I wrote my last blog the morning after we had arrived in Harrington Harbour. We had decided to stay a day to explore this lovely island community of about 280 people. So, Wednesday morning we left. But just for a few hours. We had heard that we could take a ferry to the nearby community of Chevery, on the mainland, for free. Because there are no roads here, the Quebec government provides free ferry service in certain places along this coast. The ferry operates from April until October when the ice starts. During the transition season, before the ice is good enough to snowmobile on, transportation between Chevery and Harrington Harbour is via helicopter, including the highschool students who board for the week in Chevery to go to school. We wanted to see Chevery because Dave's sister Carol and her husband Stephane had lived there around 18 years ago when he taught there for a couple of years.
We took the 11 o'clock ferry, which was a bit late leaving because they had an extra big load of passengers on the way over, which slows them down. There was an annual dinner at the seniors home in Harrington Harbour and all the seniors from the nearby community had been invited, so a contingent came over from Chevery. The ferry is a jet boat, which can take a maximum of 12 passengers per trip and runs 5 round trips a day. It travels 15-20 knots, depending on how much load it is carrying, and it is loud! The captain wheres hearing protection while he is driving. It was still a bit foggy as we set out, but as we approached the mainland it cleared up, at least enough that we could see the waves breaking all around us as we zoomed into the harbour. The ferry goes through a marked channel and we could see the depthsounder, which at some points read 6 feet (it draws 2) so it was a bit unnerving for me, but we arrived safe and sound.
Darryl (a local from Harrington) was driving Joelle (the woman engineer we had met the previous day working on the new marina construction) to the airport as she was flying home for her week off, so we hitched a ride and after he dropped her at the airport he gave us a bit of a tour around the community. Although it has about the same population as Harrington Harbour, it is much more spread out. It is also really sandy - along the shore as we came in just seemed to be one big long beach - quite different from the shore we had seen so far. Although there are houses built quite close to the shore apparently there have been some issues with erosion recently and a few homes have had to be moved away, despite some rock breakwaters being put in.
Darryl dropped us off and we walked through 'town', past the arena, which was one of those big thick plastic tent like buildings (which I found out a few days later you can see for miles from see, as it is white) and back down to the wharf. We stopped at the store to try to buy some water (we had left the boat in a rush to catch the ferry and we weren't prepared), but they were closed for lunch, so we were out of luck. Most of the stores in this small coastal communities close for lunch and supper. When we had arrived in Chevery we had seen a fantastic waterfall near the wharf and we decided to see if we could hike over and have a look at it. Luckily for us, there was a beautiful hiking trail and we had just enough time to walk as far as the first point where we could see the falls and get back in time for the return trip on the ferry at 1:15.
Back in Harrington Harbour, after we had lunch we went to visit the Rowsell House museum, where they had a lot of interesting items, photos and information chronicling life in this island community over the years. The community started with four families who came from the southwest coast of Newfoundland to this coast which was more protected and hospitable for fishing. We learned a lot about the Grenfell mission, which brought medical and other support to many communities along the coast, and that the island was sometimes called 'Hospital Island' because the hospital (which is now the seniors home) was located here. They had photos of Bobby Orr fishing here, and we found out later that he actually ran some hockey camps here and brought skates for the kids! I also learned a bit more about the various birds we have seen along the way, as they had some really good information on identifying birds, whales and plants of the area. Today in Harrington, they re-purpose old snowmobile treads as anti slip mats on the slopes of the boardwalks and get around in runabout dinghies which they call "outboards".
When we arrived on Tuesday evening, a local woman named Sharon had come down to the wharf to welcome us, telling us they had a sailboat and inviting us up for tea, so we walked up to her place to see if she and her husband wanted to come down and see the boat. Two hours later we were still sitting in their home listening to fascinating stories about life on the island and this coast. Sharon is from a community just east of here called La Tabatiere, while her husband Jim grew up in Harrington Harbour. They actually met in Newfoundland, and were away for many years working, but came back 10 years ago to retire here. Eventually we all came down to Romana for a drink, and they invited us to their home for supper the next day.
