August 20 and 21 -- Belfast to Rockport to Harbor Island, 19 and 18 Miles

The first passage, to Rockport was rather boring—no wind, though I did run out the Genoa, twice, hoping for a bit. It was an ambulance run. Witty was ailing. What he needed was one of those subcutaneous fluid shots. We got an employee of Rockport Marine to drive us to the vet and the regular taxi service was less busy later in the day to drive us back. During the ride to and from the vet’s office, we finally got to see a bit of Rockport beyond a one block radius of the waterfront. But we declined the fine dining in favor of Lene’s delicacies. Dr. Edelbaum was very professional, friendly, successful and inexpensive and the Whitster now has a chance to use another of his nine lives.

But the next day was a fun passage to Harbor Island. We hoisted main and Genoa in Rockport Harbor, feeling some puffs from the port side as we headed south. But the wind was insufficient and we motored for the first hour at 6.5 knots, the sails doing nothing. Ah, but then we were able to turn off the engine and sail all the way to Harbor Island. We had the wind to port and it got to be a very broad reach as we reached the turn to the west in the narrow straight between Davis and Benner Islands. At this turn the excitement, though it was done rather well with Lene steering as i handled the sails. We gybed and left Penobscot Bay for Muscongus Bay with a very broad starboard reach up Muscongus Bay to the anchorage. I even tried wing on wing for a while, but the need to avoid a shoal area spoiled that. We had the tide with us all the way, south, west and then north, and we had the luxury to go slow, as slow as 3.2 knots for a while. We completed the passage between 9:15 to 2 pm. Yes, there are lobster traps everywhere in Maine but the infestation is not as great here as in the eastern Penobscot and the Mount Desert regions – and the floats are rarely toggled outside of those regions.

The anchorage at Harbor Island is actually the space between that island (to the right) and nearby Hall Island to the left. It is guarded by massive shoals to the south, only a bit of which are above water at high tide as here.

and hence protected except from Northern winds. The problem is that the area near Harbor Island is shallow, with ledges, a bit showing here.

So the anchor must be set seemingly dangerously close to the Hall Island shore,

though we had no problems on our second anchor drop With a lot of rain (but not wind) forecast for the next day, we were in 24 feet of water at low with 100 feet of snubbed chain and planned for a lay day. We were the only boat in the cove when we arrived, reminiscent of Nova Scotia,

but two other sailboats pulled in while we hiked on Harbor Island (the only humans on the rock) after dinking to the beach. It is a private island owned by the Lev Davis family, but they welcome boaters asking only for decent behavior regarding garbage, fires and pets. We went over to Harbor Islands west shore where Lene st on a rock while i explored a bit. She is seen only slightly but the sun on the water looks great.

Interesting rock formations on the beach; God is an artist. These layers are not horizontal, as you might expect, but rise vertically toward the sky! /the last of these has my shoe in it to give a sense of its size.

