Storms and a minke

"Adventure is out there!" Enough sitting on anchor in one place! As much as I have loved Cape Elizabeth (great folks, good anchorage (but a bit roll-y), wonderful wild raspberries, good access to Portland, close to open ocean, nice snorkeling), the sea calls... I hadn't really been sailing in nearly a week! OMG! 

So, despite thunderstorms bearing down (pm July 23), I set sail to try to catch favorable winds to Matinicus Rock to see puffins, various islands for berries, and hard-shelled lobsters at Bucks Harbor. 

Within about an hour, the storms looked a bit worrisome, so I dropped the mizzen. The winds strengthened, then died after a cloud passed nearby. Still... the wind blew from the south and my apps showed storms approaching from the north... how odd. So I watched carefully and. as the clouds came closer, I gauged their speed.

The wimpy winds died further, but the approaching clouds reminded me of breaking waves hurling themselves across a sand bar and growing rapidly closer: I reefed the jib severely and went out to drop the main.... and as it dropped the wind grew and droplets of rain began to strike. I hopped into the cockpit, zipped the flaps closed, and adjusted the steering as the winds began to BLOW!  A couple noises from below told me I hadn't secured a few items well enough, but the boat moved along under good control and the winds gradually died, skies cleared, sun set,

and stars came out.

Sunrise found me gliding along very gently, perhaps 2 knots...and I startled at a great huff of breath behind me and turned to see a great shiny black back slipping beneath the surface only a boat length (or two) away. Cool!... although I only got a couple pictures of disturbed water.

Another whale (or the same) showed up a couple hours later... and played around the boat like a dolphin or porpoise for over a half hour! Much slower than it's smaller cousins and staying slightly farther out, but often within a body length: it seemed well aware of its size and agility limitations. 

So....I wonder what attracted the whale? I see a parallel to human interactions: did it enjoy my boat's company, was it laughing at it's stolid personality, did it enjoy the peaceful behavior.... or did it find itself intrigued by the shape of my bottom? Well, I really enjoyed the time spent together and have the memories.

Friends' pics of me sailing

Only rarely do we get to see ourselves as other may. This holds especially true for the act of sailing: we do not often get to see the pictures that others may take of us in action, doing this thing we love so well. 

BUT! Recently some new friends I met in Quahog Bay snapped some photos as we headed toward Seguin Island and were kind enough to email them to me. How wonderful!

The first shows me sailing around Cape Small...

The second shows me dropping the main sail while the auto-steering keeps me on course...

Well, that's all for now. Cynthia joined me Saturday evening 6/10 and we sailed to Bar Harbor, bought groceries, and relaxed on the 11th. Today we shall see what our friends Steve and Mitsko suggest for adventure.... perhaps the gals will explore the shops and sights of Bar Harbor while we fellows will fiddle with boat repair and maintenance, each group delighted to avoid the other's choice.

goodbye to steamer clams in Maine

 As evening closes in, I am finding myself increasingly mourning the loss of the steamer clams of Maine. I've always found them here in uncountable hoards, so numerous that they could no more disappear than could the sky-darkening flocks of passenger pigeons. Yesterday I went prospecting for them, trying to find a decent number to share with Cynthia and Lucy and new friends... but they are gone from their old places, leaving only shells. Today, as I sailed slowly, I researched hearsay information I had about green crabs killing them... you know how reliable hearsay can be. Well, apparently the invasive European green crabs ARE eating them up, digging the young out and eating them before they can grow. Part of the cause is the crabs, part is the warming ocean... and ALL of the cause is US. These (well, the ones in Cape Cod) are the first clams I dug as a child and to think that they are going, going, gone.... well, I find myself with an deep ineffable sadness, unstoppable tears running down my face... as I sit here playing my comforting sudoku, with the light fading... and the approaching hurricane remnants making the winds rise. 

Funny: I didn't feel quite this way when beloved Wyoming forests died of bark beetles... but, then again, I never actually saw those dead forests, just pictures. And my coral reefs (but I never saw them in their prime)... and my abalone (but I haven't been there for decades)... Same goes for ash trees, American elms, American chestnuts.... I guess this is the first beloved bit of my beloved Earth I've seen die by our hand. 

Another possibility might be that I connect to the natural world through foraging and this removes an important bit of that. 

Ah, well. Life goes on.

Swallowtail butterfly invasion

Hello from Southeast Harbor, Maine! I'm relaxing on board, bundled up in winter clothes, listening to the rain and wind and waiting for the storm to pass. In the meantime I am cleaning up the boat, cooking, catching up on sleep, visiting with friends on the boat next door (Esprit), and writing a blog post....

When we returned to the boat in NC, we discovered that parsley in the herb bucket, while still alive, had been severely pruned back....by eight striped caterpillars: black swallowtails!

Some folks use pesticides to remove these or pick them off by hand, but we welcomed them and brought them with us when we sailed to New England. On the way, they reached maturity, barfed out the remaining undigested food when their bodies quit accepting it, crawled off to find a safe place, and pupated. Some pupated on the plants,

others we caught before they left and put in a jar until they pupated, some we found as they crawled onto me,

and two others hid away: one in my hat

and the other behind a cushion. 

Cynthia left for MI, disappointed that she would miss their emergence. I managed to sail to Chatham and get a mooring before the first emerged and flew to shore.

Two looked as though they might not emerge before I headed to Maine and I KNOW they can't fly to shore from the boat miles out at sea, so I used a clothes pin to secure their stem or cardboard to the ivy on an old ivy-covered mailbox post.... and we got to see one actually emerging!

My mom recalled that they might be popping out and asked me to glance at them when we returned from a walk. I found one in the act of emerging from the pupa, a process that only takes a minute or so: what luck!

Over the next fifteen minutes it pumped the wings up like an inflatable pool toy until they looked ugly,

then pretty good, 

then until all the wrinkles disappeared.

 Then the bug waited for an hour or so for the wings to slowly harden, the soft, floppy, perfect wings swinging in the occasional breeze. We tired of "watching paint dry" and, when we checked a bit later, the butterfly had flown.

And yes, they ARE native to Cape Cod as well as NC, so we were not introducing an odd species.