Maine charter!

For years, my folks spent one to three weeks each summer sailing about in Penobscot Bay, Maine. They have, for various reasons, given this up for the last decade-and-a-half, but missed it terribly. So.... this year they chartered a Beneteau 375 and Cynthia and I acted as captain, first mate, and cook(s): after all, they wanted to get out there again and we wanted to see the place they loved. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, first of all, I didn't realize that they always figure, based on prior experience, on two or three decent sailing days per week with the remainder being washouts due to excess wind, rain, or fog. Fortunately, Maine apparently decided to treat this as a first date and displayed her best side, with warm weather and only one day we needlessly sat out for predicted late rain and one morning of serious fog.

We spent the day off (our first full day) on Lynn's mooring (Lynn being a new friend we met after she discovered us on her mooring in a tidal creek). We hiked,

looked at numerous mushrooms,

and three of us even leaped off the boat and went for a brief cold swim!

The next day, before the wind picked up enough to move on, Lynn came by with muffins and coffee and a couple dogs and we chatted and told stories.

So far, so good. We stopped in to Stonington for an hour (and brought a pint of Cherry Garcia to the boat to split four ways), then moved on to a nice anchorage on the north side of McGlathery Island. Ashore we found perhaps an acre of milkweeds upon which Cynthia spotted thousands of monarch larvae.

Most of these seemed to be all of a single age group and so numerous that some plants were in danger of being eaten completely and leaving the larvae upon them to starve. I could not resist plucking one leaf with two or three upon it and moving them to an uninhabited plant.

If we had been there a week later I believe the plants would have been hung with chrysalises like Christmas ornaments! Nice to see a decent breeding spot for these endangered insects.


The next day we sailed for Lunt Harbor. A moment's distraction while wending our way through the incredible endless thickets of lobster buoys on the way left us snagged on a string lobster pots, dragging them in the strong wind and current and unable to steer away from Halibut Rocks, a few hundred yards away...and closing. Cynthia and I managed to free the boat in time, with only a reasonable amount of shouting and bloodshed. Very exciting. We decided that sailing in much of this area is like sailing in a crowded harbor, requiring endless and unbroken attention. Not terribly relaxing, but I found that I could sit on the lee side, steer, and see the buoys pretty well.

Once we reached Lunt, we anchored and I dove under the boat to make sure the propeller was not fouled, then we motored (yes, I used the engine willingly and often on this trip) into the harbor, seeking a mooring or spot to anchor. We took a private mooring and hoped the owner would not return that night. This worked well and in the morning we pulled up to the dock and all went ashore for a bit of exploration and exercise. Very nice... and we found green cranberries, tiny ripe blackberries, and a decent tiny patch of wild blueberries, enough for a bite for each picker.

Next, we moved on to Bass Harbor. I had tried to manage too much myself and had lost track of ice. Stonington had wonderful, inexpensive ice....but, NO, I had to refuse it and not notice the ice in the three coolers was running low. So we made a special side trip to get very expensive ice in Bass Harbor, but at least we had a nice chat with a fellow who gave us a ride to the store and lived in a re-purposed cannery right on the water (waves lapping at the foundation! Very cool!). We continued on to Mackerel Cove, a spacious and peaceful anchorage, and dropped anchor in time to enjoy the sunset.


The next morning we headed out and sailed up Eggemoggin Reach. The buoys diminished to the point that we could often take our eyes off the water for a minute or so. Nice. We ended the day in Buck's Harbor as the fog settled in.

Here we ran into our next problem: our first water tank had run down and, per instructions, we switched to the second one...which was empty. Apparently, in the rush to prep the boat for us after the prior charter, they did not make sure the second tank got filled...an easy error since both are filled from the same fill hole and there is no obvious way to make sure water goes in both tanks. Hugely fortunately, we had paid for a mooring in the harbor...and this came with the right to fill our tanks with the sweet, clean water at the docks. Very nice! They also had inexpensive ice and free showers for mooring folks. Sweet! Then Cynthia pulled out her rod and had a great time fishing for the schools of mackerel around the dock

...although I'm afraid that I damped things a bit by my reluctance to get mackerel on the dinghy, dock, or sailboat. I can be a fretful and annoying curmudgeon...hmm.