August 17 - 19 -- Bucks to Belfast and Two Lay Days There, 17 Miles

We had planned to visit a couple of coves in Northwestern Penobscot Bay and the town of Castine before Belfast, but Witty is sick and we needed to get his anti nausea drug. He is not seasick; it is an aspect of his bowel disease! Our vet in New York City had faxed information to a Belfast vet, so Belfast got moved forward in the schedule.
It seemed like a day for sailing at last - wind from the south and our course mostly west. Even in sheltered Bucks harbor we changed our fenders from one side to the other to face the wind when approaching the fuel dock. Once out of the harbor, we put up full main and Genoa and were making a nice 4.5 to 5 knots until the wind, which had seemed so promising, died; so the diesel engine had to work for a while more with little help from the main. But the wind came back, the genoa came out and we sliced west across the north end of western Penobscot Bay at speeds approaching 7 knots with no noise and virtually no lobster traps. This was only about an hour and a half but it is episodes like this that remind me that ILENE is worth the trouble she puts me through.
On the mooring in Belfast and the dink lowered and Witty in his carrier ferried ashore, we asked and with a modest gratuity the Assistant Harbor Master drove us to the vet.  Witty was definitely looking sickly but the local vet had an emergency with a rescued bobcat and could not see him, making an appointment for Monday morning instead. She did sell us his medicine and it appeared that the worst of his crisis was over.
It rained hard the first night and Saturday until about 11 a.m. I pumped the water out of the dink dried its seating pontoons and we dinked ashore in light drizzle. We did food marketing both at the IGA and later, at the Coop, which is much nearer, organic, and more expensive. We took in the weekly indoor farmers market and found our way into an interesting and packed lecture at the public library by the head of Tufts University’s philosophy department about the nature of consciousness. The prof. lives on Deer Island in the summer, the south shore of Eggermoggin Reach. We dined out twice: at a Laotian place and a place serving pub type food. We did a lot of window shopping in various galleries and took in a movie each day, “Mamma Mia” on Saturday and “Sorry To Bother You” on Sunday.
This is a small old town with a sense of its history. Last year we happened to be here during their annual Harborfest, which was enhanced by our hanging out with our friends, Bill and Sando.  This time our visit accidentally coincided the same event again, but our friends had not gotten back from Nova Scotia. Maybe they can join us in New York on their drive back to North Carolina.
The festival had the same events, including the building of wooden boats, but we did not attend those events this time. The fact that it was such a busy weekend for the town, and the New York Yacht Club Cruise was in town, meant that to accommodate us, the harbormaster had to assign us to a different mooring each night, not a tremendously big problem, just a short move. She is very helpful. Here we are in the center of the picture very conveniently close to the huge dinghy dock with room for lots of dinghys.

I took a tour of the huge shipyard with a travelift capable of handling 440 TONS!  It had a 56 foot catamaran whose season ended a bit early this year: the starboard rudder and prop were all chewed up. It can happen to any of us.

The town has its one traffic light at the historic corner of High and Main Streets.

The slope of the streets is quite steep for several blocks from the waterfront. The older houses front on the street but they have multiple attachments added in the back making for long skinny houses.

Maybe a zoning or tax issue? The historical society was closed on Sunday when I tried to find out.








We talked with the mate of the Bonnie Lynn, a steel charter schooner which she and her husband had built 17 years ago. A pretty vessel with all of its sail handling lines easily seen.

An original wooden bridge across the Passagassawakeag River, which flows past the town’s north side, was replaced by a concrete railroad bridge, which is now a scenic walking bridge.

Route 1 is elevated and passes just upstream from the walking bridge.

Witty seemed to get better during the weekend, so we had cancelled the 9 a.m. appointment on Monday and decided to push on. But Sunday night he seemed to deteriorate again and Lene asked if we could cut short our cruise by a few days, to which I agreed.  The fact is that we have had rather little wind this cruise compared to our past Maine cruises and I fear that Mother Nature may be storing up her energy to whack us pretty hard on the way home. So planning a few lay days into the schedule is prudent.

August 14 -16 -- Lay Day, Thence to Frenchboro and on to Bucks Harbor, 11 and 23 Miles

The lay day was in Spurling Cove, Great Cranberry Island; it was entirely due to fog. It lifted slightly in the late afternoon, from not being able to see the adjacent moored boat, to being able to see to shore, perhaps 200 yards away. So we made a visit to the island by dink and got groceries in a remarkably well stocked tiny little store by the ferry dock. They had most everything on Lene’s shopping list -- and delicious soft ice cream cones too. But a longer walk on the island - to its town center - was not appealing in the remaining fog so the day was quiet with reading, writing and lazing about.

Next morning was the same, fog wise, but by 11 a.m. it had cleared in Mount Desert Island’s Great Harbor -- to more than a mile -- so we departed for Frenchboro on Long Island. (Our plan to visit there last year as our first stop in the U.S. upon returning from Nova Scotia, was thwarted by the U.S. government’s stern warning: “Don’t set foot off the boat until we inspect it!” So instead we had stayed aboard, on anchor, in Long Island’s uninhabited Eastern Cove, before checking in at Northeast Harbor of MDI the next day.) This time, once underway to Long Island, the fog rolled back in. The eleven miles took more than three hours because (a) we motored slowly and (b) we got caught, acually twice, on lobster lines! I had been complimenting myself on not having been caught even once during our two or three weeks in Maine in 2017 and so far this year -- and then twice on one short passage. Lene was stationed forward to look out for the floats and there was no wind to speak of so it was another motoring day, but the current was running, stretching out the pick-up toggles’ lines, 20 to 30 feet from the fixed floats to which they are tied. In fact, for some pairs the fixed float was sometimes dragged under water by the current and hence invisible. Driving a boat with many of these pairs of floats about is like those video games where you drive a car and obstacles keep popping up in front of you all the time. And since you cant see where you are going in the fog, you have to keep an eye on the compass too.

