Our own private Isle au Haut

We are under way across Jericho Bay, after a very pleasant stay at Isle au Haut. We are bound for Southwest Harbor on Mount Desert Island, even though I had predicted we'd be further east than that. That's because weather is moving in that will pin us down for a couple of days, and we want to be someplace with more southerly protection and more services.

Second-sunset at Laundry Cove

We had a very nice cruise from Tenants Harbor to Isle au Haut, other than a brief thunderstrom and the constant steering around lobster floats. I spend a good part of the cruise steering by hand, and I am past done by the time we finish, which is why I plan days of only four to at most five hours here. This kind of mostly open water almost anyplace else is a set-it-and-forget-it sort of affair with the autopilot.

Pre-departure shot of Tenants Harbor.

We entered the harbor from the south, via the Isle au Haut Thorofare. The harbor is very picturesque, but, as I had expected, there was no room among the numerous moorings to anchor. Also, reports from those who've tried say the bottom is solid rock with no holding. Still, it was worth a look, after which we exited to the north through the narrow channel, with plenty of depth at a tide level of +8'.

This storm is catching up to us at sea.

We instead proceeded to a small embayment called Laundry Cove, between Point Lookout and Birch Point, and dropped the hook right in the middle (map) in 20-30'. Only one other boat was there, a Looper in a Meridian 490 called Troubadour, when we dropped, but by the time we turned in, three other boats had joined us, all three rental moorings in the harbor having been taken early in the day. One of them, a lovely MJM 40 "Downeast" called Liberty, managed to wrap a pot on their way in, and spent an hour diving on it to free the prop.

We had the hook down by 1:30, and so we splashed the tender and I went ashore to explore the tiny community of Isle au Haut, Maine. The name, by the way, is pronounced like "I'll uh hoe," inspiring today's post title. I tied up to the town landing, where the mailboat from Stonington lands twice daily.

The Rules Ashore.

Signage on the dock provides the Covid guidelines for visitors, and information on what's open and what's not. Even though I knew it would be closed, I made my first stop the National Park ranger station, about a quarter mile south of the landing. I expected to just read the signs, but the resident ranger was outside working, and greeted me when I arrived.

Tiny ranger station. Building was closed to public, but important info is posted outside.

She pointed out some of the trails on the map. The small campground at Duck Harbor, like the ranger station itself, is closed, but the park is open for day use. She told me day hikers arrive on the morning mailboat and depart on the evening one. I opted not to do any hiking in the park, but I know some of the vistas are breathtaking.

I had no cell coverage, so I took this photo of the park service map of the island at the ranger station. All this parkland was gifted by the Bowditch family. Yes, that Bowditch.

I turned around and headed north, passing the landing and then the Post Office, which was more or less a roadside shack. Next up was the small grocery and general store, which was surprisingly well stocked and reminded me a bit of the small stores in the Bahamas. I hoped to find some beer, and, while they did have a selection, none was the type I typically drink.

Diminutive post office.

On the same property is a small kitchen trailer, selling mostly lobster rolls but also a few other sandwiches, and known locally as "the Lobster Lady." We were hoping to return at dinner time for a lobster roll on one of the patio tables, but it turns out she is only open Thursday through Sunday. Fortunately, we were prepared for this outcome, with dinner ingredients already thawed.

The Lobster Lady, the only "restaurant" on the island.

I continued on past the Congregational Church until I reached the Town Hall, Library, and Community Center building, also closed. We returned this morning together just for the exercise, walking from the landing to the church and back. When we returned to the anchorage, Vector was alone. It was a very pleasant and remote stop; I stepped out on deck before turning in to find the sky full of seldom-seen stars.

Leaving this morning on another +8' tide, we threaded our way out through the otherwise impassable Burnt Island Thorofare to cut a mile off our route through the bay. With no beacons, buoys, or markers, this transit, as well as much of the island-threading we did all day, would have been ill-advised if not impossible in the pre-GPS era. Much of what I steered around today was underwater and not visible on the surface. Not quite the level of the tense undersea canyon scene in The Hunt for Red October, but a similar concept.

I did not climb the hill to the church. At one point in the bay I was using the steeple as a steering point.

Update: We are anchored near the Mill Dam, around the corner from Southwest Harbor, MDI (map). Anchoring is not permitted in the harbor proper, not as if there is any room among the moorings. We're in the Nordhavn ghetto, with our old friends Mermaid Monster, along with Emmanou, Bravo, and Boreas. It's amusing how all the expedition yachts are over here in the anchorage, and the swoopy go-fasts are over on the moorings.

This is a popular destination, and it ought to be a zoo here over the weekend. Outside weather will have us here at least two and maybe three nights, before we resume our journey to the far corner of the state.