Heading Up West (?)

If the inverse of “Down East”, the direction we have been traveling for almost a month, is “Up West”, that must be where we are headed.  We have a decent stretch of weather with winds not exclusively out of the southwest, so it seems prudent to begin the trip south.  Leaving Mount Desert is difficult as we have enjoyed it so much.  We feel a bit melancholy, and others with whom we are occasionally cruising say the same.  So, we take a small hop just four miles south to Little Cranberry Island.  This small island is one of only a handful of Maine islands that are inhabited year round.  Here there are few facilities for tourists, and the harbor is full of lobster boats.  

Waterfront at Little Cranberry Island

 Biking through the island, we find the mosquitoes out-number the residents exponentially; it is a true blood letting, and we beat a hasty retreat back to the boat despite the efforts of the proprietor of the local restaurant, armed with various bug sprays, who wants us to stay for dinner. We are safe from the little monsters on the boat and enjoy a beautiful view northwards towards Mt. Desert. 

Our final view of Mt. Desert Island

The next day we have a glorious sail through the Deer Island Thorofare, a rock strewn and relatively narrow passage between islands.   

Vistas along the Deer Island Thorofare

Upon entering Penobscot Bay we find ourselves sailing along with one of the classic Maine schooners that ply these waters. 

We're crossing tacks with this beauty

Our overnight is in Pulpit Harbor, a protected but crowded anchorage on the east side of North Haven Island. Just after dropping the anchor, a huge schooner arrives in the harbor and somehow shoe-horns herself in next to us. 

And our neighbor in Pulpit Harbor

We have one last evening happy hour with three other couples we have been with off and on; we are all heading in different directions now.  A layover day in Rockland gives us the opportunity to re-provision, do laundry, and pick up fuel for the trip south.

An early departure the next morning takes us out of Penobscot Bay along coast line we never saw when we came in in a dense fog.  Maine is certainly gorgeous when you can see it, although we are still cursing the numerous lobster pots. 

Lighthouse on a rocky isle along the Atlantic coast

Our next destination is Linekin Bay, the site of my earlier experiences in Maine.  Back in the late 1950’s my family vacationed at the Linekin Bay Camp, a rustic resort that focused on small boat sailing. This is where I had my first real experiences sailing, and I want to return to see if it is still as I had remembered.  The bay is much more developed, moose do not roam in the woods, and all the wooden boats have been replaced by fiberglass Rhodes 19’s, but otherwise it was quite the same and, happily, well maintained.  We enjoy a dinner at their deck restaurant overlooking the bay. 

Linekin Bay Camp

From Linekin Bay it is a short hop to Boothbay, but we do it via a detour to Squirrel Island which lies just outside the bay.  Squirrel Island is privately owned and the home of many large, well maintained “cottages” dating from the late 1800’s. Fortunately, the island provides a free visitor mooring, and we are welcomed ashore by fifth generation residents that point us in the direction of a few interesting sights. There are no cars or bikes allowed on the island; instead there are numerous walking paths, both concrete and boardwalks constructed out of teak, that go along the rocky cliffs and between all the homes. 

The walking paths at Squirrel Island

Community facilities include a tea room, now closed for the season, a library, a non-denominational church, a small museum, a post office (only open 6 hours per week), and five beautiful tennis courts that were once home to the US Lawn Tennis Tournament, probably about 100 years ago. 

Church for the community at Squirrel Island

Someone lets it slip that Morgan Freeman was recently there, so you get the gist. We head into Boothbay for the night.  The town is a bit too touristy for us, but we do rendezvous with our Australian friends for the cruise further south.

The beautiful weather is holding up, and we have an enjoyable sail down to Jewell Island in the outer reaches of Casco Bay. 

Another one of the many lighthouses along the Maine coast

Jewell is an unimproved Maine State Park, and we drop anchor in a narrow harbor and scamper ashore to do some hiking.  The island once hosted a World War II outpost responsible for sighting enemy ships and submarines off the coast and calling in guns and destroyers to deal with the threat to Portland. We climb a remaining observation tower and are rewarded with a panoramic view of Casco Bay.   

