Clearing into Canada
Clearing into Canada
Sept 5, 2025
Before we could cruise the fiords along the south coast of Newfoundland, we had to officially enter Canada. Back in 2014, it was possible to check into Canada with a satellite phone via CANPASS without stopping for an inspection. Today, sailing from the US to Canada requires physically appearing at a point of entry, the closest of which to St. Pierre was the port of Fortune, Newfoundland, 25 nautical miles to the east.
Route from St. Pierre to Fortune
There are very different requirements for clearing into a country, depending on when and where you are in the world. Crossing an international border inevitably involves immigration officials to make sure all crew and passengers are entering legally followed by customs officials to check for contraband and make sure any required duties are paid.
In some cases, such as sailing into Hawaii years ago, agriculture officials came on the boat to spray down the interior with pesticides. In 2004, entering French Polynesia by boat required a sufficiently large deposit to cover the cost of deportation, in case you were tempted to over-stay your welcome in paradise. In contrast, the main concern of the very friendly custom officials on the remote desolate island of Penrhyn in the Mid-Pacific were what DVD movies were on board that they could borrow (and return).
During COVID, the requirements for entry into a country seemed to be at the whim of the local official with the latest iteration of quarantine and vaccination regulations in hand. For Fergal, the welcoming Harbor Master in Killybegs, Ireland, our having been isolated at sea for three weeks was sufficient to waive the requirement for a COVID test and quarantine. Less considerate were the officials in the island of St. Lucia who, despite our having been at sea for three weeks, seemed more interested in the testing fee than in common sense.
The most bureaucratic entry of anywhere I’ve ever sailed was Saint Maarten in the Caribbean where they required filling out a one-size-fits-all form with several entries that didn’t apply and where an unacceptable entry sent you back to square one. To make it even more frustrating, the customs office didn’t offer a connection to their own network, let alone any advice. The nearest internet was across the street at the McDonalds for the price of a cup of coffee. It took us two days to get checked in.
Fortunately, contrary to Saint Maarten, the vast majority of immigration and customs officials around the globe are very helpful and welcoming to sailboats. The officials in Saint Pierre, France had been no less. Once we had cleared immigration and customs in St. Pierre, we were authorized to lower the yellow quarantine flag and the French tri-color was run-up the shroud on the starboard side of the boat out of respect. For those of us collecting “stamps of many countries,” one benefit of being cleared into a foreign country is that one’s passport gets notarized*. And when arriving by boat, the bragging rights include a picture of a vessel indicating that not only have we arrived, but we arrived by sea.
Entry by “Mer” – Passport stamp for Saint-Pierre.
Now, three days after having checked in, it was time to leave. As with entering, there are requirements for clearing out of a country, which are also different depending on where you are in the world. Most countries involve some paperwork and a stamp, combined with a departure window. For example, the countries of Spain, Cabo Verde, and St. Lucia, provided a 24-hour window to depart, but other countries are more strict. The most stringent of these is perhaps Bermuda. In 2022 the custom officers required that the boat be brought directly to the dock so they could hand back our flare gun and then stand by as they attentively verified that we sailed away.
Back in French Polynesian in 2004, checking out was done upon departure, especially if one wanted to reclaim the deposit. In St. Pierre, the officials had already been notified of our approximate departure, so no additional paperwork was required. The only unusual event was that two St. Pierre Security Officers asked if we’d been approach by anyone wanting transportation over to Canada. St. Pierre is part of the EU and open to travel from other EU countries without restriction. Apparently, this makes it a potential jump-off point for illegal entry into Canada.
Their question was made all the more intriguing by one of the officers providing his card with instructions to surreptitiously take a picture of anyone asking for transportation. The unasked question remained as to whether the individuals were just looking for a better life in Canada, or were a security threat. We didn’t ask.
As Brimmer, Burke, Denise and I all knew from previous experience on board the Lillian B, ocean going hitch-hikers are not uncommon. Our stopover in 2022 in the port of Mindelo, Cabo Verde included a catch-pool of a motley assortment of individuals looking for passage west over to the Caribbean. Vying for attention, some would have a schtick like the couple dressed in lederhosen. Others would provide a resume of potentially useful skills, like the two young women in the Canary Islands who offered an impressive resume of cooking skills. When we politely pointed out that we already had five crewmembers on board, they shrugged and pleaded in their very cute French accents … “ but we are very small.” We politely decline … however “we are very small,” instantly become a shared line that will never die on board the Lillian B.
Fortunately, getting ready to depart St. Pierre, we were not approached by anyone asking for a ride and avoided getting involved. After Denise had left for her early morning flight back to Maine, the remaining four of us legally departed France and headed for Canada. The 25 nm passage from St. Pierre to Fortune took five hours of motoring. Approaching the coast of Newfoundland, the early morning haze condensed to a heavy fog. Without a reference, it’s hard to judge visibility. We were reminded to keep a close watch on the radar when a voice on the VHF called out, “Lillian B, we’ll pass starboard to starboard if you’re okay with that.” They had seen us on AIS before we saw them on our screen. We ended up safely passing within 500 yards, but never did see them visually. Continuing through the fog with the aid of the chart-plotter, AIS and radar we found our way beneath the clear skies above the entrance channel to Fortune.
Once in the harbor, we circled around and decided to tie up to an intimidating wharf near the customs office. Towering at least ten feet above the water, it had heavy fenders designed for much larger vessels. Fortunately, it also had a ladder and, with passports and boat documents carefully tucked under my arm, I scaled up to meet the customs official, who again were very efficient and friendly. Within twenty minutes we had been cleared into Canada and moved Lillian over to a very nice floating dock for the night. The next day we would leave early for the rugged south coast of Newfoundland
Burke Munger and Lillian B. on the dock in Fortune, Canada
Ships in Fortune Harbor
* Cuba is an exception to automatically having one’s passport notarized. In 2017, they offered the option to omit any stamp. We assumed that was because you might not want Big Brother to know if and when you’d been there, but we were proud of having visited and getting to meet exceptionally friendly people, especially Favier (. (Note the boat on the stamp.)