Cruising Story and Photos

And Then There Were Eleven: SYC Club Cruise 2006

            by Judy Adamson

 It’s funny how the average person views sailing, especially cruising, as nothing but a relaxing trouble-free pastime, yet as this year’s Shearwater club cruise proved, it’s often anything but. On the other hand, the fabulous weather, frequent fair winds and the solid camaraderie of the sea made this one of the best experiences we have ever had. Compared with last year’s Cape Breton club cruise of fog and killer storms, our South Shore weather was almost perfect. The biggest advantage over last year I was told repeatedly was that the Shore’s proximity allowed the cruise to have a more drop-in drop-out nature, a feature that Orion’s Caroline Carroll liked the best.

            The first day gave us a taste of what was to come. The forecast was for 15 knot winds but they swiftly started gusting to 20, building the chop to four feet as Greig and Caroline Carroll’s Orion, our Altair and Larry Shaw’s Wind Thief, headed for Chebucto Head. All three boats pounded into the waves, Altair saucily exposing the front of her keel to Orion on a few occasions. This was Ginette’s first time in unkind weather and  I won’t say I wasn’t a bit concerned.

Altair slid up a wave, then fell over the edge, burying her bow to the toe rails. I climbed onto the cabin top to put in a second reef, grateful I had put on the jack lines as she reared up and plunged over and over again. The waves didn’t grow that big, certainly less than eight feet but they were constant and only a few feet apart. However, the boat felt solid despite her 24 feet, we were in good company and the last thing a skipper ever wants to do is admit fear to her crew no matter how much your guts are churning.

And let’s face it, it was fun.

Eventually we all abandoned our first destination of Rogues Roost and slipped into Ketch Harbour instead, where we rolled and swayed on the first of many rafts to come.

            I got up the next morning, feeling stiff but immensely pleased with myself.  This beat a tough day at the office any day and we were cruising – how simply wonderful. And after battling yesterday’s wind and waves, I was hopeful we could handle most things on the cruise – as long as we didn’t have to reverse the boat. I glanced around Ketch Harbour, then back along our own boat and that’s when I spotted it. A small mackerel, less than half a foot long, lying dead on our lazarette.

            “Ginette, there’s a fish lying on our boat,” I said with a deliberately casual air.

            Larry and Greig’s heads popped up.

            “Wow, look at that,” Larry said. “A flying fish.”

            “Yeah,” Greig said. “That’s good luck, you know.”

            I reached for a paper towel and braced myself to flick it overboard. It was only a fish but I am from Saskatchewan. I touched its tail, it jumped and I shrieked. I mean, the thing was supposed to be dead!

            Larry and Greig were both bent over double as Ginette appeared with a small bike pump and calmly flicked it overboard.

            “How to you spell <untranscribable shriek>?” I later overheard Greig say to Caroline as he updated Orion’s logbook. A week later Larry admitted he and Greig had planted it and they were positively delighted with the reaction. The dirty, rotten <unprintable word>!

Kiskadee, Juno, and Southwind all hoped to come the next day and meet us in the Roost and indeed, the latter two did. Kiskadee was down with engine problems, a foreshadow of what was to come. The next night our raft grew to five. With the weather still questionable, we stayed an extra night in the Roost and met up with Doug and Sandra Dougherty, who are working hard on their new Pacific Seacraft, a Katrina victim.

The cruise continued down the south shore as SYC boats dropped in and out. 1-2-Many, Allons’y and later Drag’N’Fly and Acushla joined in as we stopped at Big Tancook Island.

Big Tancook is a must on anyone’s cruise, if only to see the 20-year-old vehicles without plates being driven around the island. Many of the cars are hand painted, too, and our favourite was an old Dodge decked out in full camo paint, driven by a 10-year-old boy barely able to see over the steering wheel while his mother sat in the passenger seat.

            The cruise wandered down the coast, stopping in at Mahone Bay for a day of restocking and ice cream. Someone suggested Backman’s Island, just a short sail away,  for a group anchorage the next night. Kiskadee made a very welcome if stealthy appearance and again, we rafted up for the night. A sand beach was the perfect spot for a bonfire but as we lit the fire, Willie, dog of Wind Thief, peered out towards the dark sea and howled. It was a black night and we could see nothing.

            “Don’t worry,” said Geno. “I’ve got a flashlight.” He produced an enormous 15-million candlepower spotlight looking like a five dollar pocket light on steroids and shone it into the darkness. An apparition appeared floating in the black water, looking like some kind of witch draped in old robes beckoning us into the sea to our certain deaths and for a moment I thought I was in a Tolkien novel. The image vanished abruptly when brain caught up with my vision: it was Morgan standing in his dinghy, using some kind of tarp to sail to shore. Alex, his protégé, sat in the bottom, desperately trying to keep it from flipping.