We had towed the dink due to the lack of wind so I did not have to lower it to gain access to the swim platform. So, the drill: turn off engine, lock the prop, get naked, lower and climb down the swim platform into the sea, take a deep breath, bob under the boat to the propeller and strip the loops of tangled lobstering line from it.  The first time I got us off in three “bobs” and I had climbed aboard, toweled off, dressed, lifted the swim ladder and we had gotten underway again. The second time it took about seven such bobs. When we approached Frenchboro there was a remarkable temporary clearing of the fog for the last mile.
we saw this tug and tow which had hogged the center of the harbor entrance before getting underway next morning.

When we got on a rental mooring (they are no longer free but a very reasonable $25) I had a chill and was shivering. I got naked and into bed under the quilt, Lene cooked up a can of soup for me and within half an hour I was OK again.

The lobster shack, Lunt’s Deli, was closed this Wednesday for a “crew change” so no lobster. And the wonderful moss-covered trails that we so love to hike were not appealing in the fog. So we went to the town library, now open 24/7 during the summer and has good wifi. I counted and it has 300 linear feet of books, quite large for such a tiny town. That is where the last two or three posts to this blog were done. We met a teenage boy with two of his friends, playing video games in the library. He is one of the three students in Frenchboro’s one room schoolhouse.

The biggest surprise of the day was when we returned to ILENE. There had been a blue hulled boat on the mooring next to us when we arrived, but it had left during the time I was warming up. And then it was back again when we returned from the library. But no, it was a different blue hulled boat, and its crew, were coming to it by dink and hailed me: “ROGER!” It was Rick and Claudia and their two year old son Dylan of s/v “Charisma,” a Hylas 44. They have been living aboard the past two years and are fellow Harlemites. So two Harlem boats enjoying an accidental rendezvous on a very remote Maine island in the fog, what are the odds! In any event we had blueberry pancakes the next morning. We were hailed by three men in a runabout. "Would you like a free cup of coffee?" Lene said yes and it was good. They are the entire staff of the Lobster Butter Brewing Company and sold they coffee for $15 per bag. But it was not ground and lene offered to buy a bag if they took it and another bag of non-ground coffee from us and ground them both for us. Actually, while they grind on the island they market and ship to stores in other Maine cities. Their income, they said, was the pleasure they get from living on a very remote island.
We got underway for Bucks Harbor at about 11. The route was north of Swans Island, through Casco Passage across Jerico Bay and through Eggermoggin Reach. No wind at the start, but it came up and could have been a very pleasant beat up the reach, albeit against the tidal current, except we had to do laundry. So yet another motoring day. We passed this pretty boat with its passengers and others who were beating up the Reach. So the view that we dont follow a fixed schedule and hence can avoid beating by waiting out the fog or storms is not totally accurate. We could get a lot more sailing in if we were not governed by a route. This day, to get to Bucks, we travelled mostly NW, where the wind was coming from. If we were not trying to go to Bucks, but could go to a different port, southwest of Frenchboro, we could have sailed. But of course we had been through the southern part of that area in Northhven, vinal Haven and Mcglathery and wanted to get to the ports in the northern half of Penobscot Bay.

In Buck’s Harbor, before dinner at Buck’s Restaurant (reservations are needed because land people drive to it from miles around) while Lene did the laundry, I dinked out to s/v “No News” a Freedom 30.

This is Ken and Camille’s boat and they are Harlem alums. They keep their boat these years in Maine, in Buck’s Harbor, during the summer, and live aboard her, and store her after October in Brooklin, Maine, at the other end of Eggermoggin Reach. I spent a pleasant time chatting with him but Camille was napping. A nice cozy boat to which Ken has vented a propane heater. So two lobster pots was the negative but meeting two Harlem boats sort of balanced things out.

