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| Setting out on our first cruising adventure |
We departed South Bristol Harbor on
Friday, August 17 (not, as previously advertised, on Thursday, due to
incessant pouring rain). Friday morning was sunnier and decidedly
more auspicious, although the winds were negligible as we motored SE
through Johns Bay toward Pemaquid Point. By the time we rounded the
red bell buoy at Pemaquid, there was just enough wind to put up sails
and shut off the engine. Speed over ground: two-point-one knots. Hmm.
Two-point-five. Three-point-one. Now four-point-three, and so on. By
the time we reached Eastern Egg Rock, looking for Atlantic puffins (we had seen a lone individual here on July 21 sailing with Bob and Jo Steneck),
we were zipping along at 6.6 knots, and so busy with helm and sail
handling that we couldn't spot and identify anything smaller than a
laughing gull (400, estimated count), a few double-crested
cormorants, and a lone bald eagle atop a big rock. We made a quick U-shaped run around the south end of Eastern Egg and back,
finally departing northward toward the lighthouse on Franklin Island.
Past Franklin, we turned westward and then south into the tiny
anchorage between Harbor and Hall Islands.
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| Sailing north wing-on-wing past Franklin Island |
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GPS track showing our anchorage between Harbor and Hall
Islands |
With Sue at the helm and Curtis at the
bow handling the Muir manual windlass (a Hercules HM-1200), we set
our 35-pound plow anchor easily in 21 feet of water. After watching for 30
minutes or so, to be sure the anchor wasn't dragging, we rowed the
dinghy ashore on Harbor Island, where the resident owners allow
visiting boaters to explore the island by trail.
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| Dinghy on the beach; Cilantro in the middle background |
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| Setting out on a walk on Harbor Island |
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| Spruce woods on Harbor island |
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| One of the fairy (or gnome?) houses |
We had a great hour
or so walking and birding the woods and the blackberry tangles. Our
landbird list included cedar waxwings, American crow, a
black-and-white warbler, a gray catbird, song sparrows, black-capped
chickadees, and families of common yellowthroats,
black-throated-green warblers, red-breasted nuthatches, and
white-throated sparrows. Oh, and a few families of mosquitoes.
Passing through a spruce forest festooned with Old Man's Beard lichen
(Usnea species), we came across 12 or so tiny “fairy houses” (or
gnome houses, we were told by a gentleman on the beach) built of
sticks, stones, shells, and moss. Each was unique.
Back on the beach, the mosquitoes were
ravenous and invited themselves for dinner, following us out to the boat. We scrambled down the companionway stairs and set up our screened
hatch board as protection. The few Anopheles that snuck in were eventually dispatched, but not before drawing
first blood. We eat; they eat.
The residents of Harbor Island put on a nice fireworks show on their dock that we watched through the portlights (not brave enough to face the tiny terrors in the cockpit), and then a small thunderstorm moved in. Ah Maine. If it isn't raining, it's raining.
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| View, with lobster buoys, up the west shore of Harbor Island |
