SUNDAY SAILING

The Royal Western Nova Scotia Yacht Club hosts a sailing race on Sunday afternoons. We often see the sail boats as they race up the Annapolis Basin, to a point somewhere in Smith's Cove and back again to their start point in Digby. Today, the mist at the edge of the Basin created a ghostly effect. I could imagine myself transported to a scene like this a century ago. The boats would have been similar in design, and certainly it would have been a mode of transportation in the early 1900s. This was a very popular and prosperous ship building area a century and more ago. That industry has declined to nothing now, but the sailing has continued as a fashion statement reserved for the rich and near-rich. For an area with such an expanse of sail-friendly water, there are surprisingly few sailors. Maybe because so many people make their money out at sea, toiling at the fishing industry, they cannot find joy in sailing. Understandably so, because for many fishermen the sea has no pleasure. So, the members of the yacht club race for pleasure on Sunday afternoons. The race gives me pleasure because I can sit on the porch and enjoy the geometric dynamics visible from this perspective, and watch the beauty of the backdrop behind the boats at the same time.

OUR EPHEMERAL ENVIRONMENT

This has been a fortnight of multitudinous skies, lending a transitory atmosphere to the Annapolis Basin. We have enjoyed bright sunlight sparkling on gentle waves, tumultuous clouds buffeting each other and sobbing cold tears, heavy air precariously balanced just above the water, and brightly coloured sunsets that add a wildly-edged pacific end to the day's activities.

From our dining room window, I have observed, and recorded some of the memorable moments as they unfolded over the Annapolis Basin. A smörgåsbord of skyscapes follows, for your visual pleasure.

Enjoyed it?  Good.

ODDITIES AT SMITH'S COVE BEACH

Smith's Cove Beach, which is visible from out house at low tide, is a public beach. What does this mean? It means that anyone can wander down on the beach and enjoy the invigorate salty air, the quickening breezes that whiffle in through the Digby Gut, and the bright cerulean sky.

That's on a good day. There are times when the beach is under siege – pounding surf sucking the pebbles down into the depths of the sea, gouging and reshaping the beach into a newer, more contemporary form.

Usually these rather inclement days insist that no-one come down to watch Neptune's handiwork. We may go down to the sea again later, when the sculpting is finshed, but not when the master of the deep is at work.

 

Most of the time, this is a tame beach, generally maintaining its shape and form for weeks at a time.

The tide comes in and goes out at regular intervals, and leaves behind small treasures for us.

There is always a good chance of finding pieces of coloured and well worn glass which are sometimes referred to as 'mermaid's tears'. I'm not sure why they have that moniker; it is quite suitable for the clear and blue glass, but I'm not sure how it applies to the brown, green or pink glass.

There are an assortment of North Atlantic shells, with mussels predominating, various seaweeds, plenty of pebbles and cobbles, occasionally crab shells or lobster claws.

From time to time odd objects turn up on our beach. Most beaches have this trait, of course, and that's what makes beach-combing such an endearing and enduring pastime. On a recent saunter along the beach, we found the following items: a single running shoe,

a half-head of cabbage,

and a decent shovel.

We came home with the shovel, but the other items were left to fend for themselves. Doubtless they continued their travels on the next tide.

Public beaches may have a rather seedy reputation in many places, but our little beach is far from seedy. It is interesting, intriguing, physically and mentally refreshing, and it has benches where we can rest awhile an djust imbibe in the beauty of nature ... just what a good beach should be.
 

FOGGY VISTAS OF THE ANNAPOLIS BASIN

Smith's Cove is a village on the shores of the Annapolis Basin,  a large salt-water bay. From almost anywhere in the village we can see the Digby Gut, (St George's Strait)  the rough water opening from the Annapolis Basin to the Bay of Fundy, the larger body of water beyond us. The Bay of Fundy opens to the Atlantic Ocean.

  http://maps.google.ca/maps?hl=en&sugexp=cish&cp=9&gs_id=17&xhr=t&q=digby+gut&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_cp.r_qf.,cf.osb&biw=1280&bih=705&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wl

Our tiny house sits perched on the side of one of the hills in Smith's Cove. We overlook the Annapolis Basin. From this vantage point, we can watch the ever-changing skyscape, playing our own personal light show of magical colours and shifting shadows.This is most mysterious, and enticing, when it is foggy.

For the past couple of days the Annapolis Basin has been intermittently covered with a blanket of fog. It waxes and wanes as the waves and trees continually toss it back from themselves, 

much as we toss the coverlets off the bed and then pull them back up again.

Carl Sandberg, an American poet, likened fog to cats:

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

What I like is the swirling, cloudy atmosphere with clouds seemingly rising in vertical pipes, while others lie horizontally on the top of the water, or hover just above it.

Some mornings, like today, the colours of what we can see are saturated.

Other mornings, it seems that only a whiff of colour has touched the sky-sea scape.

Because our house is up on the hillside, we are rarely dampened by the fog. Because we are not caught up in the fog, we can appreciate its variegated patterns without feeling its intensity in our home and our bones.

Ever-changing view. This, for me, is the pleasure of living in Smith's Cove.

LOW TIDE

Twice a day, the tide flows out through the Digby Gut. Our beach, during low tide, seems to extend  to about 200 - 250 meters. There is about 10-15 meters of beach at high tide. Our tides, in the Bay of Fundy, are extremely high, and the Annapolis Basin feels that surge of water.  In Digby, today and tomorrow, here are the tide times and heights:

2012-04-07 (Saturday) Time Height ADT (m) (ft) 00:06  9.0  29.5    06:23  -0.1  -0.3    12:32  8.9  29.2    18:45  0.1  0.3

2012-04-08 (Sunday) Time Height ADT (m) (ft) 00:54  9.2  30.2    07:12  -0.2  -0.7    13:21  8.9  29.2    19:34  0.1  0.3

I took at snapshot of the low tide this morning, at about 0700, some minutes after the tide had turned.  

I took another snapshot of the low tide this evening, at about 1900, fairly soon after the tide had turned. 

What amazed me was how wide the causeway to Bear Island was this evening. It is just visible as a brownish swathe to the right, through the trees.    

We were busy during the day, and didn't think about taking a snapshot at high tide, but it was remarkable. It seemed to come up nearly to the tree line on Bear Island. Perhaps we shall think about taking a picture tomorrow.

Our daily entertainment - noting the changes in the landscape caused by the tides, the clouds, the weather in general, and the colours of the vegetation around us. It is an ever changing, always interesting view.

 

Smith's Cove Beach

We are fortunate with our location, on the edge of the Annapolis Basin. Our village is meanders around a couple of coves which bracket a small peninsula. The irregularly shaped Smith Cove is on the left of the village, while the mouth of Bear River makes another, larger cover, to the east.

 This larger cove is where we like to wander on the beach. It is convenient to our home, so we can walk down there with ease.  The dogs love a wild romp on the beach. Here they are, chasing seagulls.

Although the village is punctuated by the coves, the land rises quickly, and most of the houses, including ours,  are up on the hillside, overlooking the Annapolis Basin. Our view, like most of the views in Smith's Cove, is marvellous - we look across the Basin towards the Digby Gut and out to the Bay of Fundy beyond.

Our dogs like to sit in the driveway and look out to sea as well. Of course, here, they are looking uphill towards the house.

Our most recent snowstorm...January 29, 2010. The snowplows came up our road late in the afternoon, but the main road was plowed much earlier. One of the beautiful aspects of a winter snowstorm is looking out a window at the view beyond, and knowing that it is warm inside, despite the cold outside.