View from the tower on Jewell Island overlooking other islands in Casco Bay

There are many other trails that beckon us to walk through fern and moss carpeted forests and along rocky shorelines.  

The rocky coast along Jewell Island

 We spend too long in this land of ten foot tides and return to find our dinghies high and dry, a long way up the shore. Looks like the guys have a bit of a problem on their hands!

Andrew and Burt contemplate our dinghy predicament

Another hop takes us further down the coast to the Isles of Shoals, a group of rocky islands about five miles to sea from Portsmouth, New Hampshire. We tie up at buoys maintained by the Portsmouth Yacht Club. A gentleman on one of the neighboring boats tells us that with the southern breeze, we are in Maine, but if the wind shifts to the north we will be in New Hampshire. We head ashore to explore Star Island, one of the many isles.  It features a huge old, historic hotel that is now home to a conference center for the Unitarian Church.  We are allowed to walk through the rickety hotel (no smoking allowed, for obvious reasons) and along their many hiking paths.  The view over the ocean and into the harbor is spectacular.   

The anchorage at Isles of Shoals

Across the way, on another island, is a marine research center operated by Cornell University and the University of New Hampshire.  We would like to visit the facilities, but it requires advanced reservations, so that will have to await another trip.

Our final stop is in Beverly, MA at a yacht club where friends we made in the Bahamas are members.  It is a good opportunity to pick up a mooring, do a little cleaning and maintenance, and make arrangements to visit Boston, just a short hop south.  

    

Mt. Desert Island and Acadia National Park

We have arrived in foggy Northeast Harbor, one of several protected harbors providing access to Acadia National Park.  

Northeast Harbor - we're out there somewhere

 It is home to the Morris Yacht Boatyard, and there is plenty of eye candy to enjoy along the docks.  Not far away is a similar facility for Hinkley Yachts, and its attendant slew of beautiful boats. Acadia National Park is the second most visited park in the National Park System, and, as we will find out, there is good reason for this.  Most visitors arrive by car or bus, but the density in the harbor would indicate that arrival by sea is also popular.  We share a mooring float with another boat out of Massachusetts and find, over drinks that night, that our dockmate was originally from Toledo, Ohio and had vacationed during childhood summers in the same Huron, Ohio neighborhood where we had stayed during our boys’ childhood.  We knew many of the same Huron families – it is indeed a small world.

Our Massachusetts neighbors suggest we hike the Asticou Terraces and Gardens, just a short dinghy ride from our mooring.  It is not part of the park, but should be on any visitor’s agenda. In the fog, it seems like a good excuse to get off the boat.  We land at a pink granite dock and begin the trek on a series of stone steps and ramps that zig-zag up the granite face.  Along the way are stone terraces and pavilions placed into the rock and overlooking the harbor.  At the top we amble through the woods to Thuya Lodge, the summer cottage of Joseph Curtis, a landscape architect by profession, who gave the lodge and surrounding property to a public trust upon his death.  The small lodge is actually a rustic but sophisticated cottage open to the public and furnished with Mr. Curtis’s own property. Around back is an extensive garden, designed by Charles Savage, another landscape architect and trustee for the property.  Beside the colorful flower borders, paths invite the visitor to wander the property past interesting niche gardens, ponds, streams, and pavilions. 

The perennial and annual gardens at Asticou

Lilies were definitely in season

This mini-garden features rocks and local varieties of moss

Acadia National Park has an interesting history. After the Civil War, Mt. Desert Island became a popular vacation destination for the East Coast wealthy and a colony of artists including Thomas Cole and Frederic Church.  Eventually improvements in transportation brought more tourists, and the original property owners began to feel the massive influx of people and resulting construction would permanently damage the fragile environment and spectacular vistas.  Headed by some of the original wealthy landowners, including Charles Elliot, President of Harvard University and John D. Rockefeller, Jr., a group purchased available land, donated it to a non-profit holding company, and lobbied the government to declare the land a national park.  In 1919 it became the first national park east of the Mississippi. During this time of transition, J. D. Rockefeller began to feel that the ever increasing automobile traffic would detract from the park, so he initiated a program to develop a network of about 50 miles of carriage trails through the park.  Designed by him to enhance the views of the surrounding landscapes, the roads (affectionately known as Mr. Rockefeller’s Roads) and their attending bridges are still in use today by those wishing to explore the park by foot, horse, carriage, or bicycle.

