Unforgettable Scare

Unforgettable Scare

Unforgettable… I ended my last blog by writing: “This passage in the bay will be unforgettable.” Accompanied by the Canadian Coast Guard Auxiliary, Hermel and I had sailed off early that morning. Our goal was to put as many nautical miles behind us as possible using the oars, before the arrival of an east wind forecasted for later in the afternoon. At the time, a single thing was dashing my happiness: even with all the energy I was expending on the oars, my speed log* never went above two knots. Despite this fly in the ointment, I was truly enjoying the tales that Hermel was telling me… about the good old days. At that moment, I would have had a hard time to believe that my day could end up with an avoidable drama.

Around noon, the east wind came up right on schedule. In the Atlantic, I would have opted for a temporary solution to let that headwind pass, but coming out the bay and close to the shore, I gave up and asked Hermel to bring the engine to life. What a nuisance! Hermel was quite happy, I was just sorry that I couldn’t row.
The only positive aspect as far as I was concerned was that I would see once more one of Quebec's great sights: Cap Gaspé. The breathtaking and imposing cliff, battered by the St. Lawrence, marked for me the high point of my journey down the St. Lawrence and the beginning of a new adventure.

Sailing out of the bay that day, my boat, more seaworthy than Hermel imagined, would slice through the impressive waves, only to crash down roughly in the troughs two metres lower. Our plan was to leave behind the Gaspé Bay to seek refuge from the winds in the south portion of Malbaie, not quite three nautical miles from the Rocher Percé. This would provide us with a break while we waited for better weather to go around Rocher Percé, maybe even rowing around it and coming in Anse-à-Beaufils later in the evening. A few minutes before getting into shelter, the engine died suddenly. As Hermel was assessing the situation, I was mesmerized by the giant steep cliffs overshadowing the water in front of us. Thirty minutes later, the fifteen-knot wind had already shifted us a fair distance offshore. As I was in constant contact with Sylvie at the Coast Guard on account of my regular reports, I decided to make known our dire circumstances to her. She suggested that we put out a distress call to all boaters and ask them to come and help us.

Ten minutes later, a blue and black zodiac approached us with 5 or 6 customers aboard, and a single man standing. To my utter surprise, this man shouted out: “Rowing across the Atlantic, now what kind of foolishness is that? Will we be the ones who will again have to go and rescue you in the Atlantic?” After three or four more insults, I was immunised. My only wish was to get away from this despicable person in the shortest time possible. Had I known at the time that the Gérald Bourdages was sailing with the Canadian Coast Guard Auxiliary from Gaspé to help us out of our jam, I would have never ever agreed to put our safety in the hands of this man. I should have refused this tow right there and then and tried to contact once more the Coast Guard.

A few minutes later, after being towed over about thirty metres, a second boat arrived, the E-M (it will remain nameless), big and impressive. My towrope was passed from one boat to the other while I was still moving. They were courting disaster with these unsafe manoeuvres. I was worried, and so was Hermel. Once my boat was behind the E-M, I felt more stable but was still unable to contact this new “good Samaritan” to explain to him how my boat would behave when being towed. A few minutes later, my log was showing speeds of 7 knots… 7.5 knots… 8 knots… The nightmare was only just beginning. I then asked the people aboard this boat to pass on a message requesting a reduction of its speed. With worried faces, the tourists on the E-M would pass on my request to the captain, and I would then notice a reduction of my speed for a short while. The speed remained stable around Rocher Percé, which I was able to admire as it went by on starboard. Right after going by Rocher Percé, I saw my speed log go back up to 8, 9,... 10 knots. I could barely keep the rudder blade straight - I was burning my hands trying to hold the rudder's ropes. My shoulders, acting as levers, were resisting the pressure of the water on the rudder. As soon as I secured the ropes in the cleats, the boat was at risk of turning on its side… my arms were as sore as I ever felt them.

