the sea slices into the waist of Labrador
for some 125 miles. It ends in Goose Bay,
a major hub connected by roads and air
to the rest of Canada. To us, the heart of
Hamilton Inlet was in the Gannet Islands,
just south of the mouth of the inlet. There
aren’t any gannets there, but there are
thousands upon thousands of pui ns and
razorbills. The air was thick with birds
streaking between the islands and the
water at astonishing speeds. Stationary
pui ns stood by the breeding burrows, and
razorbill sentinels watched over their eggs,
laid in the open on fl at rocks. Protected
from human invasion by law — and by 30
miles of open ocean from the closest town
of Cartwright — this breeding colony
thrives. The last researchers we heard of
were chased from their hut by a polar bear
stranded by receding ice.
Soon after leaving Hamilton Inlet, we
followed the coast south. For the next
80 miles or so, we found cove after pro-
tected cove, joined by inner runs that used
to shelter cod stations. Some houses still
stand: piles of gray, weathered planks, a few
maintained as summer cabins and used by
descendants of the old fi shing families who
now live full time in half a dozen nearbysmall towns. In one harbor, we slipped
between the towering clif s of a long bay
and then passed a ghost assemblage of tim-
ber sheds careening on broken legs into the
sea. At low tide, the beaches around our
anchorage appeared, covered with hun-
dreds of scallop shells. On an island nearby,
splashes of blue guano covered the rocks;
gulls like blueberries too.
Cod wasn’t the only quarry in the sea.
There was a whale slaughterhouse started
in Hawke Harbour in 1904 that lasted 55
years before being destroyed by fi re — just
about the time whales joined cod on the
way to oblivion. Frances B had to squeeze by
three awash rocks to reach the inner sanc-
tuary of the harbor. Ahead, against a green
slope glared an industrial dump of rusty red
tanks and boilers. A gutted vessel leaned
against the shore nearby.
We needed to top up our fuel and gro-
ceries. Conveniently, the wharf of a
defunct Fox Harbour fi sh plant always
keeps a free spot for a visiting yacht. Just
behind the wharf began a planked trail
with steps over the hills to the outer coast.
From the top, we could see dozens of bluelakes to the northwest and sparkling white
dots of ice on the ocean to the east. After
tunneling through a tangled forest, we met
a fork in the trail that descended to Deep
Creek, once a small fi shing hamlet, where
heavy swell foamed almost all the way into
a small cove.
“How hard was the life there?” I asked
new acquaintances Elaine and Warrick
Chubbs, sitting in their home in town.
“Well, it was handy to the cod- fi shing
grounds,” said Warrick, who grew up in
Deep Creek. To keep the past alive, he
maintains a fi shing stage complete with
boats and a cod-curing shed on the shore
of Fox Harbour, a few steps down from
their new house.
About an hour’s sail away lies Battle
Harbour, with hot showers and laundry.
For more than 200 years — until 1992 —
this was the virtual capital of Labrador
fi sheries, thronged with schooners and
fi shing boats. In 1909, explorer Robert
Peary telegraphed the world of his success
reaching the North Pole from the Battle
Harbour Marconi station. Battle Harbour
lives on as a museum; the village, fi sh fac-
tories, doctor and missionary Sir Wilfred
Grenfell’s clinic, and dories are preserved
by the tenacity of the descendants of the
old Labrador hands. During summers they
come from Mary’s Harbour (10 miles away)
to talk, in their lilting accents, of “them old
days.” Tourists rumble to Battle Harbour
from Mary’s Harbour on Iceberg Hunter, a
venerable classic itself.
A strong northeaster fi lled in, and we
carried the fair wind into the Strait of Belle
Isle. The strait has a bad reputation for
fog and odd currents, but this time luck
was with us. Unexpectedly for September,
Frances B passed a clatter of ice — what
looked like tabletops, watch towers and
giant, glossy meringues. One icy hillside
sloped into a fl at skating rink that served
as a beach to a harem of seals, only mildly
stirred by the white apparition sailing
silently by. And then, suddenly, it was all
open water and fair wind until the west
coast of Newfoundland.Tom and Nancy Zydler are cruising the western
coast of Greenland, north of the Arctic Circle.AIDS TO NAVIGATION
The Coast Guard maintains channel buoys up to the Nain area. Use
the latest Canadian charting (paper and digital) to get the benefi t of
new surveys. We also recommend:
Canadian Tide and Current Tables, Volume 1 and Volume 4
Canadian Sailing Directions ATL 121 and other volumes for
Labrador as they become updated
Cruising Guide to the Labrador, published by the members of the
Cruising Club of America (Pilot Press; Weston, Massachusetts)
Cruising Guide to Newfoundland, published by the members of the
Cruising Club of America (Pilot Press; Weston, Massachusetts)YACHT SERVICES
Yachts can tie up to all wharves r ee of charge. Battle Harbour charges
for dockage, although no supplies are available there. Diesel fuel can
be attained by truck or jerry can in all towns. Water is sometimes
available on the wharves. Grocery stores exist in Nain, Hopedale,
Makkovik, Cartwright, Charlottetown, St. Lewis (Fox Harbour),
Mary’s Harbour (a drive), Red Bay (a drive) and L’Anse-au-Loup.Clockwise from
top left: A harem
of seals enjoy a
free ride on an
iceberg. Nancy
takes in the
dramatic coast-
line of Torngat
Mountains
National Park.
Pui ns have
turned the
Gannet Islands
into their largest
rookery in the
Atlantic. All too
often a huge,
unwanted crop of
seaweed emerged
with the anchor.We found
cove after
protected
cove, joined
by inner
runs that
used to
shelter cod
stations.“
”