Back To Reality : Follow The Sun

One day you’ll look to see I’ve gone
For tomorrow may rain, so I’ll follow the sun
Some day you’ll know I was the one
But tomorrow may rain, so
I’ll follow the sun

Beatles

The sun settles later over an anchorage called Goose Island along the remote northeast Nova Scotia coast.

Now mid-August, we begin our “windward” trek with the sun, generally SW, out through the St. Peters Canal. The fantastic Bras D’Or Lakes now in our wake as the bow attempts to follow a retreating sun. No, it isn’t cold yet, but certainly cooler, and the prevalence of fog has lessened. (And NO I haven’t finished installing the new heater!)

All is good aboard Fayaway. However, always vigilant about weather, we’re aware of warnings of Ernesto, the latest named storm is tracking across the leeward island of Saint Maarten. He’s aiming for a direct hit on a tough little haven known as Bermuda, and while still a week out, it’s something to watch for.

So now we move into a new mode, that of passage planning and for storm preparation possibilities. Shall we shoot for the next quiet evening in a safe shelter and stay there or do we have time to make more miles south? Risk vs reward.

As we move along, daily tropical updates become more imperative. Ernesto’s “cone of uncertainty “ doesn’t want to be the “cone of doom”. Sunday will be a very windy afternoon? How are our friends on their way south from Newfoundland dealing?

We proceed and plan on daily stops, anchoring securely in protected coves. Everywhere we stop, we enjoy the rest of the afternoon in glorious natural surroundings and a restful evening. Our M.O. is to check the predictions twice per day and always have a “hurricane hole” within reach. These are plentiful along the eastern coast of Nova Scotia.

Working South and West as Ernesto is only a couple days away, his track uncertain still. We find ourselves in a fantastic hideaway on the east side of Lunenburg.

Playful seals entertain us with their “Superman” poses, while jostling atop rocks in a protected cove.

We watch an angry Ernesto swirling past, far out to sea, setting his sights toward Newfoundland’s eastern shore, as we stock up on food and beverages, and enjoy a nice meal at one of Lunenburg’s finer taprooms. I recommend not missing the delicious donair thick-crust pizza, a Lunenburg speciality.

I take opportunity to tackle a couple minor projects, and dump the remaining Gerry cans of diesel fuel into one of our big tanks sitting low in the bilge. But not much has been used this summer, and we’re actually topped up, and won’t need more for our journey back to the US.

We dodged the Ernesto bullet, but we’re ready to keep moving on. Now to let the ten foot seas diminish in his wake before we venture out around the southern end of Cape Sable. We keep busy in our cozy spot for another couple days by reading, watching the deer across the water at a nearby farm, and also… meeting the neighbors.

Alternator and a new friend.

André is his name, he paddled over on our second day after arrival, an 86 year old hoot, full of energy and wanting “… to know other people in the world.”

Typical of Canadian citizens (outside of Toronto), André is all inviting. Upon seeing us anchoring nearby he readied an old mooring, now unused, with a small float and pendants for our use. (Sorry, but due to a recent experience near Baddeck we are reluctant to use dubious moorings.) Skirting the topic of his generous offer to us a questionable moor, I invited him aboard, introduced him to Fayaway and we chatted all things sailboats. Repeatedly asking for something he could help with, I hinted toward our pesky alternator alignment. The retired Canada Air pilot turned farmer asked all the usual questions as he removed the companionway steps and crouched over our Beta diesel engine:

Anchoring at our hurricane hole – from André’s deck, where we shared hours of coffee and stories.

Is the belt tight enough? Too tight? Have you placed a bar against the pulley, etc? Please hand me that bar so I can see. Belt worn? Dirty? Looks perfectly aligned to me, he agreed after a bit of head scratching.

Time to go

And now the time has come
And so my love I must go
And though I lose a friend
In the end you’ll know
Oooh

Playing with the light winds we reluctantly planned our escape from Canada. We either wait another week or just a couple more days. Tacking up wind is the plan.

Jack Sparrow

“That’s what a ship is, you know. Is not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, that’s what a ship needs but what a ship is … what the Black Pearl really is… is freedom.”