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Passage 2008 Maine Cruise June 20 - 30, 2008

An Early Summer Maine Cruise: Chicagoan Mark Wurtzebach wrapped up his academic year and dashed to Rockland, Maine on Penobscot Bay to launch Passage his 1984, 47 foot, Passport cutter for a summer of sailing. This story begins about a week after launch when Mark picks up Chicago sailing buddies Rick & Robert Van Mell in Portland, Maine, on Casco Bay. Rick, now living in Mountain View, CA and sailing his Islander 36 on San Francisco Bay, has been doing Maine cruises for eight years on a J-160, and Robert has an S-2 that he sails from Belmont Harbor in Chicago. The original Plan was to sail east as far as Northeast Harbor and back.

You'll just have to read on to see what happened when the wind hit the plan! Pictures, by Rick, follow each day's text. Enjoy. (If you'd like to see the original Plan and Menu, click here.)


Friday, June 20

Mark and a friend, Jerry Hedlund, had just finished up a week of cruising bringing Passage from Rockland to Casco Bay. Rick arrived from California a little before 1100 and was met at the Portland airport by Brian Klinger, a sailing friend from Rye, NH who drove up to see Rick & the gang off on the cruise.

Brian and Rick pulled out the shopping list and headed for Shaw's. Two full carts and just under two hours later, Brian & Rick returned to the airport to pick up Robert coming in from Chicago, then they all headed for Handys Boat Services in Falmouth/Foreside where Passage was waiting.

A cold fog was just rolling in as they drove up. In chain gang style, the endless bags of groceries were passed from the car to the boat and down below. Rick hunted for holes to stow things, as Mark was eager to get under way. With the food mostly storred, the fog was a thick as ever, so the five of us headed into the dockside restaurant for a quick lunch. While we enjoyed a sandwich, a passing shower wetted the docks, but passed by the time we got back aboard.

Mark led Rick & Robert through a safety and sytems orientation, then we were ready to get under way. But first, foul weather gear and boots were dug out of the duffel bags and donned. With visibility about an eighth of a mile, we cast off at 1600 to get the cruise under way.

With alternating periods of thick fog and less fog and rain, we zig-zaged our way out through the islands of Casco Bay using the GPS plotter to set our courses. Mark called out the compass bearings, Robert steered, and Rick alternated between lookout and nav adviser. Not knowing how thick the fog might be, our first thought was to make a short, 12 mile run to Harpswell Sound, with relatively few navigational obstacles in our way.

But once out of Casco Bay, the fog lifted a bit, and though it was still raining on us, we could see the sun low in the sky astern. Our original planned destination for Friday night was The Basin, a wonderful, landlocked pond with a tiny entrance with only 7' of water at low tide. Since Passage draws 6.5', and low tide was fast approaching, we decided to head for Quahog Bay, about a 21 mile run, with plenty of water.

We arrived at 1907 and set the anchor in 14' of water. Off came the wet gear, and shortly Rick had a piping dinner of steak, mashed potatoes and green salad on the table. It was lights out early - 2100 - for a well-earned good night's sleep.

Skipper Mark	Looking forward	Galley	Nav station	Foggy start requires ...
lots & lots of ...	concentration.

Saturday, June 21

Hazy sun and light zephyrs greet the crew as we rolled from our bunks at the very reasonable hour of 0745. A simple breakfast, and we hauled anchor and started out under power for Poorhouse Cove on the Johns River.

Again we worked the navigation system using GPS and the plotter to set courses among the endless rocks and shoals out around Cape Small, and Fuller Rock, then turned east. Lazy rolling seas rocked Passage, but there wasn't enough wind to set sail.

Ahead was Seguin Island off the mouth of the Kennebeck River. As a short aside, a tiny spot called Popham Beach just inside the mouth of the river marks the spot where, in 1607, colonists first tried to establish a foothold - before Jamestown. But their choice of location was exposed to the winter storms, Captain and many colonists died, and, though resupplied in 1608, the survivors refused to endure another winter, and the site was abandoned. If they had chosen a protected spot even a half mile farther inland, our history books would remember Popham Colony.

While inspecting Seguin on the chart, Mark pulled out a cruising guide and noted that mooring balls may be available, and a hike up to the 185' lighthouse was good exercise. Our navigation put us arriving there at 1207, so we decided to stop, explore and then have lunch. Two stark Coast Guard buoys bob at the head of a tiny indentation - exposed to the east and hardly what you would call a harbor. Robert edged us slowly up to one, and Rick & Mark passed a line though the rusted loop. A light south wind kept us off the steel can, and Passage settled on the line.

We climbed into the rubber dinghy and paddled to shore, nosing the bow onto a tiny patch of sand between rocks. We all stayed dry jumping ashore, then pulled the dinghy well up above the tide line before hiking inland. The light was originally build in 1857 and coal was hauled to the island for the lighthouse keeper to keep their living quarters warm. A wooden railway on trestles was built to the top of the island. It still exists and is used occasionally to haul maintenance supplies to the top of the hill.

