Captain’s Chronicle: A tranquil day on the Strait of Canso

By Rob Dunbar

After diligently tuning Celtic Kiss for a day of light air sailing, I quietly slipped beyond the safe confines of Pirate Harbour and pointed the bow for the tranquil shores of Cape Breton Island and a little known archipelago in Inhabitants Bay.

Though sailing solo, I was not wanting for company as a school of dolphins came by to visit. Most of the dolphins were either as large — or larger — than my 16-foot open sailboat Celtic Kiss and my presence did not deter the more inquisitive ones from coming right up beside the boat to inspect me, the intruder.

A short time later I found myself abeam of Bear Head at the edge of Cape Breton when a light breeze filled the colourful sails of Celtic Kiss. Upon reaching C 16 I altered course toward the archipelago and left mainland Canada in my wake.

The warm refreshing breeze gently caress the sails while the hull slips through Inhabitants Bay toward Rabbit Island. The original plan was to beach on the Island and go for a hike but opted to enjoy the steady breeze and the swells of the North Atlantic. Thus a circumnavigation of the uninhabited island became my new motive. The Cruising Guide of Nova Scotia states

“ Stretching between Rabbit Island and the mainland, cruisers may negotiate Cary Passage during slack tide on a northwesterly course between two rock outcrops. …While soundings continually indicated a minimum of 2.5-3.7 metres (8-12ft) the channel is extremely narrow with submerged rocks on both sides. Discretion is advised.”

In order to accomplish this I hugged the island until the very narrow Cary Passage came into view. Upon transiting the passage a southeast breeze gracefully carried me on a three-mile leg to buoy C11 when my enchantment with the openness of Chedabucto Bay became too overwhelming to ignore. This course soon brought Celtic Kiss beyond the safe waters of the Strait of Canso and far into the mouth of Chedabucto Bay.

The afternoon waned the breeze started to fade into oblivion. With reluctance, I did not want to leave this area and end a perfect day of sailing. However common sense prevailed and I set a new course for home. The tranquility of my trip was only interrupted by the rhythmic sound of a green bell buoy (C11) bobbing two miles ahead of me.

The inquisitive seals had once again come by to visit and keep me company. Their distinctive humph! told me of their presence. As the sun drifted further west, the strait took on a whole new appearance. The water was not quite so blue, the sun a little more yellow-whitish in colour and the shadow of Celtic Kiss a little longer. The last breaths of the Atlantic breeze said their good-byes and I was left with the more audible tones of C11.

Canso Strait is a busy waterway for supertankers and other freighters. Thus the Strait is well marked with buoys, day beacons, a lighthouse (now defunct due to government cutbacks), transit ranges, and a Coast Guard Emergency Services Centre.

In the absence of wind, I relied on the tide, which I had calculated into my float plan, to carry me home to my harbour. Rather than being frustrated with my apparent lack of progress, I took this opportunity to enjoy the beauty and vastness of our universe. On one occasion I counted no less than seven aircraft flying the rhumb line towards Europe. This made me ponder that for the sake of 10 minutes, the fiery crash of Swissair Flight 111 could have happened in the general vicinity of the Strait of Canso.

While approaching buoy C 16 I relied on light air sailing techniques. Weight forward and heel the boat to leeward. Slacken off the boom vang, and loosen the outhaul. Slow movement on the rudder. And above all, slow deliberate movements in the cockpit while remaining patient. All this paid off as Celtic Kiss inched her way forward. Suddenly the water in front of Celtic Kiss began to churn and as the water settled, I could hear an unusual sound in the cockpit. I grabbed my flashlight and found that a fish had jumped into Celtic Kiss!

The prevailing zephyrs came from the mainland, forcing me to stay on the Cape Breton side in open air. This kept me in a precarious position as I was close to the shipping lanes necessitating a sharp lookout.

There were times I thought that my single fish might end up being my next meal but eventually, I could hear a promising wind rustling the foliage. Soon a fresh westerly breeze spawned and provided an exhilarating night sail. With shortened sail, phosphorous spray bounced off the bow for the final run home.

Upon clearing C 21, I altered course for the final approach to Pirate Harbour. Pirate Harbour provides great protection for both south and west winds. As a result, I had to shake out the reef to counteract the effects of this protection. My final triumph of the day was a flawless docking at the Pirate Harbour wharf under full sail. Unfortunately, nobody was around to see it. But of course it was 2 a.m.