SHELBURNE

Shelburne is another cruisers delight. The yacht club welcomes visitors with open arms, showers and bar. Nothing is too much trouble for them. The town is steeped in history with buildings to match. Settled in 1783 by British Loyalists fleeing the American Revolution it was ironically named Shelburne after the Prime Minister of England who caved in to the revolutionaries.
Many of the oldest buildings have been restored and in 1993 was further restored so that it could be used as a location for the movie "Scarlet Letter".
The very first people we met said "You must have a meal at "Charlotte Lane" restaurant, the food is superb." We had similar recommendations from everyone else we met that day. It was Sunday and we attended worship at the United Church, with yet another female minister and wonderful music including a hand bell offertory. Then we set off for "Charlotte Lane" only to discover that it is closed on Sunday and Monday, the only two days we felt we could afford to spend in Shelburne. Expressing our disappointment out loud to a local woman we were invited next door to her home. She and her husband moved to Shelburne a few years ago and have set up a workshop where Forbes makes the most beautifully crafted wooden flutes we have ever seen. On their recommendation we headed for the local bakery to enjoy our first "Reuben", (grilled rye bread with Pastrami, sour kraut and Swiss cheese). Bonnie liked it so much that she is determined to add it to her culinary creations. Dinner guests beware.

We loved Shelburne and were tempted to stay longer than two days but the weather pattern was good and we were running out of warm sunny days. Several other boats were leaving to sail to Maine and as one was leaving the dock Bonnie and I sang them off with our Farewell Sea Shanty.
We now faced another formidable passage requiring us to sail overnight around the foot of Nova Scotia, noted for its strong currents, and across the Bay of Fundy where the biggest tidal range in the world occurs. One tidal station records rises exceeding 16 metres several times a year. We needed to get it right.

LUNENBURG

The sailing and navigating to Lunenburg was easy, gentle breezes and smooth seas. Before we arrived in the entrance of the harbour a mist had rolled in and we were greeted by a fleet of schooners. It was the day of the annual schooner race. They presented a wonderful sight. We were able to sail right into the harbour and just as we entered we were greeted by the most famous of all the schooners Bluenose 11 as she left with a load of paying customers. She is a replica of the original Bluenose Schooner whose image graces the Canadian dime. Launched in 1921 as a fishing schooner she was designed to be not only a grand banks fishing boat but also the fastest working schooner the world had ever seen. The America's Cup was regarded as something for sissies and only sailed in light winds. This was a boat for all seasons and out sailed every other working schooner ever built. She was unbeaten in her home waters. She was eventually sold and wrecked on the shoals of Haiti. During her quarter of a century as the Queen of the ocean she had caught the imagination of people around the world. The replica that greeted us was built in Lunenburg at the same shipyard as the original and although it is debated by some of the locals she is as close as possible an exact copy of the original and a truly magnificent sight. We were in Lunenburg for 6 days and every day we went ashore in our dinghy we tied up at a dinghy dock alongside Bluenose 11 and never ceased to lose our awe at the sheer beauty of her lines.


There is more to Lunenburg than the Bluenose 11. When Cornwallis established Halifax as a British harbour in 1749 he decided that the settlers already living there who were not British should be moved so 453 people (about two-thirds German, one third French and Swiss) were transported to Lunenberg so named to honour George II of England who as Elector of Hanover held the Duchy of Lunenburg in Germany.
Many of the buildings hold a charm and character of old Europe, the protestant churches including a large Lutheran church dominate the skyline and the surnames of the residents still contain many straight from a German or French phone directory. Our shaken down motor was checked by a mechanic named Knickle a direct descendant from an original German family.
We enjoyed a lamb barbecue to celebrate the end of the schooner race, visited numerous galleries, cafes and churches including the magnificent Anglican church rebuilt after a fire in the original carpentry Gothic style. There we shared in an hour of pipe organ recital and hymns.
We spent considerable time with Keith and Ann who now had their boat Ketchup II in the boat yard with two big holes in the hull and all the hassles of trying to get the right epoxy bond and plaster work done to repair her ferro cement hull. They had run foul of some uncharted rocks further up the coast. They have created a stir among the Canadian Hydrography Department.
We needed to press on and thought we would sail to Port Mouton so named because Champlain lost a sheep overboard there in 1604. The winds were too good for that so at the last minute we decided to sail straight through to Shelburne. We were hitting 8 knots or more in NW breeze of 20-25 knots and picked up a mooring at the Shelburne Yacht Club just before dark having travelled 85 nautical miles in less than 12 hours.

