Danny Clears the Way for a Great Maine Cruise
by Dick Harrington

Part I
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Saturday, Aug 29, 2009.  “GALE WARNING IN EFFECT 8 AM EDT THIS MORNING THROUGH SUNDAY MORNING.  E. winds 15 to 25 KT.….increasing to 20 to 30 KT.  Seas 4 to 7 ft….building to 6 to 8 ft. this afternoon.  Showers.  Widespread fog.  Vsby 1 to 3 NM.  Tonight NE winds 25 to 30 KT.  Seas 7 to 10 ft.”
 
Friday, Aug 28.  Having left Geneva, Ohio, shortly after 9:00 AM with Blue Mist in tow, Dennis and I arrived at Camden Hills S.P. campground  on the central part of the Maine coast after midnight.  The trip of 750 miles or so was uneventful and for the last several hours the roads very quiet, but we were ready for sleep.  To our surprise, the campground had rolled up the carpet and closed the gate hours earlier. We were forced to ‘break-in’- no lock, just a pin inserted into the arms of the gate.  I would apologize in the morning.  We had arrived on the shores of Penobscot Bay, our home waters for the next nine days.

A frequent Maine visitor, I have - over the past 15 years - cruised most of Maine’s rocky mid-coast region.  My ‘bible’ for cruising Maine, A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast by Hank and Jan Taft/Curtis Rindlaub. My 16-foot wooden Wayfarer was built in England in 1964.  The Wayfarer, designed by Englishman Ian Proctor in 1957, is one of the world’s outstanding cruising dinghies.  Dennis Figley, also a Wayfarer sailor, lives in Ashland, Ohio.  This would be his first time in Maine waters.

For several days, the two of us had been following Hurricane Danny’s progression up the east coast.  Though barely obtaining category I status, and now down graded to a tropical storm, Danny was making me nervous.  I’m sure Dennis was affected, too.  I had my fingers crossed, hoping we might receive just a glancing blow.  Shortly after we turned in, light rain started to gently patter on the tent, and we began to hear wind in the tree tops.

 
for larger-size chart, click here - joins Mount Desert to the east         joins Penobscot Bay to the west - for larger-size chart, click here (from ‘Taft’)
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Saturday, Aug 29. By morning, a steady soaking rain was driving down, the air was bone chilling, and wetness was invading the tent.  A weather radio check confirmed the expected: we stood no chance of launching this day.  So we decided to keep the tent site for another day and check out the area by auto.  I would take Dennis on a tour of the region, hitting a few of my favorite places.  Meanwhile, we planned to get an early start Sunday.

Following breakfast in normally bustling Camden, but which was soggy and subdued this day, we headed down to Rockland Harbor—except first, I had to stop along the way at the Rockport Marine boat shop.  It being a Saturday, the shop was still. However, we were thrilled to be allowed to explore the insides of this large renowned wooden boat shop.  There were three magnificent restorations underway; it was awesome to just be able to run our hands over some of those massive timbers.

Rockland Harbor was awesome too, but in a less fulfilling way.  This was where we were planning to launch. A semi-commercial harbor, Rockland is large and rather open, particularly to the east, which was bad this day.

The problem with most launch sites in this part of Maine is finding long-term parking.  The local communities tend to be exclusive.  But at Rockland there is a large public parking area, and the launch ramp is good and well protected.  This was where my good friend and fellow Wayfarer cruiser, Tom Graefe from Norwell Mass., departed from on his most recent cruise in 2007.

Standing on the harbor wall near the Harbor Master’s house, we were subjected to the full fury of the 30-plus-knot gale-force wind, and rain, straight in the face.  Benefiting from a long unobstructed fetch down the harbor, good size white-caped seas were rolling through the anchorage, causing even larger boats to lunge at their moorings like wild ponies.  What would Sunday be like?  Suddenly, I found myself thinking of other possibilities.  Maybe we should consider Round Pond and start out on Muscongus Bay,  I suggested to Dennis.  Chock full of islands, Muscongus Bay offered a lot of immediate protection if the wind stayed strong.

In the past, I as well as Tom Graefe, started some great cruises from picturesque and less known Round Pond, located on Muscongus Sound.  The launch ramp there was also excellent and we had been permitted to park in a vacant lot behind the white church, a short walk up from the harbor.  Things have changed!  The property is being sold and parking is now out.  I was in shock.  Even with the help of the kind woman managing the small general store, our attempts to find an alternative place to park were unsuccessful.  This was a very sad day for me.  Round Pond had been a wonderful place from which to start a cruise.

