Sunday, August 3rd 2003

Clear skies, fair visibility (15 km becoming 1km over water in the early afternoon and clearing again, no wind, light swell from the Southwest.

Rock pyramid, Wild Cove.

When we awake, the tide has gone out again. The beach has been completely wiped clean except for the little corner where we set the tent up. The invisible otter has left new tracks between the pond and the sea.

While Marie explores the shore, I scramble up the rocks to the side of the beach and hike to the summit. We read that from the top, 200 m over sea level, on a clear day, you can see Brunette Island and the hills on St-Pierre and Miquelon. Unfortunately, the air has become more humid and a haze hangs over the horizon. I can't even see Burgeo to the West and can barely make out Ramea.

Below, ant-size Marie walks along the beach. Instead of following the ridge as I did on the way up, I zig-zag down directly towards the pond, cutting through the the mess of hardy spruce.

It's 11 am when we slide into the water for the last leg of our trip.

After the short paddle across the mouth of Aviron Bay, we approach Aviron Point. We had been warned about the sea conditions around the point. The long Southwest swells deepen as they reach the shallows and break against the rocks, sending a backwash against other incoming waves. Even 300 m off shore, our kayaks are jostled by the unruly seas. Two outboards going the other way pass by as we are paddling through the waves. The first one stops to say Hi! Perry Buggs, from François, is taking some friends for an afternoon of fishing at his cabin in La Hune Bay.

A little farther, juste before Bagg Head, a cavernous opening gapes at the base of a cliff. The arch is over 20 m high. Deeper inside, behind a lower arch, the ceiling diappears into a vertical chimney, at least 30 m upwards.  

We stop shortly after for a snack on the little rocky beach that closes the mouth of Bagg Pond, a glacier canyon cutting deep into this peninsula. The air cools down noticeably as a fog bank slowly moves in from the South, rising as it meets the shore. For the first time on this trip, I set my GPS for the coordinates of the lighthouse at the mouth of François Bay, in case the fog closes in for good. I also take a compass reading, just to be sure. Anyways, if worse comes to worse, all we have to do is follow the coastline...

The fog lifts just as we get to the François Bay lighthouse.

The signal light is now automated and marks the entrance to François Bay

Like Grey River, the village is sheltered well inside this natural harbour. It nestles on a stream, in front of a relatively gentle slope leading to the highlands behind, flanked by tall and steep cliffs. 

We paddle in front of three older men, sitting on the edge of the government wharf. They point us towards the slipway across the harbour, on the other side of the village. A few good size fishing boats are moored in front of the stages that line the shore. As we paddle closer, the gentle sounds of a Summer Sunday afternoon drift down to the water : children voices, laughter, an ATV engine...

A few passerbys greet us as we pull the boats on the well built slipway. 

The two village stores are closed for Sunday, of course. There is no public phone, but we find that the local CAP site (Internet access point) located in the small public school, is open. Gwen Dumsford shows us the village Internet site that she has just created. She talks about her school and of life in the village.Four teachers take care of the 21 children attending all levels from Kindergarden to the 12th grade. There are 120 people living here.

In the early evening, the Marine Voyager ties up for the night, bringing in supplies and visitors. Everyday, a few tourists stop in to spend the night here. A couple of hikers leave immediately to camp on the highlands where they'll spend a few days before coming back. The coastal freighter will leave early tomorrow for Grey River and François. After discussing with the crew, we load our kayaks on the boat right away so they'll be ready tomorrow for the 7:30 departure.

Later, we visit the village museum which opens in the evening to allow visitors arriving on the ferry to learn about the community and purchase a souvenir. We are lucky to find a room to rent for the night at Roweena Marsden's. Her husband, a fisherman, has left for 3 or 4 days to the St.Pierre banks with their youngest son. She takes care of the house and socializes with her friends. She also spends hours looking out over the bay, thinking of her children and grandchildren, gone away to the mainland to find work like so many others.