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One Week in Maine: Day 5

A classic Maine coastal house, on a classic Maine foggy morning. We had fog most mornings, and for good parts of the rest of the days. It was really quite nice, and challenging. We had spent the previous night moored in a large bay opposite Castine. Not surprisingly, my dad and I had slightly different ideas about where to moor. Which is why you have a captain. Interestingly, Fred appointed me captain for the part of the evening after we left Castine, so that he could focus on making our (somewhat overdue) dinner. I leapt at the chance, and went to work locating the densest concentration of mosquitos I could find. But it's a good system, taking turns being the captain. I've done this before (when backpacking), and I think it's a good answer to the inherent problem of a party of two equals.

We headed north, leaving the open waters for the Huckleberry Finn-esque confines of the Penobscot River. We got as far as Bucksport, opposite the scenic and mighty Fort Knox (no relation to the one in Tennessee). The town of Bucksport was really nice, kind of working-class-meets-tourism. There was a giant industrial plant of some kind, complete with railroad tracks, on the waterfront. We walked the town, then had lunch at a pizza joint. I had kind of wanted to take the opportunity to just walk around (my favorite activity in strange towns), while Fred ate, but in the end we compromised and both got most of what we wanted. I walked more after lunch, sampling the shepherd's pie from the local mini-mart, checking out the cemetery, the theater (still alive, and in fact doing a really interesting repertory program), the art gallery that now occupied the old bank, and a neat little tobacconist where the really nice folks inside sold me a Bic lighter. It's a good idea to think of little things you can buy, this provides a way to see a town from the inside. Buying bigger things would probably be even better (everybody likes someone handing them large amounts of money), maybe I'll try this after I win the lottery. Which reminds me, better start playing the lottery. (Now that's a little thing one can buy...)

Some views of Fort Knox. Built (at considerable length) in the 1840's, the idea was to deter the British from any ideas of regaining their lost territories in northern New England. In the event, the fort was never used in anger. The heavy construction and giant earthworks were the answer to the ever-increasing efficiency of cannons and gunpowder. The place was really quite impressive, and a whole lot of attention paid to preventing unwanted guests. As demonstrated by the seemingly endless gallery of firing ports in the bottom picture. Somewhat surprisingly, there was no dock for seagoing tourists like ourselves. So we used the 150-year-old facilities from the fort's glory days. By the time the staff came down to kick us out, we had seen enough anyway. Fortunately, no tickets were written, though I was getting a little worried by the time I returned to the boat, finding Fred with two park staffers in uniform. They didn't even ask us to pay the entry fee.

The view back up the river as we headed south, leaving Bucksport and Fort Know behind. Back to the open seas! Well, maybe "open bay".

Just another groovy view. We were constantly afflicted with these, living the cruising life. Poor us!

The dock at Fort Point State Park, the site of an earlier fort (1780s?), now long gone. We talked to one of the owners of the schooner tied up across from us. Turns out they were operating as a tour boat, sailing groups of tourists up to the park for a clam-bake on the beach. Not a bad way to make some dough. I went walking through the park, playing my (well, Deb's) guitar. I talked to yet another really nice guy, who said he was from "The County", the big county in the unpopulated center and north of Maine. I asked him about the network of private logging roads up there, and he told me that it was really easy to get permission to use them. Good news.

For the last night, we pulled into the large bay just north-east of Searsport. We beached briefly to stretch our legs, and shoot a choice photo or two. This bay was very "earthy", working-class, somehow that's the way it felt, despite the sailboats permanently moored in the harbor, and condos perched high above the beach shown in this picture.

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