Monday. 27 August
During the night we awoke and shut all the open ports. The little breeze there was had died and the mosquitos attacked. After 20 years of living on two acres of wetland I have noticed that mosquitoes seek their prey by fluttering upwind, presumably following a gaseous carbon-dioxide trail to their warm fleshy victims. For this reason, and for reasons of freshness in our ripening boat, I insisted Pete leave the forward hatch over his bunk open during the evening, while I put netting over the compionway opening -- where the air exits. Thus we had a fair air flow through the boat until while we slept, until the breeeze quit and the bugs came at us every direction. In the dark we slammed the hatches shut and fell back asleep in our bunks.
We awoke in the anchorage at Harbor Island in Muscongus Bay at dawn as the front we have danced around all weekend finally shifted offshore and cleared with a fresh breeze from the North. This is the only direction the anchorage is not protected from. It quickly became choppy. We set off dressed in fleece and long pants. Once out of the narrow ledge strewn harbor we raised London's sails in the first yellow light of the day and slid off quickly to the east. By 7:55 am we had past Port Clyde and south of Mosquito Island entered Penobscot Bay. We made out way up through Muscle Ridge channel and slipped across the tide, south of Vinelhaven.
At mid-afternoon we stopped at Vinelhaven's Cutter's Harbor for ice and provisons. I asked a fisherman to point us to a free mooring we could use for an hour. As Pete grabbed it another fisherman yelled at us "To ask before we take a mooring." This is a busy short-tempered harbor at 3 in the afternoon. Fishing boats race in, stopping at the lobster docks to unload their catches and then rush to their moorings with the crewman on the foredeck with his boathook extended. Engine off and in moments they are both in the launch heading for shore. Lobster boats move in all directions, cutting through the mooring field and spinning in sharp quick turns. Everyone seems to move at full boor. The air is thick with the roar of deep powerful diesels. After Pete made it back with our ice and 'tube steaks' (hot dogs), we set off for Isle Au Haut. Tonight finds us in the snug Duck Harbor, on the south western shore of Isle Au Haut.
During the night we awoke and shut all the open ports. The little breeze there was had died and the mosquitos attacked. After 20 years of living on two acres of wetland I have noticed that mosquitoes seek their prey by fluttering upwind, presumably following a gaseous carbon-dioxide trail to their warm fleshy victims. For this reason, and for reasons of freshness in our ripening boat, I insisted Pete leave the forward hatch over his bunk open during the evening, while I put netting over the compionway opening -- where the air exits. Thus we had a fair air flow through the boat until while we slept, until the breeeze quit and the bugs came at us every direction. In the dark we slammed the hatches shut and fell back asleep in our bunks.
We awoke in the anchorage at Harbor Island in Muscongus Bay at dawn as the front we have danced around all weekend finally shifted offshore and cleared with a fresh breeze from the North. This is the only direction the anchorage is not protected from. It quickly became choppy. We set off dressed in fleece and long pants. Once out of the narrow ledge strewn harbor we raised London's sails in the first yellow light of the day and slid off quickly to the east. By 7:55 am we had past Port Clyde and south of Mosquito Island entered Penobscot Bay. We made out way up through Muscle Ridge channel and slipped across the tide, south of Vinelhaven.
At mid-afternoon we stopped at Vinelhaven's Cutter's Harbor for ice and provisons. I asked a fisherman to point us to a free mooring we could use for an hour. As Pete grabbed it another fisherman yelled at us "To ask before we take a mooring." This is a busy short-tempered harbor at 3 in the afternoon. Fishing boats race in, stopping at the lobster docks to unload their catches and then rush to their moorings with the crewman on the foredeck with his boathook extended. Engine off and in moments they are both in the launch heading for shore. Lobster boats move in all directions, cutting through the mooring field and spinning in sharp quick turns. Everyone seems to move at full boor. The air is thick with the roar of deep powerful diesels. After Pete made it back with our ice and 'tube steaks' (hot dogs), we set off for Isle Au Haut. Tonight finds us in the snug Duck Harbor, on the south western shore of Isle Au Haut.
On our quiet sail across Penobscot Bay I noticed the sounds underway. The clanging of a bell buoy, the orgasmic squawks of sea gulls, the sounds of the rigging stretching and squeaking -- the rustle of the water on the hull.
1 comment:
Enjoying this much, thank you, and the photos. Superb.
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