The radio still exists and provides valuable, if longwinded, information and it is regularly updated. Now weather is mainly app based. And though I hate to say this there is too much information provided in too many formats. Excuse me if I sound like I am complaining. I am not. The more the merrier, bring it on, information is power.
Back to 8/14/21, we woke up in the fog. Not a great dense fog, that would happen later, but the usual morning see-through type of fog. The shore was shrouded, as was the open water beyond the lighthouse on the south end of Rockland Harbor’s breakwater. It was not too thick around us but I still had to get a small compass out to figure out which way to dingy to the showers in the dock master shed.
During breakfast dense fog rolled down the hills on the northern end of the harbor. The sun rose, there was a mackerel blue sky above us but we were in a cloud. As noon approached, the sun began to win out over the fog at least on the land and in the harbor. Boats were visible on West Penobscot Bay. We choose to leave.
This is a common occurrence. Fog clears on the land; on the water, it is a different story. I have been taken in by this charade many times. I know what to expect as soon as we leave whatever sanctuary we find ourselves in. The course is carefully plotted, charts are reviewed, radar and AIS are on, the radio is set to Channel 16, only then do we move out into what we hope is ½ mile visibility. Often it is not.
On 8/14 we were lucky. It was a comfortable passage until two miles south of the destination, Camden Harbor. Out the pilothouse windows was only gauzy white. Channel 16 on the radio began to squawk with boats broadcasting their positions and their intentions to move out of Camden’s harbor. I did the same but for the opposite direction.
Camden’s harbor requires a careful two-step dance even in perfect visibility. To the south is imposing Curtis Island replete with its own lighthouse . . . never saw it. To the north are a series of broken rocks and islets known as N E Ledge . . . never saw those. Once in the outer harbor there is a channel of sorts that attempts to separate incoming and out going boats from the mooring field and from the large anchored boats that lie to either side.
Unconventional navigational aids once seen helped guide us in as one tourist schooner and other working craft worked their way out of their familiar inner harbor. Carrie Rose slowed to a crawl and suddenly the inner harbor appeared. With a little radio back and forth, we confirmed the location of the float and gradually approached it. Charlotte lassoed the float’s cleat with the mid ships line and we landed. Engine off, fenders out, dock lines secured; we decompressed. Time for lunch!
The fog dissipated. The sky was blue except for the thunderheads southwest of Mt. Battie, the mountain off the back of the harbor. There was a reprieve in the weather. The sun shone and a mild breeze set in. I took the time to put the dingy in the water and ready myself to row to the dock house to check in. It was not to be.
Just before departing I looked up and saw deep purple and black clouds which coalesced into a 40 MPH squall that brought with it thunder, lightening, and torrential rain, but thankfully spared us hail. Around us boats of varying sizes raced to safety. Some made it and others did not.
In the time between seeing the menacing clouds and the storm I managed to tighten the dock lines, reattach the dingy to the stern, shut the ports and hatches, so was able to watch the short lived violent storm occur.
If well prepared, there is a sense of appreciation to be allowed to witness the force of nature on a well prepared boat. The rain slowly lessened and in forty minutes the storm had headed NE to ravage its next victims.
Steam drifted amongst Mt. Battie’s crevasses. The sky turned blue, the cool breeze returned, and the life of the harbor took up where it left off before the storm. It became muggy toward dinnertime, no matter. A crescent moon rose as the sun disappeared behind this small city’s crenulated waterfront. The few clouds left turned orange and red
1 comment:
A beautiful multi color front moving in is not scary....living in Chi-Raq is scary....
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