Making tracks

We are under way southbound across Massachusetts Bay, bound for the Cape Cod Canal. I am reminded today that Vector, with her stalwart crew of two, is exactly the same size (length, beam, draft, and displacement) as the Pinta, the smallest and fastest of Columbus's ships, which had a crew of 26.  We could perhaps stuff another 24 people in here in a pinch, but the mind boggles.

This morning's sunrise over Eastern Point light station, Cape Ann, as we left Gloucester.

We arrived to Portland Harbor Friday on a flood tide, and were approaching the Casco Bay bridge by 5pm. Just under the bridge is a city dock that is free for four hours, or $1.50 per foot overnight, first come, first served. We had contemplated perhaps spending the night there, or else anchoring in the harbor and tendering in on Saturday morning to pick up the part from the sewing place, just a half mile walk.

With the possibility that the dock might be unavailable and the further possibility that the anchorage where we often stay could be rolly all night from the ocean swell, I had called the South Port Marina right next door, also just a half mile walk, while we were still offshore to see if they had room. They had just switched to their winter rate of $2/ft, and with the delta being just 50 cents plus the ability to have power overnight when the forecast said it was going to drop into the 40s, I booked it. We'd arrive after closing, so checking out either the city dock or the anchorage first was not an option.

Departing Portland we spotted the brand new, ice-class pocket cruise ship Ocean Explorer.

We arrived at dead low tide, carefully navigating the entrance channel with just a foot under the keel, and were tied alongside (map) by 5:20. As soon as the boat was secured we made the short walk over to Foul Mouthed Brewing for good burgers with some excellent house-made drafts. I enjoyed the brown so much that I purchased a four-pack of pint cans to take home.

As usual, Louise took advantage of having unlimited water and power to do some laundry, and even though I tend not to start projects after dinner, I could not pass up the chance to change the oil while the engine was still warm from the passage. Doing it at the dock rather than waiting a day to the next anchorage also meant I had the brighter AC-powered engine room lights for the task. I also tore the sewing machine back down in anticipation of having the part first thing in the morning.

Moonrise over the Atlantic from our anchorage at Stage Island.

The sewing place opened at 9:30 and we walked over together to grab the part. The two-day shipping from Juki in Miami, at $30, was more than the part, $21. We stopped in at the Hanaford supermarket next door for provisions, and had nice bagel sandwiches for breakfast at the Cia Cafe on our way home. South Portland is a nice little town, with a very different vibe than its big sister across the river.

I installed the new speed sensor first thing upon returning to the boat, and I was quite relieved that it immediately solved the problem. I still don't understand what happened to the old one while I was replacing the motor -- it's just an LED and a photocell, after all -- but all's well that ends well. I'm sure we disappointed the sewing shop, who was hoping to sell a whole new machine, which they had in stock, for $999. That's exactly what would have happened had I not been able to fix it before they closed at 2pm.

This morning Enchanted Princess crossed in front of us on her way to Boston.

We were all fed, watered, and walked, just like pets, before noon, and we dropped lines to make whatever progress we could in another day of great passage conditions. We left Portland Harbor without ever even stopping in the eponymous city. As a harbinger of our good passage ahead, I spotted a fluke just before it disappeared under water, just off Willard Beach.

Outside conditions were excellent, but with a mid-day start Cape Porpoise was as far as we could reasonably get in the daylight. We pulled into a familiar cove called Stage Island Harbor and dropped the hook (map). I grilled up some chicken for dinner.

At dinner last night, somebody (not I) tipped the restaurant that Louise's birthday is this week.

Conditions had also been forecast to be good yesterday, but winds were much higher than forecast, blowing 25 knots out of the west rather than the forecast 5-10. That made for rough water as soon as we left the protection of Cape Porpoise, putting our intended goal of Gloucester, some nine hours away, in jeopardy. That, in turn, would ace us out of the canal today, with the ultimate effect of being pinned down by this incoming system in a less than ideal place.

That's not a big deal, but still we'd like to take as much advantage of this good window as we can. We figured we could still make good progress if we hugged the coast instead of taking the direct route, and so we angled in toward the coast at Bald Head until the seas diminished, and ran just a couple of miles offshore all the way past New Hampshire.

Our planned route (blue) and our actual track (thick black) from Cape Porpoise to Cape Ann.

On the near-shore route the sensible way in to Gloucester Harbor is via the Anisquam River and Blynman Canal, a route we've used previously. But the river has some shallow sections of just seven feet, and we'd be arriving at a low tide of -0.65 (yes, that's a below-zero tide). Navigating that with a couple of knots of following current would be a recipe for running aground and waiting hours for the tide to lift us off. Instead we angled back out and around Cape Ann, once we were in its protection from the southerly swell. In all it added an hour to the trip, and we had the hook down in a familiar spot in Gloucester Harbor (map) a full ten hours after weighing anchor.

Scrambling to make tracks during this relatively short window of good passage weather meant whizzing right past Porstmouth, NH and Newburyport, MA, the two closest harbors to my cousins in New Hampshire. Usually we stop for a couple of days to get in a family visit. When they learned we'd be stopping in Gloucester they opted to make the hour-plus drive down to meet us for dinner. We met them ashore at the 1606 Restaurant in the Beauport Hotel, where I scored the very last table when I made the reservation in the afternoon. We had a great time catching up over good food and lots of drinks.

Post-prandial family selfie at the restaurant.

This morning we weighed anchor at 0630 in order to arrive at the Cape Cod Canal on a favorable tide. At this writing it looks like we will just make it, with a favorable current all the way to Onset, our destination for today. We could get further, but they have a good price on diesel fuel, or at least they did yesterday, and we're hoping to bunker there before moving on. With any luck, we will get all the way to Newport before we have to hunker down for weather.

