The passage between Gaspé and Nova Scotia is relatively easy via the Magdalen Islands. If you’re keen to gain offshore experience, this is an excellent passage. You must learn how to sail without landmarks… and at night.
Gaspé, the Islands and Chéticamp
Jean-du-Sud ‘s stay in Gaspé was a compromise between three necessary conditions: a) a good weather window; b) the delivery of various parts; and c) the arrival of a third crew member for the crossing to the Magdalen Islands. The Gaspé marina kindly agreed to act as a post office box. The supplier Électro démarreur delivered a few pieces of equipment to be replaced on the boat.
While we waited for the parts and the crew, the marina staff mentionned that « Le Cormoran » sailing school was located in Gaspé. It was not originally listed in our portrait of Quebec sailing schools. Mea culpa: it had another name at the time of the portrait. We also saw boats from the Normand Corbeil and La Belle Vie Sailing schools, and from Écomaris.
We appreciated the opportunity to work from the marina premises, or at the Café des Artistes. The St-Hubert on the square is also the only one in Quebec to serve seafood. We’d be lying if we told you we had anything other than chicken (creamy coleslaw, please). We also appreciated the talent of the staff at the marina bar, La Sarcelle. They know how to make cocktails beyond what you would normally see in a Yacht Club.
In the Magdalen Islands, we stopped at the fishing port of Étang du nord, as well as in Havre-Aubert. What can we say? It’s really beautiful. The Islands gave us the impression of a mix of postcards, fishermen, countless tourists, a few rich people moving in… and lots of good people trying to hold it all together. It’s Quebec in a nutshell. Don’t dream: your restaurant waiters will be students from other regions of Quebec. They’re taking full advantage of the labor shortage to spend the summer on the Islands through a summer job.
At L’Étang du Nord, we spent some time working at Café des Lupins. However, it is so small that to stay there for long is an abuse of hospitality.
It’s impressive to see the development potential of this fishing port. The inlets are huge and there are plenty of anchoring possibilities. The management team is well aware of this, and the concrete tetrapods being delivered to the site bear witness to their ambitions to transform the fishing port into a marina. For the time being, however, you’ll have to plan a stay without showers.
Havre-Haubert is all about tourism, and the marina offers all the services: showers, toilets, wifi and cheerful staff. The few tourists who pass through may see a flag marking the passage of Jean-du-Sud in August, which we left at the harbor master’s office. You can spend two good days here to see the place. First for the few shops, but also to visit the Musée de la Mer. In our case, we only stayed one day, due to the weather window.
Our arrival in Chéticamp, marking our departure from Quebec and our arrival in Nova Scotia, was mostly marked by weather considerations (below). The town is superb, and you’ll soon notice the vitality of the French language. There’s no marina on site, but a public wharf and fishing harbour. The natural protection of the peninsula means you can anchor virtually anywhere… as long as you don’t block the narrow channel just before the fishing dock!
The rest of our trip took us through Port Hood (excellent anchorage), the locks of the Strait of Canso and the village of Canso (also excellent anchorage).
Needless to say, as we passed through the locks, we couldn’t help thinking that right in front of us was the Atlantic Ocean!
When Yves Gélinas entrusted me with Jean-du-Sud, he made me promise to bring her back in salt water. Technically, salt water begins at the tip of Île d’Orléans, with high tides, but it would be a disservice to the boat, and to the man himself, to say that it was then that I kept my promise.
I certainly uttered a few curses during the crossing from the Islands to Nova Scotia, which made me think I was in salt water. That said, it was only after crossing Chedaboucto Bay, where the Strait of Canso opens out onto the Atlantic, that I realized I’d kept my word. Ahead lies Europe!
Navigation tactics
The Gulf of St. Lawrence is almost the open sea. You have to keep a close eye on weather and sea conditions.
At the time of planning the crossing to the Islands, Hurricane Ernesto was preparing to move up the US East Coast. NOAA was forecasting a backlash on the Islands, with a 10% probability of winds in excess of 33 knots. The strategic question was therefore to decide when to leave: before the hurricane, or after its passage. Of course, it’s wiser to wait… even if it means telling the crew that the crossing can wait a few days. A cautious navigation plan sometimes means managing expectations.
