Cruising Log for Week 6:  August 18 - August 24

Sunday 8/18:  Islesboro Harbor (Hewes Point) - Pickering Island, via Ames Cove and Brackett Channel, Islesboro (Rhumb Line Distance:  17 nm total)  PDF Chart 1  PDF Chart 2  Harbor Detail Chart

I got up early so I could plot a course and distance around the corner of the island, so I could better judge how long it might take.  It turned out to be 6.9 miles, so at 0640 we dropped the mooring and began the motor down the eastern side of the island, towards Pendleton Point and Bracketts Channel beyond.  The day, after sunrise, was a little overcast, but not too bad.

Bracketts Channel looked somewhat tricky on the chart, and the cruising guide was characteristically worry-warty about it, but it turned out to be fairly simple to navigate, at least in our boat.  I wouldn't want to do it at low tide or in a boat that drew 8 feet, but it was mostly enjoyable for us, and it turned out to be privately marked to boot--the markings don't really advertise themselves as such, and it was only after I was proceeding on my route that I had plugged into the GPS that I could confirm that the orange lobster pots were indeed channel markers and this reinforced our choice of course through the narrowest and shallowest parts of the channel.

Just after 0800, we arrived in Ames Cove and threaded through the moored boats and beyond into the mud flat area (covered at high and navigable, with 6 or more feet of water up to the dock).  This was, for me, the most nerve-wracking part of the trip, as we sliced through thin water and an unmarked channel, as such, up to the dock at Pendleton Yacht Yard, where Mark Clayton awaited.  Before long, we were tied to the dock and hoisted Mark up the mast in our La-Z-Boy bosun chair, where he made short and efficient work of removing all the mangled jumper hardware and stays, and also straightened the VHF antenna and checked over the jumper and spreader bases for us.  (All looked OK.)  By just after 0900, we had had a chance to give the boat a much needed fresh water rinse (first of the cruise, other than rainstorms) and pick our way back out to deeper water before the tide left us stranded.  Once out in the harbor, Heidi and I talked over what we should do--we considered heading to one of the smaller coves that make up huge Gilkey Harbor, on the west side of Islesboro, but ended up deciding to head for our old standby, Pickering Island, which promised a relaxing, pleasant stop--we started calling it our "safe haven", our home away from home.  Both of us felt a need to kick back and relax a bit, catch up on boat chores, and unwind from the previous week's activities and the unpleasantness of the events of Saturday.  It was still early, and unfortunately the wind remained flat calm, rather than provide us with a pleasant sailing breeze, so we motored the 10 miles back through Bracketts Channel (we were old hands at this now) and across East Penobscot Bay to our old friend, Pickering Island, where we picked up the mooring at around 1130.  The sun even came out when we arrived.

As usual, we raided the shores for fresh mussels at low tide during the afternoon, though we didn't  choose to eat them right away, leaving them hanging over the side in a mesh bag instead, where they will keep indefinitely.  They'll make a nice treat in a day or two.  Few events of any note occurred through the afternoon; we relaxed and read and called it an early night, after watching the anchoring exploits of a late arrival in a chartered Hinckley Pilot 35--reason 357 why NOT to ever put your boat in a charter fleet.  The night was clear and calm, with light fog near daybreak.

Monday 8/19:  Pickering Island  Harbor Detail Chart

We got a slow, lazy start, without having a true destination in mind for the day.  We had toyed with Buck's Harbor--we needed ice before setting off anywhere significant--but eventually, as we waited for wind to pick up, we decided to just stay here for another day.  (We're so lazy sometimes...)

Still, this gave me a chance to catch up on a few maintenance and cleaning chores, including trying to resurrect, unsuccessfully, a cabin  light over the galley sink that had been ornery throughout the cruise and finally ceased working last week.  A light northerly breeze blew by late in the morning, very pleasant, but by then we were ensconced in our lay day.  I placed a call to my rigger to discuss the new jumper struts we needed and get things rolling on that project.  

