The typical summer winds on the coast of Maine are perfect for sailing out.
At dawn, there is no wind.
The first zephyr stirs around 8:30 am. Raise sails - raise anchor - drift, no hurry (and no worry). We board the second morning zephyr to ride out of the cove.
Coaxing the limp sheets like the reins of an obedient carriage horse.
We took a slow - 1-2 knot - broad reach through Pulpit Harbor. The harbor is still. Like casting a handful of pebbles, the loud sound of a feeding school of mackerel break the surface and silence.
Down at end, we jibe and get on the wind. That changes everything. There's sound now. There's wind to feel on your face.
Nobody sails out of Pulpit Harbor, without tacking. Billy's Cove dead ahead:
There is a bar to cross. We know where it is, how deep (local knowledge), and hold our tack past the Pulpit.
Patience: On a sunny morning like this, the fickle summer wind is bound to strengthen.
Going,...
Going,...
Gone.
At dawn, there is no wind.
The first zephyr stirs around 8:30 am. Raise sails - raise anchor - drift, no hurry (and no worry). We board the second morning zephyr to ride out of the cove.
Coaxing the limp sheets like the reins of an obedient carriage horse.
We took a slow - 1-2 knot - broad reach through Pulpit Harbor. The harbor is still. Like casting a handful of pebbles, the loud sound of a feeding school of mackerel break the surface and silence.
Down at end, we jibe and get on the wind. That changes everything. There's sound now. There's wind to feel on your face.
Nobody sails out of Pulpit Harbor, without tacking. Billy's Cove dead ahead:
There is a bar to cross. We know where it is, how deep (local knowledge), and hold our tack past the Pulpit.
Patience: On a sunny morning like this, the fickle summer wind is bound to strengthen.
Going,...
Going,...
Gone.
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