction we want. I recalculate and figure out with another tack we can go around an island and still resume our course. Just before we are about to tack the wind shifts again. This may not be much fun to read, but on our boat a single tack can take about ten minutes of teamwork to plan and execute. We have things called running backstays that have to be repositioned every time. Running backstays keep you running. This type of back and forth work keeps Deb and I in constant communication and we work like a team, planning each tack and watching out for each other. It is this kind of sailing is what I like about sailing. This kind of sailing requires teamwork, a seamless integration.

The path the wind is choosing for us takes us further and further away from a large rock formation that is adored by Quebec and is in a million pictures. It is called Pierced Rock, but to us it looks like a large semi. Sorry Quebec. New Mexico has five thousand rock formations more interesting than this, so we don't get what the big deal is about it, but apparently it has become a symbol of the entire province.



Semi trailer rock, I mean pierced rock. As far east as you can go in Quebec.  



Some of the shoreline north of pierced rock, the Forillon Peninsula.



One of our many tacks required to make headway against the wind toward harbor for the night.


As our path took us further and further away it brought us to a beautiful Island called Ile Bonaventure. The island is home to over 250,000 seabirds and certain parts of the cliffs look like snow from the golden-headed gannets. Our path brings us quite close to the island and we sea a bunch of seals resting on the shore. All of a sudden we hear the wolves howl, and make the connection that it is the seals that are howling and it sounds exactly like the eerie lonesome sound wolves make. Several times over the last couple of days I would be sailing along minding my own business when a little dog face would pop out of the water, look at me just like our dog Sheba would (thank you Dan and Carrie for taking ownership of Sheba!) and then pop back in the water. So not only do they move like dogs, they howl like dogs. The amount of sea life we have seen so far is amazing to us. After having the idea hammered in my head from day one by my teachers and National Geographic that the oceans are dead, it is interesting how un-dead the ocean is here. And this is where all the polluted water from the toxic great lakes spills out. It must have been just absolutely incredible five hundred years ago. Between the whales and the seals, it also seems like we are being watched pretty closely.

Ile Bonaventure, a surprise find for us.




A picture that just starts to capture the beauty of what we have been seeing.


While we were working on tacking, one of our lines fell in the water and became a rope (this is a Precipice joke that there are no ropes on board until they fall in the water - don't try to understand, it is a sailor thing.) Deb went to the side of the boat closest to the water and started untangling the rope to get it out of the water and make it into a line again. She got a little wet doing this and about ten minutes later she . . . well, she inflated and . . . . well, um, she was huge.





Deb tries out the Quebec pneumatic hood ornament look. See here for more info on this phenomenon. Automatic life jackets are sometimes too automatic.





Our harbor for the night,  L'Anse-a-Beaufils


After sneaking by Bonadenture Island we were able to take a nice long tack into our harbor L'Anse-a-Beaufils. The wharf wall was full so we rafted to another sailboat and cooked dinner. This is what you do when a harbor is full, you just find another boat and glom on to them. If you want to get to shore, you just crawl over them. If someone on the inside wants to get out you just move down using ropes and pull yourself into their spot when they are gone. We slept really well this night. Our day was a day of moving sails and keeping the boat moving. Deb and I find ourselves losing weight in spite of all the eating we do (the person at the helm at night gets the snacks) because of all the hoisting and pulling we have been doing. Yep, we are just buff.

August 17-19
We get up at 0430 hoping that the promise of a west wind will be fulfilled. We get out into the harbor and find that the promised wind is vacant. The wind slowly picks back up, and the forecast is calling for a lot of it, so I decide that the best course of action is to hank on our storm fors'le (the farthest forward sail) in preparation. This usually is a two person job, so in preparation for "horrible stories to tell boyfriends later" I wake up Jannelle at 0500.


Jannelle awoken from a deep sleep at five AM for a sail change with an incredibly good attitude. We expect this attitude will change in two years at age 13.