August 12 and 13 -- Winter Harbor to Roque Island and Return to Great cranberry Island, 36 and 43 Miles

We had visited Roque Island with Bennett in 2015 and this private island has not changed. I had recalled that the beach was covered with flat sea scoured pebbles but on this visit the pebbles were at the eastern end, with sand covering the rest of the wide beach. Maybe my pebble memory was erroneous.This is a natural crescent beach, which looks like the one at Orchard Beach, near the Harlem Yacht Club, except Orchard Beach was artificially created by New York’s park Czar of the 1930’s, Robert Moses. (Another Moses reference is coming up; wait for it!) Also, Roque’s beach is a lot bigger. I measured the straight line distance from one end of the crescent to the other, on the two nautical charts with dividers): Orchard Beach -- .52 miles, Roque Beach .98 miles.

But Orchard Beach may have 100,000 folks on a nice summer day while Roque had the people from nine sailboats plus a Giant Schnauser named Moses. We met his owners, Brian and Shelly of s/v “Aria,” a Hylas 46 while walking on the beach after dinking in. They invited us to a sing along -- and BYO communal eat along -- on s/v “Iolare”, a 46 foot Valiant, sailed by Ralf and Kelly. The fourth couple was Richard and Janis, who also had a sailboat in the 40’s range, like ILENE. It was Ralf on guitar, Brian on banjo and Shelly on vocals; and a good time was had by all. I took a good picture of the seven of them on Iolare but it came in upside down and I don't want you guys to sprain your necks. So I will send it to Ralf who can probably invert it and share it with the others.

This jaunt had the two longest passages of this cruise in Maine: 36 miles from Winter Harbor to Roque and 43 from Roque to Spurling Cove at the north end of Great Cranberry Island. I have a new method for measuring the lengths of passages, thanks to the MFD. It records the length of our "track" -- the pink line that follows the path we have taken from the stern of our boat, fairly accurately. So track length at the end of the passage minus track length at the beginning equals the length of the passage, to the nearest hundredth of a mile -- but we round.

We took different routes out and back, except when curving past the south side of Great Wass Island and its neighbors, where we kept about 800 feet from the massive rocks in over 100 feet of water. Outbound, coming from the north, we passed north, inside Schoodic Island, and through the "swash channel" in Petit Manan Island’s bar. We went south of these tight spots on the way back, because The Cranberry Islands are south of them. Here is Petite Manan Light.

We entered Roque through The Thoroughfare, the marvelous hidden entrance in the SW part of the land mass

but left through the gap between  Double Shot Island on the east side of the chart, and the island next to it, shown off the side of this chart.










We passed Red Head, dotted with hundreds of white seagulls,

(and Black Head too), the light on Mistake Island

and about a thousand toggled lobster floats. Try as I might, I could not maintain close enough attention to avoid all of then and nicked several of them with our propeller, but did not get stuck on any of them. On the way out, after heading north into Chandler Bay to reach Roque, we saw a seal, swimming nearby, a small one. His head looked like a lobster float. They floats bob under the water when pulled by current, like he did. He rolled over looking like a sleek piece of wet driftwood. That he seemed to leave a wake was not unusual because the currents cause seaweed to be caught on lobster floats so they look like trailing manes. But this guy definitely gave us the once over and then dived. Five minutes later a pod of 6 to 8 porpoises played along side for a few minutes, the first I can recall seeing so far north. On the way back, at about the same spot, we saw about 30 such seals, not swimming as a pack, but playing as individuals. I just finished reading Jack London’s “The Sea Wolf” in which most of the action, and there is a lot of action, takes place on the “Ghost” a sealing schooner, whose crew killed seals for their skins (prized by women of fashion) like Captain Ahab’s crew killed whales for their oil.

Our anchorage was peaceful and serene in 22 feet at low with 90 feet of chain out. And the geography of the Archipelago of islands that comprise Roque, which you can see on the chart, is such that there is also another large harbor on its northern side in case the winds are from the south.
Here is the whole beach from its pebbly eadtern end, followed by me on the sandy section with ILENE in the background and showing the gaps between the lesser islands through which we exited.

 

The sandy beach has a steep slope and the retreating waters during the ebb etch an interesting pattern in the sand.

