s/v Rachel: Musings From Maine

Location: Somes Harbor, Mt. Desert Island, Maine

Position: 44 21.699 N 068 19.665 W

Tuesday, 10 July

The Goslings, Casco Bay, Maine

A week ago we were leaving the Chesapeake Bay. Today we're in Maine. How things change when we're cruising! This time we moved our home and traded 100 degree days and afternoon thunderstorms for crystal clear blue skies, chilly mornings, and daytime temperatures in the 80s.

Maine is a special place. Morning coffee in wooly jumpers and sweat pants just after daybreak at 05:30. Chilly, calm, peaceful.

A blue heron flies by and Mark is transported back in time. Gathering driftwood logs, boards, and lobster warp from the rocks to make rafts. Running around the islands almost flying from step to step, rock to rock (not much chance of that now <g>). Wearing raggedy old sneakers, up to his knees in mud digging for clams with his dad. Heading out on the “Sylvia Jo” in the the fog, wearing oil skins and hip boots, to check Uncle Ned's lobster traps. Swatting mosquitoes while hiding under the cottage, waiting to be found during a game of “Border Patrol”. And most of all, generally messing about in small boats.

Always restless, ever seeking new experiences, the seeds of his desire to go cruising were sown right here in Casco Bay.

buying lobster in Cundy's Harbor

Roberta holding lobsters just before 'the feast'

Awash in memories, he notices several small ducks floating on the surface not far from Rachel. They slowly paddle together into a flock, then within seconds of each other, they dive. A minute or so later they begin popping up, scattered about, wherever their hunting has taken them. Then they leisurely gather back together again and repeat the process.

Like these ducks, we cruisers also tend to flock together to chat, socialize, and share our experiences. When it's time, we dive off, chasing our own personal muses and searching out our own personal experiences. When we surface again, we see other boats on the horizon, are drawn together to socialize and share, and the process begins again.

Sunday, 15 July

East Boothbay

We're in East Boothbay on a mooring visiting family for a week. We're all staying most nights at Mark's cousin's cottage with Mark's mom, uncle Bill, cousin Kitty, and uncle Bill's helper, Peggy. It's almost like summer camp for old folks. Our crisp, sunny days have evolved into foggy, cool, damp mornings opening back up into sunny afternoons. We're spending lots of time on the porch looking out at the ocean. With 10 foot tides the view changes constantly. We watch kids playing on the pebble beach, swimming in the COLD sea, kayakers paddling by, schooners full of tourists out for sightseeing trips, lobstermen hauling their traps. It is almost like being on Rachel except we're the ones on land looking out at the boats instead of the other way round.

Mark's 97 yr old uncle Bill (a.k.a. “Guppy”) says “I remember my first Harley Davidson motorcycle. It was a tired old thing. The front hub was so worn the tire used to rub against the front forks.” This was followed by several minutes of reminiscing about the various Harley and Indian motorcycles (and their associated mechanical problems) he owned when he was younger.

This first one was apparently inherited from a friend at high school. The friend asked if he could walk his newly acquired, heavily worn motorcycle over to Guppy's so Guppy could tow it with his old Ford to see if they could get it started. They towed and towed to no avail. His friend finally gave the motorcycle to Guppy and left in disgust. The next day another friend came over and found that the valve and ignition timing were both way out. Together, they made the correct adjustments and were able to get it started with it's own kick starter. He then proceeded to “ride that thing into the ground”.

The stories continue and, as always, are punctuated and made more poignant by Guppy's warm wit, sweet disposition, gentle manner and boyish giggles.

This afternoon Nat Wilson brought his 1915 Hereshoff wooden sailboat down the river to the mooring right next to us. This is a rare and extremely beautiful classic wooden sailboat. There aren't many of these around and the view from Rachel's cockpit is vastly improved by it's presence. Then we realize that this 21 foot sailboat and Uncle Guppy are the same age - and they're both true classics.

August 8

Thompson Cove, Deer Island, Maine

Owls Head lighthouse

Wow, we've been here a month now, time has really flown.

Seals in Seal Bay, Vinalhaven

During this visit to Maine, we've sailed past and enjoyed looking at hundreds of small islands. Their pine- and fir-topped rocky shores peek up out of the sea, seemingly offered up like rocky cup cakes for us to enjoy. We have managed to get ashore most days for walks (at times more like clambering) around the rocky shore to circumnavigate an island, walk through a town, or climb a mountain. And, of course, many of the wildflowers are in bloom, painting the landscape with their colors and adding their delicate aromas to our walks.

61 boats attended the Seven Seas Cruising Assoc. gam in Islesboro

We've watched loons swim by and listened out for their distinct and haunting calls echoing off the cliffs. We've seen seals cavort in the water and sun themselves on the rocks. Barking at each other, they plop into the sea then hump and bump their way back on the ledges. And we saw another whale – a minke this time, we think.

We've hung out with old friends, made new friends, and spent time by ourselves - it's been a perfect balance.

Our lives are rich beyond measure.