by Kenny, October 12, 2025
After enduring a wicked storm in the Long Reach anchorage in Burgeo, Newfoundland, we headed to Francois (locally known as Fransway). In 2009 and 2014 we happened to reach this remote outport, tucked inside what looks like a three-sided volcano crater, during their five year “Come Home” celebration. A “Come Home” is when those who have moved away, come back for a week to visit and party with friends and relatives. No such luck for us this time as we were a year late.
Sailors at the dock, visiting from Massachusetts, told us we had missed quite a storm. Five boats had been secured there during that same wicked storm we rode out in Burgeo, and the winds caused the floating dock to twist out of shape. Sometimes it pays to be a day late.
There are several arduous hiking trails up the mountains overlooking Francois. We attempted one we’d done 11 years ago but got confused as to where it continued after passing the town cemetery. We then started along a different trail around the pond but that became too soggy and not worth losing our shoes in the muck. So, we retreated back down which was almost as strenuous as going up. The next day, we tried again to reach the overlook and found the trail beyond the cemetery. After a steep ascent, we were treated to the magnificent view at the top.
Francois, like Burgeo, has a town museum. George, the curator, let us in and answered many questions we had. He explained the basics of aquaculture (fish farms) which is now a primary means of employment on the Southwest Coast. To us recreational sailors, these farms are sometimes an annoyance as the location of their above and underwater gear is not always easy to determine. But hey, that’s our problem.
Amy met some Francewaysians that night who invited us to a gathering at their home. I was too exhausted from hiking but Amy went and had a fabulous time. She even threw the winning dart for her team.
From Francois, we sailed southeast to Fortune on the Burin peninsula. Unlike Francois and other isolated outports on the Southwest Coast, Fortune is connected to the rest of Newfoundland by a road. It also has a very viable marina with floating docks where we could safely leave Nancy J. Our original plan was to rent a car and drive to St. John’s and see the sights. Unfortunately, there were no car rentals in the area, so we opted for the minibus taxi service that runs once a day. We had to wait three days for two seats to become available. It’s about a five and a half hour drive but still faster than sailing there.
St. John’s is very hilly, sort of like San Francisco but without the trolley cars. They do have Ubers however, so those times we couldn’t face the hike up to our Air BnB we took the easy way. The speed with which the drivers would show up was quite impressive. One even appeared the second Amy pressed “Confirm”.
While there, we visited the first-rate museum called “The Rooms”. We also did most of the usual tourist things—Signal Hill, Quidi Vidi, Jelly Bean row and of course, George Street. The iconic George Street Festival was going on while we were there. It’s seven days and nights of live music on a stage just off the street. They fence off the entire two long blocks that make up George Street and you need tickets to get in for all the festivities. It’s a party and cultural event full of locals and those from away. So much of a wild scene that we retreated quite early on the night we had tickets. Although we thought we would hear Celtic and local music, most songs were too rock and/or country for our liking. However, we did thoroughly enjoy three singer-songwriter ladies we saw in a pub the night before as well as various other non-festival acts.
The minibus rides to and from Fortune were quite interesting. We saw parts of the interior where trees grew at a wind swept slant and views of ponds, lakes and rivers revealed themselves every other mile. And, of course, rocks–lots and lots of rocks–boulders, stones, craggy outcroppings, bluffs–you name it. There is a good reason Newfoundland is nicknamed “The Rock”. Our fellow riders were a mix of Newfoundlanders and visitors. Fortune is where one would get the ferry to the French islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon and some of our co-passengers were headed there. The drivers knew several of the other riders personally so we listened to local news and stories of various road accidents. Not exactly what you want to hear as you speed through pea-soup fog and pass signs warning of moose.
