I'm sure Kingston is a wonderful town, but there is only one thing I remember about it, the inside of a pub.
We docked Osprey at the marina which was right downtown. Doug and I decide to walk around downtown and get something to eat. We went into a pub, which was really crowded. Everyone was watching the a baseball game on TV. The crowd was yelling and screaming, really getting into it. Being in Canada, I was surprised that a baseball game was drawing so much attention. Then I noticed it was a Tigers-Yankee game. Being a life long Tiger fan, that really got my attention. Doug and I ordered some food and watched Baseball history in the making.
There was a reason the crowd in the pub was loving this game; Mark, "The Bird", Fidrych was pitching for the Tigers. When he took the mound he got down on his hands and knees and smoothed out the dirt. The crowd went crazy. Before he pitched he would talk to the ball, to the delight of the fans in Tiger Stadium and the pub in Kingston.
Then the Yankee batters would strike out, or hit a pop up, or ground to second. The crowd at the pub would cheer and Tiger Stadium went wild.
Fidrych pitched a complete game victory for the Tigers that night. At the end of the game the crowd at Tiger Stadium gave him a standing ovation. They stood and chanted "We want Mark" for several minutes until he came out and took a bow. The announcer, no less than Curt Gowdy, said "I've been in baseball 35 years and I've never seen anything like this!"
It was the rookie's 8th win of the season. He went on to pitch in the All-Star, win 16 games for the Tigers (who were pretty weak otherwise). "The Bird" was a phenom and the most exciting thing to come along in Baseball in along time.
If it wasn't for the decision walk into town and lucky step into that Pub, I would have completely missed one of the greatest stories in baseball and Tiger baseball history. For a lifetime Tiger fan, like myself, that would have been sad. As it turns out the game is immortalized on Youtube. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMSDo3BX5Ds
Kingston is at the beginning of the St. Lawrence river, an area called the Thousand islands.
The Thousand islands are definitely beautiful. Several of the islands had huge mansions built on them. The scenery all along the St. Lawrence River was very green with lots of forest, farmlands, and dotted with villages.
River sailing, by definition, has its limitations. You're in a river after all. Even if the river is wide, the safe deep water usually is not! The St Lawrence River has a dredged channel that guarantees 30 feet of water. All we had to do is follow the buoys and channel markers. Every once in a while, we went through another lock.
As for the sailing...we had three types of wind, right in front of us, right behind us, and no wind at all. None of which is good for sailing. When the wind was on the nose we often had no choice but to power. Dad hated to use the engine.
When the wind was behind us we usually sailed wing and wing. This is when the mainsail is on one side of the boat and the headsail is on the other. Steering wing and wing is very tedious. You have to pay attention to the sails all the time. Go too far one way and the mains'l backs; too far the other way the headsail collapses. Then when you make the correction, the sail re-fills with air making a loud pop and shakes the rigging. It's like an alarm alerting the rest the crew, "Hey the helmsman just screwed up!" Being at the helm wing and wing is a tough job.
When there was no wind we powered...most the time. However Dad hated to us the engine; so occasionally we just floated downriver. Osprey could get caught in an eddy and spin around and we would float downriver backwards. It was frustrating.
Our next port of call was Montreal. I was told Montreal is 1000 miles from the Atlantic Ocean. Once again we brought our floating circus act to an amusement park, La Ronde (pictured). La Ronde was a nice place to stay. Like Ontario Place in Toronto, there always seemed to be something going on. Being 1976 the bi-centennial year, it was unfortunate we were out of the U.S. for the 4th of July celebration. However, we saw our share of fireworks at La Ronde on Canada Day, July 2nd.
We took a number of trips into the city. This was our first encounter with French speaking Canada. There was an active French separatist movement at the time. Some of French speaking citizens wanted Quebec to be a separate country. There was a bit of friction between the English and French population. So it was much appreciated if you try to speak French, which Dad did. He tried. I actually don't remember a successful conversation.
Dad gave us a list of chores to do in Montreal. One chore was to get some equipment and supplies for the boat. Doug and I were riding in a cab on the freeway to a marine supply store, when we saw a sign "Sortie Exit". We speculated that all the "Sorties" must exit there. Not being "Sorties" ourselves, we continued on to the store. Bilingualism took a back seat to a good joke for Doug and me. Another chore of mine was to fix the automatic bilge pump. I never did figure that one out.
Montreal retained a lot character from it's rich historical past. We ate at wonderful french restaurants. Although, ordering food in French was a challenge. It was fun, interesting and beautiful.
After a several day layover we were back to sailing out the St Lawrence River.
We ran into a language barrier at the "Three Rivers"...er..."Trios Riviere" Marina. Then we ran aground. It was after dark and Osprey puttered towards the dock. We had called ahead and were told the Marina had "plenty of water" by someone speaking English. At night we couldn't see any channel markers, and there was no one there to guide us. Mom was on the bow hailing to someone on the dock. The guy on the dock couldn't understand. He said something in French, then we ran aground.
