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Cruise 2007:
July 23 - August 4
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Sunday, July 29, 2007: Buck's Harbor - Pickering
Island (Eastern Harbor); 7.13nm traveled
Despite a dismal weather forecast, the day looked hopeful.
The fog was rather thin, and before long it looked like the
sun was trying to break through and clear things out.
I'd like to take a moment to
personally thank the folks on board the sailboat Chessie.
I'm sure I'm not the only one in the perfectly still, quiet
harbor who enjoyed the blaring of your Honda generator at
0700 this morning, for an hour or more. (And I'm sure
you do this at least twice a day, every day.)
Thanks so much for that; I
really don't like it when it's quiet in the harbor in the
morning, and you ensured that the hustle, bustle, and charm
of the inner city found its way to me where otherwise I
would have had to suffer through utter quiet and
peacefulness. Much obliged. After all, what's
more important than chilling your refrigerator and running
the electric coffee pot? |
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By 1030, it was obvious that it was going to be a nice
day--the sun was out and the fog had retreated well out the
bay--so I got underway about 1100, stopping by Dasein on the
way out to say hello or goodbye or what have you. I
wasn't sure of my destination; it depended on the actual
conditions outside. |
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Once I got out the harbor, I could see the fog still hanging
around the lower islands (Butter, etc.), so with the
pleasant, light southerly breeze, I decided to just set sail
and head generally for Pickering Island. I had a
pleasant, relaxed sail down the bay in the light breeze.
When I arrived at Pickering, I found two powerboats in the
western cove, and decided at that time to head for the
eastern cove instead--where I'd never been before. The
western cove is shallow, but there's plenty of room for
anchoring as long as one stays away from the broad shallows
and numerous rocks. There's a cool bar at the eastern
end that connects Pickering with one of the nearby small
islands at low tide. |
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I had the place to myself all
afternoon and night. The fog rolled back in during the
mid-afternoon, then retreated again for a time. |
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Monday, July 30, 2007: Pickering Island (Lay
Day)
I didn't necessarily plan on a lay day, but the fog was
thick this morning. It rolled back, reluctantly,
around 1100, but never retreated completely out of the bay.
I rowed outside the island and couldn't see much past the
next row of islands or so; the fog was back and forth much
of the afternoon, rolling in and around the trees on the
island to windward of me. |
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Late in the afternoon, I was startled to see some 80-foot
sailboat barrel into the anchorage under full sail (well,
main and jib). Show offs. I hate these big
yachts, but these were obviously important, busy people, as
everyone on board had a cell phone permanently wedged into
their ears throughout the late afternoon and evening.
I couldn't help but be impressed with how busy they were.
I sure was jealous.My favorite part of the
boat was the owner's personal signal: a blue flag with
golden eagle wings, superimposed with a huge dollar sign.
Very classy. I really wished I'd had a chance to get
to know these important people. They even had a 27'
Whaler that traveled with them (separately), and in which
they aimlessly tooled around.
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Amazingly, three additional boats came into this small cove
tonight: I'd never, ever seen a boat in the eastern
cove during any of my previous stays at the western cove, so
this was surprising, to say the least.The fog returned for real
around 1700, and was instantly thick. |
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Tuesday, July 31, 2007: Pickering Island -
Hell's Half Acre (Bold, Camp, and Devil Islands); 12.7nm
traveled
I was very ready to get a move on today, after yesterdays
not-really-planned lay day. Fortunately, the morning's
fog was short-lived and soon cleared. I got underway
at 1014 under bright skies and on glassy seas. I
exited the eastern cove through the little passage near
Eaton Island, and headed down the bay towards Merchant's
Row. There was no wind the entire way, so I powered
down to the Deer Isle Thorofare and through to the other
side. |
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In Stonington, I noticed the funny little motorsailer
Yonder,
featured in the book Sailing in a Spoonful of Water,
which I had just read (and read annually on the cruise). |
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beautiful cove--one of our favorite places--around 1250.
After anchoring, I decided to row around for a bit, and as I
did so I noticed a familiar boat coming in: Dasein.
It was fun to see them again, and since they'd headed off in
a different direction after leaving Buck's on Sunday, I
wasn't sure if we'd hook up again. |
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During the afternoon, I came
across this shady character on the island--he apparently was
startled by my presence. |
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The afternoon was yet another
example of the rigors of cruising: gorgeous, sunny
weather with just a pleasant light cooling breeze, a late
lunch of hot dogs on the grill, lots of reading and island
exploring, and cocktails on Glissando with everybody.
