15^th of September, and we’ll leave Maine today, bound for Portsmouth, NH.  Should be about a 5 hour run, under windless sunny skies, 50 degrees, over calm seas.  On the way, we contact Paul and Cheryl, “Just a Splash” who live on an inland lake an hour from Portsmouth.  No surprise to Paul, he’s been tracking our AIS on the interweb, and he knows that we’re coming.  He and Cheryl will come in to town, and meet us for dinner.  On our way in, we pass the old military prison, which was housed in a beautiful, huge early 1900’s building, and the naval yard, which is currently refitting one of our attack subs (out of sight).  As we skirt the cordoned off area, we are greeted by a couple of heavily-armed inflatable boats which keep their distance, but want us to know they’re there.  After getting tied up, we hang around for “My Dream” to arrive a half hour later.  When T & S are safely tied up, we all agree that the rock and rolley dock situation should be no worse than Portlands’.  Up at the visitors’ center at the Historical Society office, we catch a video highlighting the history of Portsmouth, and make arrangements for a private walking tour of the historical sites in town for the following morning.  Paul and Cheryl arrive, and have figured that they’ll take us to reprovision.  After doing my research, have discovered that N.H. has about the lowest liquor taxes in the country.  A shopping cart later, we’re set for the next 6 months of “five to sevens”.  Great dinner and conversation with P & C, with the girls trading info on wedding planning (their daughter will be married this October).  Next morning, we meet our guide, Sandy, who takes us on a stroll through historic Portsmouth.  After our tour, we visit the “John Paul Jones” House & Museum, and the Moffatt-Ladd House, both beautifully restored, mid 1700’s buildings.  The JPJ house features an exhibit exploring the causes and course of the Russo-Japanese War, as well as the Peace Treaty which was negotiated and signed in Portsmouth in 1905.  This was a Big Deal, resulting in Roosevelt receiving the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts-who knew?  Not me (science major).  Wednesday, the 17^th, and it’s time to bid Portsmouth a fond “Adios”.  We would like to leave at slack water, but the tide is not cooperating with our schedule, so we’ll buck a little current on our way out of the Piscataqua River.  Ted and Sue leave before us, as they are heading all the way to Boston today, to avoid the high seas predicted for the following few days.  We want to see Gloucester and Salem before Beantown, and we’ll just hunker down if the weather turns ugly.    55 minutes out of port, and the “Low oil level” alarm for the hydraulic system starts howling.  Suzanne immediately shuts down the engine, and I’m in the engine room.  Sure enough, the reservoir for hydraulic oil is only a third full-not good.  No troubles visible here, so I move to the next most probable place for trouble, the forward machinery space under our stateroom, which houses the units for the bow thruster and anchor windlass.  #@%&!!!.  The bilge is full of oil.  Hoses all intact, fittings good.  Where’s it coming from?  Finally find a thin stream of oil exiting the side of a pressure gauge above the bow thruster solenoid.  Good news is I have a plug in my spare parts.  Gauge out, plug in, refill ½ gallon of oil from my 5 gallon pail, and we’re back underway in 40 minutes.  I’m just thankful that the seas are fairly calm, as for the next hour or so; I’m in the bilge, sucking out hydraulic oil with a turkey baster, putting it in an old oil jug.  I’m pretty sure that the automatic bilge pump didn’t come on before the alarm, so no oil overboard.  The rest of the run sees several pods of dolphins, many seabirds, and the ubiquitous lobster pots.  Pick up a mooring ball in the Gloucester harbor, and we’re good to go.  –About mooring balls:  They are floats attached to heavy anchors on the bottom by stout line or chain.  You tie your boat to one in lieu of anchoring.  Many harbors are so clogged with moorings that there is virtually no room for you to put an anchor down anyway, so it’s pays a nominal fee to the owner of the mooring and tie up.  Moorings are cheaper than staying at a dock, as there are no amenities such as power and water, and you need a dinghy to get to shore.  Since The Girl is pretty much self-sufficient in the electrical and water category, and docking is running from $4-$5/foot + electricity in these parts, you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to do the math.  $40/night vs. $260/night.  No contest.  Anyway, back to Gloucester.  Established in the early 1600’s, this harbor town is synonymous with American fishing.  It was the setting for the book, “The Perfect Storm”, made into a movie of the same name in the year 2000.  Although this port remains an important haven for the fishing fleet, it also caters to the recreational boater.  While in town, we visit the Fisherman’s memorial, and the Cape Ann Museum (well worth the trip, highlighting the Gloucester fishing industry).  I have to tell you a story about a fisherman named Howard Blackburn.  He was on a dory, fishing from a schooner on the Grand Banks in the early 1800’s.  He and his dory-mate were separated from the schooner in the fog and became lost.  It was winter, and Howard figured that the only way he was going to get out of this was to row to Newfoundland.  