It is Maine in the summer: 60 degrees of low skies and driving rain. I am sure there is plenty of fog out on the water but we will not venture there today. Today is a day to hang out on the mooring. The mooring is just north of Bar Harbor’s famous bar. Since it is low tide it is visible with only a few stalwart tourists making the trek from the city to Bar Island.
Yesterday Carrie Rose was gently slid into the waters of Herrick Bay by the attentive staff of Atlantic Boat Company. For all their macho mannerisms, they are dainty when it comes to moving, repairing, replacing, advising, and consulting. Of course, this comes at a cost but Charlotte assured me that despite the profligate projects we would still be able to have wine with dinner.
The main repair this year was a new exhaust system. I think that at times I am a bit too caviler about certain of the boat’s shortcoming. For many years, I noticed some dewy like fluid appearing on the long, long fiberglass tube that makes up the majority of the system. In fresh water, it did not seem to be an issue. But then last year during our cruise to Maine, unable to rid the boat of the peculiar fishy oceanic smell I realized that the entire tube was covered with a sticky briny like substance.
When fresh water was available, I would hose the tube down and send the salt back to the Atlantic, only to have it reappear after the next leg up the coast. Try as I may, it could be ignored no longer. In the fall, I gave Dave, the yard manager, a list of winter projects with a new exhaust being the priority.
One of my many faults is curiosity and this coupled with questionable mechanical skills has gotten me in trouble more than once. Many years ago, the exhaust system split, sending gallons of lake water into the bilge. Then, being younger and more agile, and unable to move the boat out of the harbor thus crippled, I repaired it. This new iteration of an old problem is not a job for a new Medicare subscriber.
As the fall moved to winter, I called Maine and discussed the job with Hank (Dave was gone), and as winter moved into spring, I discussed it again with John (Hank was gone). It got done and when Wayne and company put us in the water, we both searched for leaks. None found, Charlotte and I made the lobster ridden 30NM jaunt passed islands, lighthouses, harbors, a 900 foot cruise ship, whale watchers and ferry’s into Frenchman Bay.
Our destination was a mooring just off the College of the Atlantic at the festival of the Acadia School of Traditional Music & Arts. Every June they have a comprehensive festival featuring Irish, Scottish, Quebecois, Cape Breton, Cajun, Acadian and Old-Time styles. The concert was a rollicking display of fast fiddling, percussive dance, longing lyrics, flutes and accordions and a few obscure Scandinavia instruments.
And to make our first water more enjoyable we shared it with Dave and Judy on the majestic Sir Tugley Blue. We have discovered many first waters with them from the North Channel in Lake Huron, through the Canadian canals and now Maine. There is nothing like islands, conifers, and cold water in a Nordic Tug . . . .
Bar Harbor, ME
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