Because of the weather forecast we had decided to stay one more day in Harrington, as it was supposed to be strong SW winds, exactly the direction we were going, and it is no fun to motor into big winds and seas. We were really glad we stayed, as Thursday was a beautiful sunny day and we got to explore the island even more. We did two big walks - one in the morning to the northeast end of the boardwalk, and one in the afternoon, up to the ridge where we had fabulous views of the community below, the islands all around, and the coast.
On the way up to the ridge we passed the outdoor rink (despite the complaints of a cold summer there was no ice on it), the swimming pool, and the cemetary. The trail started out on the 'winter trail', used to snowmobile to the other side of the island and onto the ice to get to the mainland, and then we took a boardwalk up to Marguerite's Cave. The story, as I understand it, is that Marguerite, her lover and a servant got left on the island by her husband. Margeurite had a baby, but she was the only one that survived the winter (presumably using the cave as shelter) and eventually some French sailors came to the island and rescued her. We had a look at the cave and then climbed up the rocks to the ridge where we enjoyed the fabulous views in the wind.
That evening we had a lovely visit with Sharon and Jim, and they treated us to a delicious supper including codfish, broccoli & cucumbers (which we hadn't even seen for a couple of weeks - Sharon says you have to get to the store within hours of the boat to get stuff like that) and ice cream with strawberries for dessert. It was a thorougly enjoyable and extremely interesting evening, discussing everything from the history of the house (it belonged to Jim's uncle and is 88 years old, and there is no insulation in the walls, but the 30 or so layers of wallpaper do help), to the recently installed water main system (they get their water from three small ponds on the island) to small town politics and what can be done to keep these isolated coastal communities going (would extending the 138 road to this section of the coast help them or be the death of them?).
On Friday morning it was time to move on, so we left at 5 and motored down the coast in very light winds, dropping the hook mid afternoon in the eastern arm of a place called Baie Coacoachou. There is nothing here but a few hunting and fishing camps in the western arm, beautiful rocky landscape and MILLIONS of blackflies. The onslaught began as we motored up the bay and as soon as we were anchored more descended upon us. In minutes we were down below with the screen in. That night we ate the snow crab that we had bought at the fish plant the day before, and the only time either of us ventured out was when Dave went out for a few seconds to dump the shells overboard. It was a shame, because the sunset that night was absolutely spectacular, reflecting off the red in the rocks and the perfectly still water around us, but we could only look at it out of the ports and wish we had one of those full cockpit enclosures with screens.
Saturday morning we left before 5 again and spent the first half hour of our trip killing the mosquitoes that had been lurking in the cockpit and came along for the ride. Again we had light winds and motored the entire way, unfurling the jib when we had enough wind to keep it full. Because winds here are typically SW and W, and harbours are few and far between, we had deliberately decided to do some fairly long days while the forecast was for N and E winds.
On these long days on the water we are lucky if we even see one other boat. But we are almost always in the company of birds. Here they have gulls and terns, which we are familiar with, but also gannets, Atlantic puffins, razorbills (known as tinkers locally, or petit pingouin in French) and eiders, which swim in large tight groups called creches. The first time I saw this, I thought it was an uncharted rock and almost had a heart attack before I figured out what it was.
About mid afternoon we got close enough to the community of Natashquan to get cellphone service. Finally, after just over a week! We answered a flurry of texts, checked and sent some emails, and got the weather. Although we had managed to get into the rhythm of listening to the weather on the VHF it is far easier to get it in seconds via the internet.
We arrived in Natashquan just before 5 p.m. and a local man named Jacques helped us tie up to the wharf. Later, Dave told me that he almost said to Jacques "Finally we find someone in Quebec who speaks French!" as this was the first french community we have stopped at since we got here.
