Flitting between treetops, a massive bald eagle followed. Nancy joined in and foraged for mussels and periwinkles in the seaweed. Dinghy-cruising through the Northeast Arm to the pygmy rapids of a tawny stream, we tracked a weasel feeding among rocks. Its mate wheeled down from the clouds-there must have been chicks in the nest. Above our anchored boat an alarmed osprey on a giant basket of twigs peeped at high pitch. Behind a spur of rocks, out of sight, stood a wooden cabin, probably rarely used. In Port Howe a mildewed house leaned over, about to topple, its windows gaping empty. Then peace prevailed as a cluster of bewhiskered muzzles tracked our movements. Skirting an unmarked rock pile awash in the Louse Harbour entrance, we sent seals barking, diving, frantic. Nonetheless, while negotiating the channels between tiny buoys demands concentration, this extra effort is often rewarded by access to uninhabited, unspoiled bays. Our 7ft draft put a damper on such adventures, except in a few cases. When exploring these waters, boats of moderate draft will often take various different “inside” routes among offshore islets and rock reefs. Apparently, a strong gale howled outside yet only rare puffs moved the treetops as we lounged near the bar in the Lodge to the tunes of “oldies but goldies” delivered by two mature musicians. The floating dock was taken, but we found shelter in a narrow passage. At the west end of the four-mile run Liscomb Lodge hides on the cliff over a fast, burgundy-red river. Again, prevalent ocean swells on this coast roll in from the southeast and straight into many bays-though not into Liscomb Harbour, protected by three islands off the entrance. In the morning two men came to tend their new oyster farm, and the oysters they gave us, round, still young and smaller than the giants of the Chesapeake or South Carolina, tasted delicious. A bit of slaloming led us into Yankee Harbour, Whitehead Bay, where a large installation of submerged cages hove in sight, leaving free space to anchor in an indent in the shore. However, they always leave room to pass through or anchor. No wonder Lunenburg is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.Īquaculture projects turn up in many other protected bays. The town has somehow managed to repel developers, and lovingly maintained wooden architecture lines the streets. Beloved by all Canadians, the schooner often ventures out, and she’s a thrilling sight. If you can, tie up alongside the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic next to the Bluenose, a storied schooner that beat the best of Gloucester. Close in, the waterfront looks like a 19th-century etching, complete with schooners and square-riggers. As we headed in, a skyline of steeples appeared ahead. Of all the Nova Scotia ports, Lunenburg is the most irresistible. One evening we counted 57 longliners chugging out to sea at top speed. Following the collapse of the cod fisheries, Canada has maintained a strict conservation policy an open season for a species may last only days. Out of sight farther up the bay, behind a massive breakwater, hummed a busy fishing fleet. Port Mouton isn’t all about lolling in the sun, though. A long beach backed by high dunes opened up, the forest in the background cutting the wind to a breeze as the anchor splashed into Caribbean-blue water, The setting sun threw long shadows on the sands. As we approached our destination, a red beacon to starboard flashed by within spitting distance. By midday, in 20 knots of wind, we had already reefed the main and rolled up some of the genoa. Along the Nova Scotia coast the morning light southwesterly may, by afternoon, muscle up to a strong breeze. Schooners bound for offshore banks once stopped in Shelburne to buy boats made in the Dory Shop, its doors still open.Īmong Canadian yachtsmen starved for sandy beaches in the sun, Port Mouton, our next stop, gets high grades. An active cooper shop, for example, dates back to the 19th century. Nonetheless, some evidence of wooden-boat shipping lingers on along the waterfront. Quiet now, Shelburne was once a busy sailing ship port, but the old shipbuilders vanished and the remaining shipyard now serves motorized commercial vessels. Larry Tyler on the 54ft Crealock design The Dove had sailed all the earth’s major oceans, including a summer stint in Greenland. Jacco and Jannie on the 51ft aluminum Dutch sloop Maaike Sadet circumnavigated via Tierra del Fuego and the Chilean channels on their previous boat. Some of the arrivals pack impressive sailing experience. Every boat cruising Nova Scotia will sooner or later show up at Shelburne Yacht Club to refit, relax and socialize. A long inlet a few hours from Cape Sable hides Shelburne. Canso Ledges seem to stop the fog from drifting in over eastern Nova ScotiaĮast of Cape Sable the sea flattened, while ahead stretched Nova Scotia, its coast shredded into inlets, sounds, bays and coves, all accessible in day trips.
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