In spite of the early hour (it's 2:30 am), the Harrington Harbour wharf is already busy like a beehive when we get off the ship.  Before we know it, our kayaks are unloaded and we ask one of the lift trucks to help us store them in the warehouse until morning.  Once again, we are overwhelmed with the readiness of the wharf manager to accomodate our needs. It's a great help having the lift transport our 200 lbs loaded kayaks and having them stored in the locked warehouse means we won't have to worry about them.  After a conversation with two hikers who were also getting off here and on the advice of the ship's purser, we bring our tent to the playground next to the hockey rink, behind the church. A I'm snuggling into my sleeping bag, I glance wearily at the Eastern sky, already showing the first hints of morning light. I doze off to the sounds of the Nordik hoist and the wharf's forklifts, still busy loading and unloading the weekly provisions of the village.

We will have to get used to this very early morning light. Being at the very Easterly part of the time zone (in fact we are technically in the next one) and quite far North (at 51°N, almost at the same latitude as the very bottom of Hudson Bay) the sun rises in the morning at 4:30 am and sets at around 7:40 pm. From now on, our days will adapt to that rythm.

Too few hours later, at 7, the ship's whistle announces its departure. Already several hours late on his schedule, the Captain of the Nordik had decided to give his crew a few hours rest before getting under way again.

Soon we are up and putting away the tent. The day goes by quickly : first a check at the wharf, then a tour of the village, a few pictures, brief conversations with some of the villagers we meet along the way and last minute purchases at the Genaral Stores. Then back to the kayaks for a complete unloading, reorganization and final loading in order to get everything to fit. To my surprise, everything we brought finally fits inside or on top of our two 17 footers...

Home to 285 souls, Harrington Harbour is, to us, the most beautiful of the Lower North Coast villages. Life here follows the rythm of the sea - and of the Nordik. The two village stores  are overflowing with activity as they have just received their weekly supplies. Cardboard boxes are everywhere, blocking the aisles, each with someone's name : they are individual customer orders. We meet two teen age girls on their way to the new municipal outdoor pool. Both college students, they spend the school year far away, one in Montreal, the other in Lennoxville in Southeastern Quebec. During the Summer they work here as life guards and swim instructors. Lessons start at 9 in pretty chilly water... Fishing boats are lined up at the wharf. Harrington Harbour has the only fish plant between Havre-St-Pierre and La Tabatière. A Newfoundlander has stopped here to restock before returning to the halibut banks off Anticosti Island. No roads, so no cars... Wooden board walks are the local streets and are busy with bicycles, 4-wheelers and pedestrians.

The weather is pretty cloudy but, apart from a sprinkle of rain, we are blessed with a dry afternoon while we pack the kayaks. Passer-bys stop to watch and check on our progress. As usual, it is hard to believe that the 200 square feet of odds and ends covering this corner of the wharf will actually fit into those 4 tiny holes in those ridiculous boats... The more experienced seamen glance at our gear with knowing eyes : charts, compass, hand pumps, PFD's, knives, tow ropes, radar reflector... No comments - a sign of approval, I hope? It's 3 in the afternoon when we finally are ready to go. We won't paddle far today, but I really want to get under way and find a little bit of solitude tonight.

Suddenly, shouts erupt on the wharf. Two or three youngsters comme running by us like orange flashes. A big "splash" and more shouts and laughter. These young fishing lads had just unpacked brand new Mustang survival suits, delivered this morning by the Nordik. They just could not resist the urge to give them a try right away! They're jumping 10 feet down into the icy water. One of them runs back up the ladder and takes his girlfriend into his very wet and very cold arms - more screams...

All this time, the tide has been going down and the ramp I had thought of using is no longer safe. I get into the kayak and let myself slip down the wet and algae-covered slippery slope to the water. The kayak is so heavy that the bow submarines into the sea almost to the cockpit. It pops back up and I breath a sigh of relief

All of sudden everything becomes quiet. Marie and I take a moment to savour this first instant on the water. Calm and freedom, the soft motion of the waves in the sheltered harbour, the caress of the wind... Our senses are suddenly awakened : the calls of seabirds, the smell of the outgoing tide, water flowing off our hands on the paddle shaft, the taste of salt on our skin, sparks of sunlight on the ripples... All were there but our senses were confused by concerns about packing and planning, distracted by the activity and questions of onlookers.

Our paddling reflexes come back quickly, almost unconsciously. One eye on the land and sea around us, another on the chart, a glance at the compass another at the sky. As often in the Summer, the wind comes from the South-West and has increased steadily as the day has progressed. We will be relatively sheltered as we are following the Eastern shore of Harrington Island and the waves will be behind us or slightly from the right.

After about one hour on the water, we find that a passage between two islands that I had planned to use is impassable at low tide and the windchop around the outside of these islands makes the sea a bit too difficult for our first day. We turn around and quickly find a sheltered bay to set up camp. Just to cap this tiring and frustrating day (I'm seriously feeling the accumulated effect of a very busy schedule over the last several weeks, jet lag from a recent business trip and the lack of sleep of last night), I injure my left foot slipping on a sea-weed covered rock as I pull my kayak out of the water. A small sea snail has found a way to cut its way under the skin of my heel. I finally succeed in extracting the shell and treat the wound with an antiseptic. After observing the wound, I decide to postpone a decision to return to Harrington Harbour for treatment. In any case, there is no real medical center there, just a nurse at the retirement home. The wound quickly heals over the next few days - thanks to cold sea water that reduces the risk of infection...

We set up camp on the soft moss and fall asleep to the gentle splashes of the rising tide lapping against the rocks a few feet away.