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| Sunday, July 20: Forecast
winds SW 15-20 knots, becoming W 20-25 in the afternoon
Lazing in my sleeping bag, cozy against the morning chill, I listened to CBC radio’s morning program. Breakfast was the usual cereal, sardines, and coffee. Then I readied my dinghy for sailing. Several short tacks and Naomi slipped out of Cox Cove into open water. To avoid rocks off Quoddy Head, I sailed a longer course toward buoy XM1 off Harbour Islands. Although Naomi was stable with her ballast of camping gear and provisions, I hove-to and reefed the main as the breeze freshened. Ahead lay dozens of small islands. Some were densely covered with coniferous trees while other islands were just barren rocks. What an interesting area for dinghy cruising! |
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| My first destination lay over the bow. Black Duck Island is a recommended anchorage in one cruising guide. At high tides, there are three separate islands, at low tides they become one interconnected island. Closing the islands, I expected to find a sheltered nook at the head of the inlet. However the southwest wind blew straight between the islands and over the shallow bar between them. I prefer to lower the sails and row to the spot where I will anchor - which I proceeded to do. This time the main halliard caught in a tangle at the sheave when the main was only half down. The sail bagged out in the wind and Naomi drifted out of control. Hastily I dumped the anchor overboard and the dinghy swung up within a couple of yards of the rocky shore. I was relieved the island was deserted and nobody saw this clumsy arrival. |
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| The anchorage was too exposed, so I rowed Naomi over the shallow bar and tucked her into a tidal pool in the island’s lee. Naomi dried out with the ebb tide and decisions to move on were deferred till a high tide at 1500. |
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| I walked the low cliffs and rocky shore line
of the islands as the tide fell. A dead harbour seal, pierced with
two bullet holes from a high powered rifle, lay on a beach. Seals
are voracious feeders of young cod, and with their rapidly increasing
population, are blamed for the collapse of the ground fish industry
along with overfishing and climatic changes.
Sheltered from the strong wind of the afternoon, I read, snacked, and enjoyed the sounds of wind, surf, and the foghorn on Beaver Island. A beautiful sunset followed by the rising of an orange “harvest moon” ended Sunday. |