But, all was not lost.  Back on Penobscot Bay, at Tenants Harbor, where we enjoyed a great seafood dinner at the Cods End on the end of the wharf, we managed to woo one of the waitresses at the Farmers Restaurant into letting us park in her yard for a small fee.  This unexpected stroke of luck put us into a much happier frame of mind.  So finally the launching place was settled: it would be Tenants Harbor in the morning.

Back at our tent site the wind blew the tree tops even harder and the rain continued non-stop.  The people we talked to during day had offered little encouragement that tomorrow’s weather would let us start our cruise.  Oh, well, have another whisky, Dennis!  Some time late into the night, the wind and rain abated.
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Launching Blue Mist at Tenants Harbor - Sunday AM.

Sunday, Aug 30.  Miraculously, by the time we have packed up and arrived at Tenants Harbor the sun is shining and we are looking at a marvelous day and images of Danny quickly fade away.  By a little past noon, Blue Mist is fully loaded and ready to be off.


Whitehead Island Light marks the southern approach to Muscle Ridge,
a series of north-south islands a mile or so into the bay.  Five- to six-foot swells were running due to Danny.



Cresting impressive six-foot swells left over from Danny, sailing was perfect fun with 10 to 15 knot southwesterly breeze from behind.  Dennis had Blue Mist on a northeasterly heading, aiming for the Muscle Ridge Channel.  There is a nice picturesque anchorage at the north end of Muscle Ridge, but that would mean stopping too soon.  So, providing wind and time hold out, we will continue across the western arm of Penobscot Bay to the White Islands.  Though bucking a bit of a tidal current, we are making fast progress.


The horizon is blocked out by a big swell - Dennis at the helm.

We maintain a sharp lookout for seals and porpoises.  There, that dark blob bobbing amongst those brightly painted lobster trap buoys, is it a seal?  Sometimes it is, and the cute face soon ducks beneath the surface, disappearing behind a big swirl.  At other times we are fooled by a trap buoy, darker than usual.  Porpoises are more elusive, but we manage to make one or two sightings while crossing.  A couple of times in the past I’ve had the thrill of sighting a whale.  But that is rare and not likely to happen within Penobscot Bay.  Still, I keep hoping!


click here for larger version of chart

Named for the bright reflection of their shining granite shores, visible from many miles out, the White Islands
(chart above) are a group of four small islands located on the west side of Vinalhaven Island.  Remote, they are a marvelous wildlife sanctuary, devoid of human habitation.  Osprey, surely bald eagles as well, reside here, though I have not been lucky enough to spot an eagle.  The islands create a small, snug harbor and are one of my favorite anchorages.



Swells breaking on a shoal - leaving a trail of froth running off to leeward.

Because they are out-lying islands, I was worried that a surge from the large ground swell might be rolling within the harbor. Indeed, we found the narrow entrance tricky, with waves washing high up the sloping rocks, causing surging.  But once inside and anchored, Blue Mist rolled only slightly to a gentle swell.  We had enjoyed a great day of sailing, covering approximately 15 NM.


The Rindlaubs’ 35-ft. ketch Indigo - White Islands.

Also anchored in this small harbor was an attractive modest size ketch.  All the while we were relaxing and making dinner (I cooked venison chili!) she showed no signs of life.  However, as dusk was settling, two people headed out in a dinghy to explore the shore of the nearby island.  Upon their return, we hailed them; I was utterly surprised to learn it was Curtis Rindlaub and his wife, Carol Cartier.  Curtis, who has taken over editorship of A Cruising Guide to the Main Coast, is also the author and publisher of Main Coast Guide – Casco Bay; a guide specifically aimed at small boats.  Many of our Wayfarer cruising gang found this guide to be a handy resource at our last Hermit Island rally.

The Rindlaubs are as surprised as we to run across one another in this manner.  Though we have never met, Curtis immediately identified me from Blue Mist.  With the two boats’ gunwales nearly touching, the four of us enjoyed a pleasant conversation, with Curtis keenly recalling some of the e-mail exchanges with our gang prior to Hermit Island.  No motor on the dinghy, Carol effortlessly rows back to their ketch - fitting, I think, for a guy who enthusiastically encourages small boat cruising.

It is only eight o’clock, but darkness has long ago engulfed us and now the air is definitely cooling down.  The night-time temperature will be dropping into the fifties.  It is time to pull the boom tent back over the transom.  With the outside world walled out, the cockpit is transformed into a peaceful, comfortable cabin.  Dennis switches on his LED headlamp and begins to read.  His book is Stalking the Blue-Eyed Scallop by Euell Gibbons - more about that later.  For a while I continue to sit up and just let my mind wander, enjoying a whiskey.  Blue Mist rocks ever so gently, with the sea making occasional soft gurgling noises against her hull.  Dennis’s head has dropped to his chest, headlamp still shining.  Soon, I too am fast asleep; it has been an exhausting day.