Our hike up was rewarded by a warm greeting from Tim & his wife who are this year's keepers of the grounds and buildings, representing the Friends of Seguin, which owns the island. The light itself is now maintained by the Coast Guard, and it's electric light is powered by a cable from the mainland, with a backup battery system in case it fails. Before electricity lit the light, it was powered with oil, originally whale oil. We got a complete tour up to the top of the light and the one room museum. Part of Tim's tour was to show us the old double tower doors, the outer pair of which they had just replaced and gleamed in fresh varnish. Tim's wife was hard at work scraping old paint from the inner doors. We thanked them profusely and headed on our way.

After, or actually during, lunch the breeze filled in a bit from the south and we set the main and jib. For a while we did 6 knots, but then the fog closed in and the wind backed off. Back under motor, we slipped through The Thread of Life, a narrow sliver of water where you can easily throw a long ball ashore on either side. But the fog was so thick that we hardly saw land at all. Another three miles and we simultaneously emerged from the fog and rounded into Poorhouse Cove about 1630.

The anchor set well, and we settled in to relax. A delightful couple paddled alongside in a canoe. Leo & Sue, in their 60s and just retired, came aboard and enjoyed nibbles as we discovered many common memories. Turns out they were from Chicago, were members of Columbia Yacht Club, had sailed Tumlarens in the 70s, and currently have a Westsail 32. Sue had also climbed Mt Washington, as had Rick, but she has climbed Kilmanjaro, and Robert to the base camp of Everest. They were here for their son's wedding, next Saturday, to a gal whose parents had a house across the river. What a small world!

Robert tested the waters with his toe, then decided to go for a swim in the 60 degree water -- talk about tough!!! Then Mark did the honors with chicken on the grill, the log got started, and all hands turned in by 2200.

Saturday morning	Home check	Foggy ahead ...	but some sun.	Laying course for ...
Poorhouse Cove.	Rick's system backup	Checking on Seguin ...	a chance to stop ...	Leaving Passage ...
looking good.	Landing beach ...	and welcome.	Still there.	Island trails ...
supply railway ...	(Still there)	Old light entrance	dizzy walk up	The light bulb
The Fresnel lens	Ocean side	(still there)	Oil house	Ellingswood Island
Top of railway	Long way down	Well said.	Farewill Seguin	Lunch nibbles
Just beyond fog ...	in Poorhouse Cove.	Happy Skipper	Bright sun.	Testing the water ...
How's the water ....	COLD!	Dinner time.	Clear start for sunset ...	fog returning.

Sunday, June 22

Though fog had enwrapped us last night, the morning had sun on Poorhouse Cove. So much sun in fact, and having gone to bed early, Mark was up at 0515 to see the sun rise, and even got Robert to squint out the hatch. But sanity prevailed, and we all, more or less, pulled the covers up in until 0730. Mark did manage to make a pot of coffe and scrub down topside though.

A lazy French Toast breakfast chewed up time, and about 0900 we were ready to get under way. We could already see the fog at the south end of Poorhouse, and even wrapping north of us out in the John River. But, our goal for the day was to head east for Vinalhaven Island at the entrance to Penobscot Bay, and the two computers were turned on and routes set.

Passport's Garmin 4212 chart plotter has this feature where you put the cursor on your destination 38 miles away, press "Guide To", and it draws a route that is supposed to honor things like the minimum depth you want to sail over. It's kind of like Google Maps directions -- can be pretty funny at times. It loves to cut corners inside major buoys, pick routes that, while maybe shorter, call for pinpoint positioning between rocks, and sometimes just plain misses the shallow stuff. As we learned this, we primarily used Rick's routes as drawn on the navigation program, FUGAWI. (Like "where the Fug Are We?)

So about 0930 we started the engine and Mark starts pulling up the anchor with Rick at the helm. Within minutes the engine dies and refuses to restart. It behaves like there's air in the fuel line - trying to start, then stopping after a second or two. So we open up the engine box, crack the bleeder vents and gently pump some fuel with the little lift pump. Fuzzy bubbles coming out the vent confirm air, and after doing this three times, the engine is running again. So off we go into the fog at 1000.

All is stowed down below, and the tedious routine of fog travel was resumed. The galley sink, in addition to pressure hot and cold water, has separate foot-operated pumps for salt water and fresh water. This makes it much easier to use only a little fresh water when you need it. You can use salt water from the ocean to wash dishes, then rinse with a little fresh water. The foot pump on the left was salt water, the one on the right fresh.

Robert is the master helmsman, holding a steady course literally for hours. Rick mostly read the computer and watched the GPS positioned boat icon crawl along the planned route. When steering or current shows the icon off the desired course, a correction is given to the helm. On many boats the GPS routes and the ship's autopilot are linked, and you can let the electronics drive the boat down the course with dary a drift. But Passage's autopilot is not linked to the GPS, and it is cumbersome to disengage when a lobster pot appears out of the fog dead on the bow. Thus, Master Helmsman Robert hand steered most of the way.

Mark pulled out an old fishing pole and put new line on the reel, then streamed it astern to get the kinks out. Try as he might, no fish thought a bare hook appetizing enough to take a bite. Visibility was almost always less than aneighth of a mile, so constant attention to the water ahead was a must. Our route, fortunately, was well outside most islands, had few lobster pots, and almost no other boat traffic. That's one advantage of being out at the very beginning of the cruising season in Maine. The disadvantage is fog - lots of it.

