Before I get started, I neglected to mention a significant event occurred in the Eastern Bay anchorage. My Communications Officer called US Customs and Border Protection to let them know we were coming ashore at Mt Desert Island and would stay aboard under quarantine until they could come inspect us. But there has been a change of methods. Now there is an app, CBP ROAM. One has to download it and load all your info on it. Lene spent an hour trying over and over to get this done with multiple passwords and authentication devices. If alone, I would have given up, claimed “asylum seeker” status and become a “man without a country” for a while. Thank God for Lene! They wanted us to photograph our passports into the system as well. Then a reply to the effect: we are considering your application and will get back to you. Half an hour later an email: “You are approved.” No need to to go to an official port of entry. So the new system is both harder (for non IT people like me) and easier. We were back in the USA, both physically and legally.
The first of the two passages in this post was rather unpleasant, despite sightings of a finback whale, a pod of dolphins and a grey seal. There was zero wind so the seas were flat, making the wildlife more visible. It was cold and grey, with drizzle and, being back in Maine, lots of toggled lobster pot floats to dodge. I crossed one of them and realized it, too late, when the toggle was being drawn to the boat by our keel or rudder. I immediately shifted neutral to avoid getting the line wrapped around the prop, and then turned sharply and hoped the line would drop off, which it did. Another anxiety problem was that we did not have a reservation and rain was forecast for the next day. My Communication Officer had calls in at three places as we headed toward the point where we would have to head North to Northeast Harbor, continue west to Southwest Harbor, or turn south into the anchorage between Big and Little Cranberry Islands. Finally the Islesboro Dock Restaurant by the ferry landingon Little Cranberry got back and said we could have (A) one of three free town moorings far from them or (B) their own mooring near their dinghy dock for $40. We took option B, what with the fog growing thick, lowered the dink, somewhat dried the seating area of the dink with the chamois cloth and dinked in for dinner at the restaurant. No internet or Wi-Fi. A cold rainy night but warm and dry in our snug home.
Next day was mostly a work day. The Harbor Master of Northeast Harbor, on the mainland of MDI, said there would be moorings or off-shore floating docks available, but no reservations — call when in the harbor. We stopped at Clifton’s Fuel Dock in the Harbor (where we waited several hours for CPB to show up when checking in from Nova Scotia in 2017) to refill both water tanks and fuel tanks. Once on a floating dock, we went for lunch, grocery shopping, laundry and showers. Then cleaned the boat interior. So Lene had all she wanted: full fuel, water and food, clean laundry and a clean boat.
I plotted out the first very rough draft of our itinerary from here to Block Island with a target date of September 10, leaving five days to get home from there (though we could do it on one overnight sail) and room for slippage due to bad weather days before then. It includes lay days in Boston, Hyannisport and Martha’s Vineyard in case friends are available when we come through.
A few boats away I spotted ”Fika”, the Saga 43 shape so easily identified. We later met John and Susan and their crew, Jackson snd Bosn, English Cream Goldens. A Fica is a sort of Scandinavian coffee klatch with food, an act of hospitality, Susan told me.The Cumberland home port is in Maine, not Maryland. Fika is a few years newer than ILENE, and our new friends have sailed her the last three years.
The remaining picture, like those above, were taken by Lene on the sunny morning of our departure. 
No comments:
Post a Comment