It is still foggy. We imagine Maine must be a beautiful place if we could only see it. We hop on the free bus service and head into Bar Harbor, the major tourist city on Mt. Desert Island, and meet up with some cruising friends.  A stroll through the shopping district brings us to Ocean Walk, a one mile path with mansions on one side and the seashore on the other.  

Burt and our friend from Australia, Andrew, are probably talking boat tech rather than appreciating the scenery

It seems a bit foreboding in the fog and dampness, so at the end we head into town for a warm lunch.  Splitting ways with our friends we take the bus out to the Cliff Walk just as the fog begins to clear.  We hike a portion of the trail along the steep pink granite cliffs with the rolling waves pounding their base. It is indeed spectacular, and we return several days later to continue the hike in much improved weather.   

The fog lifts on a dramatic coastline

Looking towards Otter Point

The only sand beach on the island is in the distant cove

These are high cliffs - just note the small figure on the lower rocks

View toward interior mountains

The rocks, cliffs, and moss covered forest floor remind us of the North Channel of Lake Huron, albeit, in Acadia, the cliffs and mountains are much higher.  The similarities should not be a surprise as both regions are the result of the same geological forces and are part of the Canadian Shield.

On the clear days, we spend time bicycling on Mr. Rockefeller’s Roads. At two places, Rockefeller built extensive gatehouses to welcome visitors to the roads. 

One of the gatehouses along the Carriage Roads

The curvy and relatively gentle graded roads cross granite bridges, ascend cliffs, hug the shorelines of mountain lakes, wander through moss carpeted woods, and cross marsh lands dotted with beaver dens. It is both a relaxing and exhilarating way to experience the natural beauty of the park. 

The Bubbles, the two mountains on the left, from Jordon Pond House

View of Jordon Pond from the Carriage Road

Eagle Lake and surrounding mountains

One of 17 granite bridges built by Rockefeller for the Carriage Roads

Mountain reflection in Bubble Pond from the Carriage Road

Another Carriage Road bridge, this time with a carriage on top

And, with the improved weather, we have the opportunity to ascend Cadilliac Mountain, 1530 feet above sea level and the highest peak on the East Coast shore. We cheat a bit by taking a cab to the top, as my knee is not up to such an extensive hike. Since it is accessible by car, the summit is packed with visitors, but wandering a little ways off, we have plenty of room to ponder the amazing vistas. To the west we can see Mt. Katahdin, Maine’s highest peak; in the other three directions we see the many off shore islands dotting the ocean waters. The interior of Mt. Desert Island is speckled with lakes, ponds, and marshes.   

Looking down on Bar Harbor - notice the plumes of fog over the outlying islands

View towards islands to the south

Burt walking along the barren peak

Starting the hike down with an inland lake in the distance

While not high by Rocky Mountain standards, Cadilliac still provides considerable elevation since it starts at sea level. So, now we have the hike down ahead of us.  It is considered a moderately strenuous hike, but we are up and down steep steps and walking though stream beds strewn with boulders. Two hours later we are both tired and sore, and with the limited late day bus schedule, we don’t get back to the boat until after dark. Several Motrins and a glass of wine later, all is good with the world.  

While we could entertain ourselves at Acadia for many more days, it is time to move on.  We take an extended departure from the park by way of Somes Sound, considered the only real fjord on the Atlantic coast.  Near the entrance sheer granite walls tumble down to the water level, but further on the terrain levels out, and we are a bit disappointed.   

The high granite wall at the entrance to Somes Sound fjord- notice the many lobster pots in the water

It certainly does not rank with the North Channel’s Baie Fine. This is the farthest east we will travel in Maine.  What remains between here and the Canadian boarder is known as the Wild Coast, an area of unpopulated seacoast, limited resources, and even more likelihood of fog.

