A Sail Past is an English tradition of the Royal Navy where vessels are ceremonially inspected for readiness at sea, as well as signifying the beginning of the sailing season and showing respect for the current commodore. Barely a few days in St John’s, we receive a text from the previous commodore, Moya, inviting us to the Royal Newfoundland Yacht Club’s event along with a formal dinner thereafter. Retired merchant mariner, Max, picks us up on the cool evening but what we didn’t then realize was the true formality of it and the extent of personnel that would be present. Thinking we were smartly dressed was incorrect. We stood out with our thermals peeking from under our linen and fleece outfits, appearing much like the drifting sailors that we were. 

Before being seated, it’s customary to line up and shake hands with each prominent guest. This included the Lieutenant Governor of Newfoundland and Labrador, the Mayor and head of the Coast guard, among others. Awkwardly we spent a few minutes with each formulating small talk while trying to discern who was who, of what importance and reasoning why the two of us might have been present. I mentioned to Ben of the hongi, a maori greeting in which two people greet by pressing their nose and forehead together. In the end I made friends with the King’s representatives personal driver, asking him all the juicy questions. We had a lovely evening with only a few political rants (which involved subjects like mental health and free yoga); a few mumblings of an anthem or two, Beef Wellington and smuggled in 1994 port to displace the default. Thanks Moya for the invite, company and delicious liquid dessert! 

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Five days in the foggy, thick air of St Johns we decided to take Terry’s offer and sail around to Conception Bay and finish our prep at his dock. The evening before we departed another sailing vessel showed up in the harbour having sailed in from the Azores. It was arranged that we would pull out, let them tie to the dock and we to them, for an easy departure first thing. SV Skokica is a Slovenian vessel and her captain, Miran, will be heading in a similar direction so we hope to catch up with him down the line. 

This time sailing back through the channel we could actually see the colourful old buildings perched on the hillside as we made our way back out to the ocean. Leaving before a front was due meant we motored up and around Cape St Francis – kindly the sun had come out and we were greeted by our first Minke whale. The dock consisted of a private wharf jutting out to barely deep enough waters and included its own wee boat shack. Along with the dock, Terry also lent us a car with heated seats for the next ten days. This was beyond generous and in hindsight, imperative and we don’t know how we would have gotten by otherwise in this surprisingly sprawling metropolitan city. 

We spent the next few days cleaning the boat, running around to the outdoor and thrift stores for warm clothes, adding interior insulation and sewing hatch covers to keep in the heat, getting our spare injectors tested, finding and purchasing a new life raft etc. before Josiah was due in to spend the summer with us. Cold water environments mean a new level of preparedness and projects but one that we’re excited for. We also go and explore more of the walks around St Johns when the sun finally came out. The community of houses along the hillside were a treat; tightly packed and brightly painted with small pathways and stairs leading up and down the hill, and eventually along the channel to Signal Hill – an important site for hundreds of years in the defense of the province and its maritime hotspot of St John’s harbour, including being the location of the first transatlantic wireless communication. 

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Tuk is the Inuit name for an ice pole. A long light shaft with a pointy end that is intended to move ice out from one’s path. Back in Trepassey, Stephen, a local whom we met in Bermuda – and Terry’s son – had us send him some of the things that were on our project list for when we arrived in the city. He came back with contacts for the best spots to get stuff, as well as his discount through certain vendors. Unbeknownst to us, he custom made and gifted us a pair of Tuks. The poles were designed and cut by laser then riveted to an aluminum tube with thoughtfully capped ends and some hockey tape for grip. It might make sense that he has an aluminium manufacturing business. However, totally unsolicited and totally awesome! It’s apparent that our summer may involve some icy waters. Later we spend a fine evening at Stephen and Amanda’s dining on a mix of hunted moose, local cow and pig burgers as well as a take home bag of the local patties, cod fish, bacon and preserves! 

On the 15th June, Josiah’s flight was delayed so we hit the nearby brewery in Qidi Vidi; the building and restaurant outcropped over the water in the narrow cliffside harbour with fishing shacks built into it on the opposite side and only accessed by boat. A very cute spot with some sunshine and good beer to boot. We eventually sneak into the baggage claim of the airport and spot a bearded man with a few large duffles of gear who could only be from Alaska and packed for a summer aboard a boat. Excited that it’s finally happening and all lined up – a summer adventure towards the Arctic.

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The next few days Josiah gets acquainted with Caprivi and his home for the next few months. We go through her systems, revisiting and updating our medical supplies, grab bag and safety procedures. We finish up a few more projects and fill the boat with more food, line and diesel cans. Eight cans which were donated by Stephen having been scavenged from his man-shed along with dive weights and more warm clothing. We enjoy an evening at Moya’s summer cottage with friends and leave with a whole extra home-made lasagne which we convieniently serve the following, rather dreary, evening on Caprivi with our Newfie friends, serving as a thank you and a farewell. 

I really haven’t mentioned half of the generosity we’ve received from the locals these past couple of weeks as well as the fun had, having been scooped up into the small scene of boaters. It seems the island is known to be this way and reminds me a little of home with a similar openness. Special thanks go to Terry and Stephen, as well as Max for their willingness and steadfastness to make sure we had and could get what we needed and enjoy our time while at it. THANK YOU – you were the best part. 

The day of the summer solstice didn’t look appealing for sailing for no wind was forecast. However, it was important that we left and much too easy to remain. The morning was gloomy in rain and chill; our diesel stove still cranking away. We gathered ourselves together by noon and the weather finally broke out; clear skies and sunshine – at long last, the summer was finally here for Newfoundland! What felt a little momentous, we left the dock and headed for fuel. Tim, a local at the yacht club in a multi-year boat refit, simply handed us a bottle of screech and wished us fair winds. Historically, salted fish (cod preserved in salt) was shipped to the West Indies from these waters and in exchange the sailors brought back Jamaican rum and from then on became the traditional drink of choice for Newfoundland. By the early start of 1400hrs, we headed out into the bay. A beautiful day and we found some wind to milk for a while before it petered out behind Bell Island. Nevertheless, sunshine, Minke whales and sea life plentiful, and we were on our course. 