Back in the US

We are under way westbound in the North Atlantic Ocean, running along the Maine coast. Today is the first good weather window we've had since arriving back in the US on Saturday. We're skipping all the usual stops and will make as much progress today as daylight will allow.

The watch changed shortly after my last post, and Louise had a miserable watch dodging lobster floats in the dark all night. Seas were too choppy to pick them up on radar, so she just drove with the spotlight on, catching their reflections at the last minute. Lobster season never closes in Maine, and our blissfully float-free run through Nova Scotia was over. I took down our Canadian courtesy flag and hoisted the Q before I turned over the watch.

Rockland Breakwater Light. A long but popular walk from shore.

I came back on watch at 0900 ADT, after which we immediately changed the ship's clocks to EDT, making it 0800. By 9:30 we were approaching the Rockland Harbor breakwater, and we had the hook down at 0940 in the northeast corner of the harbor (map), Anchorage B, a new spot for us. This in anticipation of high winds out of the NE, starting in the middle of the night.

It was calm and pleasant when we dropped the hook, and after clearing in via the CBP app, we spent most of the day relaxing and recovering from our first overnight passage since our northbound run to Atlantic City back in May. By dinner time we felt good enough to splash the tender and head ashore to one of our old stand-bys, Rustica right downtown. We landed at the town dock, which had a prominent sign that all dinghies needed to be out by October 15th, which is when they remove the dock.

This is the latest we've ever been here, by a good couple of weeks. The harbor was startlingly empty, a sea of unused mooring balls ready to be removed. The Landings marina was already closed, the docks removed and stacked neatly ashore. All sure signs it is time to get out of Dodge -- soon almost all the fuel and water stops along the Maine coast will be closed for the season, and weather windows get fewer, shorter, and farther between. On the positive side, this is the most fall color we've ever seen cruising Maine.

Whitehead Light Station on a beautiful fall day.

As if to underscore the point, the forecast winds arrived with a vengeance just before I turned in, escalating quickly from almost nothing to 30 knots, and gusting over 35. It was a bit of a wild night, but our chosen location in the northeast corner served us well and we only had the wind to contend with, and not heavy seas. The winds persisted all night and through most of the day Sunday as well.

Thus trapped on the boat, I jumped right in to a project, repairing a critical piece of equipment on board. While not a piece of propulsion machinery, navigational equipment, or even a cooking appliance, it was an item nevertheless entirely essential to crew harmony and well-being: the sewing machine. Louise reported it had begun making grinding noises, and was afraid continued use might lead to catastrophic failure.

Tearing it apart I was able to diagnose the problem straight away: the end bearing on the motor was shot. I've already replaced the motor twice, with one of the previous repairs also being a bearing failure, so it was no big surprise. We had learned that the motor is the Achilles heel of this particular machine, and thus we had a brand new spare on hand, just as we would for any critical system on board.

Fresh motor ready to go in.

It was Monday by the time I got the new motor in place and the machine back together, but to no avail: the machine was "running away." Apparently something in the speed sensor circuit broke during the replacement. I figured it had to be a loose wire or something -- that part was working before I started. So I spent another full day plus messing with the circuit, also to no avail. We have a new speed sensor on its way to Portland today.

After the winds abated somewhat Sunday afternoon, we decided it was just calm enough to get to the very closest dinghy dock, attached to the north end of the breakwater just a thousand feet from us (as opposed to the town dock, over a mile away). From there, after walking off the rough-hewn granite block breakwall, it's a short stroll to the four-diamond Samoset Resort. We had a very pleasant dinner in their Enoteca lounge, a more casual space with the full menu of their white-tablecloth restaurant. Resort prices, but the food was good and it was close.

The Canadian pocket cruise ship Pearl Mist anchored in the harbor on her foliage tour. We had seen her in Halifax.

I'd been meaning to try this spot for a while, having stayed in this harbor perhaps a half dozen times now, and I'm glad we went when we did. A couple of days later, the work crew showed up in their hoist barge and removed the dock. They first picked up the lightweight dinghy of another cruising boat and carried it on to the breakwall, where it sat until its occupants returned. They somehow managed to get it back down and return to their boat. We made a mental note that any dock we use might be slated for removal that very day.

On Wednesday we went ashore in the afternoon and took Uber to and from Walmart. There's a nice Hanaford grocery store in walking distance of the dock, but we're overdue for an oil change and I needed seven gallons of oil. There was no way I was going to pay $40 a gallon for it in Canada, and even the auto parts places in town wanted over $21 for what Walmart sells for $14; the difference more than covered our Uber, and this let us replenish our staples. We returned to Vector with the dinghy loaded to the gills. We would have stayed ashore for dinner, but we got back just before it started to rain, so we had a nice dinner on board.

It was a fairly pleasant five nights in Rockland, and in the course of our stay we also made it to the two waterfront joints, both decent, for dinner, Archers and The Landings. I also made it to Hamilton Marine hoping to find a plotter/sounder for the tender but left empty-handed. We did have an uninvited guest earlier in the week; we were hearing "knocking" that took several minutes to track down. When we finally figured it out, it turned out to be a gull pecking at our soft top; he actually managed to poke some holes in it before we found him and chased him away.

Beak holes in our fairly new top. The gray top makes the daylight stand out more.

Yesterday was the warmest day since our arrival, with a high in the upper 60s. That gave me a chance to go aloft and patch the top with some fabric tape we have for the purpose. You can still see the holes, but this will keep them from spreading into full-on tears, and keep the water out. It's a shame to have this damage after only two years.

Louise has been tracking the weather forecasts multiple times per day, and yesterday she confirmed today's window still looked good. So we weighed anchor in the afternoon and made the short 2.5 hour trip to Tenants Harbor to get a head start for today. We dropped the hook in a new spot for us, a bit north of the main harbor (map), hoping to be out of the swell.

Clear patch in place on the top side.

We had a nice dinner complete with some local drafts in the Quarry Tavern at the East Wind Inn, right near the town dock. We both had lobster rolls, which were the meatiest and tastiest we've had anywhere, and reasonably priced. They are just feet from the lobster dock and they pick their lobster meat fresh daily.

Unfortunately, not long after we got home and decked the tender, the wind died completely and Vector turned broadside to the small swell that was coming into the harbor. It was just enough to sustain an annoying roll at Vector's resonant period, and Louise had a rough night. In hindsight we might have set a stern anchor or a swell bridle in the evening to mitigate this, and we'll try to remember that for the next time we're here.

This morning we weighed anchor after our first cup of coffee for what will be an all-day passage. As I am typing this paragraph we've already passed Booth Bay, the first time we've ever done so without stopping, and the plotter says we will be in Portland just after 5pm.

Massachusetts bound

We are underway southbound in the Atlantic Ocean. As I begin typing, Gosport Harbor, the Isles of Shoals, and the Star Island lodge are off to port, and the Hampton River is off to starboard. We have finally left the thickest areas of lobster floats behind us and I can divert some attention to typing.

Not long after I last posted on Friday, we arrived at the Piscataqua River and headed directly to our familiar spot in Pepperrell Cove, off Kittery Point, Maine (map). It was very comfortable when we arrived, and we looked forward to perhaps spending a few days in that spot, running upriver a couple of miles in the tender to enjoy downtown Portsmouth. We had a quiet dinner on board.

Unfortunately, at the evening turn of the tide, we ended up broadside to a gentle swell that was right at Vector's resonant frequency, and Louise had a miserable night. Things were again tolerable when we awoke, but at the midday tide change the rolling started again, and we decided we needed a different venue.

Normally we would just go upriver to the city docks at Prescott Park, but there is a three-night limit there, and we were still sorting out when we might see my cousins, who were away for the weekend, and my aunt and uncle, who might drive out from Saratoga to see us. We wanted to save our three nights for the visit, if possible.

Instead we weighed anchor and cruised up the Piscataqua in search of an anchorage. The tidal current in the river is wicked, to use the local parlance, and thus most of the riverbed is scoured down to rock. Even the places where sediment and gravel collects are deep, from 30-60' at low tide, making for large swing circles that will inevitably encompass lobster floats or mooring balls.

Upbound on the Piscataqua, approaching the very modern Sarah Mildred Long lift bridge, with the I-95 arch bridge behind it.

Hoping to still be within dinghy distance of the city dock, perhaps three miles or so, I scoped out a couple of possibilities along the industrial waterfront north of town. We requested an opening of the Memorial Bridge just upriver of Prescott Park, passed under the swoopy Sarah Mildred Long lift bridge without needing an opening, and then under the fixed I-95 bridge before reaching the area.

One of the two spots I had scoped out had enough holding and just enough room for us to swing among the pots. But as we were getting ready to snub, an irritable lobsterman came by and started harassing us about being too close to their gear. We never tangle with fishing gear at anchor -- every time we've caught a piece of gear we've been under way -- but this was not an argument I wanted to have in the middle of the river, and especially knowing we would be leaving the boat unattended periodically. We decided to just move along.

That meant going all the way around the corner, past Dover Point, and into the start of The Great Bay. The narrows under the Little Bay bridge at Dover Point has some of the highest current on the river, three knots at max flood or ebb, and we whizzed through with a following current, hand steering. We dropped the hook in a wide spot in the bay with some sand on the bottom (map), in an area marked on Google Maps as "Boston Harbor" (really).

From here it is five miles to Portsmouth, which is a 20-minute ride going flat out. Not something we wanted to do with temperatures in the 60s, so instead we headed a short distance across the bay to Lexie's, a burger joint at the Great Bay Marina. Dinner was fine, and it was nice to get off the boat. It also gave us a chance to check out the marina.

We spent two nights in the anchorage, and it was dark, quiet, calm, and peaceful. Sunday was cold and rainy, a perfect day to work in the engine room, where I replaced the zincs on the main engine heat exchanger. That's a particularly fiddly process on our engine, best done when there is no deadline for moving, in case anything goes awry. We had a quiet dinner aboard.

Monday my cousins returned from their trip, and arranged to pick us up in the afternoon. Our preferred digs at Prescott Park were unavailable for those three nights, and so instead we simply moved the boat over to Great Bay Marina and tied up to the face dock (map). As usual, we filled the water tank and Louise started a round of laundry before we left for the evening.

Last night I had to replace this anchor roller, which the chain nearly wore in two. Note the hole in the middle.

We had a great three evenings visiting with my cousins and my aunt and uncle, who arrived Tuesday. In between visits we kept one of their cars, which we used to make runs to the grocery store, Walmart, and Costco for provisions, Lowes for maintenance supplies, and Goodwill to deposit the last couple of months' worth of superfluous items. I thought I'd be trundling seven gallons of used motor oil, too, but the marina had a collection tank and just took it.

My cousin and uncle dropped us back off at the marina Wednesday night just as the remains of Hurricane Ida landed on us. We had torrential rain all night, swelling the river, and saw winds up to around 30. Not enough for us to notch Ida into our tropical cyclone tally, but clearly it wreaked death and destruction on NY and NJ, where we will be headed shortly.