Only a tiny percentage of pleasure boaters who make it to Mount Desert Island, go further, to what is called The Bold Coast -- no services and very few bots, sort of like Nova Scotia. The only problem with this particular excursion was the lack of wind. We motored the whole way, more than 12.5 hours. Outbound there was flat zero wind, no need to even put up the main to stabilize because there were no waves either. On the return trip, the wind was at our back at approximately the speed of the boat so the American flag hung listlessly. It was cold when we picked up the free guest mooring that the town of Great Cranberry Island maintains. I'm just stating the facts, not bragging to our City friends for whom some natural air conditioning might be welcome these days.

August 10 and 11 -- Somesville to Winter Harbor and Lay Day There, 18 Miles

A “sound,” I had always thought, is a body of water separating a smaller body of land from a larger one: Long Island Sound separates Long Island, New York from the mainland of the North American continent. If that definition is correct, Somes Sound is not a sound but a bay, cutting deeply into Mount Desert Island, a cul de sac, but with a lovely harbor at its terminus.

We left Somes Sound as we had entered, on broad reaches. Coming in we were pushed by south winds and departing pushed by north winds. We sailed under full main and genoa at about six knots, more in gusts. We passed the 140 foot Rebecca, which was being motored north, starboard to starboard. Once out of the Sound and into the Great Harbor of MDI we gybed to port and picked up better wind on beamier port reaches, though the wind was blocked somewhat by the Island itself. We passed he light on Beat Island, right in the Harbor. When we achieved nine knots, briefly, it was clear that we simply were flying too much sail. ILENE was heeled, but not at all like she would have been before the keel augmentation.  So we replaced the genoa with the small jib and continued across Frenchman’s Bay the wide body of water that separates Mount Desert Island’s eastern Bar Harbor side from Schoodic Point, which is considered the eastern end of the Mount Desert Region. We were zipping right along except for about 20 minutes during which God turned off his wind machine, leaving only the waves but not the propulsion.

Our destination was Sand Cove in Winter Harbor, on the east side of Frenchman’s Bay. This port had been scheduled as the first port of call of the Corinthians 2007 Cruise, our first Maine cruise aboard ILENE. But the port was scratched in 2007 due to rain and I had wanted to come here ever since.  Sand Cove is the largest and westernmost of the three coves at the northern end of Winter Harbor (so named because supposedly it does not freeze over in winter).

The Winter Harbor YC has its clubhouse and mooring field in Sand Cove. A very lovely club it is; not posh but rather old fashioned and rustic with large social rooms of wicker furniture, and an active program of racing. Founded only three years after the Harlem, they are proud to be the home of the “oldest complete continuously-raced fleet of sailboats in the country” a fleet of nine matched Winter Harbor 21s, all of which float on adjacent moorings in front of the clubhouse

and they are actively raced each week of the season. They have a pool that guests like us can use and a snack bar type lunch, with self busing of your dirty dishes and an automatic 20 percent tip. Good showers and launch service and an unusual rule: no internet is allowed in the clubhouse. So the posting of this blog will have to wait. We started to walk to town but were picked up by Hop and Marianne, long time members who told us a lot about the history of the place. Apparently, up until about ten or fifteen years ago, an influential member had caused the Club to get a reputation as being “not friendly to visiting cruisers”. Quite the opposite of that is true these days. And, for example, the launch operator drove over to the IGA to pick us up with our groceries.

To join you must own a home in the community and you may wish to join the adjacent community nine-hole golf and tennis court club as well. Very few of the members in their directory list the Winter Harbor area as their primary home. Rather, they live in Florida, North Carolina, California, Boston, New York, DC, etc., except in the summer when they live on Grindstone Point where the Club is located, and frankly there is not much to do in this neighborhood other than the activities that the club provides.

We had planned to spend the night as a good hopping off point to Roque Island, this summer’s furthest destination, and the longest passage since we arrived in Maine. But we learned that the town’s 56^th Annual Lobsterfest was being held the next day so we added a lay day in Winter Harbor. We missed the blueberry pancake breakfast and were too pooped to stay for the parade and fire works, but enjoyed the other activities. There were lobster boat races in the morning.

