We left Grand Bank in the afternoon and sailed along the side of Brunette Island looking for wildlife. Brunette is a 15 square mile wildlife refuge and we hoped we might catch a glimpse of the caribou, buffalo or arctic hares that were resettled there. No such luck - of course the they prefer the inland portions where the lakes and ponds are. So we sailed a little further up Fortune Bay to Sagona Island, yet another lost outport, much lamented, where we spent the night in a narrow cove at the eastern end.

At dawn, the wind unexpectedly swung around to the east, leaving us exposed against a lee shore. We postponed breakfast and moved across to Jerseyman’s Cove as the sun rose over the islands. After a much more comfortable breakfast, we sailed off the anchor and up the northeast arm of Harbour Breton, another gorgeous fjord with a slew of waterfalls along both shores. We had less than 10 knots of wind behind us and were sailing slowly but were in no hurry. After five miles we came to a narrow, shallow passage between the rocks (with the most beautiful waterfall yet) and ghosted through, still under sail, into a small pool. We kept going through a second narrows into a larger basin where we spent the afternoon and night with a few locals enjoying their weekend cabins.

With a weather forecast threatening rain and strong winds, we returned down the fjord to the town of Harbour Breton. We first tied up to a floating dock where I remembered having once moored Midnight Mail. There was another sailboat, from St. Pierre, tied alongside but the dock didn’t look right. A local teacher came by to chat, then another local came out to tell us the dock wasn’t secure enough, especially in strong winds. The float had broken loose during the winter (Harbour Breton is ice free) and was only temporarily tied onto the rest of the dock. With fishing boats occupying most of the dock space in town, we moved across the harbor to the shuttered fish plant and tied up there. A fisherman came by and said that was a bad idea with NE winds of 60 knots expected. I hadn’t heard anything like that in the forecast but I never argue with locals who tell me where not to go. We moved around to the inside of the wharf where there was just enough room to squeeze in - see photo.

That same teacher came by again, this time with gifts of frozen cod, salmon and moose steaks for us. Another couple, from Ontario with a summer home in Harbour Breton, also stopped by to offer us use of their shower, laundry, or car. After that it was a quiet night with winds never exceeding 10 knots.

In the morning we carefully extricated ourselves from our tight parking spot and headed out. We cut through Pass Island Tickle and into Hermitage Bay. After checking out the waterfall at the head of Sam Hitches Harbour, one of my most favorite spots in Newfoundland, we chose not to anchor there with the wind blowing straight up the fjord. So we moved two miles SE to Little Bay with a more spectacular waterfall and a cove shallow enough for anchoring close to shore. We put out two anchors in case the wind shifted.

We finally got some rain that night. It had been very dry, little fog even. All the locals have been complaining of the heat, which has been in the low 70s. We brought both anchors back aboard and sailed to Bay d’Espoir (pronounced Bay Despair here) and circumnavigated Great Jervis Island, passing by the old outport of Pushthrough. We then beat, into 10 knot winds, to Bonne Bay (surprisingly pronounced Bonne Bay) and into the lively, scenic, tidy, well cared for outport of McCallum where we tied to the public floating dock for a daily fee of $6.

Last night’s sky was filled with thunderstorms. This morning we’ll wait for the European baker, who is also the harbormaster here, to finish baking the cinnamon rolls we ordered yesterday. Then we’ll head out to explore more fjords and more waterfalls on our way back to Francois, pronounced FranzWay.

Fjords, waterfalls, whales, outports and France - that’s Newfoundland.