Yesterday we dropped lines after the worst of the storm had passed and the current was favorable. The freshet was so large that I had to idle most of the way due to the extra current, to avoid station-keeping at the bridge. We arrived at Memorial Bridge at low tide, and I had lowered our tall antennas in the hope of just squeezing under, but again the extra water reduced the clearance to where we had only millimeters to spare, and we asked for an opening.

We continued all the way to Pepperrell Cove in anticipation of today's passage. But once we had the hook set, it became clear we would again have an uncomfortable swell all night, and instead we moved over to a mooring ball at our old friends the Portsmouth Yacht Club, across the river (map). We were comfortable here all night, although there were some wakes in the evening and this morning. Launch service is included in the $40 mooring fee, but we opted to just remain aboard.

As I finish typing, the plotter is projecting an arrival in Gloucester Harbor around 16:30, and if it's warm enough, we might tender ashore for dinner. Tomorrow's passage weather is also good, and so we will make way across Massachusetts Bay in the morning.

Last hurrah in Maine

We are under way in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of southeastern Maine, headed southwest toward the Piscataqua River. It is a gorgeous day out here, with calm seas over about a one-foot swell. It's our last good day to make tracks before some nasty weather moves in and we are pinned down until next week.

Shortly after my last post we arrived to our usual spot in General Anchorage A in Portland Harbor. After dropping the hook and getting settled in, we splashed the tender and headed up the Fore River to the town dock in South Portland, where our friends Stacey and Dave had taken shelter from Henri. It was a good spot for that, in protected water and further protected by the large east pier of the Casco Bay Bridge. We made a note of the dock for the future.

Draft beer selection at Ruski's Tavern

The dock is a short walk from downtown South Portland (a different city from its namesake across the river), and we enjoyed a nice stroll, but even on a Tuesday most of the local restaurants were dark, leaving the well-rated taco joint packed. We all piled into Stacey's car and they drove us across the bridge to another of their favorite dive bars, Ruski's Tavern, where we enjoyed a nice dinner on a sidewalk picnic table. It was great catching up with them for a final visit before leaving.

I had need of a watch repair, and I spent some time Wednesday hoofing around downtown Portland to a handful of stores. I ended up at a place called Swiss Time, which does nothing but watches, and they were so good that I returned the next day with a different timepiece. A real find in a surprising place. I also made a trek to Whole Foods, really the only grocery store in (long) walking distance of the dock to top up the provisions, swinging by Mr. Bagel on the way for a few decent bagels.

Town landing at South Portland. Good to know.

I had picked the warmest day of the season to walk a couple of miles, but that made for very pleasant conditions when we walked to dinner al fresco at the Garden Cafe outside the Regency Hotel. The food was excellent, albeit at hotel prices, and it is one of the most pleasant outdoor spaces in town. The hotel itself occupies the old armory, and has retained the historic facade.

Yesterday would have been a good day out here for a passage, but it was clear that we'd be pinned down in the next stop for a few days starting tomorrow, so it did not make a lot of sense to rush out. "Hurry up and wait," as they say. We had another pleasant day in Portland instead, almost as warm as Wednesday, and headed ashore for a final dinner at Ri Ra, just off the dock.  We decked the tender when we got home.

This morning we weighed anchor on the very last of the ebb, for a favorable tide at our next stop on the Saco River. I had scoped out an anchorage there, and we could get ashore at a couple of docks with access to restaurants and other shops, a good place to hunker down. But another check of the weather as we were leaving the harbor persuaded us to press on a bit farther.

I have to walk down the ferry dock at the Maine State Pier to get to the dinghy; here I ended up behind some kind of group all dressed in white. An event at one of the islands, I imagine.

There are not many inlets along this stretch of coast. I called the harbormaster in York, Maine, which would be an excellent stop, but their moorings are limited to 50' in length. The lone anchorage in the outer harbor is exposed to the east, thus untenable for this stop. That leaves us with continuing to the Piscataqua and a familiar anchorage off Kittery Point, Maine.

I was really hoping for another stop or two along this coast, but we are in a part of the seaboard where weather dictates our movements more often than not. We've enjoyed our month in Maine and are allowing ourselves to be ready to move along as weather permits.

So long, Henri

Just a quick update today: We are underway westbound in the Atlantic Ocean, between Cape Small and Harpswell Neck. The remnants of Henri have seas at 3'-4', but on a long period that makes for a gentle roll. Watching them crash ashore, however, is impressive. According to the NHC, Henri is officially dissipated, and was a complete non-event for us.

The storm came ashore with a vengeance in Rhode Island, pummeling Block Island before arriving in Narragansett Bay. Cold water had already weakened it, and then it drove well inland through Massachusetts, losing much of its strength before turning east. Even though it went back out to sea, conditions here do not support intensification.

Fog creeps in to our very calm anchorage after sunset.

The occasional gust of 30 over a steady 20 that I wrote about Sunday was the most we ever saw, less than half Vector's personal best of over 70mph. We need not have even put out any additional scope in our well-protected, good-holding anchorage. I made a nice steak on the grill Sunday evening, in light drizzle and wind courtesy of Henri.

Yesterday it was as if nothing had happened at all, and we had a quiet day aboard, knowing seas outside were still over eight feet. But it was calm in our anchorage and even in Boothbay Harbor, and we again made the long tender ride into town for dinner, landing at Taka on the waterfront. It was nice to get off the boat and stretch our legs; after dinner we walked out to the middle of the historic footbridge and back.

What the swell we are in looks like against the rocky shore. My camera could not really capture it.

We had been fully prepared to remain hunkered down another day. With the last forecast models showing Henri as a Tropical Depression with a defined center until sometime this evening, the NHC issued its final advisory at 5am this morning. A check of our various passage weather resources showed great conditions tomorrow, but acceptable ones today, and we decided to move along. That's a great anchorage, but we were ready to be done.

This afternoon we will be in Casco Bay, possibly all the way to Portland. We have some errands there and friends to visit before we continue west and south. We're in no hurry to leave Maine, which still has a better case rate than anywhere else on the seaboard, but we also want to avoid the frigid temperatures we had last year by dragging our heels too long.

Passing the historic navigational monument on Little Mark Island. Seas have calmed considerably.

The plotter says we will be in Portland by 3:30. My next post will be under way out of Portland for a final stop or two along the SW Maine coast.

Henri ennui

We are anchored in Moffat Cove on Townsend Gut (map), nestled between Southport Island and Boothbay. We had stopped here on our northbound run and found it to be very protected; here we will make our stand against Hurricane Henri (official pronunciation "ahn-REE"). By the time the eye reaches us, the storm should be downgraded all the way to Tropical Depression.

Thursday morning Louise checked the passage weather on her myriad resources, which seldom agree among themselves. After a brief discussion we deemed it acceptable for the outside run to Boothbay. The cruise ship Independence left the dock at 0630, and so we weighed anchor after our first cup of coffee, and headed to the dock to take on water. The Rockland Harbormaster charges a very reasonable $3 for this privilege, and for that we got to stay at the dock for over an hour while we filled the tank.

As is customary when we are filling the water tank, Louise headed to the ER to get some laundry started (our machine uses so much water that it is best to do it when we have an endless supply), and I headed to the harbormaster's office to pay our three bucks. On my way I noticed what appeared to be a farmer's market in the parking area, apparently a weekly occurrence on Thursday mornings.

Sunset over the Sheepscot River as seen from our anchorage in Moffat Cove.

I wandered over to the market, where I found a local mobile brick-oven outfit, The Uproot Pie Co., serving freshly baked bialys, and I picked up two bialy breakfast sandwiches. An unexpected morning treat, and I even had my second cup of coffee to enjoy with it. The bialys were made with the traditional Polish dough and were quite tasty.

After filling the water tanks and offloading our trash, we dropped lines and headed out of the harbor. Once outside in light haze we found smooth surface seas over an underlying swell that was annoying but not uncomfortable. South of Port Clyde we drove into light fog, which got progressively heavier until I had to turn the fog horn on. We ran the horn for the better part of an hour.

Unsurprisingly, the topic of discussion under way was ornery Henri and what we would do about him, even though the much more immediate issue was the remnants of Fred, which would be sending us to this protected anchorage immediately upon our arrival. On Thursday the model guidance was still uncertain enough to have a significant chance of a direct strike here, possibly as a Category 2 storm. In between dodging lobster floats, I used what time I had to develop contingency plans beyond Boothbay.

Uproot Pie Co's mobile brick ovens cranking out bialys and flatbreads at the Rockland farmers' market.

As luck would have it, we arrived in Boothbay Harbor just in time to miss the 16:30 opening of the Southport Island swing bridge, and we putted along at idle speed trying to kill a half hour. I still ended up station-keeping near the bridge for ten minutes. We made the 5pm opening and had the hook down here just ten minutes later in light rain, courtesy of Fred. We had a nice dinner and quiet evening on board.

Friday was a nice day here, although we knew seas were unsuitable for an outside passage, again thanks to Fred. Inside travel would have been fine, and we considered continuing on to Wiscasset, one of our storm options, or even further to Bath, giving us the option to run all the way upriver to Augusta. But by this time the Henri track was more firmly forecast west of here, and we had the potential even to make Casco Bay in a window of calm outside weather on Saturday, so we just stayed put.

That gave me a chance to change the oil on the main engine, overdue by a couple dozen hours, and get things squared away in the engine room. I also ascended the mast and put the control board back into the sat dome, mostly to secure it from further damage but also in preparation for selling the dome as a unit.

We see lots of harbor seals here in Moffat Cove and in Boothbay Harbor.

By the evening we had gorgeous weather, the proverbial calm before the storm, and we decided to make the 20-minute dinghy ride all the way to Boothbay Harbor in search of dinner. On a busy Friday evening it was challenging to find an available outdoor table, but after a short wait we were able to be seated on the upstairs deck at Mine Oyster, overlooking the inner harbor. The food was fine, and it was great to get off the boat and walk around town a bit.

Also on Friday the decision was announced to extend the US border closure another month, to September 21. This really reinforced the notion that we had made the right decision waving off Canada in Bar Harbor. We've already heard reports of US-flagged pleasure craft with US skippers being refused entry from Canada on the grounds that pleasure travel is not allowed. Immigration must allow US citizens back in, but Customs is not required to allow the vessel itself back in, leaving the crew with a sort of Cornelian dilemma -- store the boat someplace in Canada, possibly for delivery later by professional crew, and cross by land, or wait north of the border until the situation changes. No sooner than 9/21, a very late date to be starting south.

Yesterday morning, after confirming the outside weather was still good for passage, we again revisited the possibility of continuing west. By this time, confidence was high that Henri would work well inland over Rhode Island and Massachusetts before turning east as, at most, a tropical storm. We had a recommendation for a good anchorage that would allow us to continue on to Portland pretty much as soon as the storm had passed. The temptation was strong to do exactly that.

View of Boothbay Harbor receding astern of the tender on my provisioning run.

The reality, however, is that there are a lot of boats in Casco Bay, and that anchorage (known as "The Basin") is a well-known and popular hurricane hole. On a nice weekend day, we could expect lots and lots of company there. Possibly to the point that there would not be room for us to anchor on adequate scope by the time we arrived. With few pleasant backup options in that area, we decided it was too risky.

Similarly, we decided that moving to Wiscasset or Bath would mean giving up our primo spot here in search of a putatively better spot in anchorages that may already be filling up. All to be just a few miles further inland for a storm that will be a relatively minor wind event here. Even though we would have better access to shore facilities in those locations, we again opted to remain right here for the duration, and paid out another 50' for chain for storm scope.

Having decided to stay put, we needed to top up provisions, including fresh milk, and I again rode 20 minutes into Boothbay Harbor. The outer harbor was a bit choppy but not horrible, and I had a nice 20-minute walk to the Hannaford grocery store, by way of Grovers Hardware to pick up a stainless bolt I needed. The touristy harbor area was very busy on a pleasant Saturday afternoon; you could not tell a storm was coming.

Control board back in place on the sat dish, before the RF shield went back on. Calm anchorage on a warm day was a great place to do this work.

Knowing we'd be pinned down on the boat now until the storm passes, we braved a bit of a chill in light fog to go out for dinner last night. We opted to avoid the long ride and choppy harbor by going only as far as Robinson's Wharf, just beyond the swing bridge. On a busy Saturday we had a short wait for an outside table, and even though it is mid-August, we kept our coats on and they had the patio heaters running. We decked the tender as soon as we returned home, since the forecast said the winds could arrive as early as 8am.

It's about 3pm as I finish typing, and so far winds have only been 20, with an occasional gust to 30. The water in this protected cove is nearly flat calm. We have everything battened down for gale force winds, really the most I expect to see. Engines and systems are ready for start-up should the unlikely need arise; I don't do maintenance on those systems in these conditions.

I pretty much expect to be sitting just like this until the eye passes some two days hence. Our hearts and thoughts are with those much closer to the more destructive forces of this storm. We know many boats and crews that are being or will be pummeled by tropical storm force winds, 3-4' storm surge, and torrential rains over the next few hours.

Moonrise over Moffat Cove. Taken shortly after the sunset picture above.

For anyone keeping score, Vector already has ten tropical cyclones under her belt. Clicking the link on any of these will take you to the most relevant post, with preparation, planning, or aftermath possibly in surrounding posts:

• Hurricane Arthur, July 2014, docked in Portsmouth, Virginia
• Tropical Storm Joaquin, October 2015, docked in Chesapeake City, Maryland
• Tropical Storm Colin, June 2016, docked in St. Marks, Florida
• Tropical Storm Cindy, June 2017, docked in Biloxi, Mississippi
• Hurricane Irma, September 2017, docked in Charleston, South Carolina
• Tropical Storm Olga (remnant), October 2019, anchored on Pickwick Lake, Tennessee
• Tropical Storm Bertha, May 2020, anchored near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina
• Tropical Storm Fay, July 2020, anchored off Manhattan, New York
• Hurricane Isaias, August 2020, docked in Portsmouth, New Hampshire
• Hurricane Teddy, September 2020, docked in Augusta, Maine
• Tropical Storm Elsa, July 2021, anchored in Sag Harbor, New York

Weather will not be conducive to make the outside run to Portland until sometime after the eye has passed. It's unclear whether we will spend that time here, or in Boothbay Harbor, or make the inside run to Bath. In any event, I don't expect to post here again until we are under way to Portland.

History repeats itself

We are under way westbound across Isle Au Haut Bay as I begin typing, headed for the Fox Islands Thorofare and thence across Penobscot Bay to Rockland, Maine. I had hoped to do a bit more gunkholing and visits to smaller towns on this leg of the cruise, but in an eerie replay of our return cruise last season, we are dodging two tropical storms, and need a place to get motor oil and some other items.

Sunset over Southwet Harbor.

We had a lovely final weekend in Bar Harbor, strolling to an early (to beat the rush) dinner on two perfect evenings. I am very fond of the local ale and porter from the Atlantic Brewery, available on draft all over town, so I picked up two six-packs on our final night. It only comes in bottles, even though we prefer not to have glass aboard.

Monday morning we weighed anchor for the southern end of the island. We poked into Northeast Harbor hoping to find a spot to anchor, but it's a tight harbor, and the only place without moorings had too many pot floats to allow us swing room. We continued on, looping through Great Harbor before finally anchoring very close to our previous spot adjacent to the Mill Dam, in Southwest Harbor (map).

Southwest Harbor is the quintessential picturesque Maine.

It was a beautiful afternoon, and so we made the fairly long tender ride to the upper town dock and walked a half mile to town for dinner. We had a nice table on the outside deck at the Drydock Inn. Overall the harbor had a much busier feel than this time last year; we felt fortunate to find an outside table on a Monday evening.

Having need of nothing else in Southwest Harbor, we opted to move along yesterday morning. But I still wanted to see Northeast Harbor, or, more specifically, the town of Mount Desert which the harbor serves, and so we rode the tender over in the calm of the morning. It took about 15 minutes to run the two and a half miles. We enjoyed strolling the quaint town, but were glad we did not pull out all the stops to anchor here; it was mostly shops full of overpriced items nobody needs. The lone restaurant had no outside tables.

After we anchored we were surprised to see Seaway Supplier pick up a mooring ball right next to us. I wrote about this storied vessel when we first encountered her, in the Thousand Islands as befits her name.

We returned to Vector, decked the tender, and weighed anchor for parts west. I had hoped to go to Belfast, which regular readers may remember that we bypassed last year on account of the weather, after first unsuccessfully trying to use their pumpout. Unfortunately, Belfast is the biggest Covid hotspot in the state at the moment, so we are waving off again. The route to Belfast would have taken us once more through the Eggemoggin Reach, with a good chance of running into our friends Dori, Bob, Steph, and Martin on Liberdade and Blossom, who were anchored in Bucks Harbor.

