The Journey of the Osprey: Cape Breton to Stamford

This foggy picture is of St Peters, Nova Scotia, the southern access to, and exit from, Bras d'Or Lake. The Atlantic coast of Nova Scotia is known for it's fog and treacherous rocky shoreline. However, when we cleared this point we had decent weather, sunny, good visibility, 8-10 knot winds, and 1 foot waves. None of this would last!

Not knowing what we were in for, Mom fixed us lunch, baloney sandwiches. I ate the sandwich not knowing this wouldn't be the last time I would see it.

We sailed into the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. Once we cleared the protective land to the west the waves grew, remanence of Hurricane Belle. The seas were confused. It was a real rough ride. Something broke on the mast and during the repair I got seasick. In fact, I think I got seasick just looking for the screwdriver to make the repair. That's when I got the second sighting of the baloney sandwich, as I threw up over the rail! I wasn't alone, everyone was feeling seasick.

The winds picked up and we had to make a sail change. I had to go to the bow sprit. In big waves the bow sprit was like a dunking stool. When I think of the biggest wave I have ever seen I think of this moment. I was sitting on the bow sprit bagging a sail facing aft, as we were going into the waves. I turned my head and looked over my right shoulder, then looked up...way up. Up there a wave was cresting. It was like looking up at a second floor balcony. "Oh Shit!" The wall of water broke on top of me. I have never looked up at a wave like that before or since.

We took a long tack out to sea, then a long tack back. On the return tack, we had lost a lot of visibility. We were in a the famous Nova Scotia fog. We were hoping to be able to pick up a buoy or a point of land to confirm our position but no luck. Late in the day, our dead reckoning position said it was time to tack back out to sea. At dusk, we tacked back out to sea without confirming our position.

The Nova Scotia coast is very rugged and unforgiving. There are lots of little islands (big rocks) and spits of land jutting out. I'm sure it would have been beautiful except we couldn't see a damn thing. Because the coastline is so treacherous, Nova Scotia has two lines of navigational buoys dotting the coast; the inner buoys were 4 miles apart 5 miles off shore, the outer buoys were 8 miles apart 10 miles out. We stayed on the tack out to sea all night.

The next morning, Dad took stock of the situation; sea sick crew, rough seas, difficult sailing with slow progress to windward, last fixed position more than 24 hours old, dangerous coastline and zero visibility. It could have been worse... there could have sea monsters! Dad made a truly heroic decision. Based on our latest dead reckoning position he plotted a course that brought us back to land at an angle. The thinking was that this would give us the best chance of sighting a buoy before a hitting a rock. He drew a line on the chart to a buoy, the outer buoy near Liscomb. Then he turned on the engine and powered.

We powered for hours in thick fog. The further we went, the closer to land we were, the higher the anxiety. After hours and hours of powering we saw some fishing boats. We tried to hail them with the radio as we approached them. If only they could give us a fixed position we would be alright. Just then we saw a buoy! We powered over to the buoy. On it was written one word,"Liscomb". Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. It was a miracle!

Once we had a fixed position the rest was pretty easy. We ran the outer buoys using dead reckoning. When we got close to a buoy we would go silent and listen for the bell or gong or whatever sound the buoy was making. Then on to the next buoy. We arrived at Halifax that night. The approach was foggy but the Harbor Master helped guide us in on the radio with his radar. (We had radar too, which I remember using in approaching Halifax harbor, but I can't remember using it to find the buoys. Oh well, it's been 35 years) Once we were inside the harbor the fog magically lifted and the lights of Halifax seemed like the brightest lights I had ever seen.

Halifax was a great port-o-call, giving us plenty to do and think about to forget our first encounter with the Atlantic Ocean. At this point we were getting pretty good a docking Osprey. I remember bringing our 51 foot boat in to a 25 foot berth. It was a challenge and exhilarating.