The next morning we began our final full day. We started by motoring once the fog lifted (hardly any breeze) and saw a few pairs of porpoises breaking the glassy water. Then we sailed a bit. Then the wind picked up and mom and I sailed on a double reef to Pulpit Harbor.

We set two anchors, to keep the nightly land breeze from pushing us too close to shore...or into the gorgeous huge black sailboat on the mooring fifty yards or so away. Cynthia poached some of the mackerel in a garlic butter sauce and I think those hors de vours plates were licked clean, at least by one of us.


In the middle of the night I awoke, hot, and spent a half hour laying on the deck and watching bright stars (I think I saw a couple nice Perseid meteors) until the chill drove me back to the warm bed.


And, in the morning, we set out for Rockland and the charter folks, wind picking up until the lee rail nearly dipped into the ocean,

and managed to get our butts and gear off the boat with about ten minutes to spare before the official end of our charter.


I would call this trip a success. Yes, there were too many lobster pots, but the place is beautiful, all of us returned still on speaking terms, and the food... well, my gal is rather unstoppable... I think the pic below shows parmesan crusted dijon mustard pork chops (from scratch), blueberry apple sauce (she made from apples we collected last fall), steamed broccoli, and some cranberry sauce. We also all really enjoyed my dad's wine and our G&Ts...

 And I got our deposit back with compliments about how nicely we kept the boat, I've been the official captain of a charter, and we understand Maine waters. This is all good.

Sailing adventures with friends and dogs ... and first catch of the season!

After years of barely seeing each other, Ted, my childhood friend (well, more like another brother) has inherited part of the family house in Falmouth, right on the water (available if anyone wants to rent it!). Cynthia and I have enjoyed visiting with him and his wife Daniella and daughter Hailey, helping with the house, enjoying dinner there, sailing twice on our Rhodes 19. I think we've spent more time together this summer than our total over the last few decades.

On our most recent sailing trip we fought in incoming tide to sail along the salt marsh south of Strong Island. The wind cooperated enough that we sailed into the first large marsh creek, watching for crabs and anything else that falls under the heading of "cool!"

.... a small bright fish about a foot long caught some eyes and another. After a couple hundred yards, we ran aground, hopped out, and I pulled the boat back to open water. As we walked, we found clams with our feet and by sight and the dogs stood on deck to make sure we stayed nearby.

Once out of the creek, we climbed back aboard and sailed along the marsh. Cynthia cast a lure, hoping to catch a bluefish... and something struck her first cast. On her second cast, she set the hook and pulled it aboard. Given the legal size limit of 28", she released this little striped bass, but had one heck of a grin.

Once we left the island, we headed for the cut into the open ocean, the fair wind giving us some headway against the tide. Once outside the bay, we found a large dark area in the water... FISH! The entire dark cloud, perhaps a half-acre to an acre, was fish, perhaps 12" to 18" long, so tightly packed that we could see no space between them. Cynthia cast her line and could feel it bump into the fish, but none bit it and the hooks were too dull to snag any. Still, none of us had seen such a school before: probably shad.

Fearing that the tide was slackening and knowing that we could not fight an out-rushing tide, we sailed back into the bay, back to Strong Island, and up another marsh creek. No fish sightings, but lots of crabs and weed. We pulled ashore and explored some salt ponds for clams and critters, then sailed out and headed for the seals, then on to a large salt marsh to the north.

We explored,

got wet and muddy seeking clams

found crabs and quahogs and sea cucumbers, then headed back, Ted at the helm with Daniella beside him.

I dropped everyone and gear at the beach, put the boat to bed on its mooring, and rowed ashore to find them still chatting. Haley caught one of the multitude of baby toads from the yard, held it for a few photos, and released it into the flower garden.

Another day seized!