            Larry suggested Tanner’s Cove, a tiny spot down Tanner’s Pass for the next night. The chart actually read a depth of zero but he assured us that wasn’t technically correct, as long as we followed him. We all did gladly, especially since Wind Thief draws just about the most.

            That night we broke our record, no doubt foolishly, for we had an astonishing eleven boats on a single mooring ball. Thank god it was a windless night – we couldn’t imagine having a midnight move in a cove where we shouldn’t have been in the first place. Life is full of chances, though, and it paid off as Ginette pulled out her violin and Larry his guitar and we had an impromptu inter-boat party.

            The cruise continued along as we stopped in Lunenburg, LaHave River Yacht Club and Bridgewater. By this point we were down to just a few boats: Altair, Orion, Wind Thief, Juno, Kiskadee and Paoloa, a Tahiti Ketch owned by Heinz Wieler. We played on the river for a couple of days, then headed for one final port south: Vogler’s Cove in Medway Harbour. The forecast was for 15 knot winds but by the time the slower Altair clawed her way towards the harbour, the wind had built to 25. Waves were building yet again so we suffered through yet more bucketfuls of spray thrown into our faces as we climbed waves as high as 12 feet. Vogler’s Cove was worth it; it’s a fabulous spot, very quiet and picturesque, with yachts being rare enough to have a couple of small boats come to check us out.

            It was time to start making our way home. We stopped in at Lunenburg, again battling high winds gusting to an unforecasted 35 knots, where we were greeted with the horrifying news that Kiskadee had almost lost her rig. She was on a run and suddenly Dana realized the furler and entire forestay was hanging on a crazy angle. He and Dee methodically transferred three halyards in place of the forestay to support the mast, dropping the boom and anything else that would cause undue strain.  They elected to motor back home and make repairs there, so the next day, we all set off, destination Deep Cove in Mahone Bay.

            Unfortunately, the wind still wasn’t co-operating and we fought winds gusting over 25 and a stiff chop five feet plus in places. Naturally it was coming from the direction we wanted to go. Wind Thief and Juno had peeled off in other directions and Kiskadee had fled into Tanner’s Cove. It was up to Altair and Orion, the smallest boats in the fleet, to make the planned destination. We did, but for Altair is was a close-run thing. We contemplated running for Big Tancook but managed to stay on track with the help of the iron jenny and a double-reefed main.

            The next morning I could hear Greig next door chatting with Dana on the radio as Kiskadee departed Tanner’s Cove. A short while later just as he and I were preparing to cast off Altair, we heard the words on channel 16 that I swear really do freeze your blood when it’s someone you know.

            “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is Kiskadee, Kiskadee, Kiskadee.” Dana’s voice was unmistakable as he matter-of-factly stated they had full rigging failure, no engine and were drifting rapidly onto shoals on the south side of Big Tancook Island.

            Greig and I swore at the same time and leapt on the lines. I turned Altair into the channel and pushed her to full throttle, Orion soon hot on our heels. All the while, we listened to the radio as we learned more about what had happened.

It transpired that they hadn’t lost their mast as we had first feared, but were unable to use any sails because of the earlier rigging failure. Unfortunately, the Atomic Four had thrown a connecting rod and was completely out of commission. I marveled at how calm Dana sounded as Kiskadee drifted closer and closer to the rocks while he and Dee prepared to drop the anchor. They deployed it but it began to drag. Dana let out more scope and eventually it snagged something, stopping the boat less than an eighth of a mile from the shoals.

In the meantime, Orion and Altair powered through the water at six knots; I don’t know what Altair would have done but she’s a tough little thing. Eventually Orion passed us and then Greig raised his sails. It was like Altair was standing still and off they went. A couple of sailboats, including Silver Charm, an honorary SYC cruise boat, reached Kiskadee first and stood by until the inshore rescue boat managed to tow them into Lunenburg. Kiskadee finally made it back to Shearwater a week later, sporting a new forestay but no power.

            The cruise ended with Cub Basin in Prospect our last stop. Alaua VI and Drag’N’Fly joined us overnight and we all headed to Shearwater the next day, the sun shining and the winds fair, a perfect end to a 260 nautical mile cruise. And as much as it’s too bad about Kiskadee’s engine, that’s a mighty fine looking new forestay.

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