Eddies

The Bay of Fundy was never on the bucket list. Somehow, Carrie Rose ended up there through no fault of her own. The bay’s entrance is approached using the Grand Manan Channel, which is demarcated by the coast of Maine and Grand Manan Island. And as with most directions in Downeast Maine and New Brunswick, the path is more east than north.

The Bay of Fundy is noted for its extreme tidal ranges. Though Carrie Rose did not experience the full range, she was rising and lowering 25 feet twice per day. It is quite the striking visual to be surrounded by water and six hours later to be surrounded by land. The mud flats reach out and then recede in magnificently smelly glory.

The towns and anchorages within Passamaquoddy Bay were the destination. The bay is accessed two ways: one through the Quoddy and the Lubec Narrows (previously written about) and the other through Letete Passage, an opening amongst the archipelago of islands north of Deer Island. There are other ways but these are the most familiar.

As with the Lubec Narrows, the Letete Passage needs to be respected and the passage timed properly. On this transit, it was deemed that low slack tide was the best time, so to arrive there at 11:15 AM the anchor was raised in Digdequash Cove at 10:00 AM. It was a bit more then an hour at seven knots.

The water was alive with Canadian lobster fishermen finishing up a season of lobstering. Many lobster cages weighed down their stubby boats. They scurried from buoy to buoy doing the dance of the lobster boat: turn towards the buoy, bring it on the starboard side, grab it with the hooked pole, hook the line on the pulley and then onto the winch, bring it along side, open and empty it, bait it, drive a bit then throw the buoy in the water and let the cage slide off the back of the boat.

The boats swing around in a circle while this dance is taking place, and usually end up pointing in the same direction as when they first approached the buoy. Mesmerized by the process, I have to remember to look forward not to snag a buoy.

At the Letete Passage the whirling waters begin. The water becomes three dimensional as eddies wax and wane. Disrupted current creates a popular fishing venue for seals, birds, porpoises, and whales. Carrie Rose gets a few more RPM’s to help with directional stability and just to get through the maelstrom quicker.

Now out to the coast along Campobello Island, famous for Franklin and Eleanor’s summer estate. After visiting there I feel I could be on a first name basis with them or at least with Eleanor, and possibly even be invited for tea.

The island is twenty miles long and ends at the Quoddy Narrows. In the correct conditions to pass through Letete Passage unmolested, as they were during Carrie Rose’s cruise, the tide will be rising and with it, the current will be head on. The throttle eased forward in a vane attempt to keep going at least 6 knots against the opposing current. The water raised and lowered, twisted and turned for many more miles, at times only 4 knots appeared on the chart plotter due to the opposing current.

Mid trip, the Canadian/US border was crossed. It was time to use the new Customs and Boarder Protection CBP ROAM app. The app had been loaded with information concerning our status as US citizens, and Carrie Rose’s registration and physical attributes. With the iPhone switched on, a touch of the app’s “arrival” button took us into a world of online real time bureaucracy.

The first attempt was denied due to the officer seeing Charlotte sitting in the pilot’s chair while I scanned the inside of the boat with the phone’s video camera at his request. The second try was accepted after Charlotte’s data was reentered into the app.

In the meantime, the distraction of this could not stop the scanning of the ocean out the front window. The wind had increased from the southeast and the sea had become choppy. Enough so the waves were breaking over the bow and depositing intermittent sprays of salt water over the pilothouse windows.

At some point after the customs interaction the VHF radio on channel 16 announced our name twice followed by, “…this is Sir Tugley Blue.” A suggestion was made that instead of carrying on to the planned destination of Rogue Island we tuck into Cross Island instead. This would mean we would be off the big water and anchored an hour or two earlier then planned. Great idea, we altered course and took a deep breathe.

The entrance into Cross Island requires careful consideration as it skirts several small islands and hidden rocks, and requires sharp turns to avoid hazards. Also, Carrie Rose has left Cross Island heading towards Canada but never entered it while heading back. In fact, a week ago we had passed through this path in total fog, never seeing any of it.

The calm weather now decided to act up. The wind from the southeast strengthened and the current, now from behind, began to push.

To come into a new harbor or anchorage, or take an unfamiliar path at the end of a long day requires a heightened level of situational awareness. The autopilot is turned off, the radar is set for the proper distance, a quick scan of the chart to locate key markers and hazards, and then if possible, to slow down. In this case, Carrie Rose was left to ride with the current. It made the circuitous route stressful with the tradeoff being better control in the increased wind, waves, and current.

The tide was at high, and with forty feet under the keel the anchor was set with 120 feet of chain leading up to the bow. The gusty southwest wind blew over the island’s trees and swung Carrie Rose back and forth but the anchor held. The wind abated, dinner was served, and after a long eventful day sleep beckoned.

With the Bay of Fundy’s eddies now forty miles behind and with the Customs Border Patrol’s approval, a down comforter was pulled tightly around Carrie Rose’s two exhausted inhabitance. The warmth allowed for a moment’s reverie of unsought challenges, and an unimagined future.

Northeast Harbor, Mt. Dessert Island, Maine