I suspect the SPOT watchers among my readers are awaiting explanation of some of my recent movements. This morning’s was to get back up to where there is cell / Internet connection, modern cruising. I’ll be headed back into the phantom zone soon so you won’t be hearing from me for a few days.
Yesterday, I ran under power down to Port Clyde and into the harbor via the narrow and confusing back channel at dead low on what is known in Maine as a “low dreenner”. A fellow on a dock asked if I’d been through before and I assured him I had. He said I would believe how many people cut the green buoy he called “highly ambiguous”. It is hard to believe you have to go all the way over there but, if you do, there is plenty of water.
Ads for “Linda Bean’s Perfect Maine” and other grousing I’ve heard around the coast made me fear that this nice little town might have been turned into a lobster theme park so I decided to get some ice and check it out. I picked up a mooring of the famous Port Clyde General Store and rowed in. I’m pleased to report that this brief inspection did not reveal anything amiss.
The waitress in the bar section I passed, if her service is half as good as her looks, would qualify for the perfect waitress, however. The woman at the counter looked as good as someone my age ever does without makeup. I can not, therefore, rule out the possibility of some sort of “Stepford Wives” kind of thing going on but I will defer that for further investigation next season.
I unrolled the jib outside the harbor, the lobster pots being too thick and the wind too light and fickle to make me want to commit to putting the main up. I had a nice and slow sail on about as beautiful a day as Maine has to offer (“Perfect” I guess.) up the Medomak River. I had been hearing the Coast Guard calling for a vessel named “Serena” and then put out a missing vessel alert for a 30 foot powerboat with a Christmas tree painted on the side.
I had just finished eating lunch, quite a trick on one of the thickest field of pots in Maine with a fair tied pushing me along just above steerage way, when the Coast Guard called for any vessel in the vicinity of Harbor Island. I was a little over four miles away but no one answered so I called back after a couple minutes. They asked if I could run down and see if the vessel was anchored in the harbor.
Two minutes later, I was under power at high RPM dodging thick pots with the auto pilot and calling the Coast Guard with and ETA after putting a new course into the GPS. Pat me on the back for not fouling pot.
The wind started to rise quickly and I was soon throwing spray up onto the decks. I wished I could duck below and close the galley port but the pots were too thick. The Coast Guard called back for a new ETA and I told them I was 1.3 miles out, alone in thick pots and would call them when I got there. “Strider OUT!.
Just as I was passing Black Island Ledge, the Coast Guard called and said I could stand down. The vessel had been located at its mooring in Christmas Cove.
No regrets. I never did take time to check out this harbor which I did. I used the partial lee to get the main up and rewarded my good Samaritanism with a grand sail back up to Hog Island and a pleasant run up Hockomock Channel to where I am anchored now. After checking email for some logistics connected with the Small Reach Regatta, I moved back down to Greenland Cove in anticipation of rain and thunderstorms today.
Now that I’ve checked in and had a look at the Doppler radar, I’ll be moving back down to Greenland Cove shortly. This will be my last transmission for several days, probably until I get back to Portland as cell connections are pretty sketchy between here and there.
Yesterday, I ran under power down to Port Clyde and into the harbor via the narrow and confusing back channel at dead low on what is known in Maine as a “low dreenner”. A fellow on a dock asked if I’d been through before and I assured him I had. He said I would believe how many people cut the green buoy he called “highly ambiguous”. It is hard to believe you have to go all the way over there but, if you do, there is plenty of water.
Ads for “Linda Bean’s Perfect Maine” and other grousing I’ve heard around the coast made me fear that this nice little town might have been turned into a lobster theme park so I decided to get some ice and check it out. I picked up a mooring of the famous Port Clyde General Store and rowed in. I’m pleased to report that this brief inspection did not reveal anything amiss.
The waitress in the bar section I passed, if her service is half as good as her looks, would qualify for the perfect waitress, however. The woman at the counter looked as good as someone my age ever does without makeup. I can not, therefore, rule out the possibility of some sort of “Stepford Wives” kind of thing going on but I will defer that for further investigation next season.
I unrolled the jib outside the harbor, the lobster pots being too thick and the wind too light and fickle to make me want to commit to putting the main up. I had a nice and slow sail on about as beautiful a day as Maine has to offer (“Perfect” I guess.) up the Medomak River. I had been hearing the Coast Guard calling for a vessel named “Serena” and then put out a missing vessel alert for a 30 foot powerboat with a Christmas tree painted on the side.
I had just finished eating lunch, quite a trick on one of the thickest field of pots in Maine with a fair tied pushing me along just above steerage way, when the Coast Guard called for any vessel in the vicinity of Harbor Island. I was a little over four miles away but no one answered so I called back after a couple minutes. They asked if I could run down and see if the vessel was anchored in the harbor.
Two minutes later, I was under power at high RPM dodging thick pots with the auto pilot and calling the Coast Guard with and ETA after putting a new course into the GPS. Pat me on the back for not fouling pot.
The wind started to rise quickly and I was soon throwing spray up onto the decks. I wished I could duck below and close the galley port but the pots were too thick. The Coast Guard called back for a new ETA and I told them I was 1.3 miles out, alone in thick pots and would call them when I got there. “Strider OUT!.
Just as I was passing Black Island Ledge, the Coast Guard called and said I could stand down. The vessel had been located at its mooring in Christmas Cove.
No regrets. I never did take time to check out this harbor which I did. I used the partial lee to get the main up and rewarded my good Samaritanism with a grand sail back up to Hog Island and a pleasant run up Hockomock Channel to where I am anchored now. After checking email for some logistics connected with the Small Reach Regatta, I moved back down to Greenland Cove in anticipation of rain and thunderstorms today.
Now that I’ve checked in and had a look at the Doppler radar, I’ll be moving back down to Greenland Cove shortly. This will be my last transmission for several days, probably until I get back to Portland as cell connections are pretty sketchy between here and there.
