“Because it’s
hard…..” - Petit Passage, Nova Scotia, Thom Perkins s/v Stella.
(An excerpt from an article I wrote for Points East Magazine)
John
Kennedy challenged us to do things not because they are easy but because are hard. Our goal was Little River, St Mary’s Bay, Nova
Scotia. We were ready to take up the challenge. The passage to Nova Scotia can be harsh. I wanted to do this passage for
years having in the past been turned back by weather and time pressures. This was the summer (2007) to go. While not a huge ocean voyage, Joshua Slocum,
the first man to sail alone around the world (in the 1890’s) respected the waters
in the area that we were going. He grew
up on Brier Island, just a few miles from our destination. A monument to his accomplishment was something
that I have wanted to see for years. Here
is how we got there.
We
island hopped up the coast of Maine towards Canada for a week. We were joined for the first week by friends
Chuck and Sue and Tom and Judy on their boats “Reediculous” and “Firefox”. We left them behind in Cutler before dawn on
the sixth morning as we continued into Canadian waters catching the flood current
in the Grand Manan Channel. We cleared customs
into Canada for the third time in as many years at North Head Harbor, Grand Manan,
New Brunswick.
Up
in the big tides of the Bay of Fundy, timing is important.
Our plan was to cross the outgoing tide from
Grand Manan to Petit Passage on Digby Neck.
From there we would ride the incoming tide up St Mary’s Bay to Little River.
Thirty-two miles of open water full of fog and
currents stood between us and Digby Neck.
We wanted to get to the southern end of the Passage at exactly low slack
water to avoid the legendary 7 – 8 knot flow through the passage and the big rips
that surround it.
The
forecast was for light southerly wind and a bit of fog. Not so bad, we would go. Before leaving North Head Harbor, Grand Manan,
a local fisherman advised that leaving an hour to an hour and a half before high
tide would be about right. As we left the
harbor the crew of the “Sarah Gay” out of Norfolk VA made a last minute decision
to join us for the crossing. It was comforting
to know that another boat would be out there with us.
Stella,
our 40 year old 30’ Allied Seawind ketch, had a lumpy close reach across the Bay
towards Petit Passage. The outgoing Fundy
current heaped up against what became a stiff southerly breeze. She shouldered the steep chop aside bravely but
we were still in a go against the wind, waves and clock. We had one reef in the main and the jib was reefed
to 100% as we corkscrewed through the waves.
We needed to average about 5 knots.
At times the gps indicated 7.2 snotty knots over the ground. It wasn’t patchy fog; we were crossing in 150’
visibility fog - a day of looking at unpainted sheetrock. Throughout the day I kept calculating our
progress and checking the clock to see if we were going to be at the far end of
Petit Passage in time.
Stella
was under the watchful eye of Fundy Traffic.
Like air traffic controllers, they keep an eye on the shipping and boat traffic
over the entire bay. They let you know when
there is another boat close aboard that could spell trouble. The Fundy Traffic operator indicated a cargo
ship outbound in the shipping lane bearing down on us just as we approached the
lane. We kept track of it on our radar as
well. We did some fancy maneuvering to keep
out of their way and to avoid too close an encounter. Still, it was close. We never got a visual on it.
Several
radio conversations transpired between Stella and the Sarah Gay during the crossing
to keep up the spirits. Only a couple of
times during the day did the fog thin so that we actually had a visual on the Sarah
Gay even though our radar showed her within 800’ of us much of the time.
It
is said that 100 billion tons of water move in and out of the Bay on each tide. We have no doubt about that. A good bit of it was trying to drag us off
course. Steering a course of 158 mag across
the Bay’s outgoing flush of water seemed to keep us on track towards Petit Passage. We headed for a point ½ mile north of the gut
so that the outgoing tide would sweep us down into the passage. We didn’t want to try to climb “upstream” if
we ended south of the entrance. It proved
to be a good strategy as there was a pretty good rip guarding a southern approach
to the entrance within the fierce outbound current. The fog lifted just long enough for a partial
glimpse of the rips and the Boars Head Lighthouse before closing in tight again. The rip is like a white water rapid on a
large river. It is said that they
measure these rip waves in meters. Our
brief glimpse was indeed an inspiring sight.
We doubled our efforts to keep our boat heading to the entrance keeping
well north of the waves.
The
Passage is 2.1 miles from one bay to the other. As we enter we have ½ hour before the tide changes. Stella makes good progress through the first
half of the Passage riding the current.
