| DAY 7. – CAPE LA
HAVE
ISLAND – a.m. wind 0, fog; p.m. wind SW 3, cloudy with sunny periods.
Cape La Have Island was probably the most beautiful place we stayed. On the northern side of the island we found two silvery beaches, each set into small bays so that the landing is sheltered from every wind except the one that comes off the mainland, which is not far away. |
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| There were mooring ropes already set into the rocks and a ready-made campsite, complete with empty beer bottles and Tonka Toys for the children. (It was evidently a weekend retreat for a family of Canadians). Behind the camp clearing lay the usual forest and a deep freshwater pond, which looked very much as if it were fed from a spring. |
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| During the previous afternoon there
had been
a wind shift. The temperature had dropped noticeably and the visibility
had closed right in. By morning we could not see the other side of the
bay, less than a hundred yards away. None of us were happy about
attempting
to navigate to Lunenburg in such low visibility with some intricate
passage
finding to get through the La Have group of islands and rocks.
So we spent the morning programming
our GPS
systems. For myself, I have a hearty admiration for what electronic
technology
can do but, confronted with anything new, my mind turns to intellectual
treacle. I was the only person on the trip who did not own one of these
natty devices and this gave the others an opportunity to lecture me
enthusiastically
on the subtleties of waypoints, tracking errors and multifunctional
screen
displays.
 At 12.30, armed with a complete set of waypoints and all sorts of fallbacks, we set off into the thinning fog, to grope our way to Lunenburg. Hardly had we gone around the corner before it lifted completely and we had all the visibility we needed. Magic. It was one of the finest sails of the week. I knew the old system was best. |
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"If you can't brush the periwinkles on the rocks with your fingertips, you are sailing too far off shore." .. |
| Lunenburg is beautiful. Nobody can walk the streets of Lunenburg and not be deeply taken by the architecture and intricate construction of the old wooden houses of the town. It is a World Heritage Centre and is therefore pickled in aspic. Most of the inhabitants seem to be transient septuagenarians who totter from antique shop to café complaining about the distance between tourist honeypots. |
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| We spent the night in the campsite, where we learnt something about the American way of camping. What one needs is a vehicle about three times the size of a London bus, which is equipped with everything from central heating to satellite television. The car is towed behind, rather as cruising sailors in 'proper boats' tow a dinghy for getting ashore. When we erected our little one-man tents, a police patrol drove slowly by and eyed us carefully. We wondered it we were about to be sent back to our Ethnic Reservation. |