It is time to leave Acadia and begin heading south. But, wait, if we go one more harbor further
downeast, we can go to Winter Harbor and stop by a rarely visited portion of
Acadia National Park. Winter Harbor is a
small village supporting fishermen and some artists.
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We're not far from the mouth of the Bay of Fundy and with 14 foot tides parts of the harbor go dry. |
We anchor nearby and enjoy a quiet evening on
the boat until a Bald Eagle swoops down, steals a fish from an Osprey and
settles into a nearby tree to enjoy dinner.
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Eagles are too cooperative when it comes to posing, but the blurry picture proves it was there. |
This is about the northern most extent of eagle territory, so it is
unusual to see one in relatively close proximity. The next morning we dinghy to the town dock
and hop on the first park shuttle bus of the day. It takes us out to Schoodic Point, a vast promontory
of pinkish granite rocks infused with intrusions of basalt, documenting Maine’s
origins in fire. We have the place to ourselves and climb amongst the shoreline’s
rocks and fissures.
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Rugges, rocky shoreline |
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Looking back towards the mountains of Mt. Dessert Island |
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It is a calm day but the ocean swells still pile up |
From Winter Harbor, it is a short sail down to Long Island
and the remote fishing village of Frenchboro.
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Along the shoreline in the harbor |
Like many of the island villages, there is not much here – a small
museum, a lobster pound with a deck that has a million dollar view, a one room
schoolhouse, and a cute church. The majority of land is dedicated to a
conservancy. We arrange to meet our cruising friends, Susie and Stan on m/v The
Pearl, to show them one of our favorite stops in Maine. They arrive all primed for a hike across the
island so off we go. The meandering path
takes us to a long beach composed of one to three foot boulders stacked at
least fifteen feet high.
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This "beach" stretched over a half mile |
And it is here
that the always enthusiastic Susie begins to collect lobster buoys that have
washed up on shore. Remember, it is not easy to carry all the buoys you collect
when hiking a rough trails over rocks and boulders. We continue through the
woods where the floor is carpeted in dense moss
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The thick moss is spongy soft - you could sleep on the rocks it covers |
and on to another trail that is
atop rocky cliffs overlooking gravel beaches.
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All this dramatic scenery and we never saw another person on the trails |
More pots!! Susie is climbing up
and down the cliffs for her conquests and before you know it, we have more
buoys than she can carry. Only the good
ones are retained, and she does get a little help from Stan.
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Susie with some of her prizes |
Meanwhile, the rest of us are enjoying
spectacular views from the cliffs on a picture perfect Maine day. After three hours of hiking we adjourn to the
lobster pound where $12 and change gets you a fresh from the ocean lobster
dinner with trimmings and, if you toss in another couple of bucks, homemade
blueberry pie. It has been a wonderful day and our friends have added
Frenchboro to their list of favorites. Meanwhile, someone’s house in Texas is
going to get some serious Maine décor!
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And both nights we stayed at Frenchboro this heron stood watch at sunset |
We part ways with The Pearl and head due north to Blue Hill
Bay, a town on the mainland that cruisers rarely visit. Why not visit? Even with twelve foot tides, the harbor is
only accessible for two hours before and after high tide.
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Looking back towards the inner mooring field - the area between shore and the moored boats is totally dry at low tide. |
We take a mooring at
the yacht club that is two miles outside of the village and plan our
strategy. We have come to Blue Hill to
attend a performance of “Flash in the Pans”, a steel drum band that seems an anomaly
in this neck of the woods but that actually has a national reputation. The only problem is that low tide is right in
the middle of the show. Earlier in the
day, Burt takes me, coats for the upcoming chilly evening, and our lawn chairs
into the town dinghy dock and then returns to the dock at the yacht club where
he begins the long walk into town.
Luckily, someone from the yacht club offers him a ride into town. At this
point we lug our stuff all over town trying to find someplace to grab
dinner. It is Monday. Everything is closed. That is except for Blue Hill’s equivalent to
fast food, a small carry out restaurant on the outskirts of town. We have a prolonged dinner, awaiting the
beginning of the concert. From there we walk back into the center of town and a
public park where the group will perform under a tent. We are early, but that
gives us an opportunity to talk with some of the musicians. The group is composed of around 25
individuals from the area who meet all winter to practice for the summer
concert series. They are under the
direction of the local high school music teacher who also organizes a steel
drum band at the high school. Both groups
have gained notoriety and have participated in competitions in Trinidad. The
drums are produced locally and come in a variety of pitches. Bottom line – they
are really good and once the concert begins, everyone is up and out of their
seats dancing to the lively beat. The proceeds of each concert are given to a
local charity, and we make arrangements to make an additional donation for a
ride back to the yacht club. Guess what – there are no taxis or Uber in little
Blue Hill.
We begin our way west and soon take our last gaze at the
beautiful mountains of Acadia National Park that have dominated the horizon. Our destination is another anchorage in
Merchants Row – one that lies between McGathery Island and Round Island. This
is an area that is dotted with pink granite islands topped with pine
forests. We have the anchorage to
ourselves
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At anchor between Round and McGathery Islands in Merchants Row |
until one of the Camden schooners passes through.
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And guess who stopped in for a quick "look-see"? |
This is a place for
hiking wooded trails, wandering along stone beaches at low tide, and just
sitting on boulders to enjoy the natural beauty.