Most of the way we were headed east-northeast, with 1 to 2 foot swells from the south-southeast -- dead abeam which made for a steady back and forth rolling. Shortly before 1500 two things happened. First, a weather alert came over the radio warning of severe thunderstorms with quarter-sized hail and 60 mile per hour winds, moving generally in our direction from about 100 miles away. Second, wind rippled the water for the first time and not wanting to miss a chance to sail, we quickly set the main and jib. The wind filled in to 12 knots and we romped along making over 7 knots under sail without the engine. Still no visibility, but we were have a fine sail.

A little over an hour later we navigated into Hurricane Sound on the southwest corner of Vinalhaven Island. Though we were hardly more than a stones throw away, we hardly saw the first islands that form the Sound. Once inside visibility improved to perhaps half a mile and we dropped sials and made our way toward the tiny Long Cove at the northeast corner of the Sound.

Long Cove looks like a cruiser's perfect anchorage on the chart. Well protected on almost all sides, and with a nice depth for anchoring - about 13' in this case. the toruble with finding them on the chart is that you don't know if they are already filled with lobster boats, other private moorings, of six boats that got there before you did. For a change this one was perfect. No other boats in sight, we had Long Cove to ourselves.

Just beyond where we anchored, there were two strings of mooring balls on either side of the little area. A guide book describes them best: " A number of private moorings are in the cove, particularly along the northwest shore. There are often picked up by cruising boats who enjoy them until the owner comes to collect his fee, which is so steep that the skippers are too shocked to move." That's why we anchored - alone in the cove.

Fog returned while we ate dinner, but then it retreated as the gray day began fading to dark. Mark paddled over to the shore and came back with a bucket of mussels. Much debate about the best way to cook them, or even if they were Ok to eat in months without and "r" in them. Stay tuned.

We lit four oil lamps for dinner, then added the oil stove for a little heat after dinner. when lighting the stove, a fan assist can boost the heat output, and causes quite a roar. Look for a little film clip below. It was cozy and comfortable. The log got updated, a little reading, and once again we were tucked into our bunks by 2200.

Stowed for sea	Sink setup ...	Salt left, fresh right	Running the route	Hey Mark, how's ...
fishing? ...	Yeah, sure!	Under sail ...	at last!	Nice numbers!
Watch for pots ...	like that..	Ok already.	Into Hurricane Sound	Chilly & damp
We can see land!	Sort of	At anchor ...	in a cozy spot ...	with good neighbors ...
and clear astern.	That's us ...	cozy spot.	Cookie's pork chops.	Mark's mussels ...
look good.	All lamp light	Heating things up	Furnace roar.

Monday, June 23

Rain, and perhaps some hail, pelted the cabin top not long after we had turned in. It came in waves, but there seemed to be no wind with the rain. It died away, and we slept on.

At 0730 we stirred from our bunks. The houses and rocks around us were gone, lost in a still, enveloping shroud of fog. Not a sound; no wind; nothing. Ok, breakfast instead, and some chores. Mark gave his mussels a fresh bucket of water. We added oil to the engine. We tightened up the hose clamps on the fuel lines leading to the engine, in case they were the source of our starting difficulties the day before.

By 1100 things cleared a bit and we prepared to get under way. The usual precautions, setting up routes on both computers came first. Rick's eight year old Garmin 48 was balking at getting a fix. The numbers danced, then appeared to settle down on the third try. We were ready to go.

The engine started and was run for a minute or two. Mark went forward to the anchor and started pulling in chain with the windlass. The electrical load caused the engine to loose rpms, and even after increasing the throttle and recovering for a moment, it died. Knowing the drill, we repeated our fuel line bleeding exercise, though this time there didn't seem to be any air bubbles. Two tries and it came back to life. We ran it for two more minutes before trying the anchor windlass again.

From there all seemed normal, but we kept the rpms up, and shifted at a little higher speed than usual. We edged out of Long Cove and turned northeast toward a tiny passage out to Penobscot Bay. As we turned for the final run at the narrowest spot, Rick's GPS stopped working. Using the big Garmin, we plotted a course through and made the passage without a hitch. A few more turns and we were out in open water. Then it was cruising speed on the engine, about 6.7 knots, on long legs. The fog was still thick and the radar overlay on the chartplotter was a comfort. Being so early in the season, there didn't seem to be any cruising boats, and our radio watch on channel 16 alerted us to commercial traffic in the area. A big tug and oil barge was in the shipping channel and far from us.

As we worked our way north toward Castine, the fog lifted enough to see at least a mile, so we turned off the radar. A puff of wind from the southeast was all Mark needed to set main and jib at 1320, and we ghosted along between 1.9 and 3 knots. Mark worked some chores and Rick updated the log. The autopilot did the tedious work of keeping us on course.

At 1605 we arrived at the Castine Town Dock. Though not Chamber of Commerce weather, we could at least see the town and it wasn't raining, except for a few drops. The dock steward helped us reach Harbormaster Ray Durkee, whom Rick had met sailing on San Francisco Bay. Ray was working on his boat, a Tartan 37, and would join us in about an hour. We took a short walk in town, confirmed that our mussels were great eating, and picked up some garlic and wine for a feast. Robert hiked down to the light on the point, and Mark & Rick met Ray back at the boat.