As it was very cold, he figured that he would eventually lose control of his hands, so he tied them to the oars.  He did make it to Newfoundland, but his buddy died of exposure on the way.  Howard lost all of his fingers and a few toes, but made it.  Later in life, he became the first man to sail singlehanded with the no fingers from New England to Europe in a Gloucester sailing sloop.  He continued his seafaring life as the master of a schooner that rounded the Horn, bound for the west coast during the Gold Rush.  That endeavor was a failure, and he lost his ship.  Upon returning to Gloucester, the townspeople got together and bought him a tavern, the “Halibut Point”, which is still in operation today.  We had to stop in for a sip.    On the way home, the outboard is running funny; think there might be water in the gas.  Next morning, I pull the fuel filter, and sure enough, there’s water and varnish in the bowl (probably from sitting over the winter-Oops).  We limp over to Brown’s marina, and they’re kind enough to take our old gas (for a fee higher than we pay for new gas) after I purge the fuel lines, and reclean the filter.  Buy new plugs and back to Alizann, still not running great, but I figure the new plugs will do the job.  Back on The Girl, we haul up the dinghy.  Wind has shifted, and we’re getting the distinct aroma of fried food from the fish processing plant on the harbor.  Suzanne’s imagining millions of fish sticks, rolling off the conveyors into boxes labelled with the Gloucester fisherman, replete with his Sou’wester on his head.  Too funny.  It’s a sunny, short run to Salem, Massachusetts, the site of the infamous “witch trials”.  When we arrive, it is first things first, so I gap and install the new spark plugs in the outboard.  The marina is a little ways from town, and our walk in takes us past many homes with plaques indicating dates from the late 1600’s on.  We figure they didn’t have a devastating fire here, like so many of the ports we have visited.  Passing the “House of Seven Gables” of Nathaniel Hawthorne fame, we figure we’ll hit it on the way home.  Right now, we’re interested in some history lessons on the witch trials.  Frankly, I’m pretty disappointed.  Although there is a witch trial museum, pirate museum, Salem dungeon, witchcraft museum, and etc., they’re all pretty hokey and commercial.    Tarot card readers and psychics abound-you get the picture.  Serendipitously, we find out about a movie at the National Parks Service that gives us what we need.  A little more history to fill in the educational blanks.  We just can't fathom how a community could put six of their neighbors to death on the testimony of a couple of teenage girls.  On the way home, a stop at the Farmers Market is in order for veggies, and that pot of Chrysanthemums that I’ve secretly desired.  The outboard is runnin’ better, but still not tiptop.  Maybe it just needs to run a little more new gas through.

September 19^th, and we’re off the mooring at 0830.  It’s sunny and 40 degrees with a 20 knot breeze, and we’re excited to be on our way to Boston.  We pick up a mooring ball in the inner harbor, which is smack in the middle of downtown.  After this morning’s short run, we’ve got all afternoon to explore.  But first, we've got to figure out what the heck that rattling noise under the boat is.  Did we pick up a lobster pot buoy?  Is it the chain for the mooring ball rattling across the bottom?  It's really random, and not continuous.  Wait, there it is again...cccCCCclackclackclackCLACKCLACKCLACKclackclackclackCCCccc...Suz says it sounds like a train-AHA!  Bet it's the subway (remember the "Big Dig"?) going under the harbor to Logan Airport!  Later, we found out that was exactly what the noise was-we got used to it, but pretty strange. Ted and Sue saw us coming on their AIS, so we’re meeting them for dinner.  It’s always good to get an overview when in a new city, so we get tickets for the hop on, hop off trolley which stops at the main tourista venues.  Three stops in, and we’re at the USS Constitution.  The trolley can wait (our tickets are good for 2 days), as “Old Ironsides” is calling us hard.  She got her nickname in her first battle with a British frigate, the Guerriere.  It’s said that the Guerriere’s cannon balls (shot from long distance), were seen to hit the sides of the Constitution and fall harmlessly into the sea.  A crewman, seeing this shouted “Huzzah!  Her sides are made of iron!”  The moniker stuck, and to this day she is affectionately called “Old Ironsides”.  O.I. has never been defeated in battle.  She’s the oldest commissioned ship still afloat in the US navy, and is crewed by active duty sailors.  Therein lies the rub.  Since she is an active naval vessel, picture I.D., and airport-type screening is required prior to boarding.  The Admiral carries no I.D..  Oh well, the Cassin Young, a Fletcher class destroyer is berthed here at the naval yard, and since she has been long decommissioned, her tours are run by the Park Service-no I.D. required.  We’ll come back for the Constitution tomorrow.  After the ship, we’re back on the trolley which passes M.I.T., Harvard, Fenway Park, Boston Garden, Museum of Fine Arts, the mother church of the Scientologist religion, Bunker Hill, North Church, the Granary cemetery, and many other landmarks.  Meet up with T & S, and dinner in the North End (Little Italy).