I was a fast-pitch softball pitcher in a pizza and beer league in Colorado...mostly beer. So I jumped at the chance to see the most famous softball pitcher of all time, Eddie Feigner "The King and His Court", who was playing in Halifax. Doug and I had a blast. This was just one of the many unplanned opportunities that being on this adventure provided.

One of the icons of Nova Scotia is the schooner Bluenose, the pride of the Halifax fleet around the turn of the century. It was a working fishing boat, as well as an outstanding racing boat. A replica of the Bluenose graces the harbor today.



From Halifax we took two side-trips in a rental car. One was east along the Atlantic coast to a famous fishing village and artist community, Peggy Cove.


Peggy cove was interesting and picturesque.


The other side-trip was north to the Bay of Fundy, the north coast of this part of Nova Scotia. The Bay of Fundy has the highest tides in the world. Using the same "bathtub effect" as the St Lawrence River Estuary, tides raise and lower over 50 feet, twice a day. We looked at a boat high and dry, miles from the water, knowing in a few hours the boat would be floating. The Bay of Fundy is truly unbelievable.

Our next sail was to cross the Gulf of Maine, which includes the Bay of Fundy. As water flows in and out of Bay of Fundy it creates up to 6 knots of current in the Gulf of Maine. What's more, the current goes in both directions! So how in the world were we going to account for that with our Dead Reckoning navigation? Looking at the Bay of Fundy took on a different meaning for the navigator of Osprey.



From Halifax we sailed southwest along the Nova Scotia coast. Visibility was a lot better leaving than when we arrived. We could see land most of the time. Cape Sable, the southwestern point of Nova Scotia is about 150 miles from Halifax. We sailed the first day and through the night. The next day we rounded Cape Sable and started crossing the Gulf of Maine. I was disappointed that we couldn't see the Cape. It would have been nice to get one last position fix from land before we started the crossing. On the other side of the Gulf of Maine was Mt Desert Island, Southwest Harbor, and the Hinkley shipyards where Osprey was built. It was Osprey's home port from 1959 through 1969. We were taking Osprey home.

We sailed through the night with fair winds and weather. The next day we knew exactly where we were, somewhere in the middle of the Gulf of Maine. The navigator confidently set his hand on the chart and said, "I reckon we're here." Dad practiced his celestial navigation again. Although the position was unlikely, at least it was in the ocean. We sailed on.

The question, "exactly where are we?", was becoming more important every hour. As the sunset we were closing in on the coast of Maine. Our Dead Reckoning position put us close enough to see land. We thought we had fairly good visibility, but at sea it's hard to know exactly how good. The Maine Coast has some pretty high hills that should be easy too see, but we couldn't see them. It is also jagged, dotted with lots of small islands (big rocks)...not very friendly. We weren't looking forward to a repeat of Nova Scotia. Yet still, we couldn't see land.

The yellow and pink hues of a beautiful sunset turned deep red and purple. Reluctantly, Dad went below to get some rest. His last words were, "Let me know if you see something." Within minutes we saw a flash of light off the port bow. Dad popped back on deck, breathing a sigh of relief. At first we thought it was the Mt Desert Rock light, but the flash was 10sec not 15sec. We determined that it was the Matinicus Rock Lighthouse, which can be seen for over 20 miles. We were about 30 miles south of course. Not to bad considering the tidal currants and other variables.

We plotted a new course towards Mt Desert Rock light. Through the night visibility seemed to improve and we spotted the Mt Desert Rock light, 15sec flash. Early in the morning we made our final course change toward Southwest Harbor. Osprey was heading home.



Doug and I took the watch. It was a glorious morning, a royal blue cloudless sky, and a warm 15 knot wind just forward of the beam. Protected by islands, the waves were small. Osprey cut smoothly and swiftly through the water. Like a "horse to the barn", Osprey was racing towards Southwest Harbor.

