Day 36 – Rogues Roost to Young Island

We motored out of Rogues Roost in light winds and shortly thereafter raised the sails on a close reach for Mahone Bay. I unrolled the main and reconnected the sliders on the bolt rope to the track on the mast; we had left the sail that way on account of the high winds two days before. As we passed Aspotogan Peninsula doing a smooth 6.5 knots, we could see numerous sails flying deep in Mahone Bay.

When we cleared Big Tancook Island another group of sailboats was racing around a triangular course. One after another they rounded the southern course marker and their colorful spinnakers appeared, suddenly ballooned out over their bows.

I got out my telephoto lens to take some pictures of the expensive racing yachts, and was soon interrupted by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, who circled around behind us in order to pull up alongside.

The four officers elected not to board us, instead talking with us across the decks after pushing their large RIB up against Isla. Caly attempted to scare them off, or say hi, or beg for release from her seafaring captors, by howling as loudly as possible, momentarily drowning out the conversation. They asked for our Can Pass number (proof of clearing customs) and for details about our trip and ourselves before motoring away, satisfied we hadn’t lied about the amount of warm PBR on board. 

We continued deeper into the bay to Young Island and dropped the hook next to an older couple in a cabin cruiser who were “leaving right after supper.” We were expecting rain overnight, so Andrew covered the sails carefully, hung the sheets (the running rigging kind) above the deck, and stowed everything absorbent below deck.

I made rice, beans, and chicken for our supper, and after eating we turned on the VHF and waited for the marine forecast. The francophone version came first, the Québécois accent and radio static combining into a rough, but not unpleasant voice. The speaker would snap abruptly to full American “R”s for “Beaver Island”, “Halifax approach” before returning to smooth French phonemes. The English forecast followed, which was as best as I could tell the same, and the calm flat tone felt inappropriate for the twenty plus knot winds, three meter seas, heavy rain, and fog. We again elected not to brave the open water and went to sleep without alarms.