- Living on the tides
If there was ever a little port to get blown into on an ebbing tide, it is Saint Jean Port Joli on the St. Lawrence River. It was two days sail from Quebec city for us. Because of the tides one must be safely tucked into their respective slip before the tide falls to the point where access to the marina is not possible.
It would strike me as inconvenience to have my vessel's usage restricted by the tides. There is the interesting element that it connects one closer with the lunar cycle and the pulse of the river; yet my preference is to sail when desired instead of always with the tides.
However this is the reality of the area and one need respect that cycle to stay safe in its local waters.
- Exploring the town
It was such a lovely day that it seemed perfect for a walk into town to visit the bank for some laundry change as well as the local grocery store for some needed supplies.
Not only is the town picturesque but very closeknit. To give two example. On my first day here a visit was made to the tourist bureau. The young lady was very helpful and even brought to my attention their free bicycle loaning service.
Later that night a visit was made to the marina's pub and who should be our waitress but the same delightful young lady! The same thing happened with another friendly community member serving our table in two different cafes at two different times.
The town has the look and feel of traditional Quebecois culture. It has been great to dive into speaking French again after many long years of being away from it.
The influence of the Catholic Church has been a long one and church bells are ringing regularly throughout the day even this day and age.
That influence continues throughout a community member's lifetime.
- Mr. Fish's Legacy
Mr. Fish took it upon himself to seek out members of the marina community for advice and aid in my name. It seemed to present me as a pathetic lost soul who needed to be taken by the hand for the rest of the passage. Perhaps he's right. Time will tell.
My guess is that his heart was, somewhat, in the right place and that is, likely, how he views me. He probably feels that had he not been with me from Quebec that Saint Jean Port Joli would have never been reached.
Regardless of this one last dig, he did bring two interesting fellows into my life.
Alan is an old salt who manages the marina. He is currently in the process of dismantling it for the season. They have to remove all the docks due to the heavy ice. He would be willing to accompany me to Halifax once finished with the marina for the season.
He brings ocean crossing skills to the table. However such a wait for a crewmember is not my desire. Checking the tides and charts this morning both the wind and tides were in my favor at about 5am. My next port of call is about 49NM down river from here. With enough diesel in jugs on the deck and a full tank a run may be considered an hour or two before a high tide with wind allowing at least a jib to be useful.
Another gentleman, Francois, was introduced to me by Mr. Fish at the gas station when he was about to get on the bus to Quebec city. Francois, or Frank as he insisted, was a friendly fellow. He offered me a ride back to the Marina (about 4kms away) which was welcomed as two bags of ice had been purchased at the station.
We had a nice chat on the drive back to the marina. He had retired somewhat recently. My guess would be early retirement from IT work with the government. We ended up hanging out the afternoon of Mr. Fish's departure.
We had a continuously flowing conversation, stopping for a lunch break along the way. We sealed the front hatch of his boat and took out and hoisted his sails for the first time this season. By his own admittance, his vessel is a work in progress; however once complete he will have a fine yawl to ply the local toss when tides allow.
As evening began to set in Frank offered me a meal in the marina's pub for my help during the afternoon. A lovely French Onion Soup hit the spot perfectly for me.
Frank had a style of conversation which was almost like he were testing you. He would offer scenarios and then ask for how my approach to them may be. Perhaps he was feeling me out after Mr. Fish's biased opinion of my skills were expressed to him.
It was a bit tiring yet he did impart some knowledge of the local currents, tides and areas of avoidance and my quizzing was done, most likely, with the best of intents. Things took on a different tone over supper however.
Regular readers will know of my feelings about the pandemic period. It has left me with a triggerable feeling that may be comparable to PTSD. It tends to manifest when around someone who believes that the Needlecraft was safe and effective. Mr. Fish was such a one, as was Frank, and may explain some of the butting of heads the Mr. Fish and myself had experienced while he was still part of the crew.
An example of butting heads perhaps?
The day after arriving at Saint Jean Port Joli the 50 hour break in engine maintenance was due. When putting on a new oil filter the manual suggested putting a thin count of diesel around the oil filter gasket. There are two 20L jugs on deck. While getting ready to head to the jugs Dave suggested putting a coat of oil instead.
Having already had an encounter with diesel and plastic gaskets it was known to me that diesel affect the dimension of some plastics and thought it best we use the diesel. He went on about it like it would require the 4km walk to a gas station. When brought to his attention that that is what the manual suggested he asked, "Do you believe everything you read?". "Only when it comes to a fucking manual!", was my reply. The diesel was retrieved and Mr. Fish gave me the wifey silent treatment.
Anyway the Needlecraft believers and myself seem to have a communication barrier. There is that feeling that they consider you a tin foil hatter. That your views and beliefs can be negated if in contradiction to their own. Maybe they are right yet frankly Scarlet...
Well over dinner Frank started to come on in the same way. He felt that without the Needlecraft that things would have been much grimmer. He brushed off my point that the Needlecraft was neither safe nor effective. Otherwise how could those who subjected themselves to the Needlecraft end up catching the flu sometimes multiple times?
The same types also seem to take it upon themselves to poo-poo crypto. Everything from using too much energy to quantum computing on the way to steal your keys.
It was at this point that it occurred to me that too much of my outlook had been shared with Frank, so while seeing him off near his car after supper the old stand by of needing to use the washroom was used to be free of his company.
The next day (yesterday) he was avoided as well.
- A message in a bottle
Upon returning to the boat a text came in from Pierre. He was not sure if he was ready for renewed sailing however he was interested to visit me as well as some friends he has in the area. It will be a welcome face which it gladdens me to know our paths shall cross again.
Departure may be looming in the very near future.
May the wind be at your back!
A chronological listing of my sailing posts:
https://hive.blog/sailing/@novacadian/novacadian-s-blog-index-sailing
Perhaps this is the key with sailing in general - to let one's flow be determined by the flow of nature, rather than traffic and work schedules - don't be moaning about tides when some of us are stuck in offices, my love :P
Hahah sounds like you were both driving each other nuts.
I get the PTSD. I had to have it because, well, I couldn't work. And I had to work. But you couldn't talk abbout it, and still can't, because they stop listening when you try to explain why. You learnt to be quiet, though you so strongly object. And then I had the whole hotel quarantine thing which basically destroyed my nervous system entirely and was so fucking unjust and wrong yet everyoone believed in it and thought you should keep quiet because you had three meals a day and should feel lucky, even though you were imprisoned. Don't even get me started. I shouldn't. I should jsut say how much I GET IT.
Point well taken. The folk along the river reminded me of those of The Wind in the Willows, in the sense that their geographic experience is very unique and something they now take as a normal way or life.
There were definitely some bunting of heads.
Always appreciate someone who does.
Have a great day
Thank you.
Words of advice..
Don't take needles from strangers
Sagely advice! 😎👍