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You are welcome to apply any part of this article to your own personal use. Please do NOT publish any part of the article or apply any part of it to any non-personal use without the express written concent of the author.
The crossing from Dipper Harbour on the New Brunswick mainland to Grand Manan (pronounced mah-NAN) Island took just 4½ hours of motoring in practically no wind. What little there was was on the nose. Otto von Steerer, our erstwhile autopilot, did all the work. There were no lobster trap buoys to dodge as the Canadian lobster season is closed in the summer months. All we had to do was keep an eye out for traffic - and for whales as they're supposed to be prevalent in the area. We saw none. But we did see a large basking shark lazily making its way along the surface, its dorsal fin standing proud nearly 2' (½ meter) in the air.
The air in Grand Manan Channel was chilly, sitting as it was over 56°F (13°C) water. But as we approached the island and were just downwind of it, we could peel off our sweaters. We could feel the warmth of the island in the light breezes just as if we had just come in from a cold day of skiing and had walked by a warm air register.
On arrival at Grand Manan we went into the tiny but very busy fishing harbor. Given the tidal range somewhere in the 25'-30' (7½-9 meter) range, tying to the wharf can be problematic. A nice floating dock has been put in, particularly for visiting yachts as I understand it. Whether intended for yachts or not, the local fishermen need the space so the wharfinger (dockmaster) assigns them berths alongside. They're rafted up, several boats deep. That makes the floating dock rather unappealing to us. Outside the harbor in the most favorable area to anchor a number of large yellow commercial moorings and a smattering of smaller private ones are laid out. That makes it difficult to choose a decent place drop the hook. But anchoring was better than rafting up to one of the fishing boats, so out we went.
Once outside I could see a large scallop dragger that had just come in and tied to one of the commercial moorings. I asked whether any of the moorings here were free. He said all the large yellow ones were placed for the fishermen, but could be used by anyone. So we picked one close to the entrance to the harbor and tied up.
Grand Manan Island turned out to be one of those places you would either love or hate. There are no malls, no theaters, no historical sites. The people here are either commercial fishermen or have a business that caters to them, usually operating out of their home. There is really nothing to do but to go whale watching, sea kayaking or hiking. If you don't come in your own boat, you can either camp or stay at one of the few bed and breakfast establishments. There are a handful of restaurants. And that's about it. Period. We liked it.
We found a woman who had an extra car that she rented out. The island was too big to explore totally afoot, and we wanted to get to the community school for their computer resource center which was half way down the island. So we rented her car. While it's a good-sized place, the island is thinly populated, and then almost exclusively along the lee shore. The cold prevailing wind coming off the Gulf of Maine and the lack of harbors makes the weather shore very unattractive for residences. Thus there are very few roads to negotiate. We drove every mile of them in about four hours total.
Along the way we stopped a home with a sign in the window indicating that it was the island's one and only computer shop. Yes, we could use their computer to post to our web site. But their Internet connection wasn't working at the time. We found the community school where we could rent a computer with Internet connection for CDN$3 per hour (about US$2), but their setup prevented uploading to our site. Bummers.
The highlight of our visit was the whale watching trip. The operator, a Grand Manan native, is a commercial fisherman who cleans up his boat and converts it for whale watching during the summer while the whales (and tourists) are visiting. We found that there are maybe 350 Atlantic Right Whales left in the world, about half of which come to the Bay of Fundy for their summer feeding season. We saw many of those, perhaps 20 of them, often with several in view at the same time. The captain never approached within 100 meters of any whale. But once in a good position he would shut off the engine and just drift. He left it up to the whales to decide whether they wanted to approach. A few did, not out of curiosity but more out of ignoring the boat and happening to be going in a direction that took them closer. It was fabulous seeing these magnificent beasts in their element. We were treated to almost all their behaviors, splashing the water with their flippers, broaching, spying, tail-finning...
On the morning of August 4 Kit and I decided that it was time to go. Checking tide and current tables we calculated that noon would be the best time to depart for Cutler, Maine. As there was again no wind to speak of we set the iron stays'l and motored the entire way. Following the whale watching captain's advice we keep a close eye out for whales as we worked our way around the north and west side of the island. There we saw 3 finback whales. Finbacks are the second largest of the whales. Only blue whales, the largest creatures that have ever inhabited our planet, are larger.
Cutler, Maine, is a charming village. There are maybe 40 lobster boats moored in the harbor. A few dozen homes line the rocky shore. A couple of wharves serve the lobstermen. Aside from the homes there's a small church and a small combination convenience store and restaurant.
We tried to use our cell phone to call U.S. Customs from the boat for checking back in to the country, but coverage was not good enough. We had to go ashore to find a land line.
What an adventure! There was a floating dock next to one of the wharves. We launched Rampant, our dinghy, and got there. Oops... No cleats for tying up, so we had to tie to the line that held the floating dock in place. There's about a 15' (4½ meter) tide in the harbor and we were close to low water. There was no ramp for getting off the dock and onto the wharf. We had to climb a wet wooden ladder attached to the pilings. Once ashore we walked the entire length of the town looking for a public phone and found none. The store/restaurant was closed. A fast food trailer parked about half a mile away was closed. And there was nothing else within walking distance. A local recalled that there was a public phone back in town near the church. Finding the building where it was supposed to be, we discovered that there was no public phone and the building was occupied by new renters who hadn't yet gotten their private phone installed. But the occupants told us that their landlord indicated they could to go the gray house down the street near the wharf if they need to make a call. So we walked back to the wharf, found the home and knocked.
The people were very welcoming, offering us tea, coffee... and, understanding cruisers, even offered SHOWERS! We declined all but the use of the phone, which we used to finally take care of the formalities.
That evening the fog came in. Thick and dense, we could hardly see the bow of Volant, much less any other boat in the harbor.
And it was still there the next morning when we left for Bunker Hole on Roque Island, challenging our seamanship. Imagine trying to dodge lobster pot buoys when they materialize about a boat-length away. In times like these Kit usually does the navigating from the pilothouse where she has great access to the charts, radar and GPS. Otto does the steering so I can focus on peering through the gray, looking for spots of darker gray to begin to take form. If anything appears I give Otto corrections through the autopilot's remote control. Challenging... but not difficult enough to prevent us leaving the harbor in these conditions.
What we could see of Roque Island through the fog is pretty. Our anchorage was well protected from all directions. But the fog didn't lift that night nor the next morning, although the wind came up.
We wanted to get to Great Waas Island to meet friends in a couple of days, so we again left in thick fog. This time we were headed for Mistake Harbor, just a mile or so from Great Waas. The wind was on the nose, so we motored again instead of sailing. And the lobster buoys were thicker this time, making the going even more difficult. Damn! An ominous scraping, rattling sound against the keel told us that we had caught a lobster buoy. This one didn't materialize out of the fog until it was too late to dodge. By doing a 360°turn we were able to shake it off. Whew! I sure didn't want to get into that water to cut the line free. And I'm sure that the lobsterman appreciated it as well.
The anchorage at Mistake Harbor was too exposed to the wind which was in the 15-20 knot range, and the only protected regions were filled with lobster buoys. So our captain called for continuing on to Mud Hole on Great Waas.
The entrance to Mud Hole is narrow and tricky. There are hidden ledges, visible only at low water. A few dozen lobster buoys were strategically scattered in the channel, designed to make our entrance even more formidable. Fortunately the fog was a bit lighter as we entered, so we were able to get in and anchor.
And there we sit. Today the fog has finally burnt off. We'll go ashore and explore, and see if we can find a place to post our logs. I've now got 2 dispatches to post and Kit has 4.
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