We excitedly continue to follow their journey. Here is an excerpt from their yacht tracking blog:
* The signal hasn’t been especially strong in wildest Newfoundland.
“Come from Away. You are Here” (a highway road sign outside Gander, Newfoundland)
We last left you in Trepassey amidst the ambitions of whales and Amelia Earhart as we continued our push from Nova Scotia towards St. John’s ahead of the coming storm. The early mornings and long days had gotten us close to the southeast corner of Newfoundland’s Avalon Peninsula and the northwards run to St. John’s, but we were now ahead of our reservation for a berth on the St. John’s dock and hearing from the Harbourmaster that there “should” be room for us to arrive early, but nothing guaranteed.
St. John’s has a famous harbor, but much of it is reserved for commercial fishing. There are public berths (as there are in many Newfoundland harbors, noted with yellow paint along the edge of the dock) but these are first come / first served – and right now there wasn’t any space for us and the Harbourmaster wasn’t going to turn away a fishing boat to save the space for us travelers in our private yacht, and nor should they. It was a weekend with a storm barreling up the coastline and the fishermen weren’t keen to get moving. And we couldn’t exactly raft up alongside a fishing boat because they come and go at all times (amongst other logistical challenges).
Tom had been in touch with the St. John’s Harbourmaster since about February, but hearing there “should” be space available wasn’t especially reassuring for a pinch in a storm. This was no small problem. The eastern coast of Avalon Peninsula is high cliffed, rugged and exposed, and doesn’t have many options for safe haven in a storm. If we left Trepassey with the hopes of a berth but arrived to find no room, there were minimal options near St. John’s to duck in and wait it out – we’d likely have to backtrack several hours to find a safe anchorage. If we hung out in Trepassey for a day or two and waited to depart to arrive for our original booking, the storm would be upon us - and we wouldn’t be able to get out of Trepassey harbor for several more days until the storm had passed. With the direction of the storm we’d be battling 10-15 ft / 3-4.5 m waves coming straight at us while trying to get out of Trepassey and then onto our beam for several hours as we tried to make the northward turn at the corner of Avalon Peninsula. This would be uncomfortable, to say the least. We had to make a decision by early the next morning. We set off in the morning with encouragement from the Harbourmaster that there “should” be space and to “keep coming”. This was likely the last weather window we’d have to leave Trepassey for several days, so we took it and left. And it was beautiful! Flat calm water. Red and white striped lighthouses standing watch over green grass and blue skies. Sun shining on cliffs of half-a-billion-year-old fossils. Minke whales feasting in water so clear we could watch them dive and hunt under the water, the whites of their bellies glowing aquamarine. I have a soft spot for nouns of assemblage and share with you the many joys of a plunge of gannets, a squabble of gulls, an improbability of puffins and a gam of whales.
We rounded Avalon in light winds and calm seas, but the wind picked up and soon we were pushed along by the waves. I got a little shiver looking at the 50 ft / 15 m or so of sheer, bare cliffs along the coast where earlier storms had ripped away any vegetation. I wouldn’t want to be caught out in a storm against that coast, and felt for all the people who had found themselves thus over the years. About halfway up the eastern coast to St. John’s the Harbourmaster called and reported there was no room for us after all and we should stop coming. So Tom did a handbreak turn for the last possible harbor to duck into – which we’d passed not long ago –and we backtracked to Cape Broyle.
We’d been running with the swell northwards to St. John’s but as we turned hard to port, suddenly the waves were on our beam and we could feel how much the sea was already building up. We cruised into Cape Broyle harbor and were suddenly surrounded by steep rocky cliffs with lush green woods and small pebble coves – one with a high waterfall cascading from a ledge and crashing to the beach below, carving out a small stream of freshwater to the salty sea.
We dropped anchor deep in the back of the harbor near the small local fish plant under the watchful eyes of seagulls. Seagulls in the water, on the pier, on the roof of the plant, on the forklift…everywhere, and ever vigilant for the opportunity of a snack. We were anxious to stretch our legs as we hadn’t yet touched ground on Newfoundland and we got in the dinghy to explore the harbor. We were keen to see the waterfall we’d spied on entry, and discovered another waterfall and several cliffside caves on the way.
- Owner of ON LIBERTY, Outer Reef 820 Cockpit Classic Motoryacht
Read other story excerpts:
ON LIBERTY in Nova Scotia:
Baddeck to Maskells Harbour, Gillis Point, Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia
A Parallel Universe Where There Is Adventure Happening All Around
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