First full day in Beantown, and we’ve got a plan.  Bunker Hill Monument and Museum at the opening bell, then back to the Constitution for a guided tour.  Then, we’ll head back to Fanueil Hall, where those revolutionary rowdies often met, to catch a free walking tour, conducted by the National Park service, to visit Paul Revere’s house, the North Church, Rose Kennedy’s birthplace, and other stops on The Freedom Trail.  In the middle of the day, The Admiral needs to return to the boat to do some wedding planning for our daughter, Alison.  In the early evening, a visit to some Italian markets on the North End has us provisioned with meats, cheeses, and bread.  After a full day (and productive- Suzanne got a wedding planner hired), we’re back on the boat for a light supper.  Ding, ding.  Text from Ted and Sue.  Do we want to meet for dinner?  Sure. Back on the tender and dinner at the oldest, continuously operated pub in America for food.  It’s cold as Bejesus (I think that’s pretty cold), so we tow the gang back to their boat, and go home to snuggle in. 

Sunday morning, Ted and Sue are leaving, and we’ll hit another National Park Service tour, ‘cause the one yesterday was awesome.  Unfortunately, when we get to shore, we find that the schedule is different today than yesterday, and it left twenty minutes ago.  No worries, we’ll walk Boston Commons, and the garden, then head out to the Museum of Fine Arts, as it’s supposed to rain this afternoon.  Along the way, we stop by the Granary cemetery, where John Hancock, Paul Revere, Sam Adams, and other notable revolutionaries are buried.  There’s a bar across the street, where it’s said that you can enjoy a cold Sam Adams, while overlooking a cold Sam Adams (groan, I had to say it).  There’s a car show on the Commons.  In addition to some pristine oldies, there are some current models of high tech metal including Ferrari, Porsche, Mercedes, Audi, Lamborghini, and etc.  The museum turns out to be a pretty ambitious walk, so we hail a cab.  MFA has the largest collection of Egyptian artifacts outside of Cairo, and an incredible collection of Jamie Wyeth works including portraits of the Kennedy brothers, Andy Warhol, and Nureyev.  We had planned on a couple of hours, but end up staying until closing time, still hungry for more.  Even though the food in Boston has been awesome, we’re too whacked to eat out, and head back out to The Girl for a simple meal of olive antipasto, salami, prosciutto, cheese and redpop.

Pretty sad to be leaving Boston, we could stay here for a few more days, but the weather will start pushing us soon, and there’s a lot more to see.  I’m sure that we’ll stop on our way back to the Maritimes next Spring (yeah, we decided to come back, and catch Newfoundland and Labrador next Summer a few weeks ago).  We’ll overnight in Scituate, Mass, which doesn’t have a lot of historical stuff to offer, but will cut our trip to the Cape Cod canal into manageable chunks.  Sunny, clear, and the seas are small, in spite of the 20-25 knot winds.  Lobster pot dodging occupies your intrepid crew, but otherwise, the trip is unremarkable (boy, have we gotten jaded).  Scituate is pretty cool.  We take a stroll along the harbor walk, and support the local economy at the grocery store.  There’s a music store here, and it’s jammed with about a million used guitars and drum kits, to say nothing of the stacks of old vinyl and CD’s.  The place looks like Fibber Magee’s closet-barely room to walk, and I’m talkin’ about 3,000 square feet of this.  The poster hanging from the ceiling over the cash register is advertising the lineup from this Summer’s free concert.  Heritage Festival Days is a four-day gig every August, and this years’ lineup included Dickey Betts, Dave Mason, Leon Russell, and many others you’d recognize.  They just close the streets, and let it roll-all for free (man, I love this country).  The owner of the shop looks like he just stepped off the Grateful Dead’s road crew, but when I ask him if he has a copy of Eric Clapton’s, J.J. Cale tribute album (Mark, my good friend in Grand Rapids, turned me on to this), he says “yeah, it should be in this box”.  Whereupon, he grabs a razor knife, and opens a box, presumably fresh from UPS, pulls out some harmonica’s, disc cleaners, assorted wires and such, and ultimately, the aforementioned disc.  A quick stop at the beer garden to have a sip in the sun overlooking the harbor, and it’s back to the boat, where it’s blowing a steady 25, with gusts to 30.  The wind-powered generators are singin’, and as my friend Jeff Parker says “we’re makin’ money”, putting amps back into the batteries.