After bed, an unexpected series of rain showers came
through, but they seemed to be benign with no thunder
involved. |
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Wednesday, August 1, 2007: Hell's Half Acre (Lay
Day)
What a simply gorgeous morning. And the entire day, in
fact. It was so nice that neither boat seemed to care
about going anywhere. Few places offer more visual
interest than this, with the mountains of Mount Desert
visible across Jericho Bay and the fun and interesting rocks
and islets that form the tidal archipelago known, only on
large scale charts, as Hell's Half Acre.
Again, while exploring ashore,
I ran into that same shady guy I noticed yesterday.
Today, though, he tried to look important and smart while
standing on the rocks.
It was fun day. Heather
lent me her copy of the newest Harry Potter (Heidi had our
copy at home), so I spent the afternoon involved with the
new book. I was so involved that I paid no attention
tot he time, so I was startled to hear Gavin, to be known in
the future as the town crier, heartily yelling out over the
short distance between our boats: "Hey Tim, want to
come over for cocktails?" It was 1700. Of course
I accepted, and ended up having dinner on Dasein as well.
Then, as it got dark, I returned to Glissando and my book. |
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Thursday, August 2, 2007: HHA - Wreck Island
(2.41nm traveled)
It was an exhausting journey, that 2.4 miles,
but somehow I managed to make it. Actually, it was a
little bit of a challenge since the southwesterly winds
seemed to be on the nose every way I turned through the
islands. I managed to sail part of the way, but
between the gusting winds and strong opposing current,
eventually I got fed up with trying to sail and motored the
last bit of the way to Wreck Island.
The day had begun with some
fog, which quickly lifted, but a heavy haze remained.
Throughout the afternoon, the haze became more and more
pronounced, until it was as thick and heavy as any I've
seen. From my vantage point at Wreck Island, I kept
losing sight of some of the other islands as, inexorably,
the haze swallowed them whole. The afternoon was
punctuated by one of those nagging SW breezes, though this
helped keep it comfortable on the boat since it was quite
warm and humid. |
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 I
went ashore at high tide for some exploring. But I
lost my interest quickly, as the first thing I noticed on
the beach was this disgusting mess that some living things
that call themselves people left behind. Lobster
shells, paper plates, cans, and bottles, all piled
grotesquely in a fire pit. How could anyone be so rude
and uncaring? To top this off, the nearby field and
woods were strewn with toilet paper--I think it was used.
I walked across to the southern beach, but somehow the karma
was bad, and I left shortly thereafter, feeling a lot like
Iron Eyes Cody. |
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Friday, August 3, 2007: Wreck Island - Long Cove
(16.3nm traveled)
It was hard to tell this morning whether it was foggy, or
simply just that thick haze. With my radar on the
fritz, I didn't want to get involved in any fog, but
eventually I determined that it was just haze. I had
gotten up early, as it happened, so I was ready to depart by
0800. With the forecast for a strong, unfavorable wind
and the likelihood of fog later in the day, I wanted to get
going.
 The
tide was with me on the way out Merchant Row, which was a
busy transit as it seemed to be lobster boat rush hour.
Once I got most of the way clear of the islands, however, I
was able to sail in the southwesterly breeze, and sailed
most of the way across the bay to Fox Islands Thorofare.
The wind died part of the way across, so I motored the rest
of the way. Anticipating stronger winds, I had tucked
a reef in the main before leaving, which decision was to be
vindicated later.
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The wind was stronger at the
entrance to the thorofare, but dead on the nose.
Clearly, the winds were thermally enhanced by the land
masses, since there had been more wind when I departed this
morning (in and around the numerous islands), and virtually
none in the center of the bay a few miles from any land.
 Three
other boats were converging on the thorofare as I arrived,
beginning what was to become the most heavily trafficked,
most unpleasant transit of the thorofare that I can ever
remember. More boats joined the flow throughout the
transit, including a 150' yacht from Carver Cove, and then
half a dozen or more sailboats from the Perry Creek area.
Busy, busy, busy. Adding to the congestion was the
fact that one of the boats that had entered the channel
ahead of me was some silly cruising catamaran with an
outboard engine that was clearly underpowered for the boat
and the conditions; the top speed seemed to be 3.5 knots.
This was irritating, since there was no way I or anyone else
could pass, what with the traffic coming the other direction
and the fact that I couldn't go fast enough to pass
efficiently anyway.