The wind fills in nicely. I give the girls a choice of doing helming duty now when it is calm, or later when the wind picks up. Bianca takes the helm for her required 1.5 hour daily duty and does a fine job while I sit at the bow and soak up the day. About a half hour later a gust of wind catches Bianca off guard and she freaks a little. I run back and take the helm from her and things calm down. As I am reassuring her that it was just a gust and they come once in awhile and it is ok, I get hit with a gust and I freak out a little. This gust doesn't stop though, and it doesnt stop for the next 48 hours. At this point I have to much sail up and the boat is leaning way over with the rail in the water. I am over canvassed. This is a good thing to say to someone when you are too busy and they ask you how you are doing, just say,"I am over canvassed!" and everyone will know what you mean. At this point I call out to Deb who was half way through a nice little nap and she comes out and helps me put two reefs in the mains'l and Precipice assumes the position she keeps for the next two and a half days. The wind stayed at a gusty 25 knots going to 35 knots sometimes to 45 knots. This is what Precipice is built for. I am in heaven. Spray going over the boat, wind howling in the rigging. Life on the boat settles into a rythm of watches and meals while Precipice slices through the miles. We are beating to windward, the most difficult point of sail, for the first 13 hours. The wind shifts a little and we get a very tight reach, still difficult and wet, for the rest of the trip. We are at the maximum wind that the sails we have up can handle (we have seven different sails for different conditions) and the boat is moooooving. We clock off a 124 nautical mile day (142 statute miles for you landlubbers), a personal record for us under sail in non-downwind conditions. This is to windward, and I thumb my nose at all you naysayers that put down a gaff rigs windward ability. Say it again and I shall thumb my nose at you a second time. The night watch is spent for both of us in awe of the power of wind. After the wind shifts a little, the waves get even more confused and some of them hit our bow just right that they stop us cold. 20,000 pounds of boat just stopped, wham. It is a clear night with stars and howling rigging and all the stuff of sailing books.


Precipice with a double reefed main, storm stays'l and storm fors'l.



The next morning the wind ever so slowly dies down to the point that by noon we are becalmed. We are now next to Prince Edward Island, in the Northumberland strait. The water is warm, the air drier, and the sun is out. All day lobster boats pass really close to us and wave friendly and check us out. We make sure and dodge their floats. We pass under the Confederation Bridge that looks like a Roman aqueduct.


 Confederation bridge

The sun starts to set soon after we cross under the bridge and the wind starts to pick up. We make the last ten miles into Charlottown, PEI using Radar. We don't have enough light to make our way into the marina so we anchor in the bay. The wind is coming from one direction and the current from another. When this happens it is difficult to set the anchor properly. We are forced to keep an anchor watch. Anchor watches are about as boring as any watch can be. They consist of sitting on a boat in the dark making sure you don't drag anchor. It is the nautical equivalent to watching paint dry. As soon as it is light enough, we make our way to the Charlottown yacht club and get a slip. We are in Anne of Green Gables land. Just in time for a nap.

August 19

Precipice rafted next to Judy and Blad of Freya, who became friends of ours

While Deb naps, Jannelle and I go on a reconaissance run. We quickly sample the local ice cream to determine suitability of consumption. We then go to the box office and purchase the last four side by side seats for the Anne of Green Gables musical. We also purchase tour bus tickets to get to Cavendish, the place that inspired LM Montgomery while she was writing Anne of Green Gables. I also get some milk and two videos, Harry Potter 5 and I am Legend. We are loaded and ready to go to town. We all take showers, nap, and start a load of laundry. Later at night we eat pizza, and watch a movie. The girls are so excited about going to the play their hair starts to turn red.

August 20

The Trowbridge family sitting down to their first musical together.


The musical makes running the boat aground, being scared by whales, and three days of beating to windward to get to Prince Edward Island worth it. They have been doing this musical for 45 years continuous. This year is the 100th anniversary of the writing of the book, and PEI is doing a great job keeping the tourists happy.


During intermission we had our own snack we brought along while everyone else waited in the concession line.

August 21 anne of green gables ground zero

As far as I can remember, this is the first tour bus that I have ever ridden on. The thing is expensive, but I am banking Daddy points like I never have before. A slip in the marina with showers, check. A Harry Potter movie, check. Pizza, Check. Anne of Green Gables Musical, Check. Air Conditioned tour bus to all places Anne of Green Gables, Check.



 Jannelle and Bianca in Matthew Cuthburts carriage in front of Green Gables





Jannelle, Deb, and Bianca behind Green Gables.




Green Gables




The trail in the Haunted Forest, if you don't know what these things are you are a guy who doesn't have little girls.




The red soil of Prince Edward Island




The Trowbridge Family




A carriage ride at the Anne of Green Gables museum.




