Another early departure - farewell Montreal
Montreal receded so quickly that we only had half an hour or so to regard the skyline before we had disappeared behind a distant headland into the low countryside beyond. Despite our low speed through the water in the light winds, with the current's help, we slid by the shoreline almost as fast as we would have in still water with a good wind.
At about ten o'clock, the wind picked up as forecast, but they got the direction exactly opposite of what we were experiencing. Instead of the perfect fast spinnaker run we were expecting, we now had direct headwinds.
At this point, the St. Lawrence was wide enough for tacking without it having to be a constant exercise, giving us nice five to fifteen-minute breaks between bouts of winch cranking. With the current pushing us into the wind, our tacking angle across the bottom was about eighty degrees, instead of the more usual hundred and twenty. This seems small, but made a huge difference to our progress down the river. With the added headwind provided by the current, we were putting landmarks behind us at about ninety percent the rate we would have done sailing straight down the middle of the channel in a tailwind.
As sunset approached, we were doing so well that we decided to sail past our planned stop at Trois Rivieres and head to the little village of Batiscan. We made it in the last few minutes of daylight, setting anchor in the drizzle leading up to a night of heavy rain. We had put sixty-six nautical miles through the water on our speed transducer, which is an incredibly long way for a day sail. Even more amazing was that, with the current's help, our GPS track had covered a whopping ninety-seven miles. no wonder we both had trouble keeping from nodding off over a late dinner.
The rainy weather and strong headwinds then gave us a full day to rest before pushing on. We didn't go ashore at Batiscan, so we can't say much about it other than that it looks tidy from the river.
We didn't get to enjoy any time ashore in Batiscan
Batiscan was notable for us because it is the furthest up the river that the tides can be felt. Although we were still hundreds of miles from actual seawater, rising spring tides (the highest range of the month) at the mouth of the river causes the freshwater outflow to back up behind the seawater, causing the water to rise and the current to slow. For us, at Batiscan, this caused a small water level change of about two thirds of a meter, while the current went from virtually slack on the rising tide to about three knots as it fell. From here on, we would have to factor in tide heights when anchoring and currents when underway. After a year in fresh water, it felt like our first step in being reunited with the sea.
From Batiscan, we still had a fairly long leg to Quebec City. My instinct was to get an early start by leaving at, or slightly before, first light. Current-wise, that was a bad idea. If we did so, we would be sailing through only one ebb cycle and two floods. If we got up with the sun and left a few hours later, it would be the other way around, which should save us five hours of being underway. Despite a gnawing feeling that we were wasting precious daylight, I kept having to tell myself to wait, wait, wait, until Begonia started pointing upriver before hauling anchor.
We now find ourselves in the tidal part of the St Lawrence River, and there is always something to look out for
It worked just as planned. With light tailwinds pushing us through the water at two to three knots, the current easily doubled that and sometimes even tripled it. We then had a short three hours of no current during the “flood” before resuming our quick progress.
The riverbanks, which had previously been low, rolling farmland, slowly gave way to steeper cliffs with higher mountains behind. This culminates at the Pierre Laporte Bridge at Quebec City, which is billed as Canada’s longest suspension bridge with no toll. The bridge spans between two high walls at such a height that clearance, even for the tallest ships, is not an issue. In fact “Quebec” means narrow passage, or strait, in the Algonquin language. At this pinch-point, the current flushed us through with a five-and-a-half knot boost.
We had made it to Quebec City with a day to spare before our marina reservation at their vieux-port. This part of the river, with its steep sides and fast currents, has very little in the way of decent anchorages. The one exception is at Anse au Foulon, just downstream of the bridge. It’s not a particularly pretty spot, with the main view being the adjacent road sand and salt storage facility. The tides here have a five meter range and the currents are strong in both directions. This meant that even though we arrived at Anse au Foulon at low tide with only three meters of water beneath us, we had to take up almost a third of the available anchoring space by putting out seventy-five maters of chain in order to have enough scope to protect us at high tide and maximum current.
We anchored just west of Quebec City Anse Au Foulon) avoiding the marina until we were fully rested and able to appreciate it.
Batiscan Anchorage location >> On google maps
Anse Au Foulon Anchorage location >> On google maps
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