August 23                                      Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada

As promised, the prop and shaft repair crew arrived at 7:00 AM and promptly began installing the straightened shafts and the spare props.  Despite the heavy weight of the props, stored in the hold below the galley, they were removed without incident using a hoist mounted next to the port side of the boat.

At 10:30, I was informed I must leave the boat for they were ready to put it back into the water.  Another crew from the shipyard had arrived to make possible this Saturday departure.  We were grateful and humbled by their concern for us on a day when they usually would not be working.  John Boucher, the general manager of the facility had become a special friend.  He made certain the work was done and  we were safe and comfortable in our "penthouse boat" more than 20 feet above the ground.  

After the boat had been placed into the water, I began to board but was stopped by the foreman of the crew who gave me the European kiss on both cheeks.  The other men followed and I felt like a prom queen!!  David started the engines and we moved out into the bay.  The new props worked beautifully.  The feeling of once again being on our journey was indescribable.  The knots of tension between my shoulders began to relax.

Marinas on the Northumberland Strait are limited in depth and dockage size.  As we left Caraquet late (almost noon), we had few choices for our evening stay.  Although it was located more than twenty miles upriver, Miramichi seemed to be a good choice.  The Bottom Line is more than 17 meters in length and most marinas offer little dockage for boats more than 15 meters.

We turned into the Miramichi River at 7:00 PM.  The GPS indicated we would arrive at the marina by 9:00 PM.  This would be just before the last light was gone.  Although marked by red and green buoys, the river channel was twisting and shallow.  We had to slow our speed and the sun disappeared about thirty minutes before we reached our destination.  With his usual calm and common sense, David proceeded without incident to the rustic marina located just before the giant Centennial Bridge that spans the river.

As promised, the dockmaster and several helpers were on the dock waiting for us.  Within minutes, we were docked and our long day’s journey had been successfully completed.  Dinner was on the boat.