Day 24: Hell’s Half Acre to Mount Desert Island – 06/08/12

We wake up to thick, penetrating, dripping fog.  It also rained in the night – it just couldn’t be soggier!  The floors are wet where condensation has formed – the sea temperature is so low here – and all the cushions and fabrics feel not just damp but actually wet even though I know they are cold as much as anything.

I have to say that I cannot see the point of sailing in these conditions one bit.  One, it’s better to motor so that you can quickly avoid any obstacle that suddenly materialises in front of you out of the gloom, and you just can’t admire the scenery.  I have been told stories of people going 3 or 4 days up this coast in fog then coming all the way back in fog, never having seen a bloody thing!  Just not my idea of fun.

However, amazingly, by 1000 the fog begins to lift and we see the Devil’s Island right by where we are parked.  We decide to move – I just hope the fog doesn’t descend again!

Motoring through the pots again, the sun gets stronger and stronger and the fog finally clears completely.  Now I can see the attraction again of sailing in this part of the world – it’s beautiful – and if it weren’t for the pots, it would be so much more relaxing.  But then if it weren’t for the pots, I wouldn’t be able to gorge on all that wonderful lobster!

As we motor along, we can hear the tinkling of bells as we pass the red and green buoys – it sounds like distant church bells. 

Photo:  Wind chimes of the sea – another buoy with bells on

The fishing boats are everywhere making up for the fact that they weren’t out yesterday I suppose.  It seems they throw more lobsters back into the sea than they keep as they are too small.

Photo:  One of the thousands of lobster men examining his catch

Photo:  Another Maine lighthouse

After just 17 miles of pleasant motoring we enter Northeast Harbor.  Joe has booked a slip for his boat but we are looking for a mooring and it’s first come first served.  We call the harbour master’s office and they tell us to look for mooring ball 416 or 422 but we never find 416 and 422 has someone firmly attached.  We motor past and find a larger one, accepting that we might have to pay a bit more.  We tie up to it which makes me squeal with disgust as the line is covered with slime, weed and other things that I don’t even want to think about but when we are in the dinghy going to pay as we pass the ball and realise it has a boat name on it.  This means that it’s probably a private one so we move and find another one of the right size, jump back in the dinghy and go to the office to pay.

There’s been a bit of confusion in the office.  They don’t seem to know what balls are free but they insist that the one we are now on is taken for two nights so we have to move – again.  At least the one they allocate us is nearer the dock!

Photo:  Northeast Harbor

By the time I have been in and out the dinghy three times, hooked three mooring balls and picked up three slimy lines, one of them twice, I am pissed off and have fish hands.  I am in need of some sort of reward so we go and look for some.

The town of Mount Desert is pretty, quaint and very tiny.  We cover the whole area very quickly and find two ice cream shops, sampling the wares of both.

Photos:  I just love this architecture!

We join Judith and Joe on their boat with their friends Margaret and Brian then wander along the dock to join their yacht club friends for the usual evening drink even though Mike and I are empty-handed on this occasion.  When they all go out to eat for a pre-booked dinner, Mike and I start to head back to the dinghy then decide to eat out instead and, oh boy, am I glad we do.

We choose the nearest place, a seafood diner.  I have half a pound of scallops sautéed in garlic and wine (heaven) along with sweet corn and sweet potato fries.  I am mortified that I can’t eat it all as it’s so good, and for $19, the best value so far.  Mike is equally impressed with his fried haddock.

We chat for a while with some other customers.  One young – probably in her late teens – says how wonderful my English accent is and that she wishes she had an accent herself.  She is absolutely delighted when I tell her she does have one – an American one.

We heave our stomachs back to the boat and we are both so knackered that we are in bed by 8.30 pm and asleep pretty quickly afterwards.  How awful!

 

Position:  44 deg 17 min N, 68 deg 16 min W

Distance so far:  1704 miles