 We got up at 6:00am and began preparing to leave our marina in Cap-a-l’Aigle. No fog in sight, it should be a great day to head out. The marine weather radio was broadcasting some wind warnings but they did not exceed 25 knots and we felt that we should give it a try. I turned the key to start the engine and the starter would not engage the engine’s flywheel but it just kept running. OK, what’s going on here? I popped the engine hatch and took a look below, inspecting wire connections, etc. |
| Chris dug out Don Casey’s Sailboat Maintenance book (the sailor’s bible) and I opened up the Ford Lehman diesel engine manual. No information on stuck solenoids so it’s time to break out the tool-box and start tearing things apart. |
| Years ago I owned a 1962 Ford Falcon and every once in a while the starter on that car would get stuck. A mechanic at the gas station where I worked showed me that the first thing you should try in a situation like that is to lightly tap the starter with a hammer or wrench—just in case the solenoid is stuck. It worked on the Falcon so why not try it on the Ford Lehman diesel? Out comes the hammer, a few taps in the right spots and VOILA—she starts! Wow, how lucky is that? I must have a horseshoe somewhere on my person (you figure out the rest J). Now I’m thinking “I spent all that money on tools, when all I really need is a hammer”. Hey my master mechanic son Steve, is the hammer your favorite tool too? (f.y.i. – my son Steve is a licensed automotive and diesel engine mechanic) |
 Anyway, engine starter problems behind us (for good, I hope) we leave our slip in the marina and head towards the river. We set our course on Tiki Navigation for Rimouski, Quebec and start down the river. Things are going pretty smoothly, Chris is on the helm and Joan is on watch too, so I decide that if this is my lucky day, then perhaps I can get the radar working too. I was still “smarting” from the thought of having to spend about $2,000 on a new radar unit so I was determined to try everything I could to get the thing working again. I had read the owner’s manual from cover to cover the night before and managed to understand that the tiny coaxial cable from the radar’s broadcasting unit was key to carrying the signal down to the display in the pilot house. I traced the wires in the junction box and found a tiny broken wire—and this wire is not much bigger than a few strands of hair so it’s easy as pie to miss. I cleaned up the connection, hooked up the wire and, once again VOILA—the radar, she works! Yahoo! With this kind of luck today I should be looking for a convenience store that sells lottery tickets :). |
 We celebrate our success with high-fives all around and I promise to buy the drinks tonight—after all, I have an extra two grand now! We continued on our course to Rimouski but the wind is building, coming straight at us and the tide is coming up the St. Lawrence. The result is that we are encountering lots of waves and the boat is in heavy spray all the time. We are dry and cosy inside the pilot house and, travelling at 7.5 knots, making reasonable progress (I love this boat!) but none of us are interested in bashing through this stuff for another 10 hours. |
 We decide to try and find a quiet place along the shore to stop for a while and see if the wind drops off. The little community of Gros-Cacouna is off our starboard bow and it has a large manmade and very well protected basin for the freighters that come to that harbour. We duck inside the basin and the rocky ride is gone. There are no freighters in the basin so we drop our anchor and decide to spend an hour or two there to see if the wind drops off. It’s also a good time for lunch and to spend a bit of focused time listening to the marine weather forecast. Joan once again works her magic in the galley and we have a great lunch to energize the crew. After lunch the wind speed showing up on our anemometer has dropped off a bit so we decide to hoist our anchor and try heading down river again. We don’t get too far. As we approach the exit of the basin we can see that the river is “full of sheep” from shore to shore and that things have not changed much from when we first came in to the basin. We turn around and head back in to the basin, drop the hook once more and settle in for a few more hours. However, the forecast on the marine weather radio is not encouraging. Gale warnings are being issued for the area and we certainly do not want to be bashing around in a gale because our next point on the refuge on the river is 30-40 miles away. All we can do is sit and wait. |
 We wait another two hours and it is obvious that things are not improving on the river. We are securely anchored in the basin and it is a perfect place to hide out from the weather. This is a commercial harbour so pleasure craft are not usually welcome to come in and tie up to the docks or anchor unless the weather is too nasty for safe passage. The St. Lawrence River cruising guidebook that we are often referencing gives a phone number for the Harbourmaster so I tried to telephone him to seek permission to stay for the night. Voice mail is the only response I get so I leave a message describing our situation and our desire to remain for the night. We also leave our marine radio on the standard hailing channel (16) so we can hear them calling if they want to reach us. After several hours the radio is still silent and the lights inside buildings on the shore go out. Clearly the majority of workers have headed home for the day & it seems they don’t have a problem with us being there, so we settle in for the night too. Merci-beaucoup Gros-Cacouna commercial harbour—we are grateful for your kind hospitality and shelter from the rough river on the other side of the breakwater. |