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One Week in Maine: Day 1

Our first stop after leaving our mooring was back to the harbor for some chores, then on to Isleboro Island. That's a moderately tall ship in the background. The large tidal variation makes for a really lively tidal zone -- is this kelp? And note the black, basalt rocks, not unlike the shoreline of Vermont's Lake Champlain. We had launched at nightfall the previous evening, then tied up the boat and strolled back into town. Almost immediately, we met a nice young guy named Rod, originally from Redding, California, who loaned us a chart and suggested we use his mooring out in the harbor. Both of these were just what we needed, just when we needed them. Rod eventually declined our offer to buy him a beer, but we soldiered on anyway, sampling the atmosphere and live music (two brothers on guitar and bass) at the local Irish pub. Then on to a slightly tipsy putt through the dark, foggy harbor to our loaner mooring.

This wide, gradual beach on one of the islands of Isleboro Island beckoned us seductively to stop for a few minutes...

Which turned into six hours. It seems that, in waters where there's an 11' tidal variation, the water level actually changes by 11 feet. Now we know. In minutes, we were stuck, and desperate efforts to unbeach ourselves only revealed the weight of a fully loaded 19' catamaran.

Ah, at sea again. Just in time for the early evening fog to roll in. Fred is not entirely pleased about the fog.

Shining a little light on the matter. It was our theory that, in a thick fog, having a light might just keep us from becoming the bow ornament for some larger, faster boat, rapidly steaming towards its (and our) destiny. We actually had quite an "interesting" time that evening, trying to navigate through the fog and dim light.

Taking care of business, weather be darned. From the chronology of these photos, I'd have to surmise that Fred is raising the main sail, despite the fog and approaching darkness. We considered crossing back to the mainland, but ruled it out as too risky under the circumstances. Ultimately, we found a slight cove, near a moored cabin cruiser and some kind of radio facility on the otherwise empty shore. And this was the night we discovered that, despite my otherwise nearly useless nautical skills (as compared with my dad), I had both a talent and considerable experience in map-reading and navigation. Guess all those years of backpacking and desert travel had a purpose after all.

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