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Walking through what counts as a Maine beach at low tide - just me and the boulders. |
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Serene |
The next day we weave through more lobster pots than you can
imagine to arrive in Pulpit Harbor on North Haven Island late afternoon. This is a very popular harbor as it is close
to Rockland and Camden. We squeeze in
next to a lobster pound on a float, watch the procession of lobster boats come
in to drop off their day’s catch, and have a peaceful night at anchor.
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Sunset at Pu;pit Harbor with the Camden Hills in the background. |
Our destination is Rockland.
We need to do laundry and reprovision. In addition, Burt needs to get a
color blindness test for his Coast Guard Captain’s License as we have been
notified that that portion of the application was not completed by the eye
doctor in Annapolis. Amongst the chores
there is still time for some fun. We
bike several miles to access to the Rockland breakwall and walk a mile out to
the lighthouse at the end.
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Picture makes the walk look easier and shorter than it was. |
Rockland is a
big harbor and the breakwall offers the only protection from east component
winds. Finally, we join our friends Pete and Candy from s/v First Draft for happy
hour on their boat, dinner in town, and a good long visit before we all head
our separate ways.
We leave Rockland with a weather forecast that will allow us
to access the harbor at remote Monhegan Island.
You can’t comfortably stay here with anything but a north wind. We arrive to find chaos in the harbor. There are only a few moorings available to transients,
and there is a big wedding scheduled that evening on the island. The harbor
master does some finagling, and we finally have a place for the night.
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Overview of the tiny harbor from the ridge of Monhegan Island. Manana Island forms the western side of the harbor. |
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View of the goats that reside on Manana taken from our boat. |
We
wander through this picturesque village.
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The village glows at sunset |
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Even late in the season, gardens display a bountiful summer |
The beautiful terrain has inspired
such artists as the Wyeths and Rockland Kent and is now home to lobstermen,
other artists, and a smattering of summer cottagers. It was first discovered in 1614 by John Smith
who claimed it and the Penobscot Bay region for England. We hike over the ridge,
past the lighthouse, and to the other side where cliffs stand high above the
ocean.
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A strenuous hike has its rewards |
Our next stop west is the Sheepscot River and the village at
Five Islands. When we first arrived in
Maine, cruising friends gave us a tour of this area in their runabout, and we
decided we wanted to return. Five Islands
Yacht Club has four free moorings in the harbor that are available for stays up
to two days.
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Looking south at part of the Five Islands Harbor |
It is a good thing we can
stay for two days as the winds have kicked up sufficiently that our friends cannot
even venture out on the Sheepscot to come down for a visit. We enjoy exploring the protected harbor by
dinghy
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Huge fissures almost cut through this island |
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A walking bridge connects these two islands |
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One counts five main islands but at low tide there are many more |
and even indulge in one more lobster dinner at the open air lobster
pound on shore.
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The lobster pound and deck at low tide - notice the wooden structure in front for careening boats. |
Our plan is to hop slowly south along the coast to Newport,
but the weather gods have other ideas. A
tropical depression is developing that eventually becomes Hurricane
Hermine. We have plenty of time to make
safe harbor so we stop in Portland.
Culture shock sets in as Portland is the largest city in Maine and is a bustling
place. We take a mooring in the harbor
and spend two days rocking and rolling from all the boat traffic. Even the dinghy dock is an adventure as it
bucks and bounces from all the chop. The solution is to spend as much time on
shore as possible. We take our bikes ashore and discover the city is set on two
very steep hills, but a bike path extends along the entire level
shoreline. That doesn’t keep us from the
hills, though, as we explore attractive neighborhoods,
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One of many attractives homes on the western bluff overlooking Portland's harbor |
visit the excellent
Portland Museum of Art,
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The beautiful flying staircase in a historical house attached to the museum. Pictures weren't allowed in most of the museum but they have an outstanding collection of Maine artists and French Impressionism. |
and dine out in what is becoming a recognized foodie
town.
It is time to make the hop south before the Hermine makes
her approach. We head out in the morning
in absolute glassy seas,
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Late afternoon offshore in the Gulf of Maine where it is hard to find the line between water and sky. |
timing our middle of the night arrival at the Cape Cod
Canal to coincide with a positive current, and have a delightful sail down
Buzzard’s Bay to Newport. Things just
seem a bit weird weather-wise as the lighting and sunsets have become more
dramatic.
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A brilliant sunset at our Newport anchorage - a premonition of what is to come |
We have a day in Newport to
meet up with our son and his family. After a bike ride along picturesque Ocean
Boulevard, we stop for lunch at an outdoor patio where our grand-daughter, age
two, is delighted with the fountain filled with water toys. She ends up a very wet but happy princess.
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One wet but happy two year old - this is probably the only thing she'll remember about her adventure in Newport. |
We cut the day short to head up Narragansett
Bay that evening, before the high winds from the north begin to kick up, to an anchorage we
used several years ago in another tropical storm. We are the only anchored boat here which
allows us to put out as much scope as we desire. The winds will come from the north and east,
and we are close enough to shore that waves shouldn’t be an issue. So now we
wait to see what Hermine is going to dish up.
The howling winds are currently gusting into the low 40’s and are
forecast to go a bit higher, but being 21 miles away from the ocean should keep
us from the brunt of the storm.