Day Cruise to Bar Harbor

Mooring in Flanders Bay at the end of a cruise

Stephanie and I cruised to Bar Harbor for lunch yesterday. It was a lot of effort for a burger and crab salad.

We had planned to do it on Tuesday, but the sky was so gray and heavy with fog that we postponed the trip. While I enjoy sailing in almost any weather, Stephanie doesn't.

We carried the kayak down to the water's edge at about 8:45, about an hour before low tide in Flanders Bay. I brought the only paddle because I wanted Stephanie to enjoy the cruise and let me do the work.

A light breeze blew from the west as we paddled out to Second Wind.

Getting the boat ready to sail was a comedy of minor errors. I forgot to lower the kick-up rudder while I was still in the kayak, when it is easier to do. Tying a slippery hitch onto the mooring was harder than it should have been. I forgot to unhook the boom end from the backstay before raising the mainsail. But we got it figured out and slipped our mooring at about 10 AM. The breeze had freshened and promised to increase, so I opted for the "lapper" jib, the next size down from the Genoa.

As we passed Schieffelin Point, we played the usual game of Dodge the Lobster Buoy, but one escaped my notice and got caught on the rudder. It slowed us to a crawl pretty quickly, so we had no steerage way to maneuver the boat free of the lobster trap below us. Just before I got the boat hook to push the line below the bottom of the rudder, the buoy pulled itself free. We had probably dragged that trap 20 yards from it's original location. This incident reminded me to be more attentive to lobster buoys.

Steering for green can #5 put the wind dead astern. I am deathly afraid of accidental gybes, so I steered about 30 degrees to port, putting the wind on the quarter. That had the added benefit of filling the jib, giving us a bit more speed and quieting the otherwise fluttering sail. As we approached Black Ledge, just west of Gouldsboro, we gybed and headed for green can #3 on a broad reach.

Clearing green can #3, we continued to dodge lobster buoys in search of green can #1, near Calf Island. We found it among the "litter of lobster buoys" (Stephanie's words) and passed over the deep bar to find a tide rip, typical of that location, as the ebbing Flanders Bay met the flooding Frenchman Bay.

I could make out Bar Island in the distance and steered for its west end. Midway across Frenchman Bay, the wind died down until we were only making 1.2 knots speed over ground, according to GPS. I swapped the lapper for the Genoa and we were quickly moving at three knots speed over ground. The slight improvement in the wind speed while I was changing jibs probably helped, too.

I decided to try anchoring with my "lunch hook" for the first time. I usually keep this spare anchor in a duffle bag under the cockpit. I pulled it out and overhauled the rode to make sure it would not tangle while I deployed the anchor.

With the wind blowing us toward the Bar Island sand bar, I dismissed the prospect of anchoring under sail. Before we entered the unnamed and little-used western cove of Bar Harbor, we fired up the outboard motor, turned into the wind, and doused jib and mainsail. We motored into the cove looking to anchor in eight feet of water. There is easy access to the water's edge at the southeast corner of the cove. I wanted to make paddling ashore and back as easy as possible.

I had Stephanie steer. When the depth sounder read "8 ft", I had Stephanie turn into the wind and put the  motor in neutral while I eased the little lunch hook into the water.

As the wind took over and started blowing us backward, I paid out anchor rode, pausing every now and then to give the anchor a tug. I could feel the rode vibrate as the anchor must have been dragging over a hard bottom. Finally, after I had let out about 60 feet of rode, I decided that the anchor could hold  Second Wind for the afternoon, even though the anchor did not feel like it had set well.

There was a little water in the floor of the kayak, so my butt got a little wet as I paddled us ashore. We dumped out the water on the beach and carried the kayak above the debris marking the high tide level. After stowing the paddle and our life jackets under the inverted kayak, we walked up the street then left, toward the center of town, looking for a good place to eat.

Cottage Street Cafe, the first restaurant we encountered, had open outdoor seating, which was inviting in the growing breeze. We sat down, were welcomed and given menus to browse. Stephanie chose a bleu cheese burger with barbecue sauce. I chose the Maine crab salad on a bed of greens and fresh vegetables.

We decided not to shop, preferring to return to our mooring in time to enjoy a glass of wine before dinner, so we left the cafe and headed directly back to the beach. Upon returning to the beach, we saw that, as the tide had risen, the wind had freshened, and Second Wind seemed to have drug her anchor for about 50 or 75 feet. The wind and waves also made it challenging to get into the kayak and away from the beach because of the waves entering the cove. Yeah, my butt go wet again.

Once aboard, I fired up the motor and had Stephanie steer while I pulled on the anchor rode from the starboard side of the cockpit. At one point, the rode seemed to pass under the boat, but I could not see it emerge on the other side. I had Stephanie put the motor in neutral while I just maintained tension on the rode and waited for things to settle. Often, at least on muddy bottoms, simply holding a steady tension will break an anchor free. I did not know what the anchor or rode was caught on, but I hoped that the same technique would have a similar effect. It did. In less than a minute, I was able to pull in the anchor rode hand-over-hand and had the anchor on the floor of the cockpit. I didn't even have to clean off any mud or seaweed. In retrospect, I suspect that the anchor rode had caught on a rock or piece of debris on the bottom of the cove and it just needed patience or the item to move under the tension of the rode.

After motoring out of the cove, we raised the lapper and the mainsail with a single reef. I could make out Thrumcap, a tiny island near green can #1, in the distance. But we could not quite point Second Wind toward Thrumcap. I eased the sheets a bit and steered toward the northern peak of Stave Island.

As we crossed the main part of Frenchman Bay, the wind abated a bit, and I shook the reef out of the mainsail. That didn't give us much more speed, so I considered swapping the lapper for the Genoa.

After tