Tide waits for no man

We are under way in the north Atlantic Ocean, headed for the easternmost point of the United States, West Quoddy Head. We are trying to time our arrival for slack water at the Lubec Narrows, underneath the Roosevelt International Bridge. Current is fierce there, as much as eight knots mid-tide, and the channel is narrow.

We are approaching the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, home to the highest tide swing in the world. So much water moves in and out of the bay that the current out here on the outside can be as much as four knots. I had counted on a knot of help, but we have nearly two behind us. In the distance to starboard I can see Grand Manan Island.

We had a peaceful night Saturday at Eastern Harbor. It was a clear night, and here in the remote reaches of Maine the skies are dark, and full of stars. We were thankful to have some limited Internet, and I was mostly able to watch TV, at least until the mast swung between the bird and the dish, sending the gyro-stabilized servomotors into a paroxysm of animation. This is a consequence of the satellite being extremely low in the sky here.

Looking north from our anchorage. VLF array is at right; in the distance center-frame is a salmon farm.

Yesterday's cruise was extremely beautiful; we are in a part of the coast with raw beauty everywhere you look. We whizzed past Jonesport, scoping out some possible anchorages for our return trip. We then crossed Chandler and Englishman Bays, passing Roque Island in between them, a popular cruising destination. We might stop there on the return.

Crossing Machias Bay toward the Cutler Peninsula, some fog moved in, and we briefly fretted we'd be navigating to our anchorage in it. At one point the massive US Navy VLF antenna array ahead of us simply disappeared in it. Fortunately it had mostly lifted by the time we rounded Cross Island, and we dropped the hook in a little cove in Cross Island, behind Mink Island (map). It was a challenge to find a clearing among the lobster pots.

The other challenge was the persnickety anchor roller, which came apart as we were setting. We lost yet another hard-to-source bolt over the side, and I spent the next two hours taking the roller apart, grinding it down with a Fein-tool blade that resembles a cheese grater, and putting it all back together. The threads in the axle are now irreparably damaged, and we'll be searching for a machine shop to make us a new one.

Idyllic anchorage framing a working lobster boat.

That aside, this was one of our most beautiful anchorages to date. Although the view to the north was dominated by the VLF array and a commercial fish-farming operation, it was prototypical Maine coast in every other direction. It was very calm in this well-protected anchorage, even when we were recording 15-knot winds mid-afternoon.

Sometime around 9pm or so, we started hearing a series of weird booms. It sounded almost like thunder, except more regular and consistent. Or perhaps explosives, except less staccato and more prolonged. It went on for perhaps ten minutes or so, coming apparently from somewhere west of Cross Island. At one point we heard sirens, and looked across to see base security at the array, lights flashing, out on the point, presumably also investigating the strange noise.

This morning, three different lobster boats arrived to service their traps, buzzing around us like so many worker bees. One of them had to interact with the sailboat that arrived to the anchorage well after us, whose boat had swung over one of their pots. As I mentioned, finding a clearing can be a challenge.

Flat calm on the Bay of Fundy this morning. Maine at left, Grand Manan, Canada at right. Weird inversion layer plays tricks with the horizon.

Today we had our first whale sighting, just off the coast west of Bog Brook. We saw it very clearly, surfacing four or five times, but could not see enough of it for a positive ID. I will venture a guess that it was a Minke, from the dorsal fin and the estimated length. It was too far away to get a photo.

This afternoon, if all goes well in the Narrows, we will be anchored around the corner from Lubec, Maine, the easternmost town in the US. We have mail and packages headed to the post office there, and we hope to find a restaurant or two open for business. We're also hoping to get some water at the town dock; we made a strategic error in not filling up in Southwest Harbor. I also need to find gas for the dinghy, as I just used up the last of what we bought for the Bahamas at the last stop.