Though it had changed with each successive broadcast, the weather forecast sounded safe enough next morning to get across the Straits to the mainland side. Accordingly we took off, foggy rain notwithstanding, and were rewarded by a fast and pleasant sail under reefed main & stay'sl (practically a calm day, for these parts) to the edge of Quebec, just across the border from Labrador. It was strange to think, looking back into the fog, that we were leaving Newfoundland behind at last. We had discovered in it an almost untouched jewel of a cruising ground—unique scenery, incredible people, a summer not sweltering in frightful heat—it was cruising as different from cruising the tropics as could be. Not that we dislike tropical cruising, but it had certainly been a refreshing change, and more of an adventure than the beaten Caribbean and Pacific paths. We had at no time feared piracy or theft, never had wanted for a ride to the gas station or grocery store, suffered from no language barriers, and hadn't been allowed to pay a dime for mountains of fresh seafood. Yes, a wonderful place indeed but were were leaving none too soon. Fall was advancing, and we still had hundreds of miles of the coast of Quebec, about which we knew nothing yet, to traverse before November. As Ganymede chugged gently into her first mainland anchorage, a rock-studded harbor just around the corner from Blanc Sablon, I almost wished we could have stayed in Newfoundland. But part of cruising is getting along, leaving behind all the magical places but taking the memories of them with you, treasuring them even as you look forward to the next mysterious and undiscovered coast. Our next coast lay before us now, curving gently southwest toward Cape Whittle, then straight west to Sept Iles, where it finally drops below 50 north to form the northern bank of the great St Lawrence River. I only hope we find this next leg as wonderful as the last.