The Gulf of St. Lawrence & the Québec North Shore

Incredible communities! Feels like the ocean now!

Once you enter the Gulf... things change. Villages get smaller, communities are unbelievably welcoming, and one can't help but feel that the sea governs life here. Oh - and the swells get real!

First up is Québec's North Shore, basically from Tadoussac to Blanc Sablon but within that is a sub-designation and that's the Lower North Shore, which begins where the highway ends in Kegaska.

A Return To Sept-Iles

Our first stop was Sept-Iles - the town where I lived during the early pandemic days. It was so wonderful to return and reconnect with good friends. They all came! We laughed, we shared good meals, and we left with a solid stock of maple syrup to take us up the coast of Greenland! This is the last "big" center, but we were well supplied, so we had the leisure of just enjoying friends.

Sept-Iles & Matamec - reunion with good friends and a beach that meant so much during the pandemic! Huge maple syrup supply!!!

This is also where we united with Jean-Philip Grenier of Ti-Pou Productions. I’d climbed with him before and seen his work—he was the perfect fit for our film project. On a moment's notice and with Marie-Josee making the connection, with the adventurous spirit that he has, he hopped on for 10days! We were thrilled.

Rough Seas and Mechanical Troubles

Jean-Phillip from TiPou Production joins us!

We made our way up to Havre-Saint-Pierre in a big overnight push - sailed all the way. It was a rough sea with big swells - we put poor Jean-Philip to the test, he got seasick, but the cameras still rolled! What a trooper!

After a brief stop, we set out with a plan to visit every coastal community. But fate had other plans. On exit, we heard an irregular squeal for just a few seconds and thought nothing of it. While underway, suddenly I realized the engine was smoking. Turns out the fuel hose was dripping on the engine. That diversion was quickly resolved... but that is when we noticed a significant leak on our stuffing box (the part that keeps water from entering where the drive shaft exits the boat). The lock nut had backed off and allowed the packing nut to jam onto the transmission flange. We could not budge it. The decision to turn around was instant. No way we would continue with a sinking ship!

Havre-Saint-Pierre a real fishing village!

Back in Havre-Saint-Pierre, we started the adventure of resolving a problem that would have us losing sleep from Jun 11th to Jul 3 (hopefully). Lonnie could promptly assess the situation, but we simply could not budge the nut - he tried EVERYTHING, including disconnecting and hoisting the motor twice! We knew the threads were stripped and the packing was likely dislodged. The locals started to trickle in to help, expert mechanics and seasoned boaters all gave it a go to no avail.

A plan was concocted to hoist the boat out of the water via trailer - a common practice along the shore here. They rallied to modify the trailer for our boat, welders, etc. The loader operator was scheduled, and off we went on a blustery day - lining up perfectly into the keel slot would be a challenge. We were all a little weary of the plan and the timing, but it was now or never. Lonnie nailed the approach, but unfortunately, the trailer didn't fit, and we broke some supports. We aborted quickly. Back to the dock.

Our options are to motor back 100NM to a travel lift in Sept-Iles, where motoring would be required to fight the current and prevailing headwind. Or move eastwardly, over 300NM to the next travel lift - taking advantage of wind and current, timing our windows carefully to ensure we can sail most of the way to avoid use of the engine.

All day and night, our bilge pump would run for about 10 seconds every 8min. We slept to the trickle... like our own little zen fountain (but not) and relaxed every time we heard the hum of the pump. We devised a plan, acquired a backup bilge pump, got our spare float handy, acquired some tubes and hose clamps, special waterproof tape - all things to mitigate the worst should the leak worsen underway. We worked hard to source and expedite a new dry seal - not a simple task when the one we need is in the USA and when shipping on a shore that is serviced only by air (when it's not foggy) and by a weekly ferry - there are no roads.

Communities & Kindness

New friends! Looking out for us :)

Through this time, the village folks welcomed us into their homes, we feasted on local seafood, showered, did laundry, and just had a wonderful time. Unbelievable how they so eagerly do whatever they can to help. Maurice and his brother Patrick orchestrated the trailer effort and made the modifications, Dany and Nico hosted an incredible dinner and shopped around in Sept Iles for parts, Martin and his son Tommy provided expert opinions, Edith gifted us with an incredible astrophotography print of hers of a nebula in the Big Dipper, TiPou had his sister receive our expedited part in Sept-Iles so that my friend Phil walked it to the airline kiosk. It takes a village, they say!