23 September, and man, is it cold!  I be sleepin’ in today, as we have to hit the Cape Cod Canal on the ebb tide to get a favorable (4 knot) current on our way through.  0714, and its 40 degrees out.  Since we watched “da Bears” and Jets play last night the battery banks are down a bit and I have to start the generator to pump them up quick.  Bonus for the Admiral, as I can flip on the reverse cycle heat and warm the joint up fast before she gets up.  She happy.  Admiral happy, me happy.  My favorite breakfast, smoked salmon, bagels and cream cheese, fresh pineapple, peaches, and blueberries, with a side of cukes, cherry tomatoes, and Italian salami.  We’re off by 0830, and it’s a sunny, but chilly ride to New Bedford, Mass.  En route, we hit the Cape Cod Canal right on the ebb (better to be lucky than good) and get a 4 knot push through the 10 mile trench.  On the west end, The Girl gets spit out like a watermelon seed.  Buzzard’s Bay is a sailor’s paradise, but for the first time in a month, NO LOBSTER POTS OR NET BUOYS!  Yay!  For the first time, I can actually do something other than stare out the pilothouse looking for stuff to not run over.  New Bedford harbor has a huge stone wall separating it from the sea, with a gate in it, much like a lock.  This can be closed in a hurricane to control the storm surge.  Once we’re in, we can see why.  Suz says that there are more fishing boats here than in any other port that we have visited this summer (oh yeah, Summer was over last night).  The hurricane barrier protects the harbor from the storm surge (higher tides) associated with hurricanes, which is the real killer of property and boats as opposed to high winds.  On the mooring ball, then the galley slave (Yours Truly) goes to work, chopping veggies for tonight’s pressure cooker stew, as prepared by our famous chef (and Admiral).  Really feels like we should have stew-trees are starting to change, and the air just feels like Fall (you know what I’m talkin’ about).  Tomorrow is the New Bedford Whaling Museum, and whatever else we can find.

Bon Jour mes amis,

Rockland harbor is pretty wide open, formed by a man-made seawall, enclosing a square mile or so.  We grab a mooring ball outside the Coast Guard station, and it’s clear that this will be a “rocky” day-pretty wavy.  No worries, we will be ashore until time for bed.  This area is the Wyeth family’s stompin’ grounds, and the Farnsworth Museum in town has an extensive collection of Wyeth works.  After that, Craig will pick us up for a campfire at their new home in Camden.  The Farnsworth turned out to be a “must-see”, spent several hours there.  Rockland itself is another one of those commercial fisheries-type towns that is trying to transition to a different economic base.  Most of the fish processing facilities are shut down, and a fair bit of the waterfront is lined by empty buildings, while downtown is sprouting art galleries and restaurants.  After the Farnsworth, we visit the headquarters of “The Puffin Project”, a 40+ year endeavor to reintroduce Puffins (a seabird) to islands off the coast of Maine.  This successful project, led by Steve Kress, is continuing to increase the population of these birds, which was nearly decimated by humans 50 years ago.  That evening, Craig picked us up, we grabbed Thai carry-out, and headed to Pam and his place for a campfire-no worries, we can take his truck back to Rockland and leave it at the marina when we’re ready to head back to The Girl.  Two other Krogens are in Camden, (“My Dreams”-Ted & Sue, and “Epilogue”- Phillip and Connie), so their owners, as well as P & C’s neighbors and boating buddies make for lively conversation.  Irish coffee and s’mores helped grease the skids.  When it’s time to head home, Craigs’ got his little tricked out Nissan pickup idling in the driveway for us, with the Coast Guard station dialed into the navigator.  By the way, “feel free to use the truck to go grocery shopping tomorrow morning”.  That’s boaters.  After shopping in downtown grocery stores in little villages for the past few months, Hannaford’s in Rockland feels like heaven (whattanerd!).