Penobscot Bay and Beyond

After a very foggy layover day we head out into Penobscot Bay on our way to Belfast in the northwest section of the Bay. It’s a beautiful day, and we’re on a mission to get groceries and do laundry. Belfast is a sufficiently large community that both are possible.  The harbor shelters many attractive boats, and we anchor just behind a natural wood sloop that is in perfect condition. 

Harbor at Belfast with natural wood sloop

 

After a steep hike up to the laundromat and an even steeper bike ride to the grocery store, we spend the remainder of the day recuperating on the boat, a mistake as we hear later from our new Australian friends that the evening’s street fair was a delightful event with music and dancing in the streets.

The next day we motor a little further east to the town of Castine.  Located on a northern section of Penobscott Bay, the entrance has a lighthouse on a bluff to the west and several coves to the east.  

Castine's lighthouse welcomes us

We choose to anchor in Smith Cove and, upon entering, see the British flagged yacht Blue Guitar just ahead. 

Could Eric be onboard?!?

Digging deep into our memories of music from our youth, we realize this is Eric Clapton’s yacht.  Or, at least, it was Eric Clapton’s yacht.  A local informs us that it was sold recently, but Eric anchored here frequently in the past. We hop into our dinghy to explore this highly recommended area.  Castine is a bit less touristy than other towns we have visited.  Its streets are lined with well maintained Federal and Greek Revival style houses that were once the homes of prosperous sea captains and boat builders. Attractive gardens wind between the buildings, 

Beautiful Castine homes and gardens

 

and historical markers abound reflecting the town’s past allegiance to four different nations, Britain, France, the Netherlands, and now the United States.  We walk up to the remains of Fort George, a significant site during the Revolutionary War where the US fleet suffered its worst defeat prior to Pearl Harbor. 

Remains of the pre-revolutionary war fort at Castine

We sit along the harbor front watching boats coming and going on a beautiful, clear Maine day. 

Restored Concordia yawl pulls up to the Castine dock - this boat has been across the Atlantic four times

The next day we pay the price with fog so dense you can’t see another boat anchored in the harbor.

Once the weather clears we take off down the Eggemoggin Reach towards the Mount Desert area.  The Reach is a narrow passage between islands that requires close attention to the charts and to the numerous lobster pots.  And, it’s known as the wooden boat region.  We see many beautiful examples along the way and even duck into the harbor of Brooklyn to see a few more.   

Beautiful boats along the Eggemoggin Reach

 Nearby is the Wooden Boat School, a traditional boat building academy and home to the publication Wooden Boat. The vistas of mountains to the northeast beckon us onward. 

Mainland mountains in the distance

We drop anchor in Mackerel Cove, a large bay with a few other boats scattered amongst its nooks. The next morning we cart the bikes to shore and take one of the few roads on the island down to Burnt Coat Harbor.  We hear they are having a music fest that night, and we want to see if tickets are still available.  It’s an arduous ride over hills that are much steeper than we reckoned.  Burnt Coat is an authentic lobstering town with an active co-op for the lobstermen but not much else.   

Lobster sheds and boats at Burnt Coat Harbor

 We hike out to a point anchored by the harbor lighthouse and in the process, come across an old cemetery with graves dating from the early 1800’s. The overlook shows us significant fog banks in the distance. 

Line in the distance is the fog creeping in

The locals tell us that the music festival is sold out, but if we would show up around dusk, we could probably get in.  With the impending fog and dark, and the challenging return bike ride ahead, we decide the wise choice is to spend the night safely on the boat. 

Fog rolls in to Mackerel Cove

The next morning the fog appears to lift so we set off for Mt. Desert Island.  Once we get into the channels, the fog sets in again, denser than before.  We see nothing other than endless lobster pots materializing just in front of the bow.  With fog horn blaring, we slowly motor through this maze for miles.  We suspect the scenery is spectacular, but we see nothing.  Miraculously, we avoid snaring a pot and make our way into Northeast Harbor on Mount Desert Island, tying up on to a mooring float.