Jacques had crewed on many sailboats, including a couple of Corbins, and at one time was the district head for Canadian Power Squadran in this area, so he knew his way around boats. It turned out that he and his wife Nicole were on the beach and saw us coming in, so they drove over to the wharf to say hello. They offered to drive us into town, and proceeded to give us a tour, pointing out the two restaurants, the birthplace of a famous French writer (I didn't get his name) and their home along the way. The community of 250 was established just over 150 years ago and is a lovely spot on a river, with a combination of the beautiful rocky shore and some sandy beaches. Just up the road is the Innu community of Grande Natashquan, with a population of 1000 people. This used to be the end of the road, literally, as highway 138 didn't extend any further east, but a couple of years ago they took it as far as Kegashka, about 30 or 40 miles east of here.
Jacques and Nicole dropped us off at the beach, so that we could have a look, and then we ambled back through town, stopping at the store to pick up a few fresh vegetables before we went for supper at Gout du Large, a little restaurant with a big menu. It is such a pleasure to eat out in Quebec, because the French really know how to cook, and eating out is a social activity even in small cafes. Dave had a salmon club house and I had a salad and a poutine with chicken and peas - it was amazing. They had 6 or 7 different kinds of poutine on the menu, and then 3 more on the specials board, so I guess it is one of their specialties. They seemed to be doing a roaring trade in takeout pizza as well, which I guess was not a surprise on a Saturday night. Nicole had told us there was going to be some live music starting at 9 p.m., which would have been really fun, but after a long day on the water and another early start planned the next day, we ended up in bed around 8:30 that night.
Sunday we were awoken just after 4 a.m. when a fishing boat left the wharf, so we got up, since we had the alarm set for 4:15 anyway. Another day of motoring west in light winds and our fourth sunny day in a row! In the middle of the day it warmed up enough in the cockpit for me to peel off to my tshirt and go barefoot. We even open a couple of hatches while underway, for the first time this trip. Perhaps summer has finally arrived?
We got to Havre St. Pierre just before 4 p.m. and tied up to a floating dock in the marina here. As it was Sunday evening there was a lot of boat traffic coming and going - a combination of fishing boats, small power boats of all descriptions, big tour boats and Parks Canada boats. We have a front row seat, as we are tied up on a dock quite close to the entrance through the breakwater so we get to see all the boats entering and leaving.
Havre St. Pierre is the hub of the Mingan Archipelago National Parks Reserve, a series of islands noted for their wildlife (birds, whales, rare thistles) and interesting rock formations, called monoliths, on the limestone shores of the islands. It is a bustling town of about 3500 people with a very nice marina and waterfront. After covering 192 Nmiles in 3 days, we were ready to slow down and spend some time here, so we went to get some information about the islands and what to see and do.
Our plan is to go and pick up a mooring at Quarry Island and explore from there, but as it turns out, the wind forecast for Monday was not good for that, so we decided to stay in Havre St. Pierre for the day. Here we got hot showers, filled up with water, stocked up on groceries at the best grocery store since we left home, and practiced our french. Oh, and did I mention we have wifi here at the marina? Like people in the desert needing water and finding a lake, we have immersed ourselves in the internet, downloading magazines, apps, checking home email, banking etc. You have no idea how much you use the internet until you don't have it, or have limited access because you are using cellphones with restricted data plans. Now we have had our fix and it should last us until we get home.
On our way back from the grocery store we walked along the promenade stopping to read all of the information boards they have provided (in French AND English) with information about and the history of the community. The people here are very friendly. Descended from some Acadians that were driven out of Nova Scotia, went to the Magadalene Islands and then settled here, they call themselves Cayans. There are Acadian flags all over town, and even the street signs sport them. We have had lots of conversations with people on the docks where we speak broken french and they speak broken English, and we all end up in a crazy kind of Franglais, but it is great fun. One of the women we met, who is from Quebec city originally, told me that they have such an unusual accent here that when she took her husband home to meet her parents, they couldn't understand what he was saying!