Doug and I trimmed the sails just right, and lashed the helm. Osprey was self-steering. Actually, Doug and I created an imaginary helmsman, named Fred, who was steering the boat. With Fred on the helm Doug and I were free to roam. I went below and fixed coffee and breakfast. For miles Fred steered. Doug and I enjoyed the morning, the scenery, and Osprey flying through the water. To add to the euphoria was the satisfaction of safely crossing the Gulf of Maine. I look back on this as the most enjoyable sail of my life! It was perfect!


Sailing on, we encountered an amazing number of lobster pot buoys. which presented a unexpected challenge. We arrived at Southwest Harbor around noon. From Halifax to Southwest Harbor took more than 3 days, our longest sail to date.

We anchored in the harbor, and almost immediately we started getting curious looks from passer-bys. "Osprey's Back" was the talk of the town.

Ashore, Mom went into a drug store. Looking at postcards, she noticed a postcard of Southwest Harbor featuring a boat that looked like Osprey. Taking a second look, it was Osprey! Mom bought dozens of those postcards. I was proud to be on Osprey.


The plan was to spend a couple of weeks in Southwest Harbor. Dad wanted to take advantage of the craftsmen familiar with Osprey to get some repairs done, which would take sometime. Dad met the former captain of the boat. He always disliked that postcard picture of Osprey because the bumpers were over the side when the picture was shot. Dad was told about a lady who made pies. "Pies you can heft." I believe was the selling point that carried the day. So we ate delicious pies the whole stay.



A Hinkley yatch moored in Southwest Harbor, Maine; with Acadia National Park in the background.



Acadia National Park, the first National Park east of the Mississippi, was the major attraction on the Mt Desert Island. We climbed Cadillac Mountain. The view was spectacular.

We went on other side-trips around Mt Desert Island, but the big trip, and the most unbelievable story, was when Doug and I hitchhiked to Boston.

Our plan was to stay at a cheap hotel downtown, the Carlton House. and see the historical sites of Boston. We started out early Friday morning. Boston was nearly 300 miles away. It would take all day to get there. Doug and I caught a ride out to US Hwy 1. Then another ride or two south on US 1 to Camden. Maine. It was a little slow going. Now mid-afternoon, we stuck out our thumbs again.

This time a young man in two seater Triumph pulled over and offered us a ride. Fortunately, he was going all the way to Boston. Doug and I crammed into the passanger seat, spilling on to the console stick shift. We zoomed off.

As uncomfortable as this was, what really concerned us was the driver was speeding, doing 80 mph on the two lane road. I will never forget the first words out of his mouth, "My hassle is I got to get to the Western Union Office in Boston by five. My dad is wiring some money and I need to get there before they close." It was Friday and he couldn't wait till Monday to get the money. The driver was clearly upset. Doug and I feared for our lives.

Doug and I figured there was no way we would get there by 5:00pm even if he went 90 mph. That's if we didn't have an accident first. This is where Doug proved his worth. He came up with an idea, "In the next town we come to, you could go into a bank and see if the wire could be sent to that bank." The driver thought that made sense, and he slowed down. I thought, "Agarn, I don't know why they say you're so dumb!"

The next town was Bath, Maine. The driver went into the bank and came out a few minutes later. "Can they wire the money here? we asked.

"No, but the Western Union Office in Boston is open 24 hours!" he smiled. Now that the pressure was off he turned out to be a good humored guy. The driver's name was Rick Money, about 20 years old, from Ohio. He was heading to Boston, Cambridge really, to play his guitar in Harvard Square. He had heard it was a Mecca for street musicians. Also, he said there were lots of Coffee houses with live music. He was planning to stay at the YMCA.

In the bank, he got the word about the ship building museum in town. Before we left town we went to the museum. Everybody was relaxed and having a good time. It seemed Rick could find a joke in just about everything, just like Doug and I. We made quite a trio.

"Who says I'm dumb!!!" said Agarn.

Rick got directions to the Western Union Office at the bank too. We got to Boston after dark. We exited the freeway, went one block, looked around, and there was the Western Union Office. It was that easy. Rick went inside and got his wire. The next stop was Cambridge.