Lobstermen work hard and it is rather lonely work. But today in fourteen different classes, based on fuel and size, they raced and had a whale of a good time doing it.

We could see the races from our mooring but saw them better, closer, from our dink. These boats are made for dependability, but not speed. Yet the races, for each class, were drag races over a straight course for about a mile. No engines were blown and no one was hurt.

Then came the lobster dinner with communal seating.

It included the lobster, corn on the cob, cole slaw, chips, beverage and a great slice of blueberry pie: $20. Or if you feel hungry (like Ilene was) add a second lobster for $5 more.

Finally, we visited the craft fair and Lene bought a few things. We just lucked out that our schedule coincided with the festival.

August 7 - 9 -- McGlathery to Northeast Harbor to Somesville Harbor, 20 and 6 Miles

I've been told that diesel engines like to be run hard every once and a while -- to burn off deposits that build up at slow speeds. ILENE's engine got her workout between McGlathery and NE Harbor. We departed at seven and from a call to the clinic learned the last availableappointment was at 10:30, not 11;45, shortening our window. We saw no wind more than two knots so it was up to the engine. Our course took us across Jerico Bay, through the Canso Passage, across Blue Hill Bay, through the dredged channel off Bass Point (here is Bass point Light and it shows the smooth waters)

and then along the south coast of Mount Desert Island to the Western Way where we turned north and through the Great Harbor into Northeast Harbor, a long thin bay in the northeastern corner of the Great Harbor. Good tide or at least not adverse. Lots of lobster pots and here they "toggle" them, which requires dodging both ends of each pair.  during our 20 miles we passed close to thousands of them and only nicked one. The channel through the shoals off Bass Point is said to be dredged to a depth of fourteen feet, plenty for us if we stay in the channel. It is marked by a pair of red and white buoys, one at each end. Stay in line between then, like we did, and you will have no problems. It was easier on a day like this when there were no side winds. Waching the depth though it and we saw no less than 22 feet of water.
We took a mooring from Clifton's Dock. This is the fuel dock at which we waited for two hours last year for an agent of customs and immigration to "inspect" ILENE. Lene had called them and after we had lowered and started the dink and drove it to the dock, the manager drove us the five minutes to the clinic in her jeep-like car. The doctor on duty applied plastic strips which he "glued" on. He said they will fall off in ten to fourteen days and I'll be ok.
In Northeast Harbor we went to the only-game-in-town market, and paid the exhorbitant prices charged. We dropped off four days of garbage, took showers, visited the hardware store and lovely rare used book store and some gallerys and ate lobsters. "Rebecca," 140 feet long, was at the dock for the several hours it took her to take on 2500 gallons of diesel. Acres of gleaming varnished teak topside!

In the morning we brought ILENE to the dock for a more modest drink of 11 gallons of diesel and full water tanks. Since Boothbay she has burned .62 gallons of fuel per hour. Returning to the mooring we discovered a leak from the cockpit shower when the fresh water pump was on and fixed it.  Then we dinked over to the public landscape architecture. The estate, with a lovely though not ostentatious wooden house, overlooks the town from the east side of the harbor.

The house is open to the public, which asked not to handle the books in its library.

The gardens, one could see, required a lot of gardeners time to keep looking perfect ech day. They had many flowers and a section in milkweed. That is what monarch butterfies like to eat and they were present in both caterpillar and butterfly form.

We motored out of Eastern harbor and then, with the mild wind still from the south, were able to sail on very broad reaches up Somes Sound to Somesville Harbot at its head, two gybes required. I think this is our fourth trip to Somesville. I like the fact that we always find a free mooring here and Lene likes the Adadia Repertory Theater, about half a mile away. We saw Sacha Masha etc, a comedy by Chris Durang. A silly little story that gives its actors the opportunities to turn in larger than life, over the top performances. Two ladies gave us a lift on the way back to the dock at 10;30 P.M.
We had planned go three miles south to stay on our anchor at Valley Cove on the west side of Somes Sound, with its hike to the top of Flying Mountain that we have done several times before, but that was always in nice weather while today had a lot of rain. And I had fallen way behind in the blogging, so we kept the boat in Somesville and took the free public bus to Southwest Harbor where I used the wifi in their library to get caught up. We also had lunch in the Easyside Cafe, a lovely little family owned diner with great food at good prices served by members of the family and others. The only mistake I made here was eating so much that I had to turn down the blueberry pie, which was calling my name to me very loudly.  I am going to publish this post before the day and night are over, because we are heading east tomorrow to Sand Cove in Winter Harbor and then to Roque Island, for two days each, and I may not be able to post again until we get back to MDI.