And the dogs loved it too, alternating between exploring marshes, standing on deck, sitting in laps,

and enjoying a nice safe place to relax.

They always seem to come home happy and exhausted and mostly sleep for an entire day after one of these trips.


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Skipper Skip?

I finally passed my captain's license exam! My head feels fuller, perhaps from the newly recruited neurons. Now all I need to do is get my first aid/CPR certification, get certified on the radio, get various clearances and certifications and drug tests and and and... and I'll be a legal captain and may charge for services.

Nothing is entirely smooth, of course: this morning I signed up for my first aid/cpr, a course that is partly online and finishes up this Saturday with an hour in class. I then spent a couple hours attempting to access the online portion through two computers and five supported browsers, but with no success. The information sent to me says

" We suggest you complete the online portion at least two days prior to attending the inperson classroom skills session."

while the helpful person I reached at 800-red-cross told me that the online portion is not available until 2 to 3 days before the classroom portion.

Hmmm.

Sailing adventures with friends.

Friends were here the in the beginning of July: David, Jill, Ruthie, and Tom. We try to get out for an adventure or two each year. Cynthia and I took them out for their first sail on our Rhodes 19.

Step one: sail for the seals. Every year, the local gray seal population increases. I would say the current number inside this shallow bay is about 3k, kind of like a city of 10k humans. Ugh. They attract great white sharks, eat huge amts of fish...and they STINK! On the plus side, these critters are cute, curious, noisy, and entertaining and the tourism and sightseeing brings in a decent living for some folks... and they attract great white sharks (another tourism draw). I like the individuals and would wish no ill to them, but as a mass.... well, I just heard an orca was sighted near Chatham and I cheered.

So we sailed past the hunting packs of seals

Some would flip their tails, some open their nostrils wide to catch the scent of dogs or humans, some would chase the boat under the water, checking it out or just playing with the turbulence from the rudder, then pop to the surface and peer at us. I love watching them swim and roll and play below the water and imagine what that freedom would feel like, perhaps like swimming in the Virgin Islands with mask, snorkel, nice fins, and a good lungful of air? Great fun.

We sailed on. We found great shoals of blue mussels and some softshell clams while exploring on Strong Island

Walked down the beach, past a cliff loaded with very active cliff swallows

then headed back, I dropped everyone and gear at the beach, we hugged them goodbye, and sent them off with clams and mussels.

Another day seized!

Agoraphoria

One thing I LOVE about living on a boat is that I get wonderful views from my deck.... and can change easily to another location. This is not so easy living on Cape Cod, although I have to admit that it is pretty darned easy to drive or walk to the beaches and enjoy that... or visit friends and family... or go sailing. But what to do when I wake up?

A thunderstorm rolled in at dawn a few days ago and I did not feel like getting in a car and driving miles.... so I pulled out a ladder and carried my coffee with me: nice view & good breeze...

but a bit hard to balance the coffee pot. Hmm....

(Wrote this in mid March... and later. Finishing it on Cape Cod!): adventures in St Croix, mulling over Culebra

Here we are anchored in Christiansted, wind roaring in from the north(!!!) instead of the normal south-easterly wind. This wind change was nice in that it allowed us to sail here from Culebra in a single day on a single tack rather than taking a couple days, but it pushes waves right into this normally protected harbor and the boats near us are rolling wildly from the off-center waves. We are using the new anchor on the bow and the old one on the stern to hold the boat head-on to the waves so it rocks fore and aft, but hardly rolls at all. Very nice... but I worry about dragging the anchor and ending up on shore.

We are the right-most boat, pointing a bit left..

The new batten car/holder I made performs beautifully! I finally feel as though my sail has some life in it rather than needing to perform repairs every few hours of sailing. I'll install another tonight.

Cynthia and I killed lionfish every day after she arrived until the day we left Culebra. We got two on Saba Island off St Thomas on our way to Culebra, then twenty-eight in Culebra. The weird and strong winds have made everything rather murky and turbulent: even on our last day of hunting in Culebra, we only killed two of the four we found. I bet that in normal conditions we found have found and removed six to eight... and we have decided that they are very tasty filleted and fried up in butter.