Tomorrow we plan to set off and spend a few days in the islands of the Park before our next big leg of the trip, which will be to cross the St. Lawrence to the Gaspe Peninsula. Based on the forecast right now, it looks like that will be on Friday. Then we will start the trip home along the New Brunswick coast.
We took the 11 o'clock ferry, which was a bit late leaving because they had an extra big load of passengers on the way over, which slows them down. There was an annual dinner at the seniors home in Harrington Harbour and all the seniors from the nearby community had been invited, so a contingent came over from Chevery. The ferry is a jet boat, which can take a maximum of 12 passengers per trip and runs 5 round trips a day. It travels 15-20 knots, depending on how much load it is carrying, and it is loud! The captain wheres hearing protection while he is driving. It was still a bit foggy as we set out, but as we approached the mainland it cleared up, at least enough that we could see the waves breaking all around us as we zoomed into the harbour. The ferry goes through a marked channel and we could see the depthsounder, which at some points read 6 feet (it draws 2) so it was a bit unnerving for me, but we arrived safe and sound.
Darryl (a local from Harrington) was driving Joelle (the woman engineer we had met the previous day working on the new marina construction) to the airport as she was flying home for her week off, so we hitched a ride and after he dropped her at the airport he gave us a bit of a tour around the community. Although it has about the same population as Harrington Harbour, it is much more spread out. It is also really sandy - along the shore as we came in just seemed to be one big long beach - quite different from the shore we had seen so far. Although there are houses built quite close to the shore apparently there have been some issues with erosion recently and a few homes have had to be moved away, despite some rock breakwaters being put in.
Darryl dropped us off and we walked through 'town', past the arena, which was one of those big thick plastic tent like buildings (which I found out a few days later you can see for miles from see, as it is white) and back down to the wharf. We stopped at the store to try to buy some water (we had left the boat in a rush to catch the ferry and we weren't prepared), but they were closed for lunch, so we were out of luck. Most of the stores in this small coastal communities close for lunch and supper. When we had arrived in Chevery we had seen a fantastic waterfall near the wharf and we decided to see if we could hike over and have a look at it. Luckily for us, there was a beautiful hiking trail and we had just enough time to walk as far as the first point where we could see the falls and get back in time for the return trip on the ferry at 1:15.
Back in Harrington Harbour, after we had lunch we went to visit the Rowsell House museum, where they had a lot of interesting items, photos and information chronicling life in this island community over the years. The community started with four families who came from the southwest coast of Newfoundland to this coast which was more protected and hospitable for fishing. We learned a lot about the Grenfell mission, which brought medical and other support to many communities along the coast, and that the island was sometimes called 'Hospital Island' because the hospital (which is now the seniors home) was located here. They had photos of Bobby Orr fishing here, and we found out later that he actually ran some hockey camps here and brought skates for the kids! I also learned a bit more about the various birds we have seen along the way, as they had some really good information on identifying birds, whales and plants of the area. Today in Harrington, they re-purpose old snowmobile treads as anti slip mats on the slopes of the boardwalks and get around in runabout dinghies which they call "outboards".
When we arrived on Tuesday evening, a local woman named Sharon had come down to the wharf to welcome us, telling us they had a sailboat and inviting us up for tea, so we walked up to her place to see if she and her husband wanted to come down and see the boat. Two hours later we were still sitting in their home listening to fascinating stories about life on the island and this coast. Sharon is from a community just east of here called La Tabatiere, while her husband Jim grew up in Harrington Harbour. They actually met in Newfoundland, and were away for many years working, but came back 10 years ago to retire here. Eventually we all came down to Romana for a drink, and they invited us to their home for supper the next day.
