Back up in Saint John, I emailed a friend that Dave had found crew for me to make the schlep back down the coast. Schlep? I thought just after I typed that, a passage of the full length of some of the finest cruising grounds on earth, what would be the cruise of a lifetime for many, and I’m thinking of it as a “schlep”? Maybe this is a little sick. However, time is pressing if I am going to continue on south without the weather becoming a big problem so this two hundred odd miles needed to be covered delivery style. That, of course, seems to be how I spend most of my cruising time for one reason or another.
After my fiasco at Market Street, I had returned up river to the yacht club to rest and recuperate. Byron joined me there and we set off for an 1100 slack at the Reversing Falls. The timing of the brief slack periods has been greatly disrupted by the high water left over from the hurricane remnants and it was so foggy that we couldn’t see down river to assess the flow. Fortunately, Dave wanted to get a picture of us going through so he was able to call the slack by cell phone. We schussed through just as the fog lifted enough for him to get a photo that should appear here in due course.
The view in the Bay of Fundy was about the same as a grey flannel bag tied tightly over ones head. There was enough of a headwind to make it splashy and uncomfortable. Byron steered for hours as I read and rested. We’d planned to stop at Dipper Harbor but easing wind and the weather forecast persuaded us to stick it out twice as long and make it up into the Letang River for a 50 mile day. The fog was so thick going up the river that we were still using the radar to avoid the salmon pens and find a snug cove to wait out the strong winds forecast for overnight.
The fog lifted enough the following morning to see some of Deer Island and islands to the east. It was warm and reasonably pleasant in Eastport where we refilled the diesel tanks and stomachs after clearing customs. It was back into the flannel hoods going down the Grand Manan Channel to Cutler and not particularly pleasant although the wind against the ebb was not as bad as I have been led to believe. The wind went down overnight leaving us rolling around uncomfortably in Cutler as a reward for a 45 mile day.
No escape from the flannel hoods leaving Cutler just before dawn. We motored to the Cows Yard to have lunch. There is only room for 2-3 boats in this, one of my favorite anchorages, and we had been there half an hour before I realized that we were sharing it with another boat. It stayed that thick almost until we were at the channel through the Petit Manan bar when it lifted enough to see the light and the dim outlines of some of the islands in Pleasant Bay. I’d hoped to make Southwest Harbor due to strong winds forecast but the insistent rising wind and chaotic chop on the western side of the bar dictated a run up into Gouldsboro Bay through one of the thickest set of lobster pots on the coast.
We anchored in Joy Bay, entered through a tight passage at the head of this seldom visited bay. I’ve always wanted to visit this spot where I believe another cruising boat might have anchored back in 1947 or ‘48. It was a snug spot with good holding ground and a good place to wait out a windy night after 47 miles of motoring.
We were up for an early start hoping to get around Schoodic before the winds from the clearing skies came up but it was blowing hard before we were half a mile down the bay. Even in the lee off Corea I knew we wouldn’t be going far but, at least Byron was finally getting to see some of Maine. He’s another enthusiastic photographer so there should be some great pictures when we have a chance to sort through them.
It was a struggle just to get up into Prospect Harbor where we anchored and spend the day reading as the wind swung and heeled the boat. I rowed ashore after it eased a bit, inquired about stores, and was loaned a truck to drive the next town for some supplies.
It was another first light departure because the system seemed large enough to hold plenty of wind the second day. It came up just as fast and hard but was accompanied this day by large swells from offshore that made for some impressive surf and feeling very small down around the channel behind Schoodic Island.
Crossing Frenchman’s Bay was about as bad as it would have been the day before, probably worse with the swell. However, we were both a little more psychologically prepared and the urgency of time made facing it an easier decision. Strider was unperturbed, plugging along in her stoic way, but getting cold, wet, and beat up just doesn’t appeal to me as much as it used to.
We gradually worked into the lee of the Mount Desert cliffs and found the wind easing by the time we were going down Western Way. Once through Casco Passage, the wind had eased and backed enough to justify putting up the sails but it just kept dropping so fast that it was about a ten minute sail. We picked up a mooring off Devil’s Island in Merchant’s Row to have lunch and then continued on. It was a perfect day for viewing and photographing some of the finest scenery on the coast.
Exiting Fox Island Thoroughfare, we were greeted by wind and a perfect slant to set sail for Rockland. We boomed across the bay on a close reach with the rail in the water, Byron steering, and me sitting down to leeward calling out the lobster pots.
Dinner ashore capped off a great 58 mile day. Ed, if you are reading this, I owe the Town of Rockland for a mooring rental, send me a bill.
We left before dawn and ran all the way to Portland under power, 66 miles. Strider is back at Southport Marine and I’ve been running errands and starting to make lists for the next phase of these adventures. Things are turned on their head. After so much time on the boat, driving around in a car, seeing the city, and having a long hot shower seems as strange, exotic, and refreshing as starting a cruise used to be back when I was spending most of my time ashore.