We didn't have directions to Cambridge. But how hard could it be to find a whole city? We just jumped back on the freeway and off we went. The first wrong turn took us down to "Old Ironsides" the US Constitution. We found this amusing. That was the start of a series of missed turns, and incidents that had us laughing for hours.

Leaving Old Ironsides, Rick mistakenly turned the wrong way on an empty one-way street. We yelled, "Rick, this is a one way street!" Before he could turn around we drove past a police station going the wrong way on the one way street. Rick said something funny. Another missed turn took us to Fenway Park. We pulled over to ask someone directions. They reccommended we take the subway. We pondered that, "Will the car fit on the subway?" We found this hystarical. Another time we drove past a crowd of people standing on a corner. Rick stopped the car and we all got out to ask directions. By the time we got back to the corner, everyone was gone, a bus was pulling away...more laughs and jokes.

Several hours after we started our search for Cambridge, we drove over a bridge and to our surprise we saw a sign that said "Welcome to Cambridge". We drove past the YMCA. Now to find Harvard Square. We saw a group of kids. Rick pulled over, rolled down his window to ask directions. Before he got a word out, a beautiful girl leans in and says, "You guys want to go to a party." "Yeah!" Rick said. Unbeknownst to us this WAS Harvard Square! The party was a few blocks away at one of the kids houses. Although the party wasn't much, they let us stay the night.

In the morning, Doug and I said good-bye to Rick. He was an entertaining guy. Doug and I took the mass transit to Boston. We took the walking historical tour around downtown Boston and checked into the Hotel. The Carlton House gave you everything you needed in a hotel room, a door, a window, 2 beds, a bathroom, and not much else.

The next day we went back to Harvard Square to check out the street musicians and the coffee shops. Who do you think we ran into? Rick Money! We decided to go somewhere, so Doug and I piled into the Triumph again. It was like old times, missed turns, wrong way on a one way street, and more zany antics.

Later, we actually did watch the street musicians, including Rick Money. I was praticularly impressed with a pantomime act. The coffee houses were also very entertaining.

The next day Doug and I hitchhiked back to Southwest Harbor and Osprey. Mom and Dad asked, "How was your trip to Boston?"

"Oh, it was very educational."



When the repairs were finished on Osprey, we set sail. Our next port of call was Provincetown MA, on Cape Cod, about 200 miles away. The sail was fairly close to shore the whole way. Which meant we knew where we were the whole way.

Although it was uneventful there was something that made this sail memorable. I was on the helm at night. We decided to reduce sail, by dropping the main. The mainsail was big, 470 square feet of canvas. We always used two people to handle the mainsail when we dropped it. Doug did it by himself without a hitch. From that point on I knew Doug was a sailor.

Provincetown and Cape Cod were completely different landscapes from what we just experienced. It had small sand bluffs over looking the ocean. Also, there were many more tourist, boats and people. The contrast made me appreciate Nova Scotia and Maine all the more.


From Cape Cod the plan was to do a series of day sails from Massachusetts to New York. The first stop was Martha's Vineyard. We sailed through the Cape Cod Canal, Buzzards Bay, and Woods Hole. We anchored out at Vineyard Haven.

A short sail away was Block Island.



From Block Island we sailed to Mystic Seaport Connecticut. Mystic was the first amusement park we had visited in a while. Actually it was more of a historical park, but it did have a Ferry Boat ride. The approach to Mystic Harbor was a river channel with sand shoals on the sides.

We heard the Ferry Boat whistle blow twice. We figured that meant the Ferry was coming out. Doug was at the helm. He held Osprey off to the side of the narrow channel, expertly using forward and reverse to hold our position.

The ferry didn't move. After about five minutes the whistle blew again and the ferry started backing out. At this point we figured the first whistle was just signalling the tourist that they had five minutes to get on the boat ride. None the less, Doug held his position feathering forward and reverse. I checked our position against the shore and I was amazed at the steady job Doug was doing.

