Summer of Fog

Carrie Rose was getting antsy after being anchored in Somes Harbor for six days. There was the prospect of clearing weather so she lobbied for a cruise and a cruise somewhere new. Charlotte and I studied the chart and the cruising guide, and based on a suggestion chose to cruise to Winter Harbor. It is across Frenchmen Bay east of Mt Desert Island (MDI). And it is a few miles north of Schoodic point. Schoodic point is the beginning of wild Maine.

There is little recreationally, except for solitude and spectacular views to commend one to head Downeast. It is a place we are glad to have gone twice but probably will not go again. I may be wrong about that, so don’t quote me. But I doubt Charlotte will venture there again.

 

Frenchmen Bay is approximately 6 miles wide from Otter point on MDI to Schoodic point of the Schoodic peninsula. It is open to the Atlantic Ocean from the South/Southwest. The bay is a place where the surface waves suddenly become incorporated into what is usually a SE swell. Carrie Rose begins to rise and fall, and get pushed around by an infinite combination of waves and swells. As when riding large waves on the Great Lakes, Charlotte and I sit back, hold on and let Carrie Rose do her thing. I adjust the course here and there depending on the waves, currents and sea state but mainly the autopilot manages things

 

But I forgot to mention a major concern, not catching a lobster buoy in the propellor. On Frenchmen Bay the groupings of buoys appear haphazard. We maintain a constant lookout, though the fog complicates the search. As we travel into the middle of the bay the swell increases and each lobster buoy becomes two. The larger unique buoy is connected via a long tether to a diminutive float. This small float leads to the traps some 150 feet below. My observation is that in exposed areas with larger seas the traps have longer tethers to make buoy retrieval easier.

 

So, we watch: me starboard, Charlotte port. With any lengthy endeavor, concentration can wander or be disturbed by the many dials and screens stationed in front of me. When my instinctual “look-up” alarm goes off, most times there are one or more lobster buoy ahead. Off goes the autopilot and I hand steer a slalom course around them. 

 

Carrie Rose had a traditional six spoke steering wheel. Steering with it was annoying, so I decided to remediate it. I laminated six 1 1/2 inch strips of poplar and walnut into a ring. The first attempt (with the best wood) was cockeyed. A firmer frame was fabricated and the second ring was satisfactory. With six hardy brass screws the ring was attached to the six spokes. I planned to round the edges but once fitted never altered it. For the last 1500 hours the wheel has served us well. 

 

Frenchmen Bay leads into Sand Cove and the dramatic Winter Harbor Yacht Club. It is a rollie spot with the remnants of the bay’s swell and the wakes from the local lobster fishing fleet. The club is incorporated onto the side of a cliff. It has an old timey Downeast feel, damp but cozy. Dark wood frames the inside and borders the imposing central stone fireplace. The furniture looks and feels original. And above it all is a commanding chandelier with colorful models of the yacht club’s legacy 21ft wooden racing fleet attached to each rung. They have maintained and raced these unique craft for more than 100 years. 

 

We had signed up for two nights, then woke up to dense fog on departure day. When the fog deepened, we signed up for another day. The yacht club’s launch took us to shore. It’s a mile walk into Winter Harbor’s quaint and lively town center. Charlotte had a lunch of clam chowder, a half of a lobster roll and a piece of blue berry pie for twenty bucks. We bought two small well crafted wicker baskets at a tiny antique shop and then headed for the club. The sun appeared on the way back and the fog dissipated. We looked at each other and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

 

To leave on a substantial cruise in the afternoon feels against the grain, but considering the prospect of worsening weather it was time to go. First, we took the launch back to the club for quick showers, informed the dockmaster we were leaving, threw out the trash, prepped the boat and left. 

 

Somes Harbor on MDI, our destination, is twenty mile back across Frenchman Bay. The swell increased as we travelled west across the bay and as we closed on the island dense fog re-appeared. Then to welcome us back a couple of squalls blew over as we crossed the entrance to Northeast Harbor. It was tempting to duck into the harbor but as we entered Somes Sound the sun greeted us.

 

I could see another Nordic Tug 32 in Somes Harbor. We maneuvered Carrie Rose behind her, dropped the anchor and rowed over to re-acquaint ourselves with the crew. It had been several years since we met on Swan’s Island. Back on board the darkening sky clouded over as the fog crept in. Not able to keep our eyes open, we tucked in for the night with our down comforter not far away.