Ray drove us on a guided tour of the old building of Castine, some dating to the American Revolution. Castine was settled by British Loyalists and many were not happy at the idea of breaking from the mother country. A good number of houses were partially disassembled and shipped to Canada! The fort at the top of the hill is today mostly grass and a few foundations, but in Revolutionary days the trees had been cleared and the site provided a commanding view of the river. Since Castine is almost an island, with lots of marsh and just a narrow strip to the northeast, it was relatively easily protected.

With fog and the look of rain approaching from the south, we started the engine, and following Ray's advice, backed up-current to avoid being swept into the barges moored down stream of us. When we went to shift into forward, the engine died again. Luckily there was about eight knots of breeze, so we unrolled the staysail and part of the jib and eased through the mooring field. At the outer edge there was a vacant mooring, and we furled sail and picked up the mooring. The usual exercise of bleeding the engine had us going again shortly.

Again following Ray's advice, we left Castine and rounded into Holbrook Harbor leaving the Nautilus Rock buoy to port. Fog was thick, and as we approached our target mooring area, a tourist schooner, with main and fore sails still set, appeared like a ghost ship through the gloom. Had we found the Flying Dutchman?! We anchored with no fuss and settled down for dinner.

Robert scrubbed the mussels and rick readied the pot. After a long, damp day, the warm glow of the oil lamps, steaming mussels, angel hair pasta and crisp green salad hit the spot. Strawberries & whipped cream was all it took to finish our repast and welcome lights out at our usual 2200.

Where's land?	Close on port ...	closer on starboard ...	nice job!	On the purple brick road
Arriving Castine ...	panning the ...	waterfront ...	to town.	Nice Concordia yawl
The other side	Old 6 meter	Maine Maritime tug	Passage looks ...	good from all ...
angles.	Waterfront scene ...	Main Street.	Ray Durkee, Harbormaster	Tellin tales
Weather coming	Ghost ship	Less fog!	Mussel bath gets ...	em clean.
Tastes good

Tuesday, June 24

Something new for the cruise greeted us for Tuesday morning: bright sun and not a wisp of fog. Rapidly thinning remains of a cold front scattered until all was crisp and clear. A Chamber of Commerce day had arrived.

As anyone who has cruised on boats will quickly recognize, systems that don't work as expected generate endless speculation of why, with a progressive series of suggested solutions tried. Our continuing engine balking, and electrical voltage reading lower than expected had us scratching our heads. We started the engine before putting any loads on the system (though Mark had run the refrigeration for about 2 hours earlier), and it ran fine for about three minutes, then died "as usual". A bleeding and it seemed to work fine. But voltages, which should have been in the 13 - 14 volt range with the engine running remained at 12. So far, no solutions.

But it was a glorious morning, even if there was no wind, and we quickly caught and passed the old schooner, the Mary Celeste, and headed down Eggemoggin Reach headed for Northeast Harbor. The bridge over Eggemoggin is a beautiful sight, and we took pictures as Robert steered Passage at dead center for maximum mast clearance.

We took the route less traveled at the bottom of Eggemoggin by turning east before the well marked but narrow Casco Passage. We slipped between Smuttynose & Murphy Islands, then skirted West and East Barge and headed straight for Bass Head. A mile long bar stretches between Bass Head and Great Gott Island, and one narrow channel has been blasted through the rock, just off Bass Head light. We easily found West Bass buoy and powered through to East Bass and on to our destination.

Mt. Desert Island is mostly Acadia National Park. It is home to Cadillac Mountain, and Bar Harbor. From a cruising sailor's perspective, three fine destinations await: Southwest Harbor, Northeast Harbor, and Somes Sound, the only true fiord on the coast. Our target was Northeast Harbor, small, but with fuel, provisions, laundry and restaurants all convenient. We arrived at Clifton Dock, the fuel dock, shortly before 3 pm on a beautiful afternoon.

While topping off the fuel and water, we learned that today was only the second day they were open for the season. Though they don't normally allow boats to stay the night on their dock, they let Passage stay (for only $25) because there were few other cruising boats expected. What a great place to be, and only a slightly longer walk into town than at the city dock. Though we had yet to figure out the reasons the engine was not charging, Mark fired up the generator and in an hour the batteries were showing 12.8 volts from 12.0. This gave us a very good work-around, if not a solution.

Feeling good, we walked around Northeast Harbor and settled on the Docksider restaurant, on Sea Street, for a casual lobster dinner. If you liked, you could get a T shirtemblazonedd with a big lobster wearing a chef's hat stating, "Frankly Scollop, I Don't Give a Clam." With some blueberry pie al a mode for dessert, we were good to go. The walk back to Passage was appreciated. As we settled in for a little reading and log writing, a passing cloud dropped a gentle shower on us. NOAA weather speaks of more of this in the coming days - like every day. We shall see, but now today is over.

Tuesday morning ...	leaving Holbrook	Ghost ship ahead	Go get 'em	Overtaking ...
the schooner ...	Grace Bailey!	Eggemoggin Reach	This bridge is ...	beautiful.
Cell phone ...	time.	Bass head light ...	and pass buoy ...	West side.
Passing through	Great approach to ...	Northeast Harbor.	Diesel, water and ...	dock space.