The ferry backed into the channel, spun around, and started down river past us. Doug gave the ferry a wide berth holding Osprey perfectly still on the side of the channel. The tourists on the ferry smiled, pointed and waived at us. We smiled and wave back proud to be on the Osprey.

After the ferry past by Doug put it in forward and gave it some gas. Osprey didn't move. A little more gas...nothing. We were aground and probably had been for the last three paragraphs. You got to wonder what the tourist were smiling and pointing at..."Look Mommy, that boat's aground!" Doug gunned it and Osprey dislodged from the sand bar.

We docked in Mystic Seaport and explored the museum and boats the next day.


Our next stop was an Essex, Connecticut. Essex is about 10 miles up the Connecticut River. It was a very quaint and picturesque town.



We tied up to the municiple dock and walked through town to quaint and picturesque Inn and had a wonderful meal ashore. Essex displayed New England charm better than any place we went.



Our last stop on the Northeastern Seaboard was Stamford, Connecticut. We stayed at one of the largest marinas in the US, Yatch Haven West. Yatch Haven had lots of boats...ambiance not so much.



Being a bedroom community, Stamford has a commuter rail to New York City. I experience the morning commute with men and women who brought their cup of coffee and newspaper on the train for the hour ride. I tried to imagine what life would be like with an hour commute each way. This was only the second time I had visited New York City.

I was going to meet Joyce in New York City for a few days. I had found a cheap hotel, the Essex Hotel. (I think it was a sister hotel with the Carlton in Boston. They must have been a chain).

I arrived at Grand Central Station; Joyce was coming in at Port Authority. I walked down to the Essex Hotel ,which was on 42nd St near Broadway. In between Grand Central and Port Authority, less than a block from Times Square, it was a great location...until dark. After dark it was scary! At night, between the hookers and the drug dealers there was barely room on the sidewalk. The Essex had a back entrance which opened on to 43rd St which didn't have any street lighting. The front was so bad we opted for the dark alley. I apologized to Joyce for choosing such a sleezy Hotel.

While in New York Joyce and I did a number of the standard tourist things. We went to Central Park, the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, and saw a musical on Broadway "Pippen" with Ben Vereen. We also went to Nightclub in Greenwich Village, and listened to Ron Carter Jazz Bassist.

Some people go to New York and fit in. They have street smarts. They're in rythem with the City. That's not me. I am the tourist who is gauking at the Empire State Building and a passer by asks, "Is it still there?"

Yet I had a great time. When I was in New York I felt like I was at the center of the universe. I understand why they call it the big apple. It was an exciting diversion from the sail.

The sail from Cape Breton to Stamford was noteable for several reasons. It marked the first time we had sailed in the Atlantic Ocean, or any ocean for that matter. I saw my biggest wave. We accomplished our longest voyage, the three day crossing of the Gulf of Maine. The sail into Southwest Harbor was my all time favorite sail.

Our sailing skills had improved a lot, but the Atlantic would really test our skills, and Osprey, on the next leg of the journey.

The Journey of the Osprey: Kingston to Cape Breton

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.

The Journey of the Osprey: Bay City to Kingston

Where does the story begin? When a boy sailing on the Ohio River in a canoe rigged with a sail, dreams of sailing around the world? Or when the renowned boat builder builds the boat that would carry him? I'll start with the boat.



This is a picture of the Yacht Osprey under construction at The Hinckley Company in Southwest Harbor Maine. A Phillip Rhodes design, it was the last wooden boat and the last custom boat Hinckley built. It was the pride of the Hinckley fleet in Southwest Harbor, Osprey's home for over a decade. Think of how special this boat must have been to be pictured on the Hinckley website a half century after it was built.

It was built for the ocean with incredibly sturdy construction. Osprey was designed and built to sail around the world. It was it's destiny. Osprey gave confidence to an inexperienced crew that the trip would be successful. It was the perfect sailboat.