September 9, and on our way to Boothbay Harbor, on the recommendation of Jeff and Susie.  Jeff’s Dad was the director of the aquarium here, after a career as a researcher at Wood’s Hole, MA.  Lots of seals and porpoises on the way.  Boothbay is a cute little tourist town, which reminds the Admiral and I of Mackinaw Island, MI.  Since it’s after season, the crowds are minimal.  Unfortunately, the aquarium is closed today, and the breakfast joint that Jeff wanted us to go to is closed after Labor Day.  Oh well, we have a great walk around the bay, and scope out some shops, where everything must go, and on sale for 50% off.  We don’t need more stuff.  In the morning, we wake up and see “My Dreams” anchored in the bay.  They hadn’t planned to come here, but on their way from Camden, came upon a disabled boat, and towed them here, as this was the closest port.  I’ve heard tell of “Crazy Canadians”, but these guys take the cake.  Two guys in a 22’ inboard/outboard runabout on their way to Florida.  One guy has a bad arm, and their GPS doesn’t work, or they can’t read it-good luck.  Just keep the coast on the right side of the boat, and when you see palm trees, you’re there.  What’s the saying?  “….fools and Irishmen”-sump’n like that.  After an 8 buck breakfast at the greasy spoon, we’re on our way to Bath, Maine, home of Bath Iron Works.  Sound familiar?  Now owned by General Dynamics, this 150 year old builder of ships and boats is one of two remaining U.S. companies building surface combatants for the Navy.  Rumor has it that the first of the Zumwalt class destroyers is at their wharf, completion date 2015.  The Maine Maritime Museum is also in Bath, making the town an irresistible nerdstop.  “My Dreams” is headed there too.  Bonus.  We hit the tide just right, so the 5 mile trip UP the river is WITH a 3 knot current-get out the skis.  Rounding the last bend in the river, we encounter the Iron Works floating dry-dock, which is a behemoth capable of holding the destroyers built here.  Sure enough, sitting right there on the seawall, is the stealthy Zumwalt, all dressed in gray, and reminiscent of the Civil-war era vessel, The Merrimac, only on steroids.  I’d hate to be the bad guys with this beast prowling the coastal waters.  Ted and Sue are already on the City Dock, and have arranged a trolley tour starting at the Museum, and running through Bath Iron Works.  Gotta catch the bus.  You can be sure a full report will follow.            —Bon Jour

Hi All,

As nice as it’s been, time to bid Lunenburg adieu.  0530 on the 30^th, and we’re pulling out past “Just a Splash” into the dark harbor.  Planning to make Yarmouth, NS in two runs and the seas should be moderating today before building  again the next day.  On the way out to the ocean, we pass lotsa’ boats hand lining for mackerel.  A couple of boats look like Mom, Dad, and the kids are all in the act.  A pod of dolphins crosses our track 20 yards in front of us, and there are seals all around.  The Admiral pronounces that it’s the beginning of a good day.  Off our stern, JAS is quickly overtaking us.  They’re heading our way, so we’ll travel together until our plans take us our separate ways.  The sun rising in a cloudless sky, and the ocean oscillating in gentle, 3’ swells make for a gorgeous ride.  Eight hours later, we’re nearing the waypoint for our destination, but decide to push on a little farther.  The winds have come up to 15-20 knots, and we have wind wave on top of the swell, but The Girl is still making 6.7 knots.  Port LaTour is just a little fishing harbor with a small processing plant, and a couple of breakwalls enclosing a fleet of 20 or so fishing boats.  We shoot down the anchor about  100 yards from JAS, who we had talked to earlier about coming to this bay.  Cocktails and some gettintaknowyabetter on The Girl, and it is decided to poke our noses out in the morning to check the conditions before committing.  That night, it blew and rained, and there was chop in the bay.  When we got up at 0530, the Admiral expressed some doubt, so we called Paul and Cheryl on the VHF.  More than a little doubt on their part as well, since the Coast Guard had a high wind warning in effect for the next day or so.  Back to the rack.  When we get back up,we move The Girl to avoid a bit of the swell coming around the corner.  Now we’re questioning the decision to come here, as there is nothin’, and I mean NUTHIN’ here.  A little on the boat time to catch up on some chores, and do some reading, then we gotta’ get off.  Over to JAS. Yep, they want off too, so time for a dinghy ride to shore.  Inside the breakwall and up the slimy ladder, it’s really eerie.  Since it’s not lobster season here, there’s noooobody around, just a bunch of empty, hard-used boats, locked up buildings, and piles of pots and rigging.  Up the track (hesitate to call it a road), there are a couple of houses that remind me of Rural Anywhere, with cars sans engines and tires up on blocks, and defunct household appliances in the yard.  Three snarling dogs encourage us to get headed back to the boats.  Drop P & C off with plans for a “five to seven” later on.  Same plan for tomorrow morning.  At 0530, it’s still raining, but maybe the wind has moderated (or it’s wishful thinking).  Out we go.  Around the headland a couple of miles out, the seas are 2-4’, winds 15kn  and a little foggy.  We’ll push on, even though we’re “weather weenies”, and it looks like JAS will too.  Fog closes in, and there is less than 1/8 mile visibility.  