Category: Uncategorized (Page 5 of 6)

With the Canadian border still closed, we decided not to pursue Nova Scotia this summer. The border is supposed to open to vaccinated Americans starting August 9, but no one really wants to be the first ones testing customs protocols and getting stuck somewhere with weather windows closing. That said, we still wanted to head down east. Roque Island was our goal, just 30 miles from the border.

The fog finally started lifting at Mistake in the afternoon and we decided to make a break for Roque. The harbor is an archipelago that could easily fit 500 boats at anchor, but there was only s/v Timothy Lee when we arrived. We picked a spot a polite distance away and dropped the hook and savored the island nearly all to ourselves.

Roque is one of the only places in Maine to offer fine sand beaches (rock is much more common). If it weren’t for the pine trees in the background I would have thought we were in the Caribbean. Ok maybe not the Caribbean, as the water was in the low 50’s, but it was stunning nonetheless.

The island is privately owned and visitors are not allowed further inland than the beach, but the beach is over a mile wide and makes for a great stretch of the legs.

Plover soon arrived and Golden Eye sailed in as well. Everyone dinghied back and forth between boats visiting throughout the day and into cocktail hour. What were the odds of being in this remote anchorage and already knowing all the boats?

Despite the appearance of the sun finally, we also had some weather blow through. Luckily we didn’t see more than a few bolts of lightning and got a little bit of rain. Better than the fog we’ve been working with lately.

Mistake Island Harbor did not look on the charts like the kind of place we’d normally anchor. It’s a cluster of rock outcroppings, several of which are completely submerged at high tide, narrowly enclosed by Mistake, Knight, Green & Water Islands. However, it’s just enough protection to sit at anchor and look out over the open Atlantic, which is really remarkable. A cozy spot.

There were only three other boats at anchor and I’m not sure there was room for much more. Trip rowed over to say hi to Plover (thanks to Chris for that shot of us opening this post) and to introduce ourselves to Timothy Lee, a Baba 35 (also designed by Bob Perry). Thunder drove him back to Kalyra and we retired for the night.

We woke in the morning to a lobster float bouncing off the side of our hull. We had swung with the winds overnight and were now sitting closer to a lobster pot. This is not usually a big deal as the shape of our hull makes it unlikely to hook a pot.

However, we didn’t want to impede any lobsterman out working in the foggy cold weather. We heard an engine getting closer and came out into the cockpit just in time to fend off a lobster boat and help him fend off while he retrieved his pot from under our chain. He and his partner were super friendly despite us sitting on their gear and they were gone in just a couple of minutes.

The fog was starting to lift so we headed over in the dinghy to the island with the lighthouse. Unfortunately it was dead low tide and half the ramp was covered in seaweed. I’m not ashamed to say I climbed up the ramp on my hands and knees to avoid slipping into the frigid water.

Someone built a boardwalk on the island which makes for a lovely trail out to the lighthouse. We even got to sample the wild blueberries and raspberries that are now in season. Then it was back to the boat, and off to find Roque Island.

The fog finally lifted, but the forecasted wind hadn’t shown up yet. We motored out of Port Clyde and gamely hoisted the mainsail. A couple of hours later the wind showed up so we were able to set sail, but the thick fog showed up too. There’s something really eery about speeding along at 8 knots (topped 10 at one point) peering out for signs of other boats. Our radar worked well for the most part, allowing us to see boats that were close by. And we were far enough off shore to know that we wouldn’t see much traffic in these conditions anyway. The winds got high enough to put in a couple of reefs, but every time we reefed we never slowed down, the boat was performing so well.

We made great time and got into Little Cranberry Island late afternoon. We managed to find a guest mooring courtesy of the town, and suddenly the fog lifted and the sun came out. Little Cranberry has the reputation as being ‘the’ spot to watch the sun set over Acadia and it did not disappoint.

Little Cranberry is a charming little oasis just a couple of miles from the congestion of Acadia. It’s home to a small lobster fleet with their own coop right at the docks. There’s a small museum about Islesford (the town) that has displays on the history of the island and that features a short film about the local lobster industry. After watching the video and later walking through town I think we saw nearly every one of the lobster captains from the film mowing their lawns, weed whacking, looking after their kids, and doing every other mundane activity that happens in every town.

There’s only one restaurant on the island and they have such a good reputation that you need to make reservations. We watched a sailboat come screaming in, drop an anchor almost in the ferry channel, turn on their navigation lights, and jump in a small boat to rush to shore (I’m guessing to make their dinner reservation). The only other place we see behavior like this is Block Island, I thought it was unheard of in Maine. We soon saw other boats stream in from Southwest and Northeast Harbors, a few getting turned away because there wasn’t room at the dock. We had opted for a late lunch that day to avoid the dinner craziness. The food and the service were great and we had a fun time chatting with some locals and a visitor alike.

This picture sums it all up – fog.

We left in fog, creeping out of the cove into the Sheepscot River. We motored in fog, passing only working lobster boats (one named the Miss Nicole which my class would appreciate I’m sure).

