home is where the boat is: Maine, Part I

September 27, 2013 - September 29, 2013

The mountains of MDI behind us as we sailed through
the Western Way.

The first few days of our trip have been wonderful! Beautiful, sunny skies with a nice breeze in the late morning and afternoon. We left Northeast Harbor on September 27, raised sail and moved towards the Western Way. After passing through we decided the winds were right to head towards Bass Harbor Head Light and then we sailed across the Blue Hill Bay. It was a beautiful sail, and we entered the Eggemoggin Reach in the late afternoon. According to our charts and guides, it looked like the best anchorage for the night would be off of WoodenBoat in Brooklin. Besides, we had never been by water and it seemed apt that Evelyn spend the first night of her journey at such a center of enthusiasm for wooden boats.

We had a wonderful evening and lovely stroll ashore the next morning, and then a pleasant surprise. We had begun our trip following a busy summer, sprinkled with long hours of preparation. We hadn’t fully decompressed, and it still felt like we might just be out for a few days, not a longer journey. But we have to thank the folks at offcenterharbor.com for changing that. With a few friendly interactions—the sorts of short conversations and meetings with new people that make travelling so exciting—we found ourselves chatting about Evelyn and our hopes for the trip on camera. It was a fantastic experience, and we are grateful to Steve, Benjamin, and Eric for reminding us how excited we are, and how what has become our usual is such a special opportunity. We know it is, but it is always too easy to take things for granted.

Sunset our first night at anchor.

We can’t wait to see the video—and for those who are unfamiliar, visit offcenterharbor.com and look for a video of us and Evelyn sometime in the future. In the meantime, watch the others!

The second day continued with beautiful, though sometimes light, sailing down the Eggemoggin Reach. In late afternoon we again consulted our charts and guide books (we love A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast by the Tafts—we had borrowed it last year and the year before, and finally splurged on our own copy. It has great tips for beautiful anchorages, approaches, and more.) Beginning Day 2 like Day 1—without an idea of where we were ending that night—made us feel as if our journey was off to a healthy start. We followed the wind, enjoyed the sailing, and then chose our destination around 3:00. Saturday night’s anchorage was off of Hog Island and Fiddlehead Island—the sandbar hat connects them at low tide makes the area lagoon-like. Both were beautiful little islands (Hog had one summer home on it), and the anchorage provided an amazing view of sunset over the Camden Hills. After the sun set the deep oranges of light lingered, and the skyline seemed to glow with intensity. When the flame-like glow finally burned out, the sky darkened and the stars came out with equal brilliance.

We were to bed early and up early again for Day 3, which began still and calm. So instead of setting sail right away, we enjoyed the morning with a sight-seeing row around Fiddlehead and Hog Islands, returning to

Evelyn under sail.

Evelyn just as the edges of a fog bank wisped by, bringing with it a cool breeze. The breeze carried us off the anchor and into East Penobscot Bay, where we spent the day meandering among Penobscot’s many islands. The fog never engulfed us—it was always a distance off, rolling over the landscape. The views were consistently breathtaking.

In late afternoon we again consulted our resources to make plans for the night, and settled upon Cabot Cove in Pulpit Harbor. We had been to the same spot last year and had originally hoped to visit all new anchorages on this trip, but given the time and wind, Pulpit made the most sense. And this time we experienced it in a different way, so I’m glad that we did.

We anchored and then worried that we might swing into shallower areas at low tide, so we rowed around the area in the peapod, taking soundings with our sounding lead. When we were comfortable with our home for the evening, we rowed outside the cove and around Pulpit Rock, the sentinel that guards the entrance to the harbor.

What an amazing sunset! We’d heard sunsets at Pulpit were lovely, and last year we had visited on a rainy and wind day—another reason the harbor is adored by boaters, because of its excellent protection. To the west fog still hovered thickly on the horizon, encasing the sun so that it shone as a concentrated orb of light, and lit the dancing wisps of fog with pink and purple light. To the east, the islands we had sailed among earlier that day gloated on the horizon with serene pinks and blues. And in front of it all stood the dark shadow of Pulpit Rock, with its distinctive and recognizable shape.

And so Day 3 ended just as wonderfully as the two preceding it, and I am looking forward to waking up tomorrow and finding what and where come next!