Today, JAS will follow us.  Paul is maintaining visual contact, as he has no radar at his lower steering station (only up top, and he ain’t drivin’ from up there in this).  Rather unnerving for Yours Truly as they’re less than 50 yards off our quarter, and below our radar.  Four and a half hours later, we’re out of the wide open, and entering Schooner Passage, which traverses between several islands, and will afford us some protection from the seas.  Only thing is, we still have no visibility, and our speed is up over 9kn, as we squirt through this three mile long, 100 yard wide, twisty, turney passage on a flood tide.  Radar’s working well, and the chart plotter is right on.  I can smell and hear the rocky shore next to us but haven’t seen it yet.  HOLY CRAP!  There’s a hole in the fog, and it looks like I could reach out and touch the rocky shoreline, which is about 100’ away.  The fog closes in again, and a couple of exciting miles later, we’re back into open water.  Approaching their outer marker, we contact Fundy Traffic (like aircraft controllers, only for boats), to let them know we’re here.  They’ve got our AIS, and have us on radar, let us know about the traffic in our area, and ask us to give them a call when we are safely berthed.  The seas have moderated, and it’s super bright, although visibility is still only ¼ mile.  As we approach the headland of Yarmouth Harbor, the fog changes to a slight mist, it’s sunny and beautiful.  JAS is now 1.5 miles behind us, and still in the fog bank.  The Admiral helps them tie up a few minutes later, as the fog follows them in.  So much for the sunny day.  Yarmouth, NS is definitely a fishing town that’s trying hard to develop a tourist economy as well, but it looks like they’re struggling.  The car/passenger ferry from Portland,  Maine docks here, but it seems that most of the passengers are just passing through on their way to someplace else in Nova Scotia.  Rappin’ with the Harbormaster, he tells me that his part-time job here ends in a month, when he’ll return to his real job as a lobster boat captain.  Season is from October to May here-brutal.  He asked where we came from today, and was incredulous that we transited Schooner Passage in the fog and current.  I guess God does look out for fools.  (Message received-will try not to make that mistake again).  The seas look good for tomorrow, and the forecast calls for patchy fog, even though you can’t see the other side of the harbor right now, so we plan to cross the Bay of Fundy tomorrow.  It’ll be an early wake up call, as the trip will take around 13 hours or so, and we don’t like to land in an unfamiliar place after dark if we can help it.  Paul and Cheryl will head to Grand Manan Island, so we will be parting company  after dinner tonight.  At 0325, it was dark as the inside of a pocket, and the fog was so thick that we couldn’t see the lights on shore, about  100 feet away.  Guess it’ll burn off when the sun comes up.  Meantime, we tiptoe out the channel-Did I mention that it was narrow, and 2’ deep just outside?  Poking along at 3 knots, and not seeing buoys until they are 15’ from us is a little nervewracking at this time of day.  Oh, we also pass 2 fishing boats coming home from fishing.  They both have AIS, so we see them coming on radar, and are able to arrange a pass over the radio.  Both captains are nice enough to come to a dead stop, and turn on all deck lights as we approach their boats.  Even so, they’re not visible until about 30’ from our rail.  Once out of the channel, we let our friends at Fundy Traffic know, and set our course West, next stop Bar Harbor, Maine, U.S.A.  The seas were kind, but the “patch” of fog hung directly over us for 13 hours.  Twelve hours in, the lobster pot floats started to appear out of the fog.  There are so many that running on autopilot is a joke, as you literally have to slalom around them.  Seems like every time we turned, there was another one about to be run over.  All of a sudden, you’re 300 yards off course.  We were warned about the pots, but didn’t think that they would be so thick.  After 13 hours or so, we’re getting close to the harbor entrance to Northeast Harbor, ME.  (We had called Customs & Border Patrol a couple of hours earlier, and our NEXUS cards had gotten us a free ride, so didn’t have to check in at Bar Harbor).  There are steep headlands on both sides of the channel in, so I figure when we’re lined up, it’ll show up like a highway on the radar.  I know we’re close, ‘cause I can hear and smell the shore just can’t see it, and the radar’s cluttered (not helping much).  Suz is on the bow, and it’s getting darker outside, and she yells that we’re in a mooring field-sure enough, boats are looming up on all sides.  Okay….time to stop and regroup.  A guy standing on the moored boat 10 feet away from us tells us that we’re doing okay, and to just keep going North.  We hear an engine fast overtaking us from astern, and a launch appears out of the fog.  It’s the mail boat, so as he passes us, I pull in tight behind him and into the harbor.  In the bay, the fog turns to mist, and we can see ¼ mile or so.  With some visibility, it’s clear why the radar was so cluttered.  There are literally a hundred or so boats on moorings lining the channel and filling the bay.  I’ll tell ya’, that empty mooring looked pretty good.  Tied to terra firma, its way, way past time for a sip.  We’ll spend tomorrow and maybe the next day exploring Acadia National Park. –Whew! 