LEAVING BADDECK

It seemed strange but we both felt very sad to be leaving Baddeck. We had loved the culture, the people and its scenic beauty. We had made good friends, attended worship at the United Church, attended a choral singing workshop, been visited by Karen, their minister, loaned a private car to tour the Cape Breton trail and received excellent service from everyone. Even strangers would greet us in the street with a cheery, "Hello, you're still here?"
The motor arrived back in the nick of time as there was a gale warning out for the Saturday with winds SE 45 knots. Had we remained on the dock we would have been severely battered against it. The motor was installed on Friday afternoon but we had difficulty starting it. Sparks were seen to be flying out from under the exhaust box. The mechanic lifted the box to discover that the main positive cable to the starting motor had corroded to copper oxide with only two strands of the cable still intact. It had to be replaced and it was 7pm. Bruce sent the two mechanics home and worked until 10pm. to remove the massive batteries, battery box floor and finally the offending cable so that a replacement could be fitted. Saturday morning a new cable was installed, the motor started and we were able to motor up to Herring Cove a wonderfully protected hurricane hole and dropped anchor just before the gale hit.
The next day we motored back, the mechanic checked the motor on Monday and we were off down the lake through Barra Strait to drop anchor in Damien Cove. We were the only boat at anchor in the picturesque cove and as the forecast for the next day was for light winds we were keen to head south. Dense fog prevented an early start but as soon as it lifted we headed for the St Peters Canal and were through and on our way by 1100h. It was almost a dead calm so we had to give our rebuilt motor a good workout. We decided to try to get right through to Halifax by travelling through the night varying engine revs every 20 minutes to run it in. As we approached Halifax the winds picked up from the S and we were able to romp into Halifax Harbour at a boat speed of 7 to 8 knots.
We refuelled and anchored off the Armdale yacht club for 3 nights until a favourable forecast motivated us to leave for Lunenburg.

LOUISBOURG

STRANDED IN BADDECK

We had revelled in this wonderful cruising ground with its numerous perfect anchorages, made some wonderful new yachting friends and met up with another Aussie couple Keith and Ann, cruising the world on their yacht Ketchup II. We were about to leave the Bras D'Or to return to Halifax to undertake some minor repairs on our motor before heading down the coast to the USA. The smell of diesel was very strong so we decided to check what had previously been a minor leak from the injector pump. The minor leak had turned into a fast drip and by hanging a container under the drip to collect the leaking fuel we were able to estimate we were losing about 1 litre an hour into the bilge. We really had no choice. Ketchup II towed us half way to Baddeck and we sailed the rest of the way. Baddeck Marine had the motor promptly removed and sent to Halifax. The diagnosis indicated expensive repairs and a waiting time for parts to arrive from England. We have now been back in Baddeck for 2 weeks but have been promised the motor will be back early next week. Baddeck is a wonderful place to be stranded for three weeks. The town has a permanent population of less than 1000 and everything, including supermarket, restaurants and churches are only a few minutes walk away from the dock. On a foggy rainy morning we set off in a rented car to visit Louisbourg a reconstruction of about a quarter of what was once one of the largest and busiest ports on the eastern seaboard of America. It was French until conquered and destroyed by the British. The reconstruction is so well done and the French speaking period dressed characters so believable we had to keep reminding ourselves that it was only a replica and not the real thing. What a wonderful way to learn some of your history. We have also made good use of our time with other boat maintenance tasks. Unfortunately the loss of time means that it is getting colder, the hurricane season is more advanced and we will be under greater pressure to move south as soon as we can. The first of the autumnal hues are beginning to appear in the surrounding forests.

BRAS D'OR LAKES

NEXT DOOR TO HEAVEN
An elderly story teller told us the other day about the people of Cape Breton Island who are now scattered all over the world. Every one of them says he or she would go back..if only they could find work there etc. Well according to this story teller a man died and went to heaven and walking around saw a huge concrete wall. "What is that for?" he asked. "All the Cape Bretoners are behind that wall. If we didn't have that they'd all go back", came the reply. So according to Cape Bretoners this is next door to heaven.

For a cruising sailor it certainly comes close to perfection. As usual getting here was not easy. On Monday August 6 we were ready to leave Halifax and planned to sail about 10 miles offshore direct to St Peter's canal, a journey of approximately 160 nautical miles. Bruce was still suffering from jet lag and the forecast for the next day included strong winds, rain and fog. The forecast for later in the week looked even worse so we decided to take the risk. We started early in the morning in calm, misty conditions. The mist lifted and the breeze filled in . It was a perfect day and we were romping along at about 7 knots. At that speed we calculated we would arrive in the dark and fog too early on Tuesday for the lock operation at the canal. We did not relish the idea of winding through the narrow channels into the canal without good visibility. We slowed down. Tuesday morning was overcast with a few light showers but without the fog and strong winds that had been forecast. We had no problems navigating into the lock and being lifted about 3 feet to the level of the Bras D'Or lakes. The lakes are huge salt water lakes open to the sea on the north but the difference in tides means there is nearly always a difference in levels at St Peters where a canal was cut through the isthmus and opened in 1869.