As the wind strengthened,
the transit speed got slower and slower...maddeningly slow.
I was fed up, but finally was able to speed up and go my own
way just past the Sugar Loaves on the southern entrance,
after the North Haven ferry went by. Most of the boat
were headed for the end of the thorofare and points west,
and for a time I strongly considered just heading across to
Rockland and ending the cruise today. But I wanted one
more night, so I headed for Long Cove, which took me away
from the traffic, finally.
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I always like Long Cove. I anchored in my usual spot
in the shallows at the southern end, and set the anchor
well. I put out more scope than usual because of the
strong-ish southwesterly winds. The afternoon passed
quietly, with some fog closing in around 1500; Long Cove
remained clear, but I could see the fog out in the sound,
and could also hear the fog horns of the ferries and other
boats in the thorofare.Late in the afternoon, with
the outgoing tidal current opposing the wind, I found myself
going round in circles at my anchor, and laying sideways to
the wind much of the time. This got annoying after a
while, but there wasn't any harm in it. I did consider
putting out a stern anchor to hold me in the proper
orientation, but I could never get up the gumption to
actually do it. This went on for a few hours, but
eventually the boat settled down again. Eventually, I
retreated below as the sun began to set. I could see
dark thunderheads through the haze as the sun started going
down, so I kept getting up to check things out. I
removed the cockpit awning and table, since I planned on an
early start in the morning, and with the strong chance of
thunderstorms I wanted the boat to be ready to go should
anything happen.
Around 2100, I happened to
look outside and was surprised to see running lights coming
in the harbor, along with a spotlight shining this way and
that. I got my flashlight out, since my anchor light
didn't work; around me, all the other boats were snapping on
their anchor lights, as it seemed everybody was wary of this
new arrival.
As the boat passed me, the
only thing I remember was that it seemed incongruously huge
to be coming in here now, at this hour. The boat
appeared to be a modern 60-foot sailboat. As the boat
went by, I could hear the crew speaking French. I
watched them go further into the harbor, clearly not sure of
themselves, and for a while I was sure they were going to
ground the boat on the rocks at the head of the cove.
Eventually, they dropped an anchor roughly in the center of
the cove, in the only space available for a boat of that
size. Meanwhile, a couple of the crew got into their
rubber dinghy and went off on some mission...not sure what.
About this time, I decided
to try and find some mast light that worked; I knew they
were wired wrong (I never straightened it out after
attaching the wires this spring), and didn't think my
masthead light worked. But I threw all the switches,
hoping for something, and was surprised to look up and see
my masthead light on. So some good came out of all
this.
Shortly thereafter, a
fairly stiff breeze (I found out later it was about 25
knots) came up from the north--or from inside the harbor.
This put me on a lee shore near the south shallows, but this
didn't concern me. The new arrival ended up directly
to windward of me, though, and she almost immediately began
to drag--fast. The boat turned sideways to the wind
and dragged directly towards me at an astonishing speed.
I started my engine and pondered, in the two seconds I had,
what, exactly, I should do. I thought of trying to
power to the side out of the way, but with the length of the
big boat, and its orientation, there was no room for
this--nor was there time. It was presently clear that
this boat was going to hit me. I ran up, grabbed a
fender on the way, and got to the bow just after they hit
me. The crew on board had their own fenders and were
fending off, but my anchor roller gouged into their high
topsides again and again.
I kindly requested that
they perhaps consider powering away, but I was told that
they had a lobster pot in the propeller. Peachy.
I watched my anchor rode stretch beneath their boat, and it
was clear that this was trouble. I went back to the
cockpit to grab a knife so that I could cut myself loose,
though I still hoped they could somehow clear themselves
first. But soon after I returned to the bow--and they
seemed to have gotten their engine going by now, plus two
crew in the dinghy were trying to push the stern of the boat
clear of my anchor line--my anchor line broke,
unsurprisingly. This marooned my anchor and chain on
the bottom, but right then I didn't care. I darted
back to the cockpit and backed quickly away, though I was
wary of the shallows behind me. But I was clear, and I
knew there was an empty mooring up further in the cove, so I
headed that way, slowly, searching with my flashlight and
hoping to avoid lobster pots; I couldn't recall how many
there were in the center of the harbor.
I needed that mooring,
since I didn't have another anchor ready to go; I had three
other anchors on board, but they weren't attached (in
hindsight, I suppose I could have used my stern anchor, a
13# Danforth, which had rode attached, but that was hardly
the anchor I wanted to deploy after being used to a 35#
CQR--which held both me and this huge boat quite nicely, I
might add, till the rode broke). Amazingly, I found
the mooring without much of a problem, and was soon tied to
the pendant.