Wednesday, June 25

Two beautiful mornings in a row. Mark was up by 0600 (he claims it was after 6) scrubbing the deck. Rick was up making pancakes by 0700 on a unique brass griddle. Heavy and perfectly fitting a Force 10 stove, this griddle held the heat and, once Rick figured out hot to keep it sprayed with Pam, turned out excellent pancakes.

Chores were out of the way by 0930, and we headed to the city dock to jump aboard the free bus through Acadia National Park and on to Bar Harbor. Catching the 1000 bus, in only its third day of operation this year, we soon arrived at the Bubble Rock stop half way up Mt. Desert Island. This spot apparently is a big rock dome transported by glaciers from Bangor to the coast, and provides a great view north to where Frenchman's Bay wraps around Mt. Desert, and south over Jordan Pond and out to sea.

Our original thought was to hike up to the top of Cadillac, and Rick confused the Bubble Rock stop with the Bubble Pond stop a mile farther on. it worked out well, however, because we tried a similar trail to Mt. Pemetic that was also marked "difficult" and decided that R&R would forgo that exercise. Mark went on the Bubble Pond stop and eventully made the two hour climb to the top and the 45 minute hike back down. Meanwhile, R&R hiked Bubble Rock trail and got some great views and pictures, and rode the bus into Bar Harbor.

R&R returned to the boat about 1 pm, did laundry and shopping and were just finishing up when Mark returned about 3:30.

We departed Clifton Dock just before 1700 and headed around the corner for Somes sound. This fiord cuts deep into Mt. Desert Island. At it's narrowest point, it is 138 feet deep, bordered on both sides by steep, evergreen hills. At it's northern end, it broadens a bit, and throughout, it is a great place to sail. A fresh southwest wind teased us into setting sails for the short run, and we steamed into Somes Sound doing 8.2 knots with a bone in our teeth, and big grins on our faces. What a nice way to end an already great day.

With good late afternoon light we thought about some pictures. So Rick jumped into the dinghy, cast off and grabbed a lobster pot while Mark & Robert put Passage through her paces. Iit proved a worthy exercise and Mark now has some pictures under sail. Pick your favorite below.

There is only one, big, coast Guard mooring in Valley Cove in the heart of Somes Sound. When we started our picture taking there was a small power boat tied to it. Just as we finished with the pictures, it cast off and departed. We were on it within five minutes. So with dinner done and the gentle sound of wind in the rigging, we sat in the cockpit watching the stars appear. As it grew darker, the Little Dipper hung from the North Star, and the Big dipper pointed the way. Across the zenith, Cassiopeia balanced the dipper. Cygnus the Swan, also known as the Northern Cross, lined up with the Milky Way, and Leo the Lion stood guard too.

Several cruising guides talk of Coast Guard moorings as being available in several locations. Well it seems that the local CG had different ideas about the lone mooring in Valley Cove. About 2200 a search light starts playing on Passage. At first we thought it was a boat hoping the mooring was still available. But over about ten minutes the light came and went, finally coming close aboard and saying there were the Coast Guard. It was not the typical rigid inflatable with big outboards, but a full size cutter. They said overnight mooring wasn't allowed because the CG didn't want to be competing with commercial mooring outfits. (Isn't the CG funded with out tax dollars anyway?) Being in no position to argue, we fired up the engine and GPS and headed for Southwest Harbor, found an empty mooring and turned in by 2230.

Solid brass griddle ...	makes great pancakes!	Heading for Acadia	Seal Harbor	First stop
Let's try this trail ...	Where the FUGAWI?!	Not up there.	OK, Bubble Rock ...	this way ...
right up here ...	first views.	North Bubble	Looking north	Cadillac Mtn.
Cranberry Islands	Western Way	Jordan Pond	Local wildlife	Long way down
Blooms attract ...	honey bees	Bar Harbor	The "Bar"	Postcard view
Tour boat ...	coasts in ...	Want a ride?	Main Street ...	the green ...
Non-Native species	Welcome back.	Turning into ...	Somes Sound ...	glorious ride ...
making tracks.	Shades of green	Light going ...	reaching away ...	need breeze ...
good reflection ...	Hi Mark!	movin on ...	looking fine.	Ckecking in.

Thursday, June 26

Sunrise, being just after the summer solstice, is a 0448. Mark says he just missed it. At any rate, as Robert & Rick slept, Mark hoisted the main, rolled out the staysail, and part of the big jib. Then he cast off, and coffee in hand, ghosted toward Western Way. He had barely cleared Southwest Harbor when Rick came on deck at 0700.

Wind started to fill in from the southwest, and we slowly beat out to sea. In three hours we were back to the bar crossing off Bass Head - 5.6 miles as an outboard see it. With the wind dead against us, we decided it was engine time. The engine returned to its balky ways, and since the battery was getting quite low, we decided to run the generator before trying the engine again. This time the generator didn't want to cooperate. So, a second try on the engine got it going and off we went.

With low battery voltage and balky engines, we thought it was time to Plan B. Rather than spend the day nosing around Blue Hill Bay, we headed west to Passage's home port of Rockland where the 185 ampere alternator had been installed. Since Mark, his wife, and extended family were already making plans for cruising when R&R got off, we thought it would be better to get the problems solved once and for all before Passage went on cruising.