Strider has covered 1815 nautical miles since July 17 and I managed to do it without the keel ever contacting either Canada or the State of Maine. I’m assured that I won’t be able to maintain that record through all the shallow waters that lie to the south but I’ll do my best. You can be sure I’ll let you know when I do run aground.
After my fiasco at Market Street, I had returned up river to the yacht club to rest and recuperate. Byron joined me there and we set off for an 1100 slack at the Reversing Falls. The timing of the brief slack periods has been greatly disrupted by the high water left over from the hurricane remnants and it was so foggy that we couldn’t see down river to assess the flow. Fortunately, Dave wanted to get a picture of us going through so he was able to call the slack by cell phone. We schussed through just as the fog lifted enough for him to get a photo that should appear here in due course.
The view in the Bay of Fundy was about the same as a grey flannel bag tied tightly over ones head. There was enough of a headwind to make it splashy and uncomfortable. Byron steered for hours as I read and rested. We’d planned to stop at Dipper Harbor but easing wind and the weather forecast persuaded us to stick it out twice as long and make it up into the Letang River for a 50 mile day. The fog was so thick going up the river that we were still using the radar to avoid the salmon pens and find a snug cove to wait out the strong winds forecast for overnight.
The fog lifted enough the following morning to see some of Deer Island and islands to the east. It was warm and reasonably pleasant in Eastport where we refilled the diesel tanks and stomachs after clearing customs. It was back into the flannel hoods going down the Grand Manan Channel to Cutler and not particularly pleasant although the wind against the ebb was not as bad as I have been led to believe. The wind went down overnight leaving us rolling around uncomfortably in Cutler as a reward for a 45 mile day.
No escape from the flannel hoods leaving Cutler just before dawn. We motored to the Cows Yard to have lunch. There is only room for 2-3 boats in this, one of my favorite anchorages, and we had been there half an hour before I realized that we were sharing it with another boat. It stayed that thick almost until we were at the channel through the Petit Manan bar when it lifted enough to see the light and the dim outlines of some of the islands in Pleasant Bay. I’d hoped to make Southwest Harbor due to strong winds forecast but the insistent rising wind and chaotic chop on the western side of the bar dictated a run up into Gouldsboro Bay through one of the thickest set of lobster pots on the coast.
We anchored in Joy Bay, entered through a tight passage at the head of this seldom visited bay. I’ve always wanted to visit this spot where I believe another cruising boat might have anchored back in 1947 or ‘48. It was a snug spot with good holding ground and a good place to wait out a windy night after 47 miles of motoring.
We were up for an early start hoping to get around Schoodic before the winds from the clearing skies came up but it was blowing hard before we were half a mile down the bay. Even in the lee off Corea I knew we wouldn’t be going far but, at least Byron was finally getting to see some of Maine. He’s another enthusiastic photographer so there should be some great pictures when we have a chance to sort through them.
It was a struggle just to get up into Prospect Harbor where we anchored and spend the day reading as the wind swung and heeled the boat. I rowed ashore after it eased a bit, inquired about stores, and was loaned a truck to drive the next town for some supplies.
It was another first light departure because the system seemed large enough to hold plenty of wind the second day. It came up just as fast and hard but was accompanied this day by large swells from offshore that made for some impressive surf and feeling very small down around the channel behind Schoodic Island.
Crossing Frenchman’s Bay was about as bad as it would have been the day before, probably worse with the swell. However, we were both a little more psychologically prepared and the urgency of time made facing it an easier decision. Strider was unperturbed, plugging along in her stoic way, but getting cold, wet, and beat up just doesn’t appeal to me as much as it used to.
We gradually worked into the lee of the Mount Desert cliffs and found the wind easing by the time we were going down Western Way. Once through Casco Passage, the wind had eased and backed enough to justify putting up the sails but it just kept dropping so fast that it was about a ten minute sail. We picked up a mooring off Devil’s Island in Merchant’s Row to have lunch and then continued on. It was a perfect day for viewing and photographing some of the finest scenery on the coast.
Exiting Fox Island Thoroughfare, we were greeted by wind and a perfect slant to set sail for Rockland. We boomed across the bay on a close reach with the rail in the water, Byron steering, and me sitting down to leeward calling out the lobster pots.
Dinner ashore capped off a great 58 mile day. Ed, if you are reading this, I owe the Town of Rockland for a mooring rental, send me a bill.
We left before dawn and ran all the way to Portland under power, 66 miles. Strider is back at Southport Marine and I’ve been running errands and starting to make lists for the next phase of these adventures. Things are turned on their head. After so much time on the boat, driving around in a car, seeing the city, and having a long hot shower seems as strange, exotic, and refreshing as starting a cruise used to be back when I was spending most of my time ashore.
Strider has covered 1815 nautical miles since July 17 and I managed to do it without the keel ever contacting either Canada or the State of Maine. I’m assured that I won’t be able to maintain that record through all the shallow waters that lie to the south but I’ll do my best. You can be sure I’ll let you know when I do run aground.