We enjoyed a very relaxing day on the mooring at the island, catching up on reading, phone calls to our folks, and napping.  The only downfall to the day, which was bright, sunny, dry, and warm with a light breeze, was an inordinate number of biting flies--we were often swarmed in the cockpit or below by these annoying little things, to the point where I tried going on a long row in the dinghy solely to escape their bites.  (It didn't work--they followed me.)  Finally, as the day turned into evening, the flies dissipated, leaving us in peace.

Tuesday 8/20:  Pickering Island - Bucks Harbor (Rhumb Line Distance:  4.28 nm)  PDF Route Chart  Harbor Detail Chart

We had arranged with a friend, Henry, for a vacant mooring in Bucks Harbor for the night--we had planned to stop back in Bucks to pick up ice, go for provisions at the Bucks Harbor Market, and catch up with Henry and, possibly, Andy from the Bucks Harbor Yacht Club, who we had met on our last visit.

We awoke to a growing northerly breeze and light rain, after a calm, clear night.  The wind was from the one worst direction for the harbor at Pickering, and we were wide open to 4 miles of fetch.  By 0930 or so, the wind had strengthened to 15 knots or so, and I decided it was time to go despite the general unpleasantness of the weather at that time--I didn't want to hang around for the wind to get worse, not knowing exactly what it was going to do.  So, while Heidi lolled in the vee berth, I cast off the mooring and began the short motor up to Bucks Harbor, directly upwind.  I didn't bother with the sails, since I didn't feel like fooling with them myself and didn't feel the urge to sail upwind in the inclement weather.  The wind and seas slowed us to about 4.5 knots under power, but that was OK, and within an hour we were safely into Bucks Harbor after a slightly wet, but otherwise uneventful, slog into the wind.

Henry had indicated that the mooring we were to be able to pick up was near his boat, so we started looking but couldn't find it, despite checking every empty mooring there.  I tried phoning him to see if maybe the mooring wasn't available, but the cell phone reception was nonexistent in the harbor.  Finally, after checking a few more nearby moorings, I found the one we were supposed to be on was occupied by its owner--how dare he!  ;<)

We decided to check at the yacht club and see if Andy was around to set us up with a mooring--he was, and put us on a good mooring right off the docks.  Once we were settled, he motored over in his dinghy for a chat, and we invited him to stop over later in the evening for some Pickering Island mussels.  Then, I rowed over to Bucks Harbor Marine for ice, and returned to the boat to load the ice and pick up Heidi so we could go ashore to the general store just up the street from the yacht club.  Back on the boat, we relaxed with lunch and reading.  The sky suddenly cleared--you could look up and see a stark line between the clouds and clear blue--and we enjoyed a very nice afternoon on board.

In the evening, Henry and Andy came over for a chat and a fine mussel dinner, complete with fresh bread from the market and homemade shortcakes (or perhaps I should say "boat-made") from our oven and fresh blueberries and whipped cream...good stuff.  A fun time was had by all as the nearly full moon rose over the calm harbor; we chatted till 2230, way past our bedtime.

Wednesday 8/21:  Bucks Harbor - Pulpit Harbor (Rhumb Line Distance:  12.3 nm)  PDF Route Chart  Harbor Detail Chart

I began the day today with no clear ideas about where we were going next, or what the general plan was.  There's a definite--and unwanted--feeling that the cruise is winding down, which in fact it is, but not for a couple more weeks.  Still, the bulk is behind us now, and it was inevitable that at some point we would have to start thinking of home and the end of our wonderful odyssey.