August 5 and 6 -- North Haven to Seal Bay to McGlathery Island, 6 ans 13 Miles

Wedid not get underway from North Haven until after lunch, after the 1 p.m. matinee and motored the short distance though we did put up a headsail for a good part of it. We had not visited Seal Bay since our first 2002 Maine Cruise on the Tartan 34. That time we were with a group of about seven Tartans led by the dealer for them on his own boat, Joe, now in Florida. He shepherded us into the Bay, which is a salt water lake, at the NE corner of Vinal Haven Island, created by a number of smaller islands, the largest of which is Penobscot Island, off which we eventually anchored. The place is quite sheltered becuase the passages between theislands are so narrow. It is the most beatiful place, with granite boulders and ledges arising from the sea, topped with conifers. But it has many islands, some of which are underwater at higher tides, so you must have a lot of local knowledge of trust your chart plotter. Man standing on rock: only the white part shows at high tide. next is to the left of the top, showing the underwater beach by which he accessed the rock at low tide by dink.

We were secure with seventy feet of snubbed chain in 25 feet of water at high. In the morning we explored the waters further into the coves by dink and spoke with the folks on other boats before raising the dink and hoisting the anchor to make for out next stop.
That is when the trouble occurred. The anchor came almost all the way up, easily, no mud. But at the last minute, it twisted and its shank got stuck sideways between the stanless steel plates that guide it up and down. The shank is a long bar of metal aout 3/8 of an inch thick an tapering slightly but perhaps 2.5 inches wide. it was jammed so it could not come all the way up, though it was well out of the water, but more sig tnocantly it would not go down -- the anchor could not be used. What to do? First lets get out of here into the open but calm waters, half a mile outside of Seal Bay and far from any rocks. Then the rubber mallet came into use but several hard raps did nothing. at theis point we shut down the engine and drifted. Lene brought the WD 40 which I sprayed liberally. Then the mallet moved the anchor and it came loose. At this is the point of the big problem. Its 45 pounds fell about three feet before its chain stopped its further fall. But my right hand was holding that chain and was dragged down and was cut by the staniless steel sheet guiding the anchor. A deep diagonal gash across the back of the knuckle of my right index finger. Lene brought water, hydrogen peroxide, Bacitracin and a big band aid. And with the memory of the advice that Mendy had given when he sailed with us to elevate the hand, these measures staunched the bleeding.
Underway again for the passage across Eastern Penobscot Bay and through Merchants Row to McGlathery. And the wind came up and the Genoa took us at about six knots on a beautiful sail without the noisemaker.
McGlathery Island was a new port for us. The anchorage is a small bay set into the island's northern end but there were other boats present and we picked a spot  near the east side. There is a beach at which to land a dinghy but with my finger we let that go and did not lower the dink. During the first four hours we rested up there the pink line of the MFD's display of our track showed us dragging very slowly about 60 feet. It turned out to be a quiet night, in terms of the wind, but what troubled me was that while we had put down eighty feet of snubbed chain in 20 feet of water at low, the bottom sloped lower as we moved further from the island, making our scope short at the anchor's new location. So before dark we lifted and reset, to a spot where other boats had vacated, further to the west side of the Bay. In the process we discovered what may have been the cause of the dragging. The anchor brought up yards and yards of broad leafed seaweed which I poked and pulled at with the boat hook  to shake it off before resetting.
Our night at McGlathery was not a pleasant one. For one thing, a mosquito had infiltrated the boat. The other was that my finger was throbbing a little, indicating to me that there was infection. Ilene checked the internet, AT&T only, not Verison (needed to do this blog), and learned that there was a medical clinic in Northeast Harbor, our next stop, but only open until noon. So we made plans for an early departure and spent a restless night. There are so many great anchorages in Maine that I have to say that McGlathery Island is not one of my favorites.