NE Harbor Dense Fog 6-30-23

A 35 nautical mile cruise yesterday from the inland waters of East Penobscot Bay to the open ocean side of Mt. Desert Island, NE harbor specifically. We waited until 10:30 AM for the fog to lift and no surprise, it remained. Out on the water visibility varied from 50 yards to ¼ mile. At this stage in our ongoing Maine cruising anything thing greater than ¼ miles seems like clear sailing. 

 

One of fog’s vagaries is that visibility decreases whenever there are multiple navigational challenges: bridges, shoals, islands, harbor entrances, a busy thorofare all bring out the worse in the fog. Along with the above, the sea state often quickens at these pinch points making it easy to be distracted.

 

In Japan while riding numerous trains from single car country trains to 200 MPH behemoths, the engineers monitor each gauge by pointing at them in sequential fashion. I found myself doing the same. Oil pressure, engine temperature, battery state, RPM, depth, autopilot, AIS, compass, radar, paper chart and chart plotters, radio . . . it is a round robin. At different moments one of the above can overrule the others and then the cycle begins again. 

 

On passages of any length, I will don ear protection, lift the floor boards, and inspect the engine and shaft rooms. There are many spinning parts so I keep a proper distance. The diesel’s temperature, fuel filters and raw water intakes, hoses, the bilge, the shaft seal leading to the prop; I take a quick look around for abnormalities. Once satisfied I relieve Charlotte from the helm and she returns to navigation duties. 

 

So, I was doing the above while we cruised east across Blue Hill Bay’s Eastern Passage. approaching Bass Harbor Head, the southernmost point on Mt. Desert Island. Bass Harbor itself lies about a mile west of the Head and there lives the notorious Captain Henry Lee, the ferry to Swans Island. In Carrie Rose’s many transits back and forth across these waters, the Captain Henry Lee has never missed a chance for a close encounter. 

 

It was 1:45 PM and we were still a few miles west of Bass Harbor and considering the dense fog I was beginning to get nervous. Charlotte reported that the ferry leaves its berth at 2:15 PM. It has been my experience that attempts to outrun sizeable ships is futile. They leave the dock and in moments have accelerated to cruise speed. Except on days when I have an inadvertent death wish I tend to hang back and even circle in place until they pass. 

 

This time, now that I have deciphered the intricacies of the Vesper Marine AIS Watch Mate, I could see that the small black arrow that represents the ferry and its relationship to us, was stationary. 

 

For the uninitiated AIS, Automatic Identification System, is a relatively simple device (if that is possible these days) that broadcast name, speed, direction, destination and in some cases the closest point of approach of other boats that are broadcasting. Most commercial vessels are required to have one. Of course, no self respecting lobster fisher would have one but let’s not go down that rabbit hole.

 

As I watched, the black arrow began to move. I got queasy even though, according to Vesper AIS, the ferry would remain behind us. I decided, like any novice airplane pilot, to trust my instruments. We carried on to the Bass Harbor Bar and gratefully never encountered the Captain Henry Lee. 

 

The Bar is approximately a mile wide running north to south between Bass Harbor Head with its classic lighthouse and the northern shore of Great Gott Island. The passage is marked by two large bell buoys.

 

My observation, after passing over the 8 to 15 foot deep (at low tide) bar is that the weather and sea state often changes dramatically. In general, the sea is calmer when going west as the bar is open to the full force of the Atlantic Ocean when travelling east. We crossed and in an instance were motoring uphill to the top of a swell. The wind picked up and this was reflected in the rowdy sea surface.

 

Carrie Rose is a sea worthy craft that given the right circumstances gets as rowdy as the seas she is in. I check the course, made a small correction and then, for some reason looked behind me. There on the apex of the swell was a bright white LED light on top of what looked like a WW II landing craft. Its flat square bow was crashing into the waves as it moved to our starboard side. The radio came alive, “Carrie Rose I’ll be passing you on your right.” I responded affirmatively and thank him for letting me know.

 

It accelerated, passed in front and left us in its massive green phosphorescent wake. The hulk made a ninety degree turn around the green “1” buoy and disappeared into the fog. We simultaneously heard each other say, “Holy Sh-t!” 

 

The 30 miles we had traveled so far was in varying visibility. Now as we turn north into the Western Way to NE harbor the fog became all encompassing. I had sped up to get into protected waters and now slowed to check the course and the radar. The few blips on the screen were the expected buoys. They will lead into a progressively narrow channel bounded by Mount Desert Island and Great Cranberry Island.

 

A few other blips appeared with the characteristic stop and go of lobster boats pulling and setting traps. Further in, the small fleet of ferries that support Great and Little Cranberry Islands sped across the screen. Other than the radar screen the world was white. There are a series of large red gong buoys that show up well on radar, these were matched to their images on the chart plotter and now, even slower, Carrie Rose inched into the harbor. 

 

Boats grudgingly appeared out of the fog. We were in familiar territory but still could not relax. I called the harbormaster on channel 68 and suggested we be able to tie to mooring #362 for no other reason than it was in front of us. Charlotte armed herself with the boat pole as I nudged Carrie Rose’s port bow up to the can. She picked up the line on the first attempt and secured its slimy loop to the bow’s bollard. Then with the engine off, I entered the data of our trip into the log. 

 

We both sat in the salon and sighed. Espresso with a dash of milk was prepared and we both settled in with our reads. Charlotte’s book about the systematic murder of Native Americans to steal their oil money, and mine about the 900 day siege of Leningrad during WWII are both fitting topic for this day on the water . . .