Cynthia caught her first lobster, but found that it had eggs under its tail,

so returned it to its lair. Later she caught another and we enjoyed it for dinner. Tasty, but not as good as those on Cape Cod.

The reefs in Culebra vary from dead and fishless to some of the best we have seen. We especially liked the reefs on both sides of Punta Tamarindo Chico: nice and shallow on the easterly side and 30' deep and complex on the other. The reef extending NW from Punta Tamarindo Grande is mostly dead, but has some really nice and interesting coral species still alive on it, ones I have not seen often elsewhere. Other reefs were almost entirely dead and some, like Bahia Flamenco, have no fish at all and no live coral... but wonderful smooth beaches. Some of the reef at Saba Island (off St Thomas) grew small, but healthy, staghorn and elkhorn corals, something that is rather rare elsewhere. Frankly, I'm getting a higher and higher respect for our favorite reefs on St John, even though most of it is pretty sad.

Well, we plan to enjoy exploring St Croix for the next day or four, then sail across the deeps to St John and our favorite lion spots. We miss hunting the little buggers and have not been in the water for two days! Withdrawal!




Written sitting a stopover in JFK:

We enjoyed St Croix, even renting a car for two days and driving from the dry, rugged, and reef-fringed easternmost bit of land possessed by the USA to the agricultural, wet, sandy-shored western end. In between, we dove in a shallow bay (no lions, darn it!), schemed on ways to sail inside the northern fringing reefs without wrecking (and looked at a boat that had failed earlier that day... although it had probably just dragged anchor), stocked up on groceries at CostULess,

checked on hauling and repairing the boat in the fall, and toured the Cruzan Rum distillery.

Well! We counted that distillery tour as a high-point (no pun intended!) of the visit. We learned about the history of the rum, from locally produced and bottled stuff based on slave labor to the modern globalized stuff. It begins with tankers of molasses from Guatamala

(I had thought Brazil, but no) getting fermented in immense tanks so large that the tiny bubbles created by the yeast make the surface roil like a low boil

and the excess heat must be removed through chilled water run through tubing

less it kill the yeast! Then the wonderful-smelling stuff gets distilled (we got to see the tower, but only from outside) into 189-proof clear stuff. Most of this gets shipped right to Kentucky (or was it Florida?), where the folks who purchased Cruzan most recently make it into various flavored rums. A lot also stays on-island to be aged in used oak barrels for various periods depending on the final product....

then blended into the final product and shipped to the mainland in these nice shipping containers to be bottled and labelled.

Most stays in the USA, with only a bit returned to the islands as a local product.

Included with the $8 price of the tour are two rum drinks and four tastes of whatever rums you want. This actually turned out to be very interesting and tasty. If you get a chance, go.

Of course, this nut for growing things couldn't stay away from the mango tree and spent some time admiring the embryonic crop:

By the end of Friday, the wind seemed to have shifted enough east to let us sail effectively north to to John, so we prepared to depart Saturday morning. Various things delayed us (not JUST beautiful flowers!)

and we didn't weigh anchor until 10:30. Once we sailed from the harbor the full wind and waves struck us and, for the next several hours we sailed over huge waves, but could often let the boat steer itself. We tried to stay as close to the wind as possible, trying to reach the east end of St John, but found ourselves drifting farther and farther west as the day progressed. Tiring, but we grew accustomed to the waves and enjoyed surfing up and down. I also saw a porpoise surf down a large wave-front, then disappear. And, as we came close to the protection of land, the waves diminished to only a few feet tall.

We tacked up the shore, finding all legal moorings taken by boats fleeing the abnormal winds and waves that must have made the north side of the island miserable. At sunset, we reached Rams Head, the south-east point of the island, and snagged a day-use-only mooring and dropped sail. What a relief!

Dinner, a drink, and sleep have seldom seemed so welcome!