Jannelle escapes the tour bus and makes a run for it.  

August 22
Today we shop, do laundry, catch up on boat chores, get charts for the next part of our trip, and get ready to depart in the morning. We hope to go through the Canso straight, through the Bras d'or Lakes and then up to the French Islands and then on to Newfoundland. Or not.

August 23

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Bagpipes and Drums Greeted us at Pictou Island

We left Prince Edward Island a little embarrased. When we went to take on diesel we found that the fuel dock doesn't have enough depth for us near low tide. It took half the marina and and the marina skiff to get us free. You would think that our goal was to run aground in every province. When we made it to Pictou Island later in the day we found a group of vessels having an infomral bagpipe concert. It was beautiful music for a beautiful place. As soon as they were done, they all left into the sunset giving us the anchorage to ourselves.





Furling the sails for the night.



We came into the Northumberland strait with 35 knot winds, we left with perfect sailing conditions in a sailors paradise.


August 24


Bianca takes her turn at the helm. She did three hours under perfect downwind conditions. It was hard work.


We got an early start for another perfect day of sailing. We made it to the entrance of Havre Boucher just as the sun was setting.



The entrance looked nasty, but trusting our charts we slowly made our way in without incedent. It turned out to be a quiet and protected anchorage.

August 25


The lock guarding the Canso strait from changes in the tide


Today was a radar day. We woke up to RFD (rain, fog, and drizzle) and it stayed with us all day. Our entrance to Nova Scotia came with textbook conditions for the area. Most of our way through the Lennox passage we couldn't even see the shore. We did see many seals who came closer to check us out, because they would not be able to see us otherwise.



We didn't have to pick up lines in this lock, they just let us hover. A little less uptight than the St. Lawrence folks.



When I was a kid my parents played a song that started out with a big gong and a guy saying "Open Sesame".
I have thought of that song many times on this trip.



This is what we got to see of the Lennox Passage. Deb felt expecially cheated. I was having fun with radar. The water was smooth enough that if a seal stuck his head up, he would show up on the screen.




While we sail, magic happens in the galley.




The scenery was just magnificent.





Our day ended with the St. Peters canal lock. The lockmasters here were friendly and laid back.
They also have a cool Irish accent here. It goes with the weather, I guess.




August 26

Bianca enjoying the Hammock next to Beaver Island. The hammock was a gift from Rick from Performance Diesel.
Thank you Rick, we are wearing the thing out. The first thing asked of me when we make port is to put up the Hammock.



The sun managed to come out for about ten min. today. It was worth it.



The lennox passage led to the Bras a Dor lakes. These are inland salt water lakes that are surprisingly wild and undeveloped. All the way up the St. Lawrence everyone asked if we were going here. Now we know why.

August 27

The Saint Peter lock, cut from solid stone in the 1850's took 15 years to complete.

We got up and started checking where we wanted to go next. We discovered that we were missing two charts for the next section of the lake. Not wanting to put our boat up on the rocks, we turned back around and headed to the previous town. The chart dealer for this town is the pharmacy. You go to the front counter and ask for the chart you want by number and the pharmacist from the back brings them up to you just like you were ordering a prescription. That is my kind of town. We took the opportunity to check out the local museum dedicated to Nicolas Denys.   His story would work out nice as a sermon illustration on not giving up. Just about everything he tried failed until he wrote a book about it. My kind of guy. The museum was one of these wierd placed small towns have that people keep bringing their old antique junk to until it has nothing to do with the name it is dedicated to. The plaque for the memorial to him is on the side of the museum, but nothing in the museum is about him. We had to walk another quarter mile just to see the memorial It was grand.

The Nicolas Denys memorial in all its glory.

Jannelle, Bianca, and Deb at the Saint Peter Lock

Diamond Shaped lock gates.

The Saint Peters lock we had gone through the day before was just down the hill from the museum, so we went and checked it out. It is one of the few locks in the world that has gates facing both ways.  It is built this way because water levels on both sides change either higher or lower depending on the wind and tides.

Our next anchorage was a deserted cove. We anchored in calm, but during the night the wind picked up to 25 knots, and shifted. Our anchor did us a favor and reset without any drama. The next day the wind was still going strong but had calmed down some, so we decided to keep moving and cross over to the next lake.

