Shelburne to Canso NS: 18 – 20 Jul – Enough Wind, Quite Sufficient Fog

We departed Shelburne Harbor, Nova Scotia 0730 Sunday, 18 Jul 10, in calm and sunny conditions. The 12 NM motorboat ride down harbor to sea was peaceful and I was again able to admire Sandy Point Lighthouse where a day earlier I’d attended a community breakfast with friends from Shelburne (left photo). Everyone brought along all the children and the breakfast was bountiful, the children loud and merry, the view magnificent. Afterwards from the deck of the community center the adults watched the children play in the shallow water, splashing and chasing sea creatures (right photo).

Once at sea we motorsailed east in a light SW breeze. Visibility was excellent as we “enjoyed” the perpetual swells that define this coast. Even in calm conditions, the long swells of the Atlantic that roll in from thousands of miles away produce long rolling hills of water along the SW coast. There is no escape and the swells do not add to one’s comfort. By 1040 we were sailing and shortly thereafter the wind filled in so that I reefed the mainsail and didn’t bother to set a headsail. The wind was almost directly from behind and we were making over 5 knots so for comfort’s sake I chose the simplest solution and sailed “bare headed.” We had about 250 NM to Canso at the extreme eastern end of Nova Scotia, and we were making miles in the right direction.

Conditions remained the same until 1600 when the wind came up to 15 to 20 knots SW. I tucked a second reef and continued with only the main. There was little to do but rest as my system once again got accustomed to rolling seas and life offshore, this time for only a few days. By 2100 I'd made no changes in our setup and nature continued with steady conditions and a good sailing breeze. We sailed on in darkness and by 0500 the next morning, Monday, it was still dark as we began passing the “Traffic Control Lanes” that govern maritime shipping into Halifax Harbor. The Halifax TCL is an elaborate array of one-way traffic lanes into and out of this major harbor and all commercial traffic must comply. The operation is managed by “Halifax Traffic” who do a rather spectacular job. I contacted Halifax Traffic on VHF to identify myself and to check on traffic. There were only 2 commercial vessels inbound at the time and neither was close by.

By 0830 the wind was off and we were motorsailing with the mainsail and the Volvo diesel doing their respective jobs. A little after noon I reckoned that we had under 100 NM to Canso and a rest from the endless swells. Two hours later the wind filled in and we were sailing with a single reef and the windvane steerer. I remember thinking that the motion was a bit less and that probably this was the smoothest set of conditions I would encounter until Canso Harbor. That wasn’t quite the case as I relate below, but I was thankful for the comfort. By 2200 Monday evening the logbook shows us motorsailing again with under 55 NM to go. It was dark and on this last night at sea we'd had good luck and made progress, so I was hoping our streak would continue.

An hour and a half later I became aware of a commercial ship one and a half NM dead ahead on a direct approach to our position. I identified him by AIS (Automatic Identification System) as the Maersk Pembroke, bound for Halifax. When I hailed on VHF he came up immediately and informed me he’d already begun a slow turn to starboard (i.e., he was turning right) to avoid us. I informed him we would also go right 25 degrees to widen the passing distance and we soon passed safely, coming within 1000 yards at closest approach. That may seem like a reasonable distance, but at sea it’s closer than one might like. The whole event, played out on my computer screen, resembled a nautical ballet in slow motion. With the situation now in hand, I sat back and enjoyed the view.

On into the night and Tuesday morning, the wind never did reappear enough to go sailing, but as first light came up at 0530 something else did: dense fog. Ordinarily fog is just another aspect of sailing in this area, but this time it had more importance. To enter Canso we had to negotiate Andrew Passage, a complicated route between islands, rocks, and shoals that protect the entrance to Canso Harbor. I'd never visited Canso before and all my guide books warned that the passage was to be avoided in poor visibility. I kept studying the guides and making offerings to Neptune, but the thick fog persisted and now seemed a permanent feature. Visibility was under 50 yards so I began to make arrangements for either an alternate route into harbor, or a brief stop somewhere to wait on the weather. I prepared the anchor to let go quickly and continued on to Andrew Passage. Fortunately the wind remained light and I encountered no traffic on radar or AIS. As the buoys ghosted by in the fog, I could hear the gongs and bells but saw nothing.

At 0900 after passing the first buoy marking the entrance to Andrew Passage, I came on deck to a find that visibility had become unlimited. A light west wind had combined with the landmass of the surrounding islands to completely lift the fog. We could see, and what we saw was magnificent (photo at left). The bleak scraggy landscape looked like paradise to me. We were in the easternmost part of Nova Scotia, sailing along in a remote and peaceful setting with completely flat seas. I decided to slow things down and enjoy the scene in slow motion. The engine was shut down, the sails shortened further, and we glided through Andrew Passage between the shoals and rocks as if we’d been doing this sort of thing since birth.

By 1015 Tuesday we’d passed the Canso Harbor (right photo) breakwater and secured the ship. I was trying to determine the arrangements at the Canso Harbor Marina when the VHF came alive: “Kerry Deare, Kerry Deare, this is Evergreen. Welcome to Canso.” It was friends Philip and Sharon (left photo) whom I’d last seen a few days earlier in Shelburne. They’d left Shelburne a day before me and arrived about a half day earlier in Canso. I could not have had a warmer welcome.