I could feel Peta pitching to port and to starboard. Suddenly, I saw water on starboard at the level of my shoulders, my eyes, the top of my head… I knew then that I was about to capsize. Using all my strength, I pulled the rudder to port. Peta pitched to port, thus avoiding tipping over on the starboard side. The same thing happened then on the port side. Just then, Hermel almost fell in the water. Right after that, he untied my lifeline from the boat and explained that at our current speed, if we fell in the water we would be automatically drawn under the boat and drowned. Hermel told me that the last speed he saw on my log was 10.5 knots! A speed for which my rowboat is definitely not designed for.

The towing boat thus almost drowned us, under the powerless gaze of the tourists and their cameras, as they could not guess at the danger we were in.

Our approach of Percé’s jetty didn’t mean the end of the nightmare yet, as the E-M was still towing us there at a much too fast speed to safely tie up to the wharf. At that instant, I shouted: “Untie us right away, it’s fine, I don’t need your help anymore, I can row from the Rocher Percé… no problems anymore!” Our speed then came down to four knots. I signalled to the captain that my engine was on the side that my boat was going to tie up to the wharf – I had to turn around. I wanted him to unfasten the towrope as quickly as possible to be able to turn my boat with my oars. Without warning, the captain made a U-turn. When the towing boat quickly turned, my boat was catapulted towards the jetty as it was still tied with the towrope. I immediately took an oar to try and soften the blow. I used all my strength and shouted as I pushed on the wharf beside my boat. My oar got jammed right away between the steel beam and the rubber bumper, but Peta's nose still hit the concrete wall between the steel beams. My oar was bending under the weight of my boat and was cracking every which way with a clear "carbon fibre-ish" sound. By thrusting my oar forward, I had at least absorbed some of the impact and may have even avoided having to end my dream on account of too extensive damages.

Quite shaken, Hermel and I were still not at the end of our troubles. I now had to tie up to a twelve-foot high wharf, with cross waves pushing us violently against it. People came out on the jetty to assist us in getting the situation safely under control.

A few minutes later, I saw a small brunette peering over the top of the jetty: “Mylène, what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you today!” Captain Beaudin is a very good friend of Mario at the Matane yachting club. Mario had informed his Percé friends of my coming to the area and had asked them to take care of me during my arrival at, and departure from Anse-à-Beaufils. In just a few minutes, everything was arranged. Émilien and Danielle went to Anse-à-Beaufils to fetch a boat to tow me, safely, to the shelter of the cove. A thousand thanks to this great family!

After putting in at Anse-à-Beaufils, the nightmare was finally over…

As I spoke with Québec’s MRSC the following day, I came to understand that my experience could stir up a lot of trouble and generate quite a response... I could choose to lodge a complaint with Transport Canada and file a formal statement. Then I would also have the option of going to small claims court for the damages caused to my boat. After a number of conversations with the Coast Guard, and a talk with the owners of the towing boat, my complaint was nowhere near being filed. The following Thursday, my various efforts had required more time and energy than the actual towing and I soon buried the hatchet and chose to share this unpleasant experience with you on this blog.

Do keep in mind that the behaviour of these two boaters is in no way typical of the kindness and courtesy demonstrated by the region’s people. Here, people are gracious, generous, and very respectful.

Because of Irene’s windy visit, I can’t leave Anse-à-Beaufils earlier. I therefore worked all week on the preparation of my itinerary in the Gulf and spent some time looking for a good weather window to allow me to have a fine adventure. This week, a few sailboats arrived from the Magdalen Islands and their owners told me that the “Madelinots” were expecting me on the other shore. Even here I’ve heard about the Magdalen and of her magic. I am looking forward to touching the Islands' sweet and soft sand, as then I’ll have the opportunity to meet my first “Madelinots”!

Till I drop anchor in the Islands, I'll be forwarding daily blog entries by satellite phone.

* A speed log is a very small device that looks like a mini turbine located under my boat. It computes the speed of my boat in the water (a speed which might be different from its speed over ground, which is provided by my GPS).