It was a short sail towards Bay de Verde, located in the north of Conception Bay, and we surprisingly spot our first iceberg and a stunner at that! A few miles out from the large body of ice, we discussed our etiquette around icebergs and our activity around them – thankfully the boys had appropriate answers denoting safety and respect, which was rather timingly as on approach we watched it start to crumble with large chunks crashing into the water, creating ripples of waves; it’s impressive arch still hanging on. 

We arrived in Bay de Verde right after sunset to a perfect floating dock between the fishing boats and were greeted by locals Will and Jen who gave us a tour of the small picturesque village between the two bays. They had been notified by Max that we were due in and came to say hi. By early morning we moved on sailing through our first tickle, Baccalieu, between the mainland and an ecological island reserve for the many Atlantic puffin birds. A tickle is simply a narrow passage between two pieces of land. It later becomes apparent that one could spend a lifetime learning the slang, sayings and unusual names of the Newfoundland version of the English language. It should also be noted the Irish ties that are inherently linked with this island. I’m not really sure the immediate connection but it’s like Ireland’s bigger, long lost cousin – it is splendidly unique. 

Landing in Bonavista harbour at 2040 hrs, we tie up to the bird-poop infested dock and Josiah googles the closest pub and we swiftly get walking. Jerry the dockmaser had seen us on AIS and waited past working hours to greet us as Mirrakel and ourselves were the first two visiting vessels of the season, but we were a bit too late for a welcome. On our way back home we passed by Mifflin’s Tea Room and joined the small living quarters of the house-turned-tearoom for a little live music subtly heard from on the street. Six tables squeezed in together with glass cabinets and shelves hosting antique tea kettle sets. An odd setting but warmly welcoming and cozy. The artist sang longingly for his island home of Newfoundland and we soaked it in with local IPA’s and a moose’s milk for myself – contents unknown. We stay one more day to wait for the wind and have a lazy one. In the afternoon Josiah and I practiced docking for a couple of hours. Ironically, Caprivi hasn’t been to many docks and consequently I haven’t really docked my boat. It’s something of proximity and it just doesn’t come up. So this easy, if not smelly, side-to dock and no wind was perfect to put the time in. 

Our trip to Fogo Island was a long one and a windless one. It was meant to be a perfect day’s sail but the forecast was completely wrong which is uncharacteristic. We pass more icebergs and harvest a small floating chunk and hack it into small ice sized pieces for cocktails. They say this water is 10,000 years old – the ice crackley and satisfying in one’s drink. As we rounded the tight channel into Fogo harbour, an impressive wave of heat hit us from the land so much so that we had to remove some layers. We find a spot near the fishing docks and rest up in the following days rain and fog. A lot of that happens here and it’s been a dreary June for the locals and of course completely opposite to last year. However, by the next day it becomes a stunner and we venture out, meet some locals and check out one of the satirical four corners of the world – Brimstone Head. Canada’s Flat Earth Society was established in the 70’s to promote critical thinking and cunningly “attempt to prove in convincing fashion, something everyone knew to be false”. 

We departed the same evening for an overnight sail to St Anthony’s across Notre Dame Bay. Winds were light but in our favour and the moon gave just enough light to help with our visuals on icebergs. We left Fogo, known to have a concentrated amount of bergs which travel south from Greenland, down the Labrador current and eventually become grounded along this stretch of coast. By dark we were well offshore and away from this area, however, each keeping a vigilant watch as they were to appear again by daylight on the next coast. 

Near the entrance to St Anthony’s one lone tower of iceberg stood out above all so we gybed the spinnaker and headed towards it with Josiah on the helm, Ben flying the drone and myself just in awe as it dwarfed our 65ft mast in seconds. The wind wallowed about in the lee, we returned to our course and now with a good beam wind sailing 8kts towards land. Near the entrance we switched out to the genoa and as we hit the narrow channel a Minke whale surfaced mere feet from Caprivi swimming parallel with us into the protected harbour. Upon asking the Coast Guard personnel where we could tie up, he yelled back “anywhere!”

Our goal in St Anthonys was fuel and fresh food which wouldn’t be available until we got to Nuuk, Greenland in a few weeks. We didn’t need much so we each carried two jerry cans down to the gas station one mile down the road, hoping someone might fancy us a lift on our way back. Before we knew it, Bruce had passed by and then five minutes later flipped around as he began to feel bad that he hadn’t stopped and we got fuel back to the boat in a jiffy. We hit the local brewery for a beer and checked out the scene. Nearby, L’Anse Aux Meadow is the location of the first landing of Europeans 1,000 years ago by Leif Erikson and the Vikings. Unfortunately we didn’t have time to visit. 

Back at the boat, we realized two of our diesel cans had a minute leak and had spilled on deck and a little in the water – an unusual culprit amongst fishing vessels. Unfortunate and a brand new jerry can as well. The boys clean up and I cook the snow crab that a lady had just gifted us. I would say it was the best crustacean I have had in a long time. Of course, later that night Josiah goes back to the brewery and gets given a full lobster meal, which apparently aren’t that sought after up here. 

Early the following morning we untie for our crossing of the Strait of Belle Isle towards Labrador and mainland Canada to explore some more while we wait for weather for our hop to Greenland. Meanwhile we visit old fishing outposts, meet some other sailors and relish sailing as a crew of three which has brought a whole new level of fun.

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