A Perfect day – 7/24/23 NE Harbor to WoodenBoat

Carrie Rose’s various fresh water tanks were filled. The launch took us to shore for one last shower. Mark, the launch driver, is the MDI High School history teacher. After a discussion where I told him the only Greek literature I had read was in preparation to read James Joyce’s Ulysses, he countered with Plutarch’s Wars and Livy’s Short History of Rome. He looks forward to my book report next time we meet.

 

It was sunny and warm as we cruised out of NE Harbor. We’d been there for ten days anticipating a surprise meet up with my nephew. His wife had arranged it with us last Christmas Eve. I am always more hopeful for the world after spending a few hours with them.

 

It was time to move on. Since we had already ventured east to Bar and Winter Harbors it seemed like a good time to head west. Other than a few squirrelly lobster boats and of course, the Swan’s Island ferry the Captain Henry Lee, the 20 miles to WoodenBoat was smooth sailing. 

 

WoodenBoat, the home of WoodenBoat magazine is in an eastern cove at the southern end of Eggemoggin Reach. It lies between Center Harbor to the NW and Naskeag Harbor to the SE. The moorings and dock are somewhat protected by Babson Island, though a southern wind, like we had, makes this a lumpy place. 

 

The tide was flooding with the wind on Carrie Rose’s stern, not her best handling conditions. It took a couple of passes before I could get the bow close enough for Charlotte to pick up the mooring pennant. 

 

Dinghy in the water, we motored to the dock and walked the few beautiful blocks into WoodenBoat’s facility. There is a school workshop and an elegant store. We marveled at the various projects, the wooden skeletons of boats in progress, the shops and stores of curing wood, and more wooden boats then you can shake a teak stick at. 

 

Back on Carrie Rose the wind calmed and shifted east. A large schooner, American Pride, anchored off Babson Island. A haze filled in the distant horizon with white. I spent the afternoon thinking I should do something but did nothing. It was a perfect day.