6 knots then 5 knots. We’re slowing
down. It’s only ¼ mile wide and we see nothing
– no boats, no land, no buoys, no life - just the grey circle 100’ from us as we
sweep though. We are tired, beat up and
apprehensive. As this is our first encounter
with Petit Passage we don’t dare explore - at this point our goal became simply
to cross from the Bay of Fundy to St. Mary’s
Bay and not hit anything. 4 knots! Three-quarters of the way through and we’re slowing
down! With no visibility in the Passage and
having not been there before, we don’t dare risk trying to find the Tiverton breakwater
for refuge. The radar screen is a mass
of targets. We fear that any delay other
than just avoiding rocks and boats would set the rage of tide against us and that
would be that. The ground speed continues
to decay. ¼ mile to go. I keep calculating the diminishing speed and
distance to go curve and wonder if we are going to make it. I push the throttle on Johann – our old Volvo
diesel - a bit forward to see if he will give us a little more oomph.
We’re
getting close to the exit - none too soon.
The tide suddenly starts reversing.
Boils of water swing Stella and our ground speed slows dramatically. We might be in a back eddy, who knows at this
point. We are centered in the passage; we
should be in the full stream. Should we
try to find the back eddy? No let’s not
chance putting Stella on the rocks. We end
up with an increasing head current as we clear the Passage but we escape before
its 8 knot northbound current takes full flight. As we exit the Passage, everything becomes calmer. We round the headland and Stella turns northeast. The fisherman on Grand Manan was right; the timing
was perfect.
While
the sightseeing still isn’t likely in the gray, wet vista, we do have a relaxing
6 mile late afternoon sail up St Mary’s Bay with the incoming tide. The ugly chop is gone and the waves and wind
are on our stern.
The
little red light appears out of the fog at the entrance to Little River Cove at
the end of the breakwater just as anticipated.
It is the first thing we have seen since the lighthouse at the entrance to
Petit Passage disappeared back into the fog a couple hours ago. We still don’t know what we’re in for in Little
River. Will there be room for our little
Stella? What kind of reception will we get?
The
entrance to the cove between the breakwater and a cliff is less than 180 feet wide. Upon entering in zero-viz after a long, white
knuckle day and not having been there before, one is temped to take immediate refuge
by turning to port behind the breakwater - the first secure thing we had seen all
day. Typically with these big tides (about
7 meters in this area) we would raft up with one of the fishing boats. However by pressing on another couple hundred
feet we discover a second breakwater appearing on the port side. Inside this breakwater we come upon a convenient
floating dock with a nice ramp. The dock
is fairly short – 30’ Stella covered the entire face and then some.
Stella in Little River
Cove, NS the morning after the crossing.
It
didn’t take long (moments really) before word got out that there was an American
sailboat in the cove. We were an immediate
local attraction. We discovered that no
one could remember when an American sailboat had ever been in the harbor
before. Retired fisherman Forrest Boliver
remembered that a seiner from Eastport stopped in sometime in the 1960’s. And Chet Denton, a prominent member of Little
River’s fishing fleet couldn’t remember seeing a U.S. sailboat in the cove – ever! People were driving down to the dock to take
a look. People had their cameras out to
document the occasion. We were advised by
one of the many local spectators that there was good water at any tide at the dock
so we were safe to leave her secured there.
The rest of the harbor is for the small fishing fleet. We found the harbor secure and the locals typically
very friendly. We were told, almost apologetically,
that Sandy Cove just up the coast would be better protected. But we liked Little River just fine and stayed
put. I spent three marvelous early
mornings talking with Chet about life in the area and an earlier more
productive time of fishing in the bay. Chet
noted, as he tended his trap lines in preparation for the next lobster season, that
the only wind that could come to harm one would be a stiff easterly/northeasterly
wind. That kind of wind just wasn’t in the
forecast.
Little River
The
store ½ mile up the road has more than just the basic supplies indicated in the Nova
Scotia Cruising Guide. Ice, cheerful conversation,
local advice, boots, bolts and nuts, a good selection of foodstuffs, ice cream,
raingear, rat traps, pet food, commercial fishing gear to outfit the local fleet,
and much more can all be acquired at the Little River Trading Post.
When
leaving a few days later on a clear morning, we are astonished to discover the beautiful
and dramatic cliff faces along Digby Neck side of St Mary’s Bay.
Leaving Little River
- Sunrise - St Mary's Bay, NS
In
26 days on Stella we covered almost 500 miles and saw many wondrous things - eagles,
whales, seals, porpoises, sharks, rafts of duck, schools of bio-luminescent Comb
Jellies, off-shore birds including Northern Gannets, Razor Billed Auks, Mother Carys Chickens, Fulmars, Puffins,
Terns, Loons, Shearwaters – Sooty and Manx.
We also experienced the grandeur of the coast of Maine, New Brunswick and
a small portion of Nova Scotia. We saw early
morning sunrises over the ocean, great sunsets, storm-clouds, rain, wind, fog, fury,
blue skies and calms.