Thursday the 14^th, and we’re anchor up at Little Basin.  Out of the anchorage it’s blowing 20 knots with gusts to 27, and the sky’s pretty gray and threatening rain.  We’ve been hearing nothing but good things about the dock at St Peter’s, so the plan is to hole up there and wait for this Low to blow itself out.  On the way up, we have white water coming over the bow, and the wind is right on the nose-pretty cool.  When we reach the point below the lock at St. Peter’s, it is sailboat mayhem.  Boats coming out, boats going in, and boats doing circles.  One-and-a-half mile slalom through the melee, and we’re in calm water at the lock wall.  We tie up at the lock wall behind the sailboats that we’ve let motor in before us, and wait our turn to lock through.  Sea Star and another boat pass us and tie up at the front of the line.  In reality, they went directly into the lock.  Didn’t realize that the sailors were spending the night here, not locking through.  Oh well, the 40 minutes that we had to wait for the next opening allowed us to chat with the sailors, who informed us that there were “8 footers out there” and that they were taking green water over the bow, so turned around and would try it again tomorrow.  I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the weather would be like this for a couple of days.  By the way, this lock was built to mitigate the current formed by the difference in tidal levels between Bras D’or Lakes  and the Lennox Passage, not because of a difference of altitude of these two bodies.  There are only 2 tidal locks in the world, the other being in Scotland (how fitting).  At the marina, the Girl was too big for the docks, so they put us on the fuel wharf.  As promised, the wind continued to blow, so the layover gave us a chance to provision.  Next day, and the sailors from the wall started to trickle in.  The guys at the marina wedged them all in, and the atmosphere was kinda like a “snow day” when we were in elementary school, all of us waiting on the weather.  Suzanne, Lauren, Bill and I availed ourselves of all the village had to offer.  We had some health food at the local watering hole, and then hit the provisioning shops (grocery, hardware, pop store, ATM, auto parts store for propane, and hardware).  Next was a hike along the windy, rainy, wavy bay on the abandoned rail right-of-way.  William McCaskill, a famous marine photographer from the early 1900’s made his home here, so we toured it and viewed the collection of incredible black and white photos there.  By Saturday, the wind was blowing itself out, so our little flotilla headed out into Bras D’or Lakes, headed for an anchorage called Little Basin.  It’s a great, all weather harbor with a very narrow inlet.  On our way in, with the sun directly overhead, the Admiral (who was posted on the bow), got a real treat.  There were hundreds of free swimming jellyfish in every color of the rainbow just below the surface.  Perfect timing, as the sun popped out for about 2 hours that day.  After we anchored and went back in White Star there were only a few blood red jellies to be seen with clouds back overhead and drizzle threatening.  There’s supposed to be a good restaurant in this largely uninhabited bay, so we motor over to the only candidate (and only house on the bay) to check it out.  On the way in, Bill gets tangled up with the rocky shore, and Lauren has to get out of their tender and pull it across the flats to a sandy landing spot.  Fortunately, our camera has a fast shutter speed, so we were able to get a shot off between howls of laughter.  Sure enough, there is a restaurant, run by an old German couple in this huge, full scribed log home.  Only one couple from an anchored sailboat here, with the other 12 tables looking mighty lonely.  Nope, she can’t serve us a beer without a food order, so we’ll be back at dinner time.  The trip back that evening was uneventful (was Lauren driving?-not sure).  1900 hrs. and we’re the ONLY people in the joint.  The fare was unremarkable (I’m being kind), but the atmosphere was not.  We got to weaving tales about what might be in the basement-before long, we were kinda creeped out.  I fully expected Rod Serling to walk out of the back room and inform us that we were embarking on an adventure in “The Twilight Zone”.  We paid the rent, and as darkness fell, scrambled down through the woods back to the little boats, giggling like a bunch of kids ringing doorbells on the night before Halloween.  Made it back to the Girl, locked the hatches, and received no night time visitors.  Pretty happy when the sun came up (haha).  Maskells Harbor today, the birthplace of the Cruising Club of America.  Another all-weather anchorage.  Just putzed around all day, dinghy’n, and walkin’ around and chattin’ with some sailboaters (who anchored at the far end of the bay).  It’s really funny how sailboats always hang together, staying away from the “stinkboats”.  Even so, most want to know about our trawlers, ‘cause we are just sailboats without sails (we know this is where they’re going someday).  Nice oyster beds here, but nobody knows if they’re safe to eat this year (microbes), so we pass.  Monday, and off to Baddeck, home of Alexander Graham Bell, on Cape Breton Island.  The plan is to stay for a few days, take in the Alec museum and rent a car to cruise the Cabot Trail, a world famous (well maybe country famous) 300 km. scenic drive around the northern tip of Cape Breton.  