Things cleared up a little bit out in Muscongus Bay, and getting to see minke whales, dolphins, and seals all made up for the lack of wind. We were even able to get close enough to Eastern Egg Rock Island to see all the juvenile puffins (it’s an Audubon Society Preserve).

We dropped anchor in Port Clyde north of Hupper Island and then – big shock – the fog slammed down again. Following our electronic charts closely on the iPad, we dinghied into shore to visit one of our favorite watering holes – the Barn Bar. What a disappoint. Packed with waspy older white people (yes, I know we qualify), we sat at the bar for a drink but we’re greatly disappointed. The once charming bar just seemed like any other tourist attraction. We picked up a few provisions and headed back to the boat instead.

Initial round of socializing complete, it was time to start heading east. We had seen several sailing friends head into Love Cove earlier, so we decided to check it out. Located on the north side of Southport, the Winslow family (of Winslow tugboat fame) has placed two moorings in the cove for guest use. Their only request is a note or poem in return (a Mt Olive pickle jar is attached to the pickup float for the notes). Very welcoming.

The cove was so charming (and the fog rolled in) that we decided to spend two nights. We dinghied over to the Hodgdon boat yard to get fuel, water, and ice (fridge still broken), and to use their dinghy dock. We stretched our legs and walked up to the Southport General Store. We had actually been here two years earlier, but that time we were anchored in Five Islands and had sailed the dinghy over to Cozy Harbor on the southern side of Southport.

On our way to Portland we saw strings of orange floats. They were easy enough to avoid, but we didn’t know what they were. Turns out there are mussel farms in Casco Bay. I’m looking forward to local mussels the next time we eat out!

It’s been a social start to the Maine season!

We got to see Lawrence and Viviane right away in Harpswell, and then backtracked a bit to Portland. We left the boat on a mooring and went off to stay with James and Jennie. As fellow sailors they were extremely gracious in letting us do laundry, run errands, and re-provision during our quick stay.

Then it was east again back to Harpswell, this time for lunch with friends Caroline and Bob Knott at Dolphin Marina (one of my all time favorite marinas & restaurants in Maine).

Now it’s time to move east!

At school this year my class planted dun pea and buckwheat sprouts. Quick-growing (plants in 5 days), the kids could observe roots and shoots growing on a daily basis.

Even after sharing seeds with the other classrooms, there were plenty leftover, courtesy of our neighbor Joanne. The rest got moved to the boat along with a little bit of potting soil. I now plant them once a week and soon enough we have micro-greens for salads, sandwiches, etc.

Weather rules a good part of our life in cruising season and we spend an inordinate amount of time looking at forecasts. (I’ve learned that our cellphone data spikes just before a long run or a major storm, most likely from all the radar maps I download).

Elsa was working her way up the east coast as a tropical storm after hurricane status. It’s early in the season for a storm like this, but we’re always prepared. We knew the storm would be weakening as she passed through Maine, but forecasts for gusting winds ranged from 10 knots (barely noticeable) to 40 knots (time to tie off the wind generator blades and stand watch to make sure the anchor doesn’t drag).

We had spent the previous few days rafted up with friends Lawrence and Viviane, but opted to move to a guest mooring at their club. Luckily the storm brought more rain than wind and we only saw gusts of 22 knots. Whew.

Remember those choose-your-own-adventure books that we read as kids? That sums up this off-shore run to Maine. We looked at all the options based on distances, weather, winds, and personal preferences, and then constantly changed our minds. Not for the newbie cruisers, but we have been doing this a while.

We left Bristol early Monday morning, heading for the Cape Cod Canal. The sail up Buzzards Bay was great, the only scary thing being the radio reports of a boat on fire just to the east of us in Martha’s Vineyard (we could see the smoke). We had the option of stopping in Onset, but we were so close to the canal we had time to get through (the current is strong enough that we can only go through riding the tide, not bucking). Our next option was to anchor just on the other side of the canal, but the winds were so nice and the bay so calm we decided to sail an extra 13 miles up to Plymouth for the night. Within 5 minutes of setting sail again we realized that we were adjusting course and going straight for Maine.

Why the changes? Any of the anchorages we picked would have been great for the night. However, major thunderstorms and a massive heat wave were forecasted for the Boston area the next two days, followed by Tropical Storm Elsa. The anchorages would have been safe enough. But the forecast was winds from the south 10-15 knots, the best possible forecast for running to Maine. We could escape the heat, the storms, and get there sooner.

When the conditions are right, and they were, overnight runs are incredible. You have the night sky with no light pollution and the bioluminescence in the water trailing the boat is amazing. Because we were under sail all you could hear was the sound of the wind and the waves.

We didn’t completely escape the weather, but our radar did help us identify one morning squall in time to reef (shorten sail). We still managed to make a ‘Mae West’ out of the jib (tangled lines and fouled sail) which we were able to eventually untangle.

The seas were pretty big but well-spaced so it was a tad bumpy, but averaging 5.3 knots made for a not too bad ride. We even managed to get up into Harpswell Harbor and drop anchor before the sun set. A wildly successful run and we were back in Maine.