The general unsettled feeling that has been with us more or less since Islesboro gave us a relaxing morning in the harbor, enjoying blueberry pancakes with the remains of the fresh blueberries from yesterday.  I had run several scenarios through my mind, but none of my ideas were inspiring me--plus, we have really done a good job visiting those harbors in the Mount Desert-Blue Hill-Jericho Bay-East Penobscot Bay area over the past several weeks, and there were few harbors that we had bypassed that we really felt a burning need to visit right now.  Horseshoe Cove, next door to Bucks, sounded interesting, but there's no room to anchor and we weren't excited about the prospects of a $25 mooring right now, having pretty much blown our mooring budget already.

Adding to my confusion and worry about where to go next was the NOAA forecast for Thursday, which was calling for southwest winds of 20 knots as a low pressure system passed through with showers--not exactly the kind of weather we wanted to be making passages in, and also the kind of forecast where we wanted to be in a secure, comfortable harbor out of the wind and fetch.  This limited our choices somewhat, as we figured wherever we went next would probably be a two-day stop. 

We toyed with going down Eggemoggin Reach again towards Center Harbor--a stop I want to make sometime--but it seemed from the cruising guide that the inner harbor was clogged with occupied moorings, and anchoring outside them would have left us open more than we would have liked.  Scratch that.  We even debated staying in Bucks, but that would have meant a nearly three-day layover there, more than we had intended, and as nice as Bucks Harbor is, we were pretty much ready to go elsewhere.  Finally, we settled on a general plan of attack:  start moving slowly, slowly south and west, roughly towards home, but taking our time and seeing lots of the places we bypassed on our way up back in July.  This seemed to please both of us, and we eventually settled on Pulpit Harbor--or, more specifically, Cabot Cove--for today.  I made up a quick route, rowed ashore with our last bag of trash, and we raised the main and were off the mooring at 1100--very late for us.

It was an absolutely perfect day, with bright blue skies, a few puffy clouds over the mainland, and a light northerly breeze when we set off.  Directly outside the harbor, we tried sailing, but the land-based north wind was light and fluky, so we gave up and continued under main and motor down the now-familiar waters of East Penobscot Bay towards Great Spruce Head Island and beyond.  The water was glassy calm and flat with no wind, but we didn't mind and soaked in the gorgeous weather and scenery.  It would have been a good day to hike up to the promontory on Butter Island for the view...I imagine the visibility must have made for quite a vista.  Another time.

As we approached within 1/2 mile of the entrance to Pulpit Harbor, marked with, as the name suggests, a pulpit-shaped rock crowned with a huge osprey nest, a light breeze from the sea came up, which seemed to get stronger during the afternoon after we were anchored.  Inside the harbor, we entered narrow Cabot Cove, away from the hustle and bustle of the main part of the harbor--which gained some prominence last year after an armed (with an antique musket) standoff between a windjammer captain and the operator of one of those annoying jet-skis, or PWCs.  (Later, the captain of the schooner was vindicated...sometimes justice does prevail.)

After passing a number of moorings (occupied) which belong to the Cabots, for whom the cove is named, we dropped anchor at the head of navigation in the cove with plenty of room.  Ahead was a tidal marsh; astern was the scenic entrance to the cove with a sprawling hayfield beyond.  Not too shabby.  During the afternoon, an hour or two before low, I rowed all the way up the marsh against the wind and tide, then relaxed and let the current push me back, only dipping an oar in order to steer.  The water temp was 66 degrees, so despite the relatively chilly wind I took a dip in order to have a bath.  Heidi abstained.  We shared the cove with one other boat during the night, other than the boats on moorings behind us.

Thursday 8/22:  Pulpit Harbor/Cabot Cove  Harbor Detail Chart

As expected, the southwest wind started blowing fairly stiffly early on, so we followed our plan and stayed here for the day.  It was nice to be in a pleasant, safe place with nowhere to go.  I spent a good part of the morning maintaining the engine and engine room--I added a few ounces of fresh oil to top off the level, which had been slightly low, checked over everything in sight, and cleaned the engine and surrounding area--a clean engine room makes for a happy engine.  Every now and then I like to lavish an hour or so of my time on the engine, giving it a thorough once-over inspection like this and wiping up any spilled oil, belt dust, or other contaminants, as well as inspecting the fuel filter bowls and all other components.

