THE ADVENTURES OF ASYLUM III

Linda and Peter Walsh

We left home on July 14th, 2004 and got almost 20 miles down Northumberland Strait before we realized that the winds were definitely not going to cooperate. They were right on our nose and we thought we'd drop anchor in a nice little sheltered spot we know well and spend the night. The winds made sure that it was a nice bumpy spot and we ended up tied to a fishing boat at the wharf in Cap Pele, where we stayed for two days waiting for a storm to pass. What an inauspicious beginning! Nice friendly visits from the locals, though.

We got the wind eventually that took us under the Confederation Bridge between P.E.I. and New Brunswick but then the wind just disappeared. We motored way too long to suit The Captain. He decided to keep going overnight and in the wee hours, the wind came up big time and blew us quite smartly through rough seas until it again died in the early morning hours just before the Strait of Canso. The First Mate slept through all the rough stuff. We had a quiet passage through the Canso Lock ... and it would have gone quite smoothly if the Lock Master hadn't confused his left and right and instructed us to put our lines and fenders on the wrong (starboard) side! I kept saying, "this isn't right; we had our bumpers on the port side last time". I should have listened to myself and avoided the last-minute scramble. The Lock Master just shrugged and smiled :o)

Once we were on our way to Canso we decided not to make a stop there, right up until we got past the entrance to Canso and sailed into more rough weather - on the nose and decided that the predicted Gale coming up the Eastern Seaboard was not going to be something we wanted to sail into. The benefit of waiting it out at anchor in Canso was that we got to walk around town a bit and got to take a much-needed shower at the Marina. After two days of heavy rain, and thick fog, Peter announced to me that I might as well get my wet gear on and accept that we were going to be facing a lot of similar weather underway and we might as well get moving. Boy, was he right.

Let me state once and for all .... I HATE FOG! All the way down the coast of Nova Scotia we were in thick, wet fog. It spooks me to my bone marrow. Every once in awhile, I would hear a fog horn, wondering if it was ashore or on a boat; occasionally, I would hear a boat engine nearby and wondered "do they know we are here?". I just had to hang on to the thought that no other idiots would be out in the fog without radar. We know from past experience that we show up well on radar with our reflector in the rigging. Learned that from being contacted by a fishing boat off Nova Scotia on our return trip to Canada from Venezuela in 1999. He said we showed up "just like a big boat".

A few prayers to the Fog Gods were answered just before we got to the entrance to Shelburne, N.S. We had never been there before and knew it would be a long way in to the town with many buoys to avoid. Of course, being us, we had no local charts or anything. But Peter had been given The Atlantic Coast Sailing Directions as a gift many years ago from his students in the Advanced Piloting Course he taught through the Canadian Power & Sail Squadron, and it came in very handy. Just as we got to the entrance buoy, the fog started to dissipate and we had a lovely sail into Shelburne in the sunshine. What a pretty little place it is, too. We were looking forward to taking a shower at the local Yacht Club but forgot to ask about it when we went ashore! No problem; we'd do it the following day. The morning showed us we had the perfect wind for sailing out of Shelburne, so .... yep. Just use extra deodorant and haul in the dinghy.

Our voyage across the Gulf of Maine was again in fog. So often we were wet and cold. This is not the fun part of cruising but we kept thinking about how nice it would be to be on the boat this winter instead of home with snowstorms. We had almost no wind for much of this crossing but Peter would have those sails up at the slightest sign of wind, even if we were moving at 2 knots - anything but listening to or smelling the diesel engine's fumes. He would throw our VOLVO Pentacostalottal overboard if I'd let him.

It was during the first night out of Shelburne that we got contacted at 0130 h. on VHF by Canadian Warship 704 and Peter was asked questions. He still chuckles over the question "What cargo are you carrying?" and he replied "This is a pleasure boat; I'm not carrying any cargo". He could just imagine the Officer writing down the information thinking, "Pleasure Boat? The guy's wet & cold in thick fog! Where's the pleasure?"

We made our way through more fog to drop anchor around midnight in Provincetown, Mass. We thought we could clear Customs here but we were mistaken. In the pouring rain, Peter rowed in to see the Harbour Master who contacted Customs for him and Customs told him to "take the day to rest because the weather is so awful" and come across Cape Cod Bay to Sandwich next morning. He said he would meet us there at the Marina and clear us in. Both the Customs Officer and the Immigration Officer who boarded us were courteous and helpful. They both even told us how they envied us!

Peter begrudged the fact that although it was lovely and windy going down the Cape Cod Canal and down Buzzard's Bay the following day, the wind was on our nose! He wanted to sail so badly and he had uncomplimentary words for the lovely sailboats we kept meeting who were going the opposite direction using their motors. He did get to tack through Quick's Hole right up until we again ran out of wind and ran into more fog. There were many ships out there that I could hear and some were pretty close. But by the time the Full Moon (the Blue Moon) of July 31st came up in all that magnificent golden light, the fog was gone, the wind had risen and we had quite the trip on the ocean, never seeing anything bothersome. We thought we might see a lot of New York traffic but didn't. By early morning, the wind had again died and we went into the Ditch (the Intercoastal Waterway) in New Jersey. We stayed in the Ditch all that day and the next, listening to reports on Hurricane ALEX. We overnighted in a nice little cove across from Trump's Gambling Emporium in Atlantic City. The captain made sure I never got near a slot machine. I've been known to blow all my dough on Crown and Anchor games at Shediac Lobster Festivals.

Peter was really excited hearing about ALEX because he rightly predicted that the winds would turn from their usual southerly direction to a northerly direction and would take us down the coast of N.J., the Carolinas, Georgia and with luck, right to Jacksonville, Florida. And it did! By the time we were off the Outer Banks, we ran into a series of serious thunder-lightening storms, much wind, much rain and much fear on my part. During one of the heavy rainfalls, Peter mentioned the fresh water going to waste when we were in much need of showers. I grabbed the soap and went out into the cockpit and had a great shower. Then I got into fresh, clean clothes and felt like a million bucks and stopped being scared. Later, I got splashed by a wave that broke on the boat and came into the cabin and on me in my bunk; but then, I was more mad than frightened. There went my hard-won fresh bath.

We sailed up the St. John's River through Jacksonville to Palatka just before Hurricanes BONNIE and CHARLEY arrived. ASYLUM III was safe on the hard in the boatyard near Palatka the afternoon of Friday the 13th of August. Four weeks from home to there! Remarkable, eh wot?

I was rather tense on board listening to the radio hype about the impending storm and Peter slept through it all. We only got some heavy wind and rain for a short while and the boat shook a bit but we felt very lucky that this was all we - and the boat - had to endure.

Getting home proved to be a challenge. Transportation was chaotic. Flying was out of the question for cost; train would only get us to Portland, Me. and Car Rental would cost us $130./day. Peter thought "I can buy a wreck and drive it home for that money" so he did. We are now trying to jump through the hoops to get our 1991 Honda Civic through our Dept. of Transport requirements to get it licensed. Hopefully, we'll recoup our travel costs by selling the car. {nota. we did sell the car. The result was the cost of coming home was the price of the gas and our meals & accommodations. Caution: check the Immigration Requirements before you buy a car}

Editor's note: Since this story, Linda & Peter are back down south, happy to be sailing again