After four merry days in St. John’s and several days at the marina, we departed Fortune on August 7. We contemplated a visit to St. Pierre and Miquelon but decided we needed a good dose of fjords on the Newfoundland coast. Facheux Bay with its two scenic anchorages, was just the ticket. Facheux, the deepest fjord on the Southwest Coast, is 1236 feet at its maximum. After two nights there, we sailed to McCallum, another dying outport. Unfortunately there was no space at the town dock and nowhere to safely anchor, so we headed up to Rose Cove at the head of Bonne Bay. Several abandoned boats lay scattered on the shore some beyond repair while others were probably just being stored there. Ahh, the stories they could tell.
Bay d’Espoir is a series of fjords and islands that make up one of the most scenic vistas on the coast. We sailed up to St. Albans not to see the town but for its easy-to-anchor-in harbor. We went ashore to the only place open for dinner called the Warehouse Lounge. There we met Karen, who happened to be the sister of Toby, whom we met there in 2014. Toby took Amy out fishing back then. Sadly, we learned that Toby is having some serious health issues.
We sailed out of St. Albans on August 11 and headed to our favorite fjord, Hare Bay. Our first choice for an anchorage was too exposed to the strong southerly winds we were experiencing, so we tucked in around a spit of land on the western side. We’d been there before and it was still enchanting. We dinghyed over to the nearby waterfall the next day. Due to a province-wide lack of rain, the pool at the base of the falls wasn’t as deep as in years past, so we waded instead of swimming.
On our second afternoon there, another boat materialized out of nowhere anchored nearby. We were a bit mystified as to how they got there with neither one of us noticing. The young couple got in their inflatable kayak and made a B-line for the waterfalls with just a nod our way. When it grew dark and they hadn’t returned, we began to wonder if they had an accident of some kind. This area is very remote, so we contemplated getting in our dinghy to go and check on them. Finally, Amy saw them with binoculars, paddling back in the dark so we aborted our rescue mission.
Our next stop was Grey River—the fjord with the narrowest of entrances. Once inside, it opens up to three large branches. We spent several nights anchored in two of them waiting out stormy weather. We enjoyed the splendid show that the fog put on as it drifted over the mountains.
From Grey River it was a short hop to the island town of Ramea. Besides well maintained hiking trails and dramatic scenery, Ramea offers visiting boaters the finest drinking water on the southwest coast. Although we wanted to spend more time there, we felt the need to take advantage of the good weather to keep moving westward. We were somewhat concerned about where Hurricane Erin might track.
We motored the 55.4 nautical miles to Rose Blanche on August 17 and found just enough room on the end of the floating dock at the town wharf to squeeze into. Eager for a bite to eat, we set out on the rocky trails to the famous lighthouse where a small cafe was located. Alas, we arrived just as they closed. Despite our pleas, they would not give us poor sailors a couple of burgers.
The next day we decided to treat ourselves to a night in the nearby B&B, “Salty Dog”. Owners Rollie and Jen were incredibly nice letting us come in early to enjoy the spacious accommodations and to do our laundry. Transplants from Ontario, the couple shared their stories and experiences of life in a small outport town. They even offered us a second night free but we knew it would hinder our early departure for Nova Scotia the next day. We did join them for cocktails with their friends the next day and vowed to return again sometime in the future.
We started on the 90 nautical mile trip to Ingonish, Nova Scotia, at 5:30am on August 21. Arriving at 10pm after a lively sail, we tucked in behind the Ingonish north headlands. Our anchor refused to set after several tries so, we just dumped out a ton of anchor chain for weight to keep us from drifting. Luckily, it was a very calm night. The next morning we motored over to nearby Ingonish Harbour and had plans to meet friends Doug and Gina who were land cruising nearby in their camper. Spotting what looked like an available wharf, we pulled up in the dinghy and our friends came out to Nancy J for a short visit before heading off for lunch. When we got back to the wharf, we asked a fellow standing there if it was OK to leave our inflatable while we went to eat. He told us “No” in a manner that led all four of us to declare him the most unfriendly Canadian we’ve encountered on our travels. He suggested a wharf on the opposite side of the harbor. After our meal at the Keltic Lodge, Doug and Gina dropped us back at the “public” dock to find that the ramp from the fixed wharf down to the floating dock had been removed leaving no easy way down to our dinghy. We got the distinct impression that we were not welcome anywhere in Ingonish. We managed to climb down the supporting structure for the ramp and get on our way but couldn’t understand why people would remove the large, heavy ramp or why they couldn’t have moved our dinghy to a ladder on the fixed wharf.
