The wind which caused my twilight anchor reset adventure in North Lubec died quickly to a dead calm and I slept better than I have in weeks. I woke to an absolute corker of a day and sailed off the anchor, putting in a reef immediately upon clearing the islands that sheltered my anchorage.
I beat up to Eastport with thoughts of Sunday Brunch and took a couple tacks in close to the waterfront to look for a dock but the weather as just to fine to stop. The tide was still pouring out of Western Passage and it was hours till slack so I decided to go beat about in the Old Sow (site of the hemisphere’s largest whirlpool) for a bit and have lunch instead.
Only a crazy man would try beating against the wind and current through the Old Sow in boat with a shoal keel that isn’t the sprightliest windward performer. That cat was out of the bag on that issue for followers of my cruising long ago, however. Sure enough, I made .2 nm on my first tack and 375 yards on the second. It was something to do while killing time until lunch.
The day was glorious and the boat was moving through the water beautifully so I just kept at it. I saw a lot more of the scenery coming back to nearly the same point repeatedly and watching and playing the boils and eddies of the current was fascinating . I only saw just a hint of a whirlpool trying to form though.
Sitting in a restaurant lost its appeal quickly and I just kept at it. The tacks very gradually got longer and as the current weakened but it was still against me when I entered Passamaquoddy Bay. I was glad then that I had forgone lunch (except for the hummus and pita bread wolfed down at the wheel) because the clouds filled in and the wind picked up considerably. Hunkered down against a now cold wind and dark water and skies, it was nice to be close to my anchorage instead of way back in Eastport just starting out.
I anchored in a spot I’ve used before between two fish weirs just across from St. Andrews. 35 miles to windward. I love a day when the engine is never started. The wind died again to an almost un-natural calm and I slept even better than the night before.
The sun rose directly above St. Andrews in the morning under a flawless blue sky. I motored over and picked up a town mooring, cleared customs, and made multiple trips back and forth in the dinghy for ice, laundry, and food. After a lunch of scallops on a restaurant deck looking out at Strider, I was ready for a sail in an enticing wind.
Passamaquoddy Bay is as pleasant a place to sail as I have ever known, all the best features of the ocean and a large lake. There was a perfect wind, just a fraction of a knot below needing a reef, and I was close reaching across the bay with just enough clouds in the sky to make it interesting and beautiful. I looked in at spectacular Magaguadavic River entrance and then screamed back across the bay with sheets eased to anchor in Chamcook Harbor.
It was another incredibly calm night but I woke to rain pattering on the deck overhead. I got up and started the Newport cabin heater and went back to bed. The rain stopped but it still wasn’t a day that invited hanging around and exploring the bay further (I’ve been here twice before) so I started the engine and headed for Letete Passage.
It could have been a day in November as I sat in the companionway letting the autopilot steer and trying to remember where I packed the gloves I didn’t expect to need until after Labor Day. A short tour through the archipelago east of Deer Isle brought me to Northwest Harbor on the main island where I am anchored and warming up. I’ll now go up on deck just before noon, look around, and decide what to do next.
I beat up to Eastport with thoughts of Sunday Brunch and took a couple tacks in close to the waterfront to look for a dock but the weather as just to fine to stop. The tide was still pouring out of Western Passage and it was hours till slack so I decided to go beat about in the Old Sow (site of the hemisphere’s largest whirlpool) for a bit and have lunch instead.
Only a crazy man would try beating against the wind and current through the Old Sow in boat with a shoal keel that isn’t the sprightliest windward performer. That cat was out of the bag on that issue for followers of my cruising long ago, however. Sure enough, I made .2 nm on my first tack and 375 yards on the second. It was something to do while killing time until lunch.
The day was glorious and the boat was moving through the water beautifully so I just kept at it. I saw a lot more of the scenery coming back to nearly the same point repeatedly and watching and playing the boils and eddies of the current was fascinating . I only saw just a hint of a whirlpool trying to form though.
Sitting in a restaurant lost its appeal quickly and I just kept at it. The tacks very gradually got longer and as the current weakened but it was still against me when I entered Passamaquoddy Bay. I was glad then that I had forgone lunch (except for the hummus and pita bread wolfed down at the wheel) because the clouds filled in and the wind picked up considerably. Hunkered down against a now cold wind and dark water and skies, it was nice to be close to my anchorage instead of way back in Eastport just starting out.
I anchored in a spot I’ve used before between two fish weirs just across from St. Andrews. 35 miles to windward. I love a day when the engine is never started. The wind died again to an almost un-natural calm and I slept even better than the night before.
The sun rose directly above St. Andrews in the morning under a flawless blue sky. I motored over and picked up a town mooring, cleared customs, and made multiple trips back and forth in the dinghy for ice, laundry, and food. After a lunch of scallops on a restaurant deck looking out at Strider, I was ready for a sail in an enticing wind.
Passamaquoddy Bay is as pleasant a place to sail as I have ever known, all the best features of the ocean and a large lake. There was a perfect wind, just a fraction of a knot below needing a reef, and I was close reaching across the bay with just enough clouds in the sky to make it interesting and beautiful. I looked in at spectacular Magaguadavic River entrance and then screamed back across the bay with sheets eased to anchor in Chamcook Harbor.
It was another incredibly calm night but I woke to rain pattering on the deck overhead. I got up and started the Newport cabin heater and went back to bed. The rain stopped but it still wasn’t a day that invited hanging around and exploring the bay further (I’ve been here twice before) so I started the engine and headed for Letete Passage.
It could have been a day in November as I sat in the companionway letting the autopilot steer and trying to remember where I packed the gloves I didn’t expect to need until after Labor Day. A short tour through the archipelago east of Deer Isle brought me to Northwest Harbor on the main island where I am anchored and warming up. I’ll now go up on deck just before noon, look around, and decide what to do next.
