Maine is a fluid environment. Twice daily, the tide rushes in and out. This dramatic event progresses by about an hour each day. The wide tidal ranges and sweeping currents require a careful monitoring of time. The amount of water that rises and falls, and thus the strength of the current, varies with the interaction between the earth and the moon.
In Carrie Rose’s pilothouse, there is a Weems & Plath clock with a discernable tick-tock. Often it is the only sound. Its constancy can be annoying. But then, I am reminded that the quiet click is a blessing compared to the noise that emanates from above our Chicago bungalow, which sits under the flight path of O’Hare’s runway 28R.
Carrie Rose first ventured into tidal waters after locking through the Troy Lock at the Federal Dam on the Hudson River in 2015. Its purpose is to stop the tide’s influence up stream. At this point, the southern tip of Manhattan Island, our destination, was still one hundred and fifty miles downstream.
My lack of tidal knowledge was a concern. There was little insight to be gained from locals or from cruisers passing the other way, so I started to read. The “bibles” of East coast tides and currents are Reed’s Nautical Almanac, and Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book. Since I could only find Eldridge, this bright yellow book became my guide.
It is dense. The first half is made up of background information. Page after page discusses what influences tides, how to navigate the books tables, the peculiarities of locks, and then before the voluminous tables and maps begin, a short primer on chart symbols and the rules of the road is included.
I delved into it. The pressure I felt was akin to preparing for medical boards, and the anxiety grew as we approached the end of the Champlain Canal at Waterford, NY. Our attention to detail rewarded us with a safe, if not an uneventful trip north.
Maine’s — and Canada’s — intense physical reality only magnified the tides and currents influence. But still I thought if other boats manage not to fall off the edge of the earth, we, if prepared, should not either. This “edginess” has made each moment of our cruise as momentous as the next.
In some ways, Carrie Rose is a time machine. A machine that stretches or compacts time contingent with the situation. It makes each moment spent on the water uniquely rewarding . . . and prevents me from taking the clock’s battery out!
Happy Holidays from Charlotte & Dean