Wayfarer camping—my method

The wooden Mark I Wayfarer has a tremendous amount of stowage space in both the forward and aft compartments.  I stow extra clothing, some food stuff, and sleeping gear forward--but nothing that will be needed while sailing, as this compartment will be nearly impossible to access once underway.  Foul weather gear and spare warm clothing (a change of clothing, long sleeved shirt, fleece jacket, etc.) are kept in a waterproof cockpit bag that is always handy.

The aft compartment contains the first few days’ food, the stove, fuel, fire extinguisher, cooking utensils, personal toiletry stuff, and smaller items (such as the spare parts box) that I want to have handy.  Larger pots and pans, water containers, the lunch/snack container, etc. are stowed in the cockpit.  Some beer and wine are placed out of the way on the floor forward of the mast, where the sea water keeps the hull cooler, while the remainder goes into the bow compartment.  A lot of gear staying in the cockpit, such as the cockpit tent, can be stuffed into the space underneath the foredeck in front of the mast--while still keeping the anchor bucket and extra lines clear.

After anchoring and furling the sails, the cockpit tent goes on—but only part-way, to form a small cuddy cabin.  If there is a breeze blowing, this adds a good deal of protection and warmth.  My cockpit tent is a simple single ridge pole design, but I’ve devised an uncomplicated false goose neck that fits into the mast sail groove, allowing the boom to be raised about 6” higher.  Following dinner and clean-up, the sleeping gear is brought out from the forward compartment.  The air mattresses lie on the floor and the aft bulkhead provides a back rest; it’s a very comfortable bed!  In the morning, the process is reversed.
Monday, Aug 31.  A high pressure system will dominate throughout the week, providing the best stretch of pleasant, sunny weather Maine has enjoyed all summer.  We are up and moving by 6:00 AM - amazing for me.  During breakfast, a gentle morning breeze greets us out of the north.  It is a wonderful day to be on Penobscot Bay.



Hurricane Island, home of the Hurricane Island Outward Bound School, is only a mile or so to the south.  Rather than go ashore immediately, we agree to stop at the school. Exploring Hurricane Island is always a fascinating experience, even for an old-timer like me. Visitors are always welcome. The school’s various outdoor training facilities are interesting, as well as the occasional cast-off specimen of granite carvings, scattered around the grounds; these date back to Hurricane Island’s earlier, nineteenth century, quarrying period.  In all, the island is very beautiful, with high elevations that offer breath-taking panoramic views of the sea to the south, as well as the near-by islands on Penobscot Bay to the west.


Headed for Hurricane Island with a light breeze from behind.  Behind Dennis are the picturesque White Islands.

Arriving at the School we were taken aback to find none of the famous pulling boats at the moorings, and no caretakers present at the facility.  Though it appeared that people would soon be back, the school apparently had closed for the year.


Hurricane Island Outward Bound School was deserted.

Our next stop after Hurricane Island, will be Carvers Harbor to resupply with water.  During the night, my 5-gallon Coleman camping water jug lost most of its contents into the bilge.  I thought that the cap accidently got turned to ‘open’ - but later we found out it had sustained a puncture.  I vowed to use something smaller in the future.  Five gallons, combined with the various other drinking bottles we were carrying, is more than necessary.  Actually, Blue Mist was a little overloaded - with more food, water, and clothing than we needed.

Of the many unique experiences Maine offers, to me a visit to one of her true working harbors ranks high.  Carvers Harbor is a serious fishing port, and home to some big off-shore fishing vessels. These boats are entirely different from the everyday lobster fishermen. Looking at the gear on the boats in Carvers Harbor, I have little clue to how they fish, or what they catch.  But they are impressive. For a Wayfarer, Carvers Harbor is an interesting place to visit, but not to stay. The sail from Hurricane Island to Carvers Harbor again is short.  We tie up at the town landing and stay just long enough to buy a couple of 2-1/2 gallon water jugs at the supermarket.
 


Rapidly leaving Vinalhaven astern, Blue Mist barrels along before a 10 to 12 knot southwesterly, headed for Merchants Row - Dennis at the helm.

Merchants Row (as described by Taft)

“Between Deer Island and Isle au Haut lies an archipelago known as Merchants Row, unsurpassed for beauty anywhere in Maine.  There are 30 or 40 of these islands, all darkly wooded and fringed with white and pink sloping granite shores.  This is a wonderland of passages and ever-changing vistas through which the yachtsman wanders with delight.  Even the names of the islands are evocative—Sprout and Potato, Enchanted and Grog, Round, Bare, and Green.  Other names remind you that for every island there is rock—Hells Half Acre and Devil and Wreck Island.
 
