Once again we’re off into the fog that has closed in, right up to the wharf this time. Our next stop is Grand Bruit, only 12 miles from LaPoile, so the youngsters decide to forgo drugs, especially since the first five miles of the trip is in the shelter of LaPoile Bay. This is probably not the right choice since, within a few minutes, Ryan is hanging over the side, and Sarah is breathing deep and searching for that illusive horizon in the fog. Sarah, who has had lots of experience with seasickness over the years of sailing in the North Atlantic with her father, manages to hang on to lunch, but it’s a close-run thing.
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