But it was a glorious trip west. Robert got to see the "Milk run" of Penobscot Bay cruising, Casco Passage, the Deer Island Thorofare, the town of Stonington where many, many tons of rock had been quarried, and the Fox Island Thorofare. Alternating between sail and power when the wind was head ahead in the thorofares, Passage lived up to her name and roared along with a bone in her teeth. Several times we topped 8 knots, both with the big jenny set, and also with just the staysail set coming in to Rockland about 1530.

Having made arrangements for the boatyard to look at the situation first thing Friday morning, we headed for the town dock and plugged in to shore power and a battery charger. Soon amps were flowing into the batteries, the generator started and things were, temporarily, back in good shape. Batteries charged, we anchored out in Rockalnd Harbor for a steak dinner. Life is an adventure, and this part is fun.

Smilin' Mark - 0645	Driftin' along	Entering Stonington ...	Main town ...	The quary.
Sound like us? ...	Yep!	Sun shade	Liquid refreshment	To Fox I. Thorofare
Happy camper.	Thorofare light	Birds of prey	Head boat coming ...	classic view ...
packed fulll ...	Bye!	Rockland fleet	Unseaworthy	Anchor check
Good night Rockland

Friday, June 27

Steve, from Ocean Pursuit Boatyard climbed aboard just before 0900. Having barely said hello, he dove under the floorboards and, using a multi-meter, started checking the various connections between the battery, alternator and regulator. With four 100 pound 4-D batteries under the companionway stairs forming the "house bank", and a single car-size battery under the dining room table for the engine starting battery, there was plenty to check. Mark, Robert & rick stood by to start the engine when needed, read various gages, and hold flashlights or electrical probes while Steve checked things out. In less than thirty minutes he determined that the regulator itself has gone bad, and that a new one was needed. That was ordered and would be available by Monday in Rockland.

During our testing, the engine did its start-run-and-die routine again. And after a quick bleed, using the electric in-line fuel pump, it started up after several cranks. Steve checked the top of the main line fuel strainer and the on-engine filter to be sure gaskets were in place, then tightened everything down. So far, it has run fine since. Steve also reviewed the way various battery combinations were wired, and we started up the generator to be sure it would go too. All seemed understood.

We decided that we would continue on our way down the coast, keeping the batteries charged using the generator twice a day or as necessary. It was actually much like sailing a long distance race over many days. While sailing, electricity is used by the instruments, refrigeration, radar, and lights at night. On a race, the engine is run - out of gear - to recharge the batteries, usually twice a day. So we started on that routine, even though our "sails" for the day was the main engine, without its alternator to charge the batteries. Mark was still contemplating the logistics for picking up the new regulator in Rockland and getting it to the boat in Portland. Though, in theory, we could run using the generator indefinitely if necessary. Of course, as soon as Steve left and we went to start the generator, no water came out the cooling system, so we cleared the water feed line and pump before getting under way.

It was almost noon when we left Rockland and turn past Owls Head light down the Muscle Ridge Channel leaving Penobscot Bay and starting back west. We rounded Mosquito Island and poled into the fishing harbor of Port Clyde. This is serious fishing territory, and not much set up for cruising yachtsmen.

We continued on under progressively lowering clouds, and the XM Weather display on the Garmin chart plotter showed thunderstorms to the northwest. Threading our way past a dozen rocky, wooded islands, each one looking like the last, we arrived at the secluded Hornbarn Cove on the Meduncook River at 1615. The natives seem to have realized that this is a desirable gunk hole for cruisers, and where, in the past, there was nothing in the pond past the last houses, there are now three bright orange mooring balls with lines. Since we pride ourselves on the wild country, such citified simplicity of picking up a mooring line pulled against the grain. Besides, there were no signs about price, and these wily natives have a way of knowing just how much pain the traffic will bear! We anchored directly between two balls.

Rain, it seems, was passing around us, with just a drop or two before dinner time. Pork chops on the menu tonight, with blueberries, bananas and whipped cream for dessert. Such tough decisions in this cruising life. Then relax in the cockpit and watch the sun slide through the clouds into the evening.

Good morning light	Battle stations!	Owls Head ...	is impressive.	Tabor Boy ...
steams past.	Port Clyde light ...	tourists and ...	town.	Some serious ...
fishing here.	Safe in Hornbarn Cove	Houses and ...	lots & lots of ...	colorful ...
lobster pots.	Which way up?

Saturday, June 28

Fisherman Mark had a line over the stern early. Cheers of joy roused the crew to celebrate a 4 mackerel catch. Splashing in the bucket, they would have preferred to be elsewhere, but they had a special invitation to breakfast. Mark did the cleaning and sizzled them up in the skillet, adding spices to perfection. With hot oatmeal and berries, it was a great way to start a dark, damp morning.

The generator came to life just as requested. Separating the house and engine batteries had kept the starter battery fresh, and starting was easy. After five minutes, the main engine was started and also allowed to warm up. It ran well without a hitch. Mark went forward and did his usual anchor duty, with Rick at the helm to ease up over the anchor, then apply power to break it out of the mud when we were directly over the anchor.