There are old quarries here and stone wharves.  Crotch Island is once again a working quarry and one of the few places where this fascinating operation can be observed.  Most of the islands in Merchants Row are privately owned, but four—Wreck, Round, McGlathery, and Russ—belong to environmental groups.  Several others are part of the Maine Island Trail.”


click here for larger version of chart

Departing Carvers Harbor, we resume our easterly trek, headed for fascinating Merchants Row.  Rounding the southern tip of Vinalhaven Island, we find that the afternoon southwesterly has filled in nicely, pushing us along at 5 knots or better.
 


Scattered throughout Merchants Row, there are many terrific anchorages I’ve enjoyed over the years.  By now though, it is getting into the afternoon. So I decide the well protected harbor at Merchant  Island, though popular and frequented by bigger boats, is the best choice for the night.  It is the closest and most direct destination from Vinalhaven.

Approaching Merchant Island, we can see that the incoming tide has already covered the harbor bar.  This poses an irresistible temptation to tweak some noses on a couple of big yachts already anchored inside.  “Forget rounding the island,” I say to Dennis, while lifting the centerboard part way.  “Let’s cut across the bar!”  Running full tilt we arrive, round up sharply, luff the sails, and dropped the big Bruce anchor precisely where we want it.  Venturing a glance at the rich-man yachts across the way, I inwardly puff my chest - “can you guys do that?!”  Even having made two stops, our day’s distance made good is approximately 15 NM.

Tonight was Dennis’ turn to cook.  He made a delicious dinner of huge proportions—Indian Corn Stew.  It entailed quite a few cans of stuff, but only one pot.  Dennis likes to cook and has a number of great camping recipes.  He’s a great guy to have as a shipmate, in all respects.

Again the night is sparkling clear, the stars are spectacular and soon joined by an oversize moon approaching full.  Tides will exceed 10 feet the next couple of days.


Indian Corn Stew - a one burner recipe!
by Dennis Figley

1 can each: whole kernel corn (drained); black beans, or beans of your liking, (drained); and condensed tomato soup.  (Diced tomatoes optional.)
1 medium onion (sliced or diced);
1 envelope taco seasoning;
1 lb. ground beef, pork, venison, or turkey (I think Dennis substituted canned corned beef); 
1 pepper, green/red/hot, or some of each.

Grated cheddar cheese (mild or sharp).
Sauté ground meat, onions, and peppers. 
Add remaining ingredients but save cheddar cheese for topping. 
Simmer for ten minutes. 

Tuesday, Sep. 1.  Greeting us is brilliant sunshine and a cloudless sky; this promises to be a light-air day - unusual for Maine - but so is such phenomenal weather!  Following the necessary morning landing on Harbor Island, one of the places where travelers are allowed to go ashore, we head out in zephyrs that barely provide steerage.  The sea is perfectly flat.


Setting expectations low, I decide to aim for Burnt Coat Harbor on Swans Island—a distance of about 10 NM to the east.  Should the afternoon southwesterly decide to kick in we can reevaluate.  Meanwhile, judging from our progress relative to the lobster trap buoys, Blue Mist is getting a pretty decent push from the tide.  This surprises me.  Though the tide is falling, we are being carried eastward.  According to Taft, with an ebbing tide we would expect the current to run westerly; the tide should have been foul!  Though still a mystery to me, the half knot or so of free ride was a significant benefit.


Hockamock Head Lighthouse on Swans Island - click here for larger pic

Burnt Coat Harbor is another of my favorite places. I’ve sailed into it a number of times. A fascinating lobstermen’s harbor, it is also beautiful and picturesque; and being far from the mainland, it hasn’t changed much during the period of time I’ve known it.

I confess. I love a chance to show off.  Making a smart landing, under full sail into a tight spot, on the lobster Co-op’s float was one of those times.  It isn’t without risk, but showing some clever boat handling has never hurt.  Few lobstermen know a lot about sailing, and, as a rule, they’re all business with no time for chitchat; but you can tell they respect good boat handling and seamanship.  Just watch how they like jockeying their boats around in close quarters.  They are not the least timid and relish ‘gunning’ the engine!



A tight landing spot at the Lobster Co-op.

As a dinghy sailor I’ve always been treated with respect by lobstermen.  Many times I’ve been allowed to tie up for the night at a ‘spare’ mooring.  “Yachtsmen” don’t typically get that kind of consideration. 
 