On Sunday, we timed our passage through the swiftly flowing Great Bras d’Or channel and were in the lovely town of Baddeck by 1:30pm. Although a bit touristy, Baddeck has much to offer the cruising sailor such as a safe anchorage, a marine chandlery, a large grocery store and numerous eateries. We needed to replace some of the lines on our boat that where fraying from chafe. I measured length and diameter and went to the chandlery. Days later when we tried to replace our old lazy-jacks (lines that guide the sail up and down) we quickly realized I had not doubled the length as I should have. I blame it on my math anxiety.
Our next stop on the Bras d’Or Lakes was to Eskasoni, a Mi’kmaw Indian village. Although there were no cultural demonstrations on the day we arrived, we enjoyed walking the trail and reading information plaques along the way.
We meandered down the Bras D’Or Lakes soaking in the Cape Breton vistas arriving in St. Peters on August 28. St. Peters is home to the canal leading to the Canso Straits and onward to mainland Nova Scotia. It’s the beginning and the end of the Bras d’Or Lakes for most sailors. The friendly marina there is an excellent stopover for groceries, showers, fuel and water.
The days grew shorter as we continued our journey down the coast Nova Scotia coast. Back in Halifax we strolled the lovely public gardens, visited the spacious, impressive public library and attended two Fringe Festival events — a puppet show and one-man comedy act.
We enjoyed shorter visits to the towns of Chester and Mahone Bay. Since I was sick on the way up at Lunenburg, we spent extra time there to soak in its many sights and sounds. While on a walk in Lunenberg, we happened to meet a couple outside their magnificent Victorian home and had a long chat about our sailing adventures and their Lunenburg lifestyle. As we were leaving, homeowner Jim Bradford gifted us with a copy of his children’s book, “The Tabby from Away Who Came to Stay”. Coincidentally, the path this storybook cat took through town was the same as what we had just done. Unfortunately for us, we couldn’t linger for too long in Lunenburg–autumn was on its way.
Next stop, Liverpool, where I got to enjoy some fine craft beer at the Hell Bay brewery. (I had also missed visiting Liverpool on the way north due to my cold). Craft breweries with excellent beer have sprouted up all over Nova Scotia and we enjoyed several: Saltbox Brewing in Mahone Bay, Tanner and Co. Brewing in Chester, Boxing Rock in Shelburne, and Lightship Brewing in Lunenberg.
Shelburne, our first and last stop in Canada, holds lots of fond memories of previous trips to Canada with its friendly, welcoming yacht club. This time was no different. It’s a microcosm of everything we love about Atlantic Canada–nice, approachable people, good food, spectacular scenery, and shiploads of nautical history. We love how most people seem to be politically aware of social injustices, are accepting of human differences, and live up to the positive stereotype of the nice Canadian. It’s standard policy in many public spaces to acknowledge the wrongs done to the First Nation peoples. It shows a great strength of national character to admit mistakes and to seek reconciliation.
Though most Canadians we encountered were shocked and disappointed by the political situation in the USA, there was never any animosity directed our way. It was most refreshing and relaxing simply being in Canada.
Watch Amy’s YouTube video on Canadians take on Trump.
Newfoundland Rockogrophy
Amazing cruising adventures make us all envious but able to share them vicariously with you. That you are so adventurous is an understatement! Happy that you weathered the storm without incident.
You elicit fond memories of Bras d’Or Lake, Shelburne and Lunenberg.