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Published: September 14th 2006
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I remember well the first time i saw a map of newfoundland. It was just a road map, an insert into a much bigger map of the rest of the maritimes. I was instantly struck by the complete lack of road along much of the south coast of the island. I'm from Ontario. In Ontario, there are roads everywhere, even in comparitively remote areas like the place i'm from. The idea of this forlorn coast, dotted with towns, yet accessible only by boat, was fascinating to me. What was the coastline like? Who were these people living in Grand Bruit and Francois and McCallum?
I never thought I'd actually get there.
Rob, childhood friend, lifelong adventurer, first began talking about sailing the west coast of newfoundland with a friend of his. It sounded amazing... and i was secretly very jealous. Then he began talking about the south coast. The water there is warmer, the weather better... it sounded like a hell of a trip. Then his friend got cold feet. She was in Newfoundland, and she said the wind sometimes was so strong it practically blew her over. If it was this strong on dry land, why would she venture out
to sea in a tiny sailboat?
Why would anyone?
But the trip was not off. I was invited, I managed to clear the time with my agent, and we set off after two hectic days of preparation.
Pictured here is Fully. The boat. She's 19 feet long, and weighs less than two hundred pounds. She's essentially one big sea kayak with two extra hulls attached by flexible wings, making her into an unusual Trimaran. Officially, she's a Fulmar, one of only ten that were ever built. She was named after a bird which has a habit of skimming along just above the waves. the name is apt. She has one sail, no jib, no boom, no motor. She has pedals however, which attach to a propeller below. You can also paddle her. Most people who see her think we sit in the two seats, but usually we are sitting out on the upwind wing, or on the trampoline provided for mobility. At any given time on Fully you are never more than a foot above the ocean. I have more pictures of Fully than i have of either of us, which is a testament to our affection for her. She's
a terrific boat.
Small however.
After a long but uneventful drive to Cape Breton, Fully in tow, we boarded a midnight ferry to Port Aux Basques. Disregarding the signs we camped out on the floor of the ferry, awaking just in time to see the brooding hulk of Newfoundland emerge from the horizon. I've been to newfoundland, well, many times now, but there was something incredibly special about reaching it by boat, after a 27 hour journey. I was tingling with excitement.
Upon reaching Port Aux Basques we found with some difficulty the gas station where Jerry from the CHS dealer in Port Aux Basques had left the charts I'd purchased over the phone. Thank goodness they were there. We spread them out on the hood of the car, speculating on possible harbours, distances, marvelling at the intense topography of the places we were headed.
After a quick drive to Rose Blanche (literally the town at the end of the road) through the treeless, rocky landscape, we made a hurried last phone call to our mothers and put the boat in at the Ferry Terminal. The boat launch was a little sketchy, but we were allowed to leave our car
Indian Harbour
As lovely a harbour as we could hope for amidst such a rocky landscape. there indefinitely, and there were no other choices. It was windy, but sunny, and we were in good spirits. We hoisted the sail and triumphantly sailed out into a strong southwesterly, past strange buoys that announced their presence with loud irregular foghorn-like moans.
The wind was strong, 30 knots. It was fine for us, because we were going downwind, but it certainly was windy and there was a lot of swell. Fully has an amazing ability to surf on the waves, occasionally attaining such speeds that we could hear her whole hull vibrating. It was shockingly cold too. What had been a lovely sunny day on land was a bundle up day out on the water, especially with all the wind. This was a good lesson to learn. After about two hours we were alongside La Poile Bay, where there was a spot we thought we'd check out. The moment we swung Fully into wind we realised that going upwind was not something that we were going to be doing much of on this trip. It was... hairy. After some tricky maneuvring, we managed to make it into the tiny Indian Harbour, both shakey, cold, and on my part at
least, a little nervous. Indian Harbour was lovely and protected and we came to the smart conclusion that given our tiredness and the strength of the wind, this was where we'd stay.
We camped out in the lovely soft grass. I happily ate blackberries while Rob marvelled at the plant life, much of which he'd never seen. As the sun went down I watched three Caribou (or maybe deer) wandering along on the other side of the harbour.
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