The wind gusted steadily through most of the day, and a high cloud cover arrived by mid-morning.  Hardly a terrible day, but compared to yesterday...

Nothing of note occurred during the day, really.  It was just another pleasant day spent on board--a day that is to be savored by the crew of Glissando, as we can both feel our time aboard slipping away inexorably.  As much as I hate to say it, we'll probably be home two weeks from now.  If it weren't for those great dogs waiting at home, I wonder if we'd really find a reason to go home?  I can think of no other real reason.  I could live this life indefinitely.  Suffice it to say, there has been plenty of talk on board revolving around this subject, with no clear conclusions other than we must be able to bring our dogs with us for any extended cruises.  The thought of returning to real world annoyances and petty chores just seems too unpleasant to bear.  Instead, I'll block these thoughts from my mind and simply enjoy our remaining time aboard.

The afternoon was spent listening to the wind generator on a serious cruising boat that anchored ahead of us.  How do people live with these things on their boats, what with the noise they make--not to mention those lethal spinning blades?  This same boat also had a huge bracketed solar array above the transom.  They either have heavy electrical usage (likely) or are just super-prepared for any possibility.  They were nice people, so it was OK...and the noise hardly bothered us.

Still no word back from our rigger about the new struts or their timeframe.  That's OK...I highly doubt we would stray off our rough itinerary in order to replace the struts at this point, since we'll be home soon enough and can deal with it then, or for next season.  Still, I would like to know, so I'll probably call him tomorrow if we get decent cell phone reception.  (It's been really spotty lately...Verizon, can you hear me now?  I don't think your little heavily-- bespectacled guy has made it to Maine to check.)

Late in the day, we were treated to some light rain showers, our first in quite some time.  It was a cozy night below.

Friday 8/23:  Pulpit Harbor/Cabot Cove  Harbor Detail Chart

A northeast wind picked up in the wee hours of the morning, sweeping the last of the minorly-unsettled weather away and leaving an absolutely glorious day in its wake.  We watched some of the boats leaving pitch as they left the still-protected main channel into Pulpit Harbor, so we decided to wait for the wind to settle a bit, which was predicted for later in the morning by NOAA.  By the time the wind had settled, so had we--into a pleasant routine of hanging out on the boat, as we do in port.  We decided to stay another day.  Yes, we're getting lazy in the dog days of August.

Near high tide, I rowed around the perimeter of the cove, just for something different to do--I had finished two novels during our stay so far, and was well into another.  (I started The Godfather, which movie series I had seen several times, but had never read the book.  Excellent, by the way.)  During the afternoon, we watched the anchoring exploits of a Dana 24...first they kerplunked their anchor mere inches away from where I imagined that mine was set, right in front of us.  Nicely, I made my concerns known to them, at which point, with ruffled feathers, they picked up and moved over to the side a bit, where they anchored again--still too close, but OK.  Then, they rowed out a second anchor--first deployed off the stern, which didn't seem to do what they wanted, then off the opposite side of their bow.  It took them an hour to anchor.  Nice boat, though.

There was a definite fall-like feel to the air today, especially as the sun began to go down.  It got downright chilly by evening, and we retreated below, where Heidi taught me how to play cribbage badly.  (That's me playing and learning badly, not a reference to Heidi's teaching skill.)

Saturday 8/24:  Pulpit Harbor - Long Cove (Rhumb Line Distance:  8.18 nm)  PDF Route Chart  Harbor Detail Chart

After a calm night, the day dawned a little gray, with a few clear breaks and a light or nonexistent north wind.  At 0930, we raised the anchor and headed out under main and motor, heading for Winter Harbor on the east side of Vinalhaven--a spot we had wanted to try for weeks.  It's  a long, narrow harbor that is well protected except from the northeast.