With Belfast off the table, we instead set a course for the Deer Island Thorofare, where a possible overnight stop would be the small community of Stonington. We stopped short, however, preferring instead a quiet and scenic anchorage nestled among Camp, Devil, and Bold Islands, just off the Thorofare (map). We shared the enormous anchorage with perhaps a dozen boats.

This Black Guillemot and several others hung out near Vector throughout our stay in Southwest Harbor. I guess the fishing was good.

I had still been entertaining the idea that we might stop in Stonington, or find a spot to anchor in Vinalhaven, or if that was untenable then perhaps North Haven on the Thorofare before proceeding west across Penobscot. But the weather news this morning put a stop to that in short order. Not one, but two tropical systems are making their way up the east coast and will have an impact here. The first is what is left of Tropical Storm Fred, and the second is Tropical Storm Henri.

Our serene anchorage east of Stonington. This is Devil Island; Camp Island at right.

This is almost a blow-by-blow replay of our last visit to Rockland, where we were pinned down by gales for two days and then made a beeline for the protection of the Damariscotta before Tropical Storm Teddy hit us. After a cup of coffee and much discussion, we decided the best course of action was to proceed directly to Rockland, get our needed provisions, hunker down for the remnants of Fred, and then make a beeline for Boothbay Harbor before Henri arrives.

We weighed anchor as soon as we had nailed down the plan, proceeding west through the rest of the Deer Island Thorofare and past the town of Stonington, and, across the channel, Crotch Island, where we could see dozens of white granite blocks that had been recently quarried lined up along the shore. Stonington's history is granite, and after a hiatus, the industry continues here. I'm sorry I was too busy at the helm to snap a photo.

This pink granite adjacent the Bass Harbor Head light is stunning; the photo does not do it justice. Buoy in foreground marks the "safe water" passage over the Bass Harbor Bar.

Update: we are anchored in our usual spot in General Anchorage A, Rockland Harbor (map). As usual here in Maine, the endless sea of lobster floats kept me from finishing this post under way, and we got very busy when we arrived at the harbor. We headed directly to the town docks in hopes of filling our water tank and maybe putting the e-bike on the ground directly, but the cruise ship Independence was taking up the face dock, and the other day-use docks had no room for us. Long-time readers may remember we shared a dock with Independence in Savannah several years ago.

We proceeded instead to the anchorage, wherein my very first task was to head ashore with the e-bike for a Walmart run. As with our last stop here, I returned with four gallons of motor oil, along with other provisions, and arrived back at Vector just in time to turn around and head back to town for dinner. Sadly, some of the outside dining we used on our last stay has already been dismantled, but we found a nice patio table at the Grey Owl in the Tradewinds hotel.

Our old friend Independence, hogging the dock.

Not knowing just what the weather holds in store for us, we decked the tender and stowed the e-bike as soon as we returned home. If we get an acceptable window tomorrow morning, we'll make a run for Boothbay, where we have a choice of protected anchorages, and which will afford us the opportunity to make further westward progress inland while we wait for the aftermath of Henri to clear out. That said, we are prepared to hunker down here in Rockland for the duration if we do not get a window to escape.

Bah Hahbah is fah enough

We are anchored in a familiar spot, west of the bar and island that give Bar Harbor its name (map). It's been a week since my last post, and I am afraid I left our readers hanging, so I am taking some time out to update the blog.

We had a comfortable evening in Tenants Harbor, and we even tendered ashore to the diminutive town and wandered to dinner at local joint The Happy Clam, which specializes in German cuisine. Dinner was quite good, and we were distant enough from the live music at the bar and music venue out back to have an enjoyable evening. On the way back to the dock we stopped at the local general store.

Postcard from Bar Harbor.

Unfortunately, later in the evening a swell had moved in, attacking us from the gap near Southern Island, and we had a very rolly night. I did deploy our makeshift "flopper stopper," consisting of a "drift sock" (the item I picked up at Cabela's in Portland, with the help of good friend Dave) with a weight on the end, suspended from our davit crane. That helped a little bit, but not enough, and Louise once again had a rough night. If we end up having to stay at Tenants again, we'll try the other anchorage a little bit to the north, which is protected to the south by a ridge of rock.

We weighed anchor Sunday morning for a very pleasant run to Isle Au Haut, with a quick excursion outside the 3nm limit to take care of business. Having no need, on this visit, to steam through the tight harbor, especially at a low tide level, we instead proceeded around the north side of Kimball Island, headed for our familiar anchorage in Laundry Cove (map). It was a bit more crowded on this visit, but we had no trouble finding a spot and had a blissfully calm and swell-free night. Needing nothing ashore, we had a nice dinner aboard and left the tender on deck.

We passed this low-power house on our way back from dinner in Tenants Harbor.

We again weighed anchor Monday morning with our sights set on Winter Harbor. We knew the weather would be better on Tuesday, but we had a short weather window wherein we thought we could make it to Passamaquoddy Bay, in the hopes of perhaps cruising New Brunswick for a few weeks when Canada opened their border to US boats, nominally on August 9th.

I'd been working on the logistics of a border crossing for a few days, and the route we had planned had us stopping in Winter Harbor and Jonesport on the way to Lubec. Regular readers may remember our cruise to Lubec and beyond last season, so this was all familiar ground, other than Winter Harbor itself, which we bypassed last time.