Osprey was a beautiful sailboat. Although this photo of a Hinckley yatch is not Osprey it has a lot of similarities: the sleek lines, the clipper bow, low freeboard, sloping transom, white hull, wooden spars, wooden toe rail, the forestay sail and the mizzenmast. The pictured boat is missing the center-cock pit and the dodger. I was always proud to be on Osprey. No matter the port, Osprey was the most beautiful sailboat in the harbor.



The Boy in a canoe rigged with a sail is my father, Joseph A. Noertker Jr. He says the dream of sailing was born on the Ohio river. About 30 years later he moved up to a Sunfish. We used to sail the Sunfish on Klinger Lake in southwest Michigan. That was the extent of our families sailing experience. We had never even handled a jib sail. Tacking was as simple as pushing the tiller and ducking.

Our lack of sailing experience was only the start of our lack of knowledge and experience. There was boat handling(i.e. docking), rules of the road, navigation, electronics, first aid, diesel engine maintenance and repair, anchoring, and just about everything else you need to know. One of the things we learned about anchoring is "Don't throw the anchor." Dad went about learning what he needed to know. He delegated some of the areas to other family members.

I was given the task of figuring out how we were going to do sail handling. I had never even seen how a jib changed from side to side. Yet this was the perfect task for me. This is the part of sailing I loved. I found a book at the U of M library about sail handling, a Naval Academy manual on sailing the Yuders 41 yaul. A yaul and a ketch are the same except for the placement of the mizzen mast. A big difference was that the Navy used a crew of nine we only had 4. But it was a great resource.

Then there was actually planning the trip. Dad read many an account of circumnavigators that went before him. He knew all the good ports of call and points of interest. He also took into account global storm seasons and schedule the trip accordingly. He did an amazing job of preparing for the trip.

In 1975, we did a shake down cruise on the Great Lakes. We sailed about 1,000 miles that summer. It was invaluable experience. The next summer we would start the trip around the world.



The around the world trip started virtually in our backyard. After searching for a suitable sailboat all over the U.S., Dad found Osprey in Bay City Michigan. Dad asked us if we would rather to sail out the St Lawrence seaway or demast, take the Erie Canal and save 1000 miles? Demasting sounded like a hassle. Sailing 1000 miles sounded like fun. My vote was to sail out the St. Lawrence.

This route would take us to most of the major Canadian cities in the east: Toronto, Kingston, Montreal, Quebec, and Halifax. 2000 miles to Nova Scotia and the Atlantic Ocean, then nearly the same down the Atlantic seaboard to Moorhead City North Carolina.


We prepared Osprey in dry dock for the Around the World trip at Bay City Marina. Dad lived and worked on the boat for months. He worked on many projects. My older brother, Steve worked on the boat there as well. He found some rot, dug it out and fixed it. I was impressed. I was there for a couple weeks.

My younger and I got the hateful task of repainting the hull. But first we had to sand the old red lead paint off. Using a power sander we sprayed red lead dust particles everywhere. It was a mess! We wore ventilation masks, however now knowing the health risks lead paint poses, its amazing that we didn't have any lasting effects...lasting effects...lasting effects... would you answer the phone!

We had a long list of tasks and a schedule for putting the boat in the water. Osprey went into the water on time, but some of the tasks didn't get done. The Osprey is a wooden boat and everyone knows wooden boats will seep a little water until the planks swell. So no one was too concerned as the boat filled with water when it was lowered on the slings. But the water kept coming in.

After a while we figured something was wrong. A search to find the source of the water began. We checked the through-hull-fittings. I pulled up the floor boards in the aft cabin, reached down and felt water pouring in. I felt a threaded metal hole in the bottom of the boat. I had no idea what it was. We raised the boat back out of the water. Someone who knew, screwed in the bottom plug and checked "Replace the Bottom Plug" off the "to do list".




None the less, early in the morning, the beginning of June 1976, the bi-centennial year, the Osprey and crew left Bay City Marina to sail around the world. The voyage of the Osprey started...ON-TIME.