Lauren and Bill took this drive through the national park a couple of decades ago, and have many fond memories.  The museum was well done, and took about 3 hours.  I was amazed at how little that I knew about the man.  In addition to his work on the telephone, he was responsible for building the first airplane to be flown in Canada.  He was a pioneer in hydrofoil technology, and built a boat which held the world speed record on waterthe HD-4 .  His work on open girder engineering, utilizing tetrahedrons to achieve stiffness and strength with minimal weight forms the basis for some of our space platforms.  Solar cells and voice transmission using light waves and airwaves were also areas of interest for Mr. Bell.  He was quite the humanitarian as well, taking a keen interest in the deaf.  Bell opened and taught at a school for the deaf, and researched the anatomy and physiology of human speech, as well as inventing the audiometer (a device for measuring hearing loss).  He had a close relationship with Helen Keller, who credited him for her ability to speak.  Good stuff.  Driving the Cabot Trail was a 12 hour experience.  We took every spur, dead end track and visited every little fishing port along the way.  Picked up four chilled, cooked lobsters ($10/lb.) and some white pop to eat/drink along the way (we had our lobster tools in the backpack).    The dramatic cliffs along the ocean reminded me of the California coastline around Carmel.  Inland, the verdant, sometimes craggy countryside brought memories of Scotland back (the rain and numerous rainbows helped, too).  All in all, an awesome day.  Thanks to Bills’ driving skills, I got to be a tourist without driving responsibilities.  The four of us were whacked when we got home, so after I picked up White Star (oil, filter, lube-$45) from Baddeck Marine, it was movie and pizza night.  Good Morning Vietnam provided the entertainment, prompted by us listening to 60’s music all day on the rental’s Sirius radio, the recent demise of Robin Williams, and the fact that neither Bill nor Lauren had seen the flick.  Breakfast on Wednesday morning at the Yellow Cello Café was bittersweet.  We’re parting company with our new buds today, as we have to start heading South, and they are leaving their boat up here and heading home for the winter in a few weeks.  Every excuse to stay a little longer was exercised, including a trip to the gift shop, the farmer’s market, and the marine supply store.  Finally faced the music and left around noon.  No worries, we’ll see them again in October when they’re our guests at the Krogen Cruiser’s rendezvous, in Solomon’s, MD.  As we ran down Bras D’Or Lakes, it was windy but sunny, with frequent cloudbursts visible on shore.  Although it has been mostly rainy for the last 3 weeks, the Admiral and I agreed that it certainly had not affected our activities, and would not be an overriding memory.  Wind and seas look favorable for our crossing to the NS mainland tomorrow, and for the trip across the south shore to Halifax in the ensuing couple days, so we decide to go through the St. Peter’s lock and spend the night on the wall.  That way, we can leave before the lock opens at 0800.  We make the last lock through at 0353 (the lock closes at 0400, and the lock mistress held another boat in the lock for 12 minutes to wait for us).  The lock wall is well sheltered, so there is barely a waft of breeze, and the sun is out.  Temperature around 21C, so it’s a great evening to just sit up top and read.  Both of us are so satisfied that we opt to skip dinner and just enjoy the moment.  Thursday morning, and I’m just like a kid on Christmas morning.  I’m tryin’ to be real quiet, just layin’ here with my eyes closed.  Guess what?  The Admiral is too-“You awake?  Yeah, says I.  Wanna’ go?  Yep”.  Engine room checks, coffee, breakfast, and we’re off by 0630.  Gorgeous morning.  Sunny, 6 kn. Wind, 1’ seas, 18C, and the ocean to ourselves.  We catch glimpses of a few seals, but no whales today-Shucks.  It’s so beautiful that we pass by our planned anchorage and head 20 miles further West.  Heading into Isaac’s Harbor.  The Admiral’s idling down the motor, and I’ve got anchor handling duties.  I’m back.  Harbor is wide open and not so pretty, we head down to Webb Cove, and there’s a road right next to the anchorage-no good.  There’s another anchorage at Drum Harbor, but when we get there, it just doesn’t look good in these winds (which have picked up).  Decide to check out Fisherman’s Harbor which is a mile or two away.  The wind’s blowing right in the mouth, but not much fetch, so no waves.  We shoot down the hook, it skips twice then grabs.  We’re home.   Spend the rest of the afternoon reading and snoozin’, then fresh lobster salad by MDO.  Showers, then bed as it’s another early day on Friday-just another day in The Life.  It’s Friday, and the hook is up at 0640.  Kind of an overcast morning with a dull, flat sea and very little wind-the kind of morning that makes you want to head back to the rack for another hour of Z’s.   On our way out, we see 8 seals.  A sailboat is crossing our port bow.  Maybe he spent the night at Drum.  Checking him out, I spy 3 people huddled in the cockpit in their foulies, and I’m thinkin’ that my toasty pilothouse is pretty comfy in 16C degree weather.  About 20 or so seals later, we’re in Jeddore Harbor-still no more whales.  Another night on the hook, then off to Halifax tomorrow.

-Later