Tadoussac, Rimouski, Matan, Grand Vallee, Riviere au Renard, QC - June 22 – July 6, 2011

Jim and I left Tadoussac in our respective sailboats a few hours before the guide book recommended, but the suggested time would have us arriving after dark, something neither of us wanted to do.  The timing urged was based on avoiding the standing waves at the mouth of the Saguenay River as the

outflow ran into the tidal flow of the St. Lawrence River.  I have read that at certain times the standing waves can exceed eight feet!  Of course we wanted to avoid anything like that, so we asked Sean, our harbormaster in Tadoussac.  He let us know that a boat that had just been out to the mouth of the Saguenay reported waves of 4 – 6 feet.  We left about an hour or so later and encountered waves about 3 – 5 feet, so they were quite manageable.  Regardless, we only had to deal with them for a few hundred yards and all was calm again.

The day was very calm so once again we were motoring.  Since we decided to stay within a few hundred yards of each other, we occasionally would offer a comment or info to each other on the radio.  Our best conversations were whale sightings.  On at least three occasions one of us would see a whale (or whaleS!) and let the other know where to look.  In this way we were able to see a couple pods of the white beluga whales and a Minke whale.  The pods of belugas included about 15 animals, total.  It was great to see the huge, gentle giants cruising along.

The trip was quite uneventful, but still it was fun, especially as the current still offered a positive lift as we regularly hit speeds well over 7 knots over the ground while we were only motoring at 5 or 6 knots through the water.

Kris joins Kelly IV in Rimouski

We pulled into the marina at Rimouski to be met by our most friendly harbormaster, Sophie.  It turns out she is studying at the local maritime university to become an engineer, the kind that runs the large power plants that drive the huge freighters across the seas of the world.  She was a youthful, college-age girl, but was very knowledgeable about boats and truly helpful as we docked our vessels. She really knew what she was doing and, being bilingual, she was easy to communicate with.

In Rimouski, I was to meet my next crewmate and Jim was to work on three nagging problems:  a failed VHF radio, a stuck wind indicator, and a non-functional cell phone.  I also wanted to top off my groceries, as the next several ports would have less variety in their smaller stores.

Jim was concerned that he would have to climb his mast to rectify the problem with his radio, but solved his VHF problem by quickly discovering a bad connection at the back of the radio, so he got his radio working in short order.  Even so, he still had to climb the mast to relieve the stuck windex.  I loaned him my ATN Top-Climber, as it enables a solo-climber to reach the masthead without anyone working the winch or

Jim's "Steel Farm"

windless on deck.  I stayed on deck below, just to help, if needed, but Jim learned the new technique and climbed his mast without a hitch.  Once he renewed the wind instrument, he came down and only had the cell phone issue to settle.  Unfortunately, that required the phone company which wasn't available until Monday.

I walked to the grocery and ended up lugging almost forty pounds of juices, breakfast bars, cheese and assorted goodies almost a mile back to the marina.  I guess you can do anything, if there isn't another choice.

For dinner, Jim and I went to a nautically themed pub that Sophie recommended.  One of the waiters there let us know that Sidney Crosby played hockey there immediately before he joined the Pittsburgh Penguins.  Since I was wearing my Penguin t-shirt, it was cause for celebration!

On Friday morning, before 7am, Kris Bjornstad, my new crew arrived.  He had to travel overnight by bus from Moncton, New Brunswick, to Rimouski, changing buses and finally getting to the marina after 6am.  As the weather was gorgeous, we planned to set sail and let Kris catch up on his sleep while we were underway.  We bid goodby to Jim as we left our slip and then au revoir to Sophie after we topped up our diesel and we were on our way to Matane, Quebec.

Thw winds were non-existant at first, but built to the point where we thought we could make our way sailing.  Unfortunately, the wind was rather light, but at least favorable (southwesterly) so we motor sailed Kelly IV to the northeast as we ran up the coast of the Gaspe' Peninsula.  Kris caught up some much needed sleep while I enjoyed the bright sunny day and read my book while we motored along.

As the afternoon wore on, the wind picked up and we were finally able to make way under sail and shut down the faithful, reliable motor.  Upon our arrival at the commercial shipping harbor in Matane, we negotiated positioning with a local ferry (the ferry had the right-of-way by virtue of her size) as we made the u-turn back to the southwest and entered the harbor.  Based on input from Bluejacket's website and Gerald (from Batiscan), we decided we could just anchor in the security of this less than busy harbor and enjoy a quiet night hanging on the hook.

