To Saint-Pierre: 30 Jul to 01 Aug - Restful But ...

After staring at 25 to 30 knot winds and waiting almost a week at Louisbourg to cross to Saint-Pierre and eventually Newfoundland, we finally headed to sea 1230 on Friday, 30 July, to learn that nature was in a playful mood. Visibility was under 100 yards and we could barely make Louisbourg Light (this time to port) as we passed and headed east. The wind was a restful 4 to 6 knots from any of several directions, and we rolled along in a mild leftover swell. It looked to be a long 172 NM ahead.

Just to keep things lively, at 1600 and still in thick fog I picked up the AIS signature of MSC Tuscany, a 650 foot cargo vessel bound for South America. It appeared he would pass me from left to right at a closest distance (CPA) of 1 NM. However in thick fog it never hurts to check, so I called the bridge by name and confirmed my radar signature and ID with the accented officer of the watch. He assured me he would maintain course and speed and I told him I would do the same. That's how things stood until, 15 minutes later, I noticed on both radar and AIS that he had started a slow turn to his right that would bring us into collision. This pleased me very little so I called the bridge again and listened as the watch officer parroted back to me each sentence I said to him. I was not sure that he understood any of the English words he was saying in his heavy Middle Eastern accent, but this was no time for Berlitz. Against standard procedure, I came left about 30 degrees and juiced up the diesel to avoid trouble. About 5 minutes later I made him in thick fog as his scarred and somewhat rusted hull passed from left to right less than one eighth mile ahead. Shortly thereafter we were back on 090 M heading for Saint-Pierre.

By 1930 Friday evening we were able to go sailing in 8 to 10 knot winds. This lasted until 2330 when the wind quit and the diesel came back to life. These conditions, with heavy fog and no wind, continued through the night and into the next morning until 1645 Saturday when we were once again sailing. The next few hours of sailing were all we would get on this leg. Speaking of burning diesel, shall we drill, baby, drill?

At 1855 Saturday evening (now in Saint-Pierre time, 2 hours later than New York), the log states that we had under 50 NM to the yacht club in Saint-Pierre. The controlling factor was that I didn't want to arrive in darkness and outside official customs and immigration hours, so we slowed to enter a little after 0800. This was to be, after all, our first visit to French soil and we hoped to maintain diplomatic protocol and further warm international relations. A 2210 log entry states that we had officially entered French territory.

We continued along in darkness and what passed for visibility but on approach to the islands visibility went to zero. Just below Langlade (Petit Miquelon on the charts but the locals scoff at that name), we were working under radar and AIS and I picked up one small target on my right while heading NE between Langlade and Saint-Pierre. He did not come up on VHF and passed safely, so he was probably a small fishing skiff. By Sunday morning at 0640 the genoa was handed and we had what I believed was a visual landfall on Saint-Pierre photos right and above left). This was confirmed when the fog dissipated ever so slightly. By then we also had daylight and things were looking good, so I prepared documentation and mooring gear for arrival.

We proceeded into Saint-Pierre harbor (photo above) enjoying the view and the first taste of human habitation in a few days. By 0745 local we were safely tied on Kurika (photo left) with Jean and Josiane on board, last seen in Louisbourg, who themselves occupied a berth at Saint-Pierre Yacht Club (Club Nautique, photo right). Customs arrived almost immediately and the officials were, well, very French: elegant, handsome, pleasant, charming, and informative.

What a bore.