With a cautious optimism, we departed Havre-Saint-Pierre, our contingency plans in place and the leak ever-present. We sailed a solid 44 hours straight, taking full advantage of great conditions - complete with a spicy drop and go for Ti-Pou at a scary wharf in La Romaine.

Harrington Harbour... A Unique Place!

After skipping several planned stops, we finally arrived at Harrington Harbour. The leak continued at the same rate—but thankfully, the bilge pump kept doing its job. So now, we wait for the next good sailing window.

Rounding the final corner and catching our first glimpse of the village, we all felt it: this was a special moment. This was what we were sailing for. A seaside village of small, colourful homes perched on tundra slopes greeted us under the golden light of sunrise. We were stunned by the beauty.

Harrington Harbour is truly one-of-a-kind. A remote, fly-in and water-access-only community, the village has no roads—just wooden boardwalks winding through the homes and hills. No cars. Just ATVs and snowmobiles. Exploring this boardwalk village is something I’ll never forget.

Cliffs on approach to the unique village of Harrington Harbour - only roads are wooden board walks.

Here too, the people are the story. We were docked on the village wharf, next to the seafood processing plant. Fishermen and residents all dropped in to say hello and went out of their way to find ways to help us or make us feel welcome. We got to savour some fresh (right off the boat) lobster. They ask if you prefer a male or female lobster, new for us! We had some local snow crab too!

Crab pots and a fresh lobster!

Jim and Sharon, seasoned local sailors, treated us to home-cooked meal, offered showers and laundry, and even gifted us canned seal. The plant workers shared their showers and toilets and delivered firewood straight to the boat. Just incredible. With plenty of time for walks around the island, we soaked in the scenery.

Harrington Harbour - where fishing is a way of life

We ended up waiting six days for favorable winds—not a problem with plenty of boat chores to do and logistics to sort out, including sourcing spare parts to remote locations and figuring out the best place for haul-out: remote La Tabatière (fly-in or water only), or the better-serviced Blanc Sablon farther east.

Onwards - north east bound!

We set sail toward a stunning natural feature called Le Petit Rigolet, a narrow 15-mile-long, 300-foot-wide channel carved through rock and tundra. It provides protection from the open Gulf waters, which were still rough with a southwest blow. Sporty sailing through rock shoals and finally threading the channel under sail made this one of the highlights of the trip.

After an overnight stop in St-Augustin, we launched into our final leg to Blanc Sablon. With headwinds pushing back, the transit was tough, but when the harbour came into view, we were overcome with relief and pride. We’d just sailed over 300 nautical miles of remote, rocky, and nearly unserviced shoreline—with a leaking boat. No small feat.

Once again, local hospitality blew us away. The villagers welcomed us with warmth and generosity. While waiting a day (it was St-Jean-Baptiste Day), we jumped at the chance to refuel, restock supplies, and gather materials for hull repairs. The next morning, the boat was hauled out—though dense fog made locating the travel lift a spicy challenge!

Repairs and Goodbyes

Work began immediately. First on the list: assessing the shaft’s cutless bearing. It needed replacing. Fortunately, we got it measured and the new part was on its way that same day. That meant a 10-day stay—just enough time to arrange a crew swap in Blanc Sablon instead of the originally planned St. Anthony. The change didn’t cost us any time on our schedule.

Haul out in Blanc Sablon - what a relief!

Our time in Blanc Sablon turned out to be just as memorable. We harvested fresh mussels at low tide, were gifted scallops from a boat just pulling into port, and met locals Marc and Judy, who fully adopted us. They brought us to a live band show, treated us to coastal road trips, shared their food, helped us refill water jugs and fuel cans, and sent us off with a treasure trove of capelin, trout, cod, and a new fishing jigger. They even helped us preserve eight dozen fresh hen and duck eggs in sea salt for the crossing.

Fresh scallops, mussel picking at low tide, sightseeing along the coast and our resident owl.Wonderful new friends who really looked out for us! Lighthouse at L'Anse Amour.

What a way to wrap up our journey along Quebec’s North Shore. We’re touched, humbled, and deeply grateful for the kindness we experienced.