If you are going to begin a journey it is good to start it on a full stomach.
Breakfast at our B&B saw us saying good by to some acquaintances made while there. A lovely couple from Nova Scotia were in the area researching and writing about a planned fictional movie. It was very nice chatting in the mornings. We highly suggested that they add a few kayakers to their script especially ones with the name of Ralph, Tony and Stan.
A little morning sing-a-long and we were set. lol The only things we could really carry successfully I think was our gear.
Thing is we were going to a community that was being resettled and this would be one of the last runs of the ferry to Grand Bruit. It was sad in a way as we gathered our gear on the dock and watched the inhabitants of Grand Bruit unload theirs. The ferry was making more runs than normal trying to help the Grand Bruitans get their possessions to their new location which on this day was Burgeo.
Boats and all were unloaded off the ferry from Gran Bruit and this chap was paddling his craft over to another ferry at the dock that was heading for Ramea, an Island further off Burgeo (approx. 18km). You can see the straps attached to his boat so as to aid hoisting to the other ferry.
Our boats were loaded on full of gear for our trip and heavy as heck. We were off to Grand Bruit and we sailed down the coast for 2.5 to 3 hours. It was enjoyable watching the coastline from afar that we would soon be paddling past. We knew not what the conditions at this point would hold. This leg would actually on our paddle present us with some of the biggest water of the trip.
Grand Bruit was a beautiful village nestled in a small mountainous range they would call the Blue Hills because of the blue cast when you gazed upon them. You can see them in the header image. This is their United Church being left to decay with the community upon the steward's of the church request. Their small fire hall is right next door.
Their streets were huge blocks of concrete that went to most doorsteps. Their are no automobiles just ATV's and boats here.
The local watering spot is aptly named "Cramelot Inn". It's proprietor Joe is a lively character and inviting and full of stories. The Inn has seen visitors from all over the world and that testament is etched in the guestbook you are invited to sign once inside. Joe said he crammed 40 or so odd soles in here during a gathering which this spot was for dances, music and live entertainment that could break out we were told almost any night of the week.
Joe showing Ralph the guest book.
Grand Bruit meaning in french "great noise" is thought to get it's name from the waterfalls that slice right through the community. Settled in the early 1800's by English settlers from Jersey it has been a haven for fishermen and his families for many years. This is the oldest home in Grand bruit. Constructed in the 1800's and still standing.
The waterfalls of Grand Bruit.
They are beautiful though.
I've taken so many pictures that tell such a tale here that my blog cannot do it full justice. I hope our slide show presentation at our club's watering hole and meeting place The Guvnor in the winter will help accomplish that.
So as we plan to leave Grand Bruit tomorrow for Rose Blanche where our paddle will begin we are beside ourselves with apathy for the people who are leaving here and giving up their way of life which once existed in Grand Bruit. Many were born here, many were wed here and many died here. Molly a big old lab I befriended when I was here seems to tell the story in her own expression of grief.