While Doug and Mom tied up loose ends in Ann Arbor, Dad and I were going to sail to Detroit. We picked up an extra crew, a young man I had just met hitch-hiking up to Marquette a few weeks earlier. Think his name was Ned. The sail started out perfect. We sailed past the tip of the thumb at dusk, and night sailed south to Port Huron. It was a clear night with a light but steady wind. We used the lights from the small coastal towns to navigate.

In the morning we sailed under the Bluewater Bridge in Port Huron and the entrance to the St Clair River. We had very little wind, but we left our sails up and the engine idling (in case of an emergency). We slowly drifted our way down river. Dad hated using the engine.


This is a great picture because it really helps explain what happened on the St Clair River...when the engine died!

We were little more than drifting when the engine alarm went off. It was over heating. We had to shut it down. With plenty of freighter traffic, no wind and no engine we had our emergency. Dad looked on the chart trying to find a safe place to a drop and anchor. Ned and I went forward to prepare the anchor. Dad kept looking for a place, but because we kept drifting it was a moving target. Ned (standing at the bow with the anchor) and I (at the helm) were getting anxious, tensions were rising. We kept drifting, drifting and drifting.

Then, muttering something like "This is ridicules!" Ned just threw the anchor in the water. I remember thinking, "What are you doing? You're not suppose to throw an anchor!" But in seconds it became obvious that the anchor held and we had stopped. Calm returned to Osprey. We were on the side of the shipping lane not too far from a long dock sticking out into the river. I wouldn't be surprised if the dock is in the picture. Ned swam a line over to the dock and we winched the boat over. Quickly the Osprey was tied to the dock, safe and sound.

Ned took off almost as quickly. He left the way I had met him, hitchhiking. His parting words were something like "Good luck, you going to need it!" Truly the anchor could not have been thrown in a better place. However between you and me, I still think Ned should have lowered carefully.

Dad went a shore and got permission from the owners to stay at their dock. We were on Harson's Island. As luck would have it, this was a farming community with tractors that had Detroit Diesel engines like Osprey. Dad was able to find the part needed to repair the engine, which he did himself. I was impressed!

Because of the rather inauspicious beginning I would like to call this sail the unofficial start of the trip. With in a few days, Mom and Doug joined us at Harson's Island and the trip officially started.



We had no problem negotiating Lake St. Clair or the Detroit River. In fact, it was a beautiful day and a beautiful sail. But that afternoon when we got out into Lake Erie it was another story.

First the wind and the waves picked up from the east, which is where we were heading. Lake Erie is shallow and the waves get steep. It was rough. And there were freighters, each damn one of them on a collision coarse with us. Look at the picture...now imagine you are sailing in front of the the ship. Yeah, it was that scary!!!

I discovered an interesting phenomena. We were beating to windward and I could see we were on a collision course with a freighter. So I decided to steer to the left a little. This headed into the wind a little, which slowed us down, which compensated for the course change. We were still on a collision course. Then I decided to steer to the right a little. This made us go faster, which compensated for the course change, and were were still on a collision coarse. So no matter which way I steered we were on a collision coarse. There was only one thing to do..."Prepare to come about". Tacking in the short steep chop is no great honor either. We were probably under-sailed (not enough canvas) which made maneuvering difficult. Every once in a while it would take a second try to get through the wind, all the while a freighter is barreling down on us.

Eventually, we got out of the shipping lanes and away from the freighters. Next stop was the opposite end of Lake Erie, the Welland Canal...or so we thought.

That night when I got off the helm, I did some navigating. I looked at the chart. I saw Point Peele. I knew we would be going by the point during the night. But I knew we would clear of the point of land by plenty. So I yelled up to the helmsman a course and "all good water". The east wind had lightened and seas subsided. I slept like a baby.



I was awoken to the command of "All hands on deck! All hands on deck!" We had run aground on a sand bar that must have extended miles off Point Peele. We started inflating the dingy, to carry out an anchor, to kedge our way off the sand bar. These preparations took some time and before we could drop the dingy in the water, the gentle east wind and waves naturally pushed Osprey off the sand bar.