Again we slithered among the lobster pots to pass Crotch Island, then turned slightly west to pick up the buoys for Friendship Harbor. Wind was building from the northeast, so clearing Friendship, we set just the main and bore away for Pemaquid Point about twelve miles away. There were numerous rocks and shoals along the way, and the GPS guided us between them. It was a little unnerving to be a mile from land in any direction and sailing between to spots of breaking waves 50 yards on either side of the boat - big rocks, just below the surface. They were the Devil's limb, and the Devil's elbow

With wind gusting around 20 at the point, we gybed to starboard and rounded up into John Bay and headed for South Bristol. Between Davis Point and Witch Island we dropped sail and motored into a tiny cove, recommended by Mark's brother-in-law Dave. Instructions were simple, turn into the cove where the chart shows 17 feet and find a pair of floats with lobster pots on them and tie up. Picture taking a 47' boat into a dead end cove, downwind with 15 -20 knots blowing and finally seeing this tiny float with a stack of lobster pots nearly against the shore. It was dead low tide too.

Mark put the bow right on the float and rick jumped off; Robert then threw him a bow line. With Rick pushing the bow and Mark working the engine to swing Passage's stern sideways to the wind, we slowly turned her around until her bow was facing out of the cove and she came alongside the float which was half her length. three spring lines and a bow line held her in place. The GPS chart showed we were in 2.0 feet of water, yet she floated. Mark used a weight and line to double check the depth, and we had about one foot of water under the keel. It was worth the risk and effort and the rest of the day soon proved.

Our crew paddled the dinghy ashore and were greeted by Dave and friends. The whole story would wait until evening, but for now, we three hiked about a mile to the bridge joining the mainland to Rutherford Island - South Bristol. It was a simple swing bridge, but it apparently is one of the most opened bridges in Maine. It opened twice while were were standing there - a period of about 15 minutes. Lobster boats are the main traffic, moving between a good anchorage on the east side of the bridge and the fishing grounds to the west. As we hiked back up the hill away from the bridge, rick peeled off and headed back to the boat while Mark & Robert hiked on toward Christmas cove, about a mile south. They trekked to the far side, and then Mark walked in to "town" to the marina, while Robert headed for Passage. By about 1900, all of us were back aboard for a chicken, veggies and biscuit dinner.

But this evening would not be early. At 2000 we heard a hail from shore inviting us to join the crowd. The invitation included a genuine clam bake with all the trimmings. Stuffed though we already were, we headed ashore in great anticipation. The mooring and dock belonged to 90 year old John Gay. The road we had walked was Gay Road. He had bought a sizeable chunk of the island in 1948. As a merchant captain John needed crew aboard a 157' research vessel back in the 1970s. Funded by the US Navy, the ship was to carry experiments for testing underwater sound detection - like maybe a Russian submarine - and John rounded up a great young crew to run the ship. Scientist and experimenters would come aboard with the things they wanted to test. Tucked away from prying eyes, the ship carried a large room of main frame computers. Starting from the Caribbean, they made their way north including Bermuda, Portland, ME, St.John, Newfoundland, Iceland, Spain and the Med, finally returning to the Caribbean.

Five of that crew had gathered here at South Bristol for a reunion - the first in over 20 years. In addition to Captain John, there were Dave, Mark's brother-in-law, Jim, Sam, Bob & Tom. Tom's wife Segrit, and Bob's wife Diane rounded out the count. When we arrived, John's daughter and granddaughter were just delivering a bushel of clams for the evening's feast. These were left to clean themselves in a floating tank, and John and the gang had assembled a brick grill and collected seaweed. The steamed clams were ready when we were called to shore. We managed to sample a few delicious clams, and Mark added corn on the cob and mashed potatoes. We all found room for the apple or blueberry pie. Though a projector and several trays of slides were ready for a show of their adventures, the talk and time flowed on until all decided it was too late to start a slide show. So a little after 11 pm, we three donned our wet gear for the damp walk down to the dock and the short paddle back to Passage.

Why the smile? ...	Caught fish!!!	Fish fry ...	half gone already.	Workin' pots
A mile from any land ...	Why does Robert smile? ...	He split the Devils!!	Pemaquid Pt. light ...	blowin' hard ...
& rolling seas.	Plucky sailor	Tiny, but welcome ...	floating dock ...	half Passage size
Are you sure?!	Stone's throw ashore.	Welcome party ...	is great fun.	Shore view ...
gets better from ...	each angle.	The Gut bridge ...	swings frequently ...	for lobster boats ...
coming & going ...	Mark wants a turn!

Sunday, June 29

Scrubbing sounds along the hull signaled that Mark was hard at work. The port side had gotten scrubbed in Hornbarn Cove, and today the starboard side was away from the little lobster float and available for a good scrub. Then on to the deck with a bow to stern brushing with Comet - Passage was soon free of the last of boatyard dirt. It was about 0830 when Rick started breakfast.

Thick fog circled like a fixed opaque window around Passage. None of the waters outside the immediate cove could be seen. It was still. Just before breakfast was ready, we noted headlights and windshield wipers ashore as John drove off somewhere. Yesterday he had taken Diane for a long tour of the Island. Last night the gang pondered the depth of the rum supply, and after determining that the local rum emporium would close in 20 minutes - it being 20 to 11 - Sigrid assured them that it would open at 7, but rum could not be sold until after 9 am. It was Sunday after all.