Meanwhile, the fun
continued on board this big boat. I had loosely paid
attention to them as I motored to the mooring, and after I
was free they started drifting again, right to the rocks.
I admit that at the time, I wouldn't have been sorry to see
them dashed on the rocks, frankly. But the somehow
avoided that fate, and were soon backing--yes, backing--into
the anchorage at a startling speed, heading right for
another boat, who was yelling at them. I didn't pay
that much attention since I just wanted to get on that
mooring and sort things out.
Once I was on the mooring,
and it was clear that this big boat wasn't going to crash
into anyone (they presently disappeared), I rigged up my
spare anchor, a 25# CQR, on my spare bow rode so that I'd
have an anchor ready to go. Then, finally, I could
start to relax a bit, around 2200. The breeze that had
sprung up died back a bit, leaving behind some incredible
lighting from a series of thunderstorms. The lightning
lasted for a couple hours, with a few close strikes, but
other than that the storms were uneventful, despite dire
forecasts for large hail and 60 knot winds. Phew.
I certainly wasn't placing my full trust in this unknown
mooring, and didn't feel like testing its capabilities.
There was no sign of the big boat, and while I was annoyed
at the loss of my anchor, at least things had turned out OK
otherwise; I couldn't see any damage to my boat, and thanked
the anchor platform and rollers for keeping the big boat
away from my pulpit, hull, and rigging.
I sure was glad I hadn't
set that stern anchor before. |
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Saturday, August 4, 2007: Long Cove - Rockland
(10.1nm traveled)
I was up early and very ready to leave and head for home.
Last night seemed like a distant memory; were it not for the
lack of my trusty anchor, I might have questioned whether it
even happened. It was hazy again, but I could see
Hurricane Island, so the visibility looked acceptable.
Unfortunately, by 0700 I had lost the island, and shortly
thereafter it became truly foggy. So much for my early
departure.
Around 0730, I saw a
sheepish-looking person arriving in a rubber dinghy:
the guy from last night. He turned out to be extremely
apologetic, and took full responsibility for his series of
mistakes the night before. He began by offering up a
bottle of French champagne, and then said--by way of
explanation, not as an excuse--that the weather forecast of
65 knots had caused them to want to find a secure place for
the boat. It wasn't clear whether they were just
arriving, or whether they had moved from some other location
at 2100, but it didn't matter. We discussed what had
happened, and he offered to pay for a replacement anchor and
chain. In fact, he offered to go to Rockland to buy
it, but I told him I was heading home and that it wasn't
necessary.
He returned to his
boat--anchored outside the harbor, just out of sight--for
the Hamilton Marine catalog, and in a couple hours returned
with enough cash for my anchor and chain--about $800 worth.
I appreciated his acceptance of the responsibility. It
turned out that he was Bruno Trouble´, of French America's
cup note. Clearly, he was an experienced sailor,
though that doesn't always translate to prudent seamanship.
But thank you, Mr. Trouble´, for owning up to the mistakes
you made, and for making things as right as they could be
under the circumstances. I'm glad no real harm came to
either boat, or anyone on board.
By 0930, the fog was
clearing, and as soon as I could see Hurricane Island again
I got underway. I was quite ready to go home. As
I left, I snapped this stealth photo of the big boat that
hit me--sort of a cruising version of an Open 60 class boat,
complete with twin rudders located at the turn of the bilge.
I'm sure it's fun to sail, but boats like this shouldn't
enter tiny harbors after dark. |
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I had an uneventful trip
across to Rockland. It was extremely hazy, with about
a mile visibility. Given the heavy traffic that tends
to run between Rockland and the Fox Islands, I was a bit
nervous about the possibility of fog, with no radar to see
the other boats. Fortunately, I saw a ferry right as I
left the entrance of the thorofare, and the rest of the trip
was ferry-free. In the middle of the 6 mile wide bay,
the fog did close in briefly, to about 1/2 mile visibility,
but this didn't last long, fortunately, and never became
terribly bad in any event.
I arrived at my mooring in
Rockland around 1150, and was happy to call this cruise a
success. I had generally favorable weather, and
despite last night's events had been extremely relaxed,
which was the whole point. I didn't cover any great
distances or go anywhere new, but this short cruise was just
what the doctor ordered.
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