By the time we had picked up a mooring at St Peters marina which is kept in immaculate condition and run by the local Lions club we had been travelling for 28 hours. One night to recover and we were off to explore the lakes. It seemed strange to be in salt water in huge lakes surrounded by magnificent mountains clad in dense forest of deciduous and evergreen trees. The anchorages are beyond compare. A gale warning was out for the next day so we headed for a tight protected anchorage called Cape George Harbour. The entrance was so narrow that we found it hard to believe that an ocean going yacht the size of ours could enter. The water was deep and led to a totally protected anchorage with just enough swinging room but surrounded by forest. This surely is a cruisers dream. It was the first of many wonderful anchorages, all pristine wilderness spots offering great protection. Although the lakes are large the water is warm and even in strong winds only seems to build to a tolerable chop. After 5 days of heavenly wilderness we headed through the Barra Strait through an opening road bridge to the town of Baddeck (population 1000). It is a picturesque little town hugging the edge of the Great Bras D'Or and offers many delights to the visitor. We attended our first Ceilidh with blazing fiddles, jigs, Gaelic songs, poetry, stories and step dancing. Bonnie and I sat in the front row and were volunteered to learn some of the dance steps. What great fun! As we sailed into Baddeck we spotted a magnificent mansion built on a high point. "Wow" said Bruce, "How would you like the views from there". We later discovered that what we were looking at was Beinn Breagh the home built by Alexander Graham Bell the inventor of the telephone and still used by his descendants. Bell and his wife Mabel were both buried on Beinn Breagh. Every visitor to Baddeck must visit the Bell museum. It is a beautiful monument to a man who not only invented the telephone but pioneered human flight, hydroplanes and light transmitted sound. He is still spoken about with great reverence by the people in the town.
More wonderful protected anchorages inspired conversation like, "Let's sell the boat and buy or build a cottage on one of these bays. Six months a year in Australia and six months a year in the summer in Cape Breton seem like a good way to wind down in life." The thought of leaving and beating back along the coast into the prevailing wind does not have a lot of appeal after this heaven.

A FREE LUNCH

We had been in Halifax once before in our lives, the summer of 1971 but spent most of our time in Dartmouth at a church conference. We could not really remember much of Halifax at all and like all cities it has changed dramatically in the last 36 years. Walking down the main street, Barrington Street one day we noticed a sign in front of an old Anglican Church. It read, "There is such a thing as a free lunch. Meet with the Rector for lunch at 12.00 noon on Wednesday; no sermon; no strings attached." The next day our bus arrived in the city at 1215 and Bonnie said, "Today is Wednesday, I wonder if we are still in time for the free lunch. We almost ran into the church as any yachtie offered a free meal would do. We were welcomed warmly and fed well on freshly made sandwiches and tea. One of the parishioners asked polite questions like, "Where are you from?", "Is this your first visit to Halifax?" Bruce replied vaguely, "I think I've been here before; as a matter of fact I think I was the guest preacher at this church in July 1971." One of them disappeared into the church archives and returned with an ancient looking vestry book. We turned the yellowing pages gently to July 1971 but there was no record of Bruce as preacher. We turned the page again to August 1971 and there on the second Sunday in August at the 11am service of Morning Prayer was the unmistakable scrawl of one K.B. Marriott as preacher. We were flabbergasted. Bruce said, "The building seems right but I was sure it had a road in front of it". "It did",came the reply, "The road was closed a few years ago to create a park between the church and the City Hall." The church was St Paul's; the oldest Anglican Church in Canada built in 1750. We now knew that we were part of history so we decided it should be our spiritual home for the short time we were to remain in Halifax.
Halifax has been the centre of several of the world's greatest civilian disasters (not including Bruce's preaching). It was the rescue centre and morgue for the Titanic disaster and the centre of the biggest man made explosion prior to the atomic bomb. Both are movingly recorded in the Maritime Museum. We knew very little about the Halifax explosion which occurred in 1917 when two ships collided in the harbour. One was a French ship heavily laden with the most powerful explosives then known and heading for the war in Europe. A fire started and she drifted towards the dock before she exploded. More than 2000 people were killed and many thousand more injured. St Paul's church became a morgue with dead bodies literally stacked everywhere.

After a few more touristy things we were ready to leave for the Bras D'Or lakes in Cape Breton Island, when we received an urgent phone call. Bruce's sister Dorothy was fading quickly. We now knew why we had felt compelled to make a rush trip to Newfoundland and were still in Halifax. It was possible for Bruce to fly home leaving Bonnie on the boat securely moored at the Armdale Yacht Cub with great support from some of the club and church members. The nightmare of 10 flights, 12 security checks, preparing and delivering a funeral eulogy for Dorothy and handing over her affairs to her executors; all in 7 days will hopefully fade into a lost file one day. It was all a bit much for the old man and on his return, after standing in line for 2 hours to check in to a hotel at JFK and over 2 hours lined up the airport, he missed his flight from New York to Boston. Fortunately he was able to get on later flights the same day. A few days of recovery and we were sailing into a cruisers heaven; Bras D'Or lakes, Cape Breton Island.