On Thursday, Sept. 15, we spent another day on the dock at the Royal Kennebeccasis Yacht Club. When we had gone to bed the previous evening, the wind was blowing at 15 knots and gusting to 20. In the morning, the wind was 20, gusting to 30. The rigging on the dozens of sailboats was clanging and clattering all around, making the dock a very noisy place.
Simone, one of the lovely women at the club (on Mixed Blessing with her husband), stopped by to see if I wanted to go to the supermarket with her. At first, I declined, thinking Peter would be ready to leave soon. Then, when I asked, he told me he would be busy for two more hours, so I quickly changed my plan. Our supply of fresh fruits and vegetables was woefully low. On the way back from the store, Simone, who had bought us flowers for our boat, offered to cut my hair. She is a retired salon owner and hairdresser. I agreed that having an inch trimmed off would be a good idea, but by the time I had put the groceries away, addressed some birthday cards, put the flowers in a vase and had lunch with Peter, I had decided to go back to my old, pre-COVID hairstyle, which is short, with no need for blow-drying or putting it in a ponytail. Actually, I had planned to do this on I returning home in October, but then I thought, “Why wait?” She did an incredible job and I am so happy with the results.
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| Sunflowers in a Camelback water bottle |
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| Sherri with her new haircut |
Much more than two hours later, with help in the high winds from four club members on the dock, we cast off our lines and sailed up the Kennebecasis River. (The spelling is different from the name of the yacht club because of an error made in the documents from the Crown, and who would dare to correct the queen?) The electric windlass we use for raising the mainsail did not sound right, so we aborted that effort and used the genoa instead. A smaller boat with a larger genoa passed us, but we were side-by-side for a while and able to have a good conversation. All the people here are so friendly and genuine in their well-wishes for our journey.
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| Sherri enjoying the sail up the river |
We picked up one of the yacht club member’s mooring balls in Cathline’s Cove. The small, tree-covered hills on shore provided shelter from the wind, and it was quite peaceful. We had plenty of time for a game of Scrabble; Peter got all the good letters and won!
On Friday, Sept. 16, the northwest wind continued to roar and we stayed in Cathline’s Cove for the day and another night. Peter worked on the electric windlass, secured the hot water tank and did other jobs. I amused myself the best I could cleaning, reading, doing embroidery, coloring, cooking and playing games. It was brisk outside, and I stayed down below.
The next day (Sat., Sept. 17) was cold but sunny. Peter puttered and I did various unimportant things until noon, when we gracefully slipped off the mooring ball in Cathline’s Cover after raising the main and set off without using the engine. Then we raised and set the genoa to sail down the Kennebecasis close-hauled, turning up into the Saint John River, only using the engine briefly when we had a stretch that took us directly into the wind. With one reef, we were flying along , heeled over, past the verdant low hills on either side of the river. At 4:30 p.m., we picked up the mooring ball of Mixed Blessing, from the Royal Kennebecassis Yacht Club, and settled in with about half a meter under the keel.
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| The leaves are beginning to display their autumn colors |
Peter was concerned about the zincs under the stern of the boat, so he put on his swim suit and dove under to inspect them. (Both are still there.) Since he was wet, he took a shower on the swim platform. I followed suit, although the warmth factor in the late afternoon was marginal.
The shores of the Kennebecasis and Saint John Rivers that we have seen are sparsely populated and covered in new-growth trees. The leaves on some of the deciduous trees are just beginning to turn autumn colors. (There was a frost warning for the coming night, so more changes in hue are on the way.) When it is not overcast or raining, the clarity of the air is amazing here. The air quality index hovers between 1 and 2. The air is so clean, and everything appears so vivid. I find this to be the most attractive feature of the area.
There are more ferry crossings than bridges around here. We believe that this was the first time we had crossed over ferry cables.
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| Two ferries crossing the Saint John River |
Although it rained into the early afternoon on Sunday, Sept. 18, after the skies cleared and we had lunch, we began our southward journey just before 4 p.m. There was no wind, so we motored downstream to reach McCormack Cove at the mouth of the Kennebecasis, picking up another convenient mooring ball. Luckily, we had the small space heater running while we motored downstream, so after we settled in, it was warm down below.
On Monday, Sept. 19, the fog was dense and visibility was poor, less than 2 miles. There was no wind and the sea was like glass. We motored down the Saint John River and out into the ocean for three hours, from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. By then, the wind was up to about 7 knots and the current was in our favor, heading south, and we were cruising on a port tack, close hauled for an hour at 5 knots. An hour later, conditions changed; the wind died and the current was no longer pushing us, so we lowered the main and continued on with the engine and the genoa. By 3:30 p.m., the fog had lifted and visibility was good, and we hoisted the main and lowered the genoa and picked up the same mooring ball in Saint Andrews Harbor just after 6 p.m. and just before the rain.
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| Sailing into the fog |
Tuesday, Sept. 20, we were trapped on the boat all day. It rained continuously. Peter spent some time reprogramming SSB stations. We played a lot of games and turned on the heat intermittently to keep the chill away. I went from three layers down below to four, adding my down jacket, which actually helped a lot.
Today, Wednesday, Sept. 21, we have returned to the United States, getting a cruising permit for our boat and clearance for us in Eastport, Maine, the farthest inhabited area in the country. We passed by Old Sow again at a non-treacherous time, but we could see the whirlpool beginning to form.
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| Old Sow beginning to form |
We are having lunch and enjoying Wi-Fi access at the Horn Run Brewery in Eastport after walking along Water Street and visiting a few shops and small museums. The brightly colored statue of a fisherman holding a fish, dedicated to a reality TV show winner who lost his life as a firefighter at the 9/11 attack, is a major feature of the working waterfront. Eastport is a busy working lobster and fishing port, but it is no longer the major shipping port it was in the mid-19th century, when it rivaled New York City. The town suffered three major fires in the the 19th century, so the edifices date from the late 19th century.
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| Museum of the Quoddy Dam Project, a proposal to use the tides for power |
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| Fisherman statue |
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| Water Street in Eastport |
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| The Tides Institute and Art Museum |
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| The Peavey Library |
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| Former bank building |
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| Display in the Tides Institute |
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| Displays in the Tides Institute |
I actually do not mind being active sailing the boat in chilly weather; it’s being inside and shivering that bothers me. So southward we go! Bahamas or Bust!
Sorry, there are no photos due to technical difficulties. I will try to add them later.
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I fixed the problem. I also edited HTML earlier on this post! I am so proud of myself.
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