Because of the weather forecast we had decided to stay one more day in Harrington, as it was supposed to be strong SW winds, exactly the direction we were going, and it is no fun to motor into big winds and seas. We were really glad we stayed, as Thursday was a beautiful sunny day and we got to explore the island even more. We did two big walks - one in the morning to the northeast end of the boardwalk, and one in the afternoon, up to the ridge where we had fabulous views of the community below, the islands all around, and the coast.
On the way up to the ridge we passed the outdoor rink (despite the complaints of a cold summer there was no ice on it), the swimming pool, and the cemetary. The trail started out on the 'winter trail', used to snowmobile to the other side of the island and onto the ice to get to the mainland, and then we took a boardwalk up to Marguerite's Cave. The story, as I understand it, is that Marguerite, her lover and a servant got left on the island by her husband. Margeurite had a baby, but she was the only one that survived the winter (presumably using the cave as shelter) and eventually some French sailors came to the island and rescued her. We had a look at the cave and then climbed up the rocks to the ridge where we enjoyed the fabulous views in the wind.
That evening we had a lovely visit with Sharon and Jim, and they treated us to a delicious supper including codfish, broccoli & cucumbers (which we hadn't even seen for a couple of weeks - Sharon says you have to get to the store within hours of the boat to get stuff like that) and ice cream with strawberries for dessert. It was a thorougly enjoyable and extremely interesting evening, discussing everything from the history of the house (it belonged to Jim's uncle and is 88 years old, and there is no insulation in the walls, but the 30 or so layers of wallpaper do help), to the recently installed water main system (they get their water from three small ponds on the island) to small town politics and what can be done to keep these isolated coastal communities going (would extending the 138 road to this section of the coast help them or be the death of them?).
On Friday morning it was time to move on, so we left at 5 and motored down the coast in very light winds, dropping the hook mid afternoon in the eastern arm of a place called Baie Coacoachou. There is nothing here but a few hunting and fishing camps in the western arm, beautiful rocky landscape and MILLIONS of blackflies. The onslaught began as we motored up the bay and as soon as we were anchored more descended upon us. In minutes we were down below with the screen in. That night we ate the snow crab that we had bought at the fish plant the day before, and the only time either of us ventured out was when Dave went out for a few seconds to dump the shells overboard. It was a shame, because the sunset that night was absolutely spectacular, reflecting off the red in the rocks and the perfectly still water around us, but we could only look at it out of the ports and wish we had one of those full cockpit enclosures with screens.
Saturday morning we left before 5 again and spent the first half hour of our trip killing the mosquitoes that had been lurking in the cockpit and came along for the ride. Again we had light winds and motored the entire way, unfurling the jib when we had enough wind to keep it full. Because winds here are typically SW and W, and harbours are few and far between, we had deliberately decided to do some fairly long days while the forecast was for N and E winds.
On these long days on the water we are lucky if we even see one other boat. But we are almost always in the company of birds. Here they have gulls and terns, which we are familiar with, but also gannets, Atlantic puffins, razorbills (known as tinkers locally, or petit pingouin in French) and eiders, which swim in large tight groups called creches. The first time I saw this, I thought it was an uncharted rock and almost had a heart attack before I figured out what it was.
About mid afternoon we got close enough to the community of Natashquan to get cellphone service. Finally, after just over a week! We answered a flurry of texts, checked and sent some emails, and got the weather. Although we had managed to get into the rhythm of listening to the weather on the VHF it is far easier to get it in seconds via the internet.
We arrived in Natashquan just before 5 p.m. and a local man named Jacques helped us tie up to the wharf. Later, Dave told me that he almost said to Jacques "Finally we find someone in Quebec who speaks French!" as this was the first french community we have stopped at since we got here.