We bashed through a good deal of chop, with three foot seas on maybe five seconds. A bit bumpy but not intolerable, and we could have made Winter Harbor as planned. As we approached Frenchman Bay, however, we opted to divert inside the Cranberry Islands for a bit more protection, and to give us an earlier stopping option. After a lot of bashing and dodging lobster floats, with perhaps two more hours ahead of us, and disappointing findings on the Canada front, we took the bailout and dropped the hook in Cranberry Harbor (map), stopping around 2pm. The lone restaurant in the harbor is dark Mondays, so we had another nice meal aboard.

Vector, left, anchored at Bar Island, as seen from College of the Atlantic.

The disappointing findings were these: While Canada did, indeed, open the border on Monday, and there is a relatively convenient Port of Entry at Campobello Island, they wanted us to have a negative PCR test (in addition to our proof of being fully vaccinated) within 72 hours of arrival. And while that sounds simple enough, most testing sites in Maine are using the state lab, which has a stated turn-around of 3-5 days for results. Privately, some test sites would admit that the results were often back in 48-72 hours, but there were no guarantees.

Making things even more complicated, the only two test sites within a two-day cruise of the border are in Machias and Calais. Neither is accessible directly by Vector, although regular readers may remember that we got close enough to Calais last year to tender in, and we could likely get close enough to Machias to tender there, as well. But wait... you can not get tested by walking in. These are both strictly drive-through sites; you must arrive in a car, and you remain in the vehicle while you are swabbed.

After a lot of head-scratching, plenty of on-line research, and a dozen phone calls, the only workable plan we could concoct went like this: Cruise Vector to Eastport, Maine, and anchor. Tender ashore first thing in the morning and rent a U-Haul pickup truck or van -- there is no car rental in Eastport. Drive to Calais, arriving at Walgreens before 10am, as the pharmacist informed us the FedEx pickup of test samples happened at 11 and if we missed the pickup, there was no way we'd have results in 72 hours.

Sunset over Mount Desert Island, as we came around Bar Island headed home.

We'd then drive back to Eastport and wait, crossing our fingers for results in 72 hours. We would make an appointment with Canadian Border Services for inward clearance (mandatory) right at the 72 hour mark and hope for the best. If the results were later than that, we'd have to turn back at the border and repeat the process. The rental truck, at $20/day and $0.70/mile, plus gas, would cost us $80 each attempt. (On the plus side, we could make a Walmart and grocery store run while we were in Calais.)

By the time we went to bed Monday night, we had more or less concluded this was a fool's errand. Roughly 160 nautical miles, round trip, to Eastport, in order to spend money gambling on a less-than-even chance of having test results to cross the border. All so we could spend perhaps three weeks cruising the Bay of Fundy, before we have to turn around and begin heading south anyway. We had a go/no-go decision deadline of Tuesday morning; if we did not take this window, we'd reduce that three weeks down to something less than two or maybe even one.

We awoke Tuesday morning to dense fog, and that was the final nail in the coffin. The mad scramble to make Eastport in the two days of decent seas would now be two days of intense concentration and hand-steering to avoid lobster traps that, in clear weather, I can see at least a minute or more ahead of time, but in fog will have mere seconds to dodge. As Lando said, this deal is getting worse all the time.

A less foggy view of Bar Harbor from our anchorage. Bar Island at left, Bald Porcupine Island in the distance, and Bar Harbor at right. The land bridge is just beginning to surface and you can see people ready to cross.

And so it is that, after a relaxing cup of coffee in Cranberry Harbor, we gave ourselves permission to call Frenchman Bay our turn-around point for the season, and spend a couple of weeks cruising Maine on a very relaxed schedule, rather than continue to New Brunswick this year. I plotted a course for Bar Harbor, where we knew there was a comfortable anchorage with plenty of services, but less than two hours of plowing through the fog.

I did have to run the foghorn for perhaps half the cruise (my threshold is about a half mile visibility), and we had the occasional sailboat that was inexplicably sailing in fog without monitoring the radio or sounding signals. Approaching the pass between Bar Island and Sheep Porcupine Island a flotilla of kayaks appeared out of the fog ahead of us and I had to go full astern, but we otherwise made it without incident, and dropped the hook where we are now.

This is an incredibly calm anchorage; I would even call it serene. We're just a half mile from downtown Bar Harbor, and if the tide is high it's a 0.6nm tender ride to the dinghy dock at the harbormaster office. At half tide or lower the bar becomes impassable; 90 minutes before low tide it becomes dry land and the tourists begin flocking to Bar Island over the "land bridge." Our dinghy ride then stretches to 1.4nm, going the long way around Bar Island.

The Village Green preparing for the 20th annual Carol Dyer Luminaria lighting tonight, in honor of a beloved children's librarian lost to brain cancer two decades ago.

Since arriving, we've been ashore nightly for dinner, and I've made more than one excursion to the grocery store. The harbormaster gave us a number for a diver and we had the hull cleaned one afternoon -- it's gotten so bad in the last two months that the diver ran out of air before he could finish the whole job. I've enjoyed strolling around town, and I have also knocked some boat projects off the list.

Maine has been doing pretty well, relatively speaking, with case numbers. But no one walking around town is from Maine; a quick scan of license plates reveals tourists from every state along the eastern seaboard and quite a few inland as well. And the town is packed; today is Saturday and every hotel has its No Vacancy sign out. Accordingly, we are back to our mid-pandemic tactics -- masks indoors everywhere, keeping plenty of distance, and only outside dining. Fortunately, more outside dining has popped up since our stay here a year ago.

We'll stay here through the weekend -- no sense in battling with the weekend sailors and other traffic -- and then we will move along. I had hoped to maybe cruise up to Ellsworth, but the harbormaster informs me there is not enough depth at the dock, so we'll do something else in that part of the bay. Our next stop from here is likely Southwest Harbor, another very short cruise.