Latitude: 44 degrees 16 minutes north
Longitude: 68 degrees, 18 minutes west
September 7, 1999
Hello everyone!
We're back in the States, on a mooring in Southwest Harbor, Mount Desert Island, Maine. We're surrounded by at least 70 other boats (more than two-thirds of which are Hinckleys) and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the crowded harbor and the affluence of our home country. But that doesn't keep us from enjoying the abundant fresh fruits and vegetables, the cheap phone calls home, and the West Marine at the head of the harbor (where we spent more on the boat today than we have all summer!).
We did the return trip from St. John's in several big legs, waiting for
lows/fronts to come through then hopping on the backside the minute the winds went favorable. Though Hawk wouldn't have minded bashing into the prevailing southwest winds, her idea of fun and ours don't quite coincide. After leaving St. John's on August 16, we reached St. Pierre on August 18 where we spent three wonderful days. We left on a strong northeast wind and rode it for two days and 350 miles west (yes, due west) to Liscombe, Nova Scotia, about halfway between Halifax and Louisburg. At that point the wind went southwest, and we sat out a couple of small gales in Liscombe before sailing down the coast another 30 miles to Sally's Cove near Ship's Harbor. There we waited for yet another little gale to blow itself out, then left on the northerly that followed and kept right on going all the way to Mount Desert Island, two days and 350 miles to the west-southwest.
We didn't see Nova Scotia, but felt better about that than trying to see it in a rush. We kept telling ourselves "next time" and wondering when that might be-- hopefully when we return to cruise the south coast of Newfoundland, which we also had to skip. So much world, so little time!
Our favorite stop on the last leg was St. Pierre. This last tiny remnant
of the once-vast French empire in North America has retained its French
character. The French is Parisian, the car license plates European, the
streets narrow, the people a bit haughty but approachable (especially if
you start in French). We had dinner at a wonderful French restaurant where Evans had perfect escargot and I had Chausson St. Jacques -- seafood in cream sauce baked in a puff pastry. The house wine was as good as the most expensive imports in Newfoundland. The island fell in and out of French control through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, repeatedly scattering its inhabitants throughout Nova Scotia and France. Today about 2,000 of the 6,000 residents are on rotating assignment from France, which probably does more than anything else to preserve the island's authentic French character.
We're hauling out tomorrow at the Hinckley yard to try, for the third time, to get the right amount of pitch on our prop (more on that in this month's column). Then we'll be working our way south, meeting up with friends and family in various harbors along the way, until early November and the end of hurricane season when we'll head for Bermuda and the Caribbean.
Keep sailing,
Beth and Evans
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