NOAA Weather droned on - fog, or as only a Mainer would say, "Faag". All day; light winds; rain and thundershowers likely in the afternoon; and again tonight. We knew we could go from A to B in the fog - been there done that. We were also now only 38 miles from Portland, so there was no rush to get farther west. So it was log writing time, magazine time, puttering time, or even nap time. We'll wait see what time will deliver.

At 1040 the sky grew so dark we almost lit the lamps for light. A breeze shook the trees ashore, and heavy drops sounded on deck. It was over in five minutes, but it cleared much of the fog. We could now see a good 3/4 mile. We went ashore so Mark & David could sort out the details of picking up the regulator in Rockland and getting it to Portland tomorrow. It was agreed David would join us for dinner at Handy's Boat Services somewhere around 7 pm. With logistics in hand, and some filtered sun breaking out, we decided to point Passage west.

It was much easier getting out than in. Soon we were under power down John Bay, and this time we could see the rocks and houses of The Thread of Life as we passed through. An altermative was Damariscove Island offshore, but it was foggy and dark that direction, so we turned for Boothbay Harbor. Like much of what we ahd seen along the coast, Boothbay was lightly populated with more mooring empty than full. A strange, black schooner looked like someone tried to make an old sailng ship into a giant wooden power yacht.

Our original plan was to head through the swing bridge in Townsend Gut and cross over to the Sheepscott River. But the continuing threat of showers and some hints of stronger southwest winds tomorrow prompted us to think about rounding Cape Small today, putting the longest stretch of going southwest behind us. So we headed that direction. Rick called friends who have a wonderful house on Harpswell Sound, but they were headed out for the evening and were not available the next day. A quick check of the tides showed that the cozy anchorage of The Basin could be reached on a rising tide, and would give us high tide for leaving in the morning.

Robert steered adroitly down the lobster pot lanes in the narrow pass going in. A last turn and The Basin opened before us. three other cruisers were already anchored there, but a small fleet could easily fit. We picked a spot to anchor between them all and rounded to our usual anchor setting routine. At 1800, down went the anchor, backing away slowly to pay out chain, then snubbing the chain to set the anchor. Finally, once the boat had stopped, increasing power in reverse to be sure the anchor had dug into the mud. This time the engine not only didn't want to pull in reverse, it simply died.

We started the generator to charge batteries, then tried bleeding the engine, and after a couple of tries, it roared to life momentarily, then stopped. We'll wait until it cools in the morning to resume the game. Spaghetti and salad was the simple dinner, as rain now pelted the cabintop. Our timing has been great this trip, almost all the rain has come when we were anchored. Mother Nature tucked us in with brilliant flashes and thunder hugs.

Strange boat ...	funny name.	Boothbay harbor ...	church ...	and fleet.
The Cuckolds light ...	is solid.	Heads up entering ...	the narrow passage ...	that turns the ...
corner into ...	The Basin.	Some leaving	Classic scene ...	cruising company.
Tucked in.

Monday, June 30

Maine, apparently, didn't read Robert Frost's poem to the end:

The Fog comes, on little cat feet,
it sits looking over harbor and city,
on silent haunches,
and then moves on.

Thick as ever we could barely make out the boats moored next to us. But, fruit and cereal for breakfast, with juice and hot coffee warmed the insides. The engine started with little fuss, and we were ready at high tide to thread our way out of The Basin. No problem.

Radar and the GPS plotter were our eyes. There were almost no other boats moving that we could see. All the better for us. We headed straight down the New Meadows River to the sea buoy, and turned west toward Casco Bay. A lumpy, rolly 4 miles later, we were rounding Eagle Island.

In the early 1870s, Robert Peary, not even yet a student at Bowdoin College, landed here and fell in love with the island. After he graduated he bought it in 1877. Robert Peary, best known as Adminarl Peary who reached the North Pole in 1909, returned to build a house and raise a family from Eagle Island. Donated by the Peary Family to be maintained as a park, it is open to visitors when weather allows. Passage didn't have to navigate ice, but if Rick's navigation and Mark's binoculars had not found the little mooring in the total fog, rocks were just three boat lengths ahead.

Mark had been ashore a week earlier with Jerry, to just Rick & Robert went ashore for a great tour by the Park Ranger. Some maps and artifcats from the polar expeditions were there, but it was mostly a tribute to the Peary family and the generations that still return to the island on occasion. His grandson, Ed, will turn 90 this year with a family celebration estimated to bring 30 folks together.

Fog finally lifted while Rick & robert were ashore. Back aboard we enjoyed a simple lunch, then explored Jewel Island. It's tempting cove at the north end shows 17 feet of water at low tide, but it is too narrow to swing, and even the mouth had shoaled to 12 feet as we came in at low tide. We headed west, winding between the islands of Casco Bay back to our starting point of handy's Boat Services.

The regulator had arrived back in Rockland, Mark's brother-in-law had picked it up, and it was on its way to a dinner rendezvous. The crew topped off the fuel tanks, took garbage ashore, and refilled the water tanks. Hard to believe a great cruise was tapering down.

Eagle Island is home ...	to Admiral Peary's House	Lots of rocks!	Feathered friends	Checking Jewell Cove ...
too narrow!	Great spices all the way.	Dockside at Handys.	Handy's Restaurant

Tuesday, July 1





Clear Sailing.

Rick Van Mell
vanmells@ix.netcom.com

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