Out came the dingy and the anchor stuff. We decided to use the light anchor and light anchor rode. We carried out the anchor and set it. Unfortunately we neglected to attach a trip line and buoy. So when the anchor rode broke, which it did, we lost our 20lb danforth in the muddy water.
We ended up anchoring that night in one of the three rivers for which the town was named.
As we got closer to the ocean, the river current was starting to be effected by the tides. At one point in the river, the Richeliue Rapids, the current could be as strong as 6 knots if the tide was going out. When we went through there was barely a current, called slack tide.
Just one day sail downriver was Quebec City. Without a breath of wind, we arrived sailing...drifting downriver. Dad hated using the engine. Osprey was at the mercy of the swift currents and swirling eddies. Ingloriously, we drifted underneath the bridges that marked our arrival to Quebec City...backwards. Frustrated, I went forward to the bow pulpit and watched the mast clear under the bridge. Forwards or backwards watching the mast clear under a bridge was always cool.
Quebec was the first place we encountered the huge tides of the St. Lawrence River. The floating dock in this marina would rise and lower over 10 feet with the ocean tides.
At the marina Doug an I met a yatchy, who invited us on his boat. He was a military pilot. We told him we were sailing around the world. He was impressed. He said he flew over the Pacific Ocean and proclaimed it as "the biggest thing I've ever seen." Doug and I both thought that was a funny way to say that and later had a good laugh. Nobody was safe from Doug and my "Mad" sense of humor.
Whatever Montreal was Quebec City was more so. It was more French. They were more separatist. Quebec City had a more colorful historical past, more fun etc.
The Chateau Frontenac and the surrounding fort were the main attractions of Quebec City.
At Quebec City we added crew, my girlfriend Joyce and her uninvited friend Rene. Surprise!!! This was not a good idea, nor a welcome surprise. Now we had 6 people on board in pretty tight quarters. Joyce and Rene had never sailed before and did not particularly like sailing. Still they had redeeming qualities, their french was very good which helped ordering food in Quebec. Surprisingly, Rene turned out to be a determined helmsman, wing and wing.
After a several day stay in Quebec we set sail again. This part of the St Lawrence River is called the estuary. The "Bath Tub Effect" causes water to slosh in and out of the estuary twice daily. The tides raise and lower 18 feet and create currents as much as 6 knots. I remember sailing downriver but against the tide. Although we were making good headway through the water we were nearly stationary against the shore. Tides also affected anchoring, making two anchors a must. Another difference was the water turned from fresh to salt.
The next port of call was Le Malbaie, next to Point-Au-Pic. We tied up to the municipal pier.
The Manoir Richelieu was built by the Canadian Pacific Railroad at Point-Au-Pic, "the end of the line". It was unexpected luxury on the edge of civilization.
La Malbaie had huge 18 foot tides. At high tide we could step off the boat on to the pier. At Low tide we had to climb up a 18 foot ladder. While docked at La Malbaie, at low tide, Dad was talking to a man on the pier. He dropped his business card down to Osprey's deck. He was the owner of a restaurant, which was out in the countryside. He invited us to dine with him. We took a cab through the rolling hills and woods, for what seemed like forever. I was thinking the cabby must have gotten lost, but finally we arrived. From the restaurant we enjoyed a dramatic view of a pink and purple sunset overlooking miles of forested rolling hills. We were also treated to a memorable steak dinner. It was surprising to me that there was such a nice restaurant in the middle of the wilderness. The sail from La Malbaie was highlighted with sightings of the famous white whales near Tadoussac and the Saguenay River.
Our final port of call on the St Lawrence River was Riviere Au Renard (a.k.a. Fox River) on the Gaspe' peninsula. We tied Osprey to the seawall, shown here, along side the fishing boats. The seawall was equiped with black rubber bumpers, that look like ribs in the picture.
Joyce and Rene left the boat here. We took a bus to the town of Gaspe' about 30 miles away. Joyce and Rene got on a bus or plane to who knows where. I went back to Osprey.
The next morning I awoke to a gentle rocking of Osprey. I went on deck and...OH MY GOD!!! The wind and waves were pushing the Osprey hard (not gently) against the seawall. OH MY GOD!!! The black rubber bumpers were chewing up Osprey's wooden toe rail. I noticed all the fishing boats were GONE!!! We had to GET OFF THE SEAWALL!!! This triggered an all out fire drill on Osprey. We tried a aft spring line to help us get off the pier but the mizzen boom got in the way, keeping us from heading off the wall. My best recollection is that we powered down the pier a couple hundred feet, rubbing against it, before we inch by inch got off the wall. To this day I really don't know how that worked. It shouldn't have.