As we rounded Stand-In Point at the southerly tip of Northhaven, the wind began to pick up from--you guessed it--the northeast.  We held a quick cockpit conference, and decided it was ridiculous to head to a harbor that was protected from all directions except the direction the wind was currently blowing, so we changed course and headed instead for Long Cove, on the southern side of the island at the head of Hurricane Sound.  Long Cove would have been in our itinerary for a few days hence, so we just decided to rearrange things a bit.

To get there, we entered Leadbetter Narrows, a very pretty passage that is, as the name implies, very narrow.  Sloping granite banks lead to more spruce trees, much like Merchant Row.  Before we knew it, we were at our destination--a narrow cut in the rock, surrounded by granite and spruce.  We were pleasantly surprised by the scenery and its beauty, and it definitely outperformed our expectations.  Inside the cove, there were a number of moorings, which the cruising guide specifically says not to pick up.  We anchored after doing a quick circuit of the cove--it was high tide and we were a little unsure of the position of some of the hazards on the chart, so we chose a safe location in 20' of water at high tide.  At the head of the cove, there's a ledge that extends mostly across the cove, with deep water beyond...with a little research, one could motor past the ledge and anchor in clear water, landlocked at mid tide or lower.  I decided to learn where the rocks were by observing at low tide, so that I could get in there the next time we came here.  (Late at night, about two hours after low tide, I could hear water rushing somewhere in the cove--it was dark--and knew that there must be a falls up at the head of the cove by the ledge, where incoming water was forced through the small gap and built up outside.  It was obvious that I was going to have to check this out closer the next morning when it was light. )

As we were relaxing during the late afternoon, I was below when Heidi said, "Here comes the Queen Mary."   I popped my head through the hatch and saw that she wasn't kidding--a huge, incongruous motoryacht was entering the cove.  It looked way too big to even get in, and we watched in horror as it motored up right next to us (we were anchored in a good spot) and dropped one of its huge anchors, way too close for comfort.  As we continued to watch through hateful eyes, the yacht, called Carib Queen, from Coral Gables, FL, let out some anchor chain on the port anchor, then proceeded to power inwards towards shore to our starboard side, dragging out extra chain as she went.  We didn't immediately grasp what was going on, but then they dropped the starboard anchor and it became clear:  they were dropping two anchors to better place themselves and limit their swing.  As much as we hated to admit it, it was a very seamanlike maneuver, and the huge yacht ended up an appropriate and polite distance away from us.  Still, it was way too big for the cove, and the port generator exhaust was rather noisy throughout the afternoon--we worried that they would leave it running all night, but to our incredible surprise they shut it down by 1730 or so, leaving it off all night.  It seemed that we had rushed to judgment on this boat, based on some lousy experiences with other larger yachts out there.  This one was handled in a professional manner, and other than the grotesque size and cost of the thing, we hardly noticed it.

I  spent a bit of time rowing around the cove during various tides, fascinated as I always am by the granite and the remarkable change in scenery between high and low tides.  I also find it handy to scope things out in the dinghy so that the next time we come to a harbor, we have a better idea where the charted hazards really lie, and how much room there is around them, so that we can better choose our ultimate anchoring spot.  A few other boats came in for the night but mostly picked up the moorings--I guess some people just don't mind the risk of having someone show up at an inopportune time and requesting that they vacate the mooring.  Our own feeling is that we will try to anchor in most places unless there is no choice--that is, all the best spots are filled with these moorings.  Better to feel secure on ones' own hook than have to worry about moving or suspect mooring hardware.

After we went to bed, with a light rain and drizzle falling, we could hear a dinghy motor running, and voices nearby.  We listened for some time until my curiosity got the better of me, and I had to go back on deck to see what was going on.  Carib Queen was all lit up like a Christmas tree and looked quite elegant; a late arrival, a 42' sailboat, had drifted too close on her anchor and they were busy setting out a stern anchor to pull them away from the huge yacht.  Better them than us!

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