Jacques had crewed on many sailboats, including a couple of Corbins, and at one time was the district head for Canadian Power Squadran in this area, so he knew his way around boats. It turned out that he and his wife Nicole were on the beach and saw us coming in, so they drove over to the wharf to say hello. They offered to drive us into town, and proceeded to give us a tour, pointing out the two restaurants, the birthplace of a famous French writer (I didn't get his name) and their home along the way. The community of 250 was established just over 150 years ago and is a lovely spot on a river, with a combination of the beautiful rocky shore and some sandy beaches. Just up the road is the Innu community of Grande Natashquan, with a population of 1000 people. This used to be the end of the road, literally, as highway 138 didn't extend any further east, but a couple of years ago they took it as far as Kegashka, about 30 or 40 miles east of here.
Jacques and Nicole dropped us off at the beach, so that we could have a look, and then we ambled back through town, stopping at the store to pick up a few fresh vegetables before we went for supper at Gout du Large, a little restaurant with a big menu. It is such a pleasure to eat out in Quebec, because the French really know how to cook, and eating out is a social activity even in small cafes. Dave had a salmon club house and I had a salad and a poutine with chicken and peas - it was amazing. They had 6 or 7 different kinds of poutine on the menu, and then 3 more on the specials board, so I guess it is one of their specialties. They seemed to be doing a roaring trade in takeout pizza as well, which I guess was not a surprise on a Saturday night. Nicole had told us there was going to be some live music starting at 9 p.m., which would have been really fun, but after a long day on the water and another early start planned the next day, we ended up in bed around 8:30 that night.
Sunday we were awoken just after 4 a.m. when a fishing boat left the wharf, so we got up, since we had the alarm set for 4:15 anyway. Another day of motoring west in light winds and our fourth sunny day in a row! In the middle of the day it warmed up enough in the cockpit for me to peel off to my tshirt and go barefoot. We even open a couple of hatches while underway, for the first time this trip. Perhaps summer has finally arrived?
We got to Havre St. Pierre just before 4 p.m. and tied up to a floating dock in the marina here. As it was Sunday evening there was a lot of boat traffic coming and going - a combination of fishing boats, small power boats of all descriptions, big tour boats and Parks Canada boats. We have a front row seat, as we are tied up on a dock quite close to the entrance through the breakwater so we get to see all the boats entering and leaving.
Havre St. Pierre is the hub of the Mingan Archipelago National Parks Reserve, a series of islands noted for their wildlife (birds, whales, rare thistles) and interesting rock formations, called monoliths, on the limestone shores of the islands. It is a bustling town of about 3500 people with a very nice marina and waterfront. After covering 192 Nmiles in 3 days, we were ready to slow down and spend some time here, so we went to get some information about the islands and what to see and do.
Our plan is to go and pick up a mooring at Quarry Island and explore from there, but as it turns out, the wind forecast for Monday was not good for that, so we decided to stay in Havre St. Pierre for the day. Here we got hot showers, filled up with water, stocked up on groceries at the best grocery store since we left home, and practiced our french. Oh, and did I mention we have wifi here at the marina? Like people in the desert needing water and finding a lake, we have immersed ourselves in the internet, downloading magazines, apps, checking home email, banking etc. You have no idea how much you use the internet until you don't have it, or have limited access because you are using cellphones with restricted data plans. Now we have had our fix and it should last us until we get home.
On our way back from the grocery store we walked along the promenade stopping to read all of the information boards they have provided (in French AND English) with information about and the history of the community. The people here are very friendly. Descended from some Acadians that were driven out of Nova Scotia, went to the Magadalene Islands and then settled here, they call themselves Cayans. There are Acadian flags all over town, and even the street signs sport them. We have had lots of conversations with people on the docks where we speak broken french and they speak broken English, and we all end up in a crazy kind of Franglais, but it is great fun. One of the women we met, who is from Quebec city originally, told me that they have such an unusual accent here that when she took her husband home to meet her parents, they couldn't understand what he was saying!
Tomorrow we plan to set off and spend a few days in the islands of the Park before our next big leg of the trip, which will be to cross the St. Lawrence to the Gaspe Peninsula. Based on the forecast right now, it looks like that will be on Friday. Then we will start the trip home along the New Brunswick coast.