Space is always limited, so when landing at a lobster pound or Co-op I’m very careful to choose an out-of-way spot.  Then I quickly introduce myself and make sure it’s okay to stay where I am.  For a dinghy cruiser, landing at a lobster pound or Co-op means an opportunity to use their port-a-potty, as well as stretch one’s legs ashore.
 
When we arrived in the early afternoon, the Co-op was bustling.  Boats were just beginning to bring in their catch.  Dock hands were busy sorting, weighing, and recording lobsters, then transferring them to temporary holding pens.  One after another, a steady line of lobstermen came in.  Following unloading, as needed, some boats moved to the fueling station, or took on barrels of fresh bait.  An awful lot of lobsters were coming off the boats and it occurred to me that we must have arrived at a peak fishing period.  Of course, I was also informed that the price had just gone up.


Burnt Coat Harbor Lobster Co-op - click here for larger pic

Most of what I know about lobster fishing comes from observations I’ve made while cruising.  I’m not an expert.  Nevertheless, I rarely tire of watching the activity at a lobster pound.   These days, it seems that most lobster pounds are Co-ops, which are owned and operated by the lobstermen themselves.  Independent lobster pounds that buy directly from the lobstermen appear to be on the decline.  Co-ops are able to exercise more control over market price by such means as holding back the catch, and can manage costs more effectively.  In other words, the middleman has been eliminated.


View of the lobster industry

Fresh lobsters are shipped out by refrigerated truck, while diesel fuel and trailer loads of smelly frozen bait fish are brought in. It is the bait fish that makes a lobster pound stink so badly.  At Swans  Island everything ultimately comes or goes by ferry from the mainland. When locals want lobsters, they go to the nearest lobster pound.  However, you have to get there in the afternoon. Lobstermen start their day around 5:00 AM and the Co-op is usually closed by 4:00 PM. I’ve learned that the hard way. Also learned the hard way, there’s little chance of getting any sleep in the early morning hours when anchored around lobster boats.

The woman managing the Co-op dock tells me she’ll be working late; so we’ll be okay waiting till four to pick up lobsters.  That gives Dennis and me a couple of hours to take a walk around the harbor, and then go for a short sail to figure out where to anchor for the night.  We don’t want to be amongst the lobster boats. Taken by the beauty of the harbor, I shoot lots of pictures.

Buying the lobster results in some confusion—the lingo, it seems, has changed some from the past.  They don’t have any ‘hard-shell’, just the soft, ‘new-shell’.  “That’s okay,” I say.  But having less meat in the shell means I want to go bigger—like around 2-pounders.  Her face is blank—“You want jumbos?” she says.  Hesitating for half a second, I say, “Yah, let’s do that.” - not knowing exactly what I’ve agreed to.  In the end everything works out fine.  I walk away lighter in the wallet, but with two monster, possibly 2-1/2 pound, lobsters.  Yes, she weighed them!  As soon as the anchor is set, I take the lobsters from the bucket, place them in a net bag and dump them over the side. Lobsters need to be cooked live and they will not survive long in a bucket.





Heritage arriving under full sail

Relaxing with a beer before dinner, we are treated to the sight of a majestic windjammer sailing in under full canvass.  She is flying all her topsails and strikes a marvelous pose.  Along the way, we’ve been sighting various members of Maine’s windjammer fleet, but they have always been off in the distance.  Later, we learned this schooner is the Heritage.  We enjoyed having her company.


Heritage the following morning

The Heritage has with her a long boat, that is sprit-sail rigged, as well as what appears to be a push boat.  It may be she doesn’t have a working engine - we don’t know.  It isn’t long before the long boat is put out, filled with cruise passengers.  There is a lot of laughter and shouting, they are having a ball sailing the much smaller vessel.  We wonder, “Is this the highlight of the day?”  Toward dusk the sweet melodic sound of bagpipes drifts across to us.  Too soon, however, the concert ends.


Feasting on Maine lobsters

When dinghy cruising where tides are small or don’t exist, it is often possible to go ashore to prepare meals. On the coast of Maine this isn’t practical: all cooking is done on board. The photo above shows how it’s done.  The stove stows inside the aft compartment.  Blue Mist’s aft side benches were removed years ago, making the cockpit roomier.  Not apparent in the picture, the boom tent is already over the forward part of the cockpit, creating a windbreak.  For a small vessel, this arrangement works remarkably well.

End of Part I


Coming up in Part II: Frenchboro—‘stepping back in time’; Buckle Harbor—‘mussels galore’; Eggemoggin Reach—‘meeting up with Chris and Jennifer, sailing W2414’; ‘the Barred Islands’; ‘North Haven Island’; High Island—‘one rough night!’   
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