Without a place to dock, we decided to start the next leg of the sail. This was the inauspicious start to our crossing the Gulf of the St Lawrence, our first major crossing. But as Dad says, "Nothing to it, but to do it!" Once out to sea the crew got to work. We plotted the course, and planned the shifts on the helm.
That night, Mom and I were on duty for a beautiful night sail. We sighted a light on the horizon. Was it a freighter? The light got bigger. It looked like a big sail being illuminated. A sailboat? Then it became obvious, it was the moon rising as a slim crescent... mysterious and beautiful.
We were out of site of land for over a day. Our dead reckoning navigation must have been good because we made a successful landfall, sighting the island to the north of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. Yet whenever you're relying on dead reckoning, because of all the variables, you always have the feeling that you don't really know where you are. You have that "I reckon we're lost" feeling, until you see land again. The 250 mile sail took just over 2 days.
Cape Breton Island proved to be a wonderful sailing destination. It was late July and the weather was warm and sunny. The perfect time to visit Cape Breton Island, a tribute to Dad's planning. Ingonish had a quiet harbor and picturesque resort.
The locals spoke English, which was refreshing. They had a cute expression that they added to a statement, "Ay", which rhymes with "Way" or "Bay". Like "It's a nice day, Ay!" (More recently, I've noticed Canadian Hockey player say "Ay" a lot too. I'm not even sure how to spell it.) It was cute with the locals, but when it started catching on with the crew of the Osprey I thought it was humorous.
The effort it took to get here, the remoteness, the beauty of the hills and bays, the unique history all made Cape Breton feel like a special destination. A "We're on our way around the world now, Ay!" type of place.
From Ingonish we sailed down the coast toward the Bras d'Or Lake. When we got to the entrance the tide was against us. We met a 6 knot current in the narrow entrance. We had to power. Our progress was measured in inches against the channel bouy that had a seagull sitting on top, looking at us with curiosity.
At the same time we noticed that we were taking on water. The water in the bilge was almost to the floor boards. What made matters worse was that our hand bilge pump broke, and I had never fixed the auto bilge pump. So there we were doing 6 knots, but going vertually nowhere, and taking on water with no working pumps, basically sinking, Ay!
An intial search for the source of the leak failed. I started bailing water into the galley sink using a coffee can. Dad took a more thoughtful approach. Taking the hand bilge pump apart, he found that the flapper was broken. I didn't even know what a flapper was! He was able to fashion a new flapper out of the sole of a tennis shoe. It worked! I was impressed! Soon we were pumping water out quicker than it was coming in. Later it was determined that the damn auto bilge pump was siphoning water into the boot.
Osprey finally prevailed over the seagull on the bouy. Calm returned to the scene and we started enjoying Bras d'Or Lake, Ay.
Our first stop in the Bras d'Or was Baddeck. As can be seen in the picture Baddeck has a little island that creates a great little harbor for the town. On a blustery day Doug and I decided to circumnavigate the island in our Avon dingy with a 1/2 horsepower British Seagull motor. Fighting 20 knot winds and choppy seas, we got soaked. It was fun, Ay!
The anchorage was protected but a little crowded, Ay.
The normal use of the dingy was to ferry crew to and from shore when we anchored out, Ay.
Alexander Graham Bell's summer home and museum were main attractions in Baddack, Ay.
Bras d'Or Lake was very enjoyable sailing. From Baddack we sailed to several other anchorages. One cove near Iona was particularly beautiful. I remember looking at Osprey from a bluff overlooking the cove, thinking what an awesome sight. We took a picture of Osprey...one of my favorite.
We didn't have any pictures of Osprey undersail. So on one sunny day with not much wind, I got in the dingy and the family sail around me in Osprey and I took pictures. The pictures revealed the family needed work on sail trim, Ay.
We were in the Bras d'Or when the Marine weather started talking about Hurricane Belle. We started tracking Belle, even though there was no way it would make it to Nova Scotia. It was taking a northerly track and was heading towards the east coast of the United States. Belle wrecked havoc from North Carolina to Massachusetts with deadly 120 mph winds, skirting the coast the whole way. But there was no way it would hit us, Ay.
As Belle continued north of Massachusetts, inland, it weakened. Because the prevailing wind is from the west Belle started heading east. The storm system got back over water, the Gulf of Maine. Now Tropical Storm Belle, packing 50 to 60 mph winds, was heading right at us. We had to find a place to hole out the storm, Ay.
The anchorage we found was a very tight cove near the town of St Peters. We tied off to trees on both sides of the shore. We used anchors to weigh the lines down in the water, which gave them some spring. The winds started picking up in the afternoon and we hunkered down in Osprey all night. In the morning, the storm had passed. I was not surprised that we were fine, but I was shocked to see that somehow a sailboat had found it's way behind us. How did that boat got past our lines?
We let the storm pass before we continued on our trip. Next stop was Halifax, Nova Scotia. But Belle was not done with us.
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