August 28

Today we woke up to heavy winds. We decided that since it was misty and cold and windy that we might as well get to our next location. The wind was right on the nose the whole way. It was a motoring day. When we got to Baddeck Marine, they told us it has been raining for five weeks. Nothing changed today.

Baddeck Marine and the town of Baddeck, the summer home of Alexander Graham Bell inventor of the telephone.

August 29

Jannelle performing an experiment at the Alexander Graham Bell Museum

We took a week block of time at this Marina because my weather router informed me that it would be at least a week before the high pressure system that has had the low trapped over the Bras d Or lakes for the last five weeks would move on. Baddeck isn't the worst place in the world to be stuck for a week. Of course, we bought a half gallon of ice cream and "borrowed" a marina employees video rental account and vegged out watching National Treasure 2. A fun watch. Jannelle had already seen it twice. So you know your kids are getting older when the kids see movies before you do. Twice. Deb and I are heading to geezer hood faster and faster. Soon Jannelle will want the keys to the car. Try that on a boat.

August 30

Bianca in the lap of the Bells.

Today was a day spend doing absolutely nothing gainful. Good. We took some walks, read books, wrote some mail.

August 30

Sunday mail, internet eat and sleep ritual.

Today we went to a tiny Anglican Church in Baddeck. The church is where the Bells went and there are signs all over pointing out the things they had donated ages ago. Attendance is a little slimmer now. The woman who was pastor was on vacation, so we got the visiting pastor. The sermon was on Faith, except that is was on faith. Somehow they get confused by preachers. The capital letter Faith to me is the Faith we have in salvation through Lord of all, Jesus. The faith preached about in this sermon was the faith it takes to trust your fellow man, or that you can make it through something. Faith is a funny concept. To many Christians Faith is a key that you possess that will open the door to heaven to you. I don't buy that concept either. I also don't get into sermons that take Faith and apply it to everything in life that you need the gumption to get through. Especially the "Faith" talked about in the book of Romans. As soon as you hear a pastor talk about World War II and connect faith to it, get ready for a sermon on small letter "f" faith.  This is the "Godwi's Law" of Christianity. I would like to have it called "Rolland's Law": As a discussion of salvation grows longer, the probability of non-salvation issues becoming central to conversation approaches one. For info on Godwins law click here Either way, the congregation was very welcoming and we ended up sharing tea and cookies with a woman who had done a circumnavigation in the late 1980s and survived. This was before GPS. Amazing. 

August 31

Today we biked 25 miles and hiked 9 miles. I am going to shut up and let the pictures do the talking.

This bridge is almost identical to the bridge over the river next to my childhood house, except this one didn't get torn down. A gravel truck went over it, empty, and it shook like a toy.

Yep, that is a wood surface. 

Looks like a forest from "There and Back Again - The Hobbit"

Some waterfalls that you find all over in NS

A view from the ride back. 

We hurried back because Jim and Kathy from the sailboat Maggie were making dinner for us for some help I gave Jim in diagnosing his engine that was quitting every five minutes. He made us an excellent mexican dinner. We felt totally outclassed in the food section by them. I think Deb could understand Jim about how he made the meal for us and what he made it with, but I was completely out of the discussion. But, who cares - it tasted great!

August was an amazing month of adventure.

  At Baddeck we could feel that a change was happening. Boats were being pulled out of the water everywhere. Kids were back in school. We started to feel a change in the mood of the people around us. They were getting ready for winter. Now for those of you who are in the cycle of normal life, you might be saying "so what" - but to us this was like someone suddenly braking while you are in the car with them. Our system of "not having a plan" was being challenged by everyone around us planning.

While we traveled I had made friends online with a man living in Newfoundland what had taken a similar route down the St. Lawrence we had. Because he could track our exact location, he would send me an email just about every morning about what would be the best places to anchor for the night, places to go, people to say "hi" to, and give me weather advice. His advice turned out to be dead on just about every time. It was like having my own personal guide following me. Pat threw another wrench in the works. He waved a carrot of a possible job waiting for me in Newfoundland. We didn't know what to think. Could Pat be a psycho crazy just waiting to lure us in only to murder us and take our boat. The only way to know was to get to Newfoundland. So we started prepping our boat for a week long voyage in the open ocean. My weather router put our departure date three more days out, so this gave us the time to get things ironed out and ready to go.

Next stop, Newfoundland.