Following the Coriolis force and the usual trade routes, Ernesto’s forecast trajectory shifted eastwards, leaving the Gulf of St. Lawrence alone. The only snag was its aftermath, a cold front from the north filling the void left by the hurricane. This gave us a 40-hour window to cross to the Islands.
On Jean-du-Sud, a 30-foot keelboat, it takes 36 hours to cross to the islands. We left the Gaspé marina in the early hours of the morning and arrived in Étang-du-nord around 5pm the next day. We had hoped to reach Havre-Aubert, but after 33 hours, we were practically opposite l’Étang, with 6-8 hours left to go around the island. Better to avoid the storm!
We crossed with engine assistance. The crew certainly appreciated the night passage, learning to find their way by instruments and the sound of the sails alone.
Our crossing was essentially upwind, so the furling of the sails was also an indicator of a major deviation from our course. At night, you learn to navigate by noise, the few fleeting lights of distant boats and, of course, instruments. (If you feel like it, without autopilot! It’s the best way to learn!)
As far as the weather is concerned, the American model, designed to forecast hurricanes, proved more effective than the European model (both available on PredictWind and Windy). I would point out, however, that the European model was the only one to correctly predict the presence of fog in the middle of a crossing. More generally, the world’s wind prediction models perform better on large bodies of water, such as the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
For my part, I’ve rediscovered the pleasure of sailing at night, alone and undisturbed, with a few hours under an open sky to bask in the stars. A few worry-free hours!
In Gaspé, we were advised to set off from L’Anse à Beaufils, about a day south of Gaspé. The advantage is to save the time (and tide window) required to get out of Gaspé Bay … and to get the waves more on the beam. Had we had a little more time, we would certainly have adopted this advice.
Arriving at Havre-Haubert requires passing through the channel between Île de Grande Entrée and Île de Havre-Haubert. It’s a narrow channel. Keep a close eye on the depth gauge, buoys and GPS positioning in real time. The port side buoy to the north of the channel is definitely further west than indicated on the charts. Keep a close eye on the depth gauge as you make the turn towards Havre-Haubert marina.
The entrance channel to Havre-Haubert is narrow and well marked. You’ll certainly want to take advantage of the range light at the end of the channel to position yourself. Charts show the channel to the marina to be shallow (0.9m to chart datum), but calls to the marina – and experience – suggest a depth closer to 1.3m to chart datum. If in doubt, wait for the extra metre provided by high tide.
The crossing to Chéticamp was conditioned by the hull speed of Jean-du-Sud: it’s 50 nautical miles from Havre-Aubert, a busy day. We also tried to avoid a front during the crossing, but we weren’t so lucky twice in a row.
Just three nautical miles off the coast, we were able to experience first-hand the weather changes associated with a front. Experiencing a storm at sea is always sporty, and understanding what’s coming is invaluable when it comes to preparing the boat!
Had we had a slightly faster boat, we might have opted for a crossing to Souris (PEI), 75 nautical miles south of the Islands. The advantage of Souris is that you can then make the jump to the Strait of Canso while staying abeam (and you can also put Prince Edward Island on your itinerary!). On the contrary, the trip between Chéticamp and Port Hood is almost certainly upwind. As luck would have it, after the post-Ernesto front, we were treated to a sea of oil. As a result, the leg between Cheticamp and Port Hood was one of the quietest… under motor.
The Canso lock is very easy to pass. It’s a perfect learning lock, easier than those on the Chambly Canal. The sailing instructions are clear and the staff are used to seeing sailing boats. Be prepared to wait a while, though, as the lock is often closed for a few hours a day for work. We had to wait for two hours, a very short time compared to the other yachts which had arrived six hours earlier than us…
Chedaboucto Bay is typical of Nova Scotia waterways: full of intersecting channels, traffic separators and range lights. It’s essential to be able to find your way on a map, as this is a far cry from a linear body of water like the St. Lawrence River. It’s easy to make mistakes when navigating by sight, and knowing where you are is essential. It’s worth it. The water is magnificent.
Jean-du-Sud has returned to the Atlantic. He’ll be there for a while. His skipper is due to complete a few competency certifications and give a few navigation lessons. It would be foolhardy to predict what will happen next.