After putting the dingy and the anchor stuff away, I went back to bed, much humbler, and a little wiser a navigator. The official start to the around the world trip was even more inauspicious then the unofficial start.



The next obstacle was a must to avoid, Niagara Falls!


The Niagara Falls by pass is the Welland Canal.
The Lake Erie entrance to the Welland Canal is at Port Colborne, which we arrived at without further incidents.

This is where we went through Canadian Customs. The Customs agent visited us on board. He asked if we made any stops along the way. I remember thinking about telling him about our little stop at Point Peele. However, I decided he might not get the joke, so I kept my mouth shut.




The Welland Canal is about thirty miles long with 8 locks. It would take all day to transit. At each lock we would have to dock before we went in and again once we were in the lock. This gave us some much needed docking practice. I was at the helm for most of the dockings.



Once in the locks we put long dock lines around cleats. As we were lowered to the next level we payed out the lines.

We used tin cans to hold Osprey off the slimy walls as we went.


The next day we sailed across Lake Ontario to Toronto. It was a beautiful and short sail.

The original plan was to stay at the Royal Yatch Club in Toronto. But something kept us from going there, probably availability. We found space at an amusement park, Ontario Place. Because our docking was a circus act in the early days, it seemed fitting that we would bring our "circus on water" to an amusement park. However, the practice in the Welland Canal paid off and I docked Osprey in a rather tight spot on the breakwall in the photo.

Ontario Place was a great place to stay. There were plenty of things going on. I remember we saw Lionel Hampton play an outdoor concert.


Ontario Place also had a train station that could take us around Toronto.

Two things I remember doing in Toronto: Dinner at the restaurant on top of the Royal York Hotel. And going to a science museum. The museum demonstrated a laser, the size of a car, that burned a hole in a block of wood 20 feet away.

Our stay in Toronto was fantastic. It was the first exciting port of call of the trip, and gave us an idea of the adventure to come.
From Toronto, we continued our journey east in Lake Ontario. The sail from Toronto started hazy and turned into a dense fog in a hurry. Dad thought he would practice his celestial navigation. The results weren't that comforting, as he had us twenty miles inland on highway 2.

Not having electronic navigation, we used the tried and true method of navigation called "Dead Reckoning". That is estimating distance and direction and plotting it on the chart. Doug and I speculated how Dead Reckoning got it's name. It is a three step process. First the navigator plots his position and says "I reckon we're here." Then when that turns out to be wrong he says "I reckon we're lost." Then as the situation becomes perilous he says, "I reckon we're DEAD!"

We managed to find our way into the Coburg harbor using dead reckoning and the help of our radar.
From Coburg we sailed to the Bay de Quinte, which is a group of islands and narrow channels. We enjoyed the protected waters and a steady south wind. When we turned south in the channel to Picton we were heading into the wind. In the past we might have begged to use the engine. Dad hates using the engine. But this time Doug and I took up the challenge to tack in the narrow channel.

We must have tacked back and forth twenty times. Working hard to come about quickly. We trimmed the sails carefully, analyzing our speed and direction, trying to maximize our progress to windward. It was the best sailing we had done to that point.



Picton is a beautiful place. It was the first true vacation spot we visited.



Picton Ontario. This is a nice picture of the tranquility one can get on the water.

The sail from Picton to Kingston was also memerable for a couple reasons. We had great weather. It was a warm day with good winds and protected waters. We decided to lower the bowsan's chair from the mizzen boom into the water. We took turns sitting in the chair and swimming behind the boat. I think this playfulness showed a comfort level with sailing.


The other memerable moment came with some engine problem as we were approaching Kingston. There was no panic. Dad went below and fixed the problem. I was impressed.

We had sailed across two of the Great Lakes, maybe 500 miles or so. I think we were starting to get the hang of it.