Starfish aboard the anchor rode in Matane

Another small sailboat joined us in the functional, not beautiful, anchorage as dusk fell.  The next morning we set off after a quiet breakfast at anchor.  The breeze was sufficient to sail, but we had several occasions to wonder if it might give up on us.  In the distance behind us we noticed a sailboat flying their spinnaker.  Since we were having trouble keeping our main and genoa filled, we were admiring the skill of our neighbor as he kept his spinnaker flying with seemingly no trouble.  We jibed a few times, shifting our whisker pole from port to starboard and back again, just to keep our sails filled.  We would be sailing on a port run, then wing-and-wing, then on a starboard run, then through the same changes again as the wind would shift behind us.

The great news is that we were truly sailing and enjoying a beautiful day of sun and breeze, a combination that we haven't seen a lot of so far this trip.  As we pressed into the night, our neighbor headed into port, probably St. Anne de Monts, while we pressed onward motor sailing into the evening.

Kris prepared a great dinner while we were underway and we prepared the boat for night sailing.

Sunset north of Sainte-Anne-des-Monts

Our destination was Grand Vallee, where we planned to arrive soon after dawn.  The forecast had called for a “risk of thunderstorms”, but we felt the risk was slight, so we pursued the overnight sail.  As it turned out we did get a few raindrops, but saw the light show from several thunderstorms over the land to our south and over the water many miles ahead of us.  Fortunately, the conditions around us were relatively benign.  Kris tried practicing his guitar and reading his music, but the close reading in the building swells was too much.  The “mal de mer” overcame him and he lost his dinner overboard.

It seems my past month underway has helped me avoid seasickness in conditions that used to bother me, so it was a beautiful night for me, as Kris slept to overcome the illness.  Once the storms cleared away, I was blessed with a grand view of the Milky Way, stars and constellations galore, and even the sparkling stars of the sea as the small creatures glittered in flashes along our wake.

Kris recovered and took over the helm about 3:30am after the sun had already been lighting up the northeastern sky.  The dark hours lasted from after 10pm to about 2:30am in these far northern latitudes.

In fact, we passed our northernmost point of this trip just minutes before Kris took over the helm.  He woke me about an hour later as we were entering the small bay at Grand Vallee.  By the time we had dropped our anchor in the somewhat calm waters, it was already a bright morning, even though it was not yet 5am!

Grand Vallee

After catching up on our sleep, we took our bright yellow dinghy into the floating docks attached to the public wharf which protected the small harbor.  We met a couple friendly fellows who let us know we were free to leave our dinghy for the day and we were welcome to tie Kelly up, if we wished.  We spent the day getting a bite to eat, visiting the local sights (church and covered bridge), adding a few provisions and preparing our routes for the next few days.  The local information center was very helpful as the lady there let us use a desk and internet to check weather and do our route planning on my laptop.

When we returned to the dinghy, we checked the depths around the floating docks and discovered that they may only have about 5 feet at low tide, too low for Kelly's new cruising draft of about 5 feet 2+ inches.  Regardless, the brusque breeze convinced us that we might find a quieter night tied to the seawall, rather than at anchor.  It turns out, we'd be wrong.  Although the boat's motion was much less, we were up every hour or so to adjust the lines and fender boards as the tide fell and rose again.  In the early morning hours, we were just too tired and made our changes just a little too late, incuring some bad scratches and ugly patches where the nice blue paint has now been rubbed away showing the bare fiberglass on Kelly's port side.

The forecast had changed overnight, so with a northerly wind called for, we left the seawall bound for Riviere au Renard (Fox River), the site of a small but important commercial fishing port.  If you've

seen “Deadliest Catch” on TV's Discovery Channel, and the views of Dutch Harbor, then you have a sense of what Riviere au Renard looks like.  Thankfully they have a small yacht harbor in a well-protected corner of the bay and we are tied up there tonight.  The forecast is iffy as 15 – 25 knots are forecast from the northeast to northwest, along with rain and thunderstorms.  The direction of the wind is fine for us, now that we are heading south, but the accompanying weather may make for waves and an uncomfortable, wet ride.

We'll listen to the forecast again in the morning and decide then, if and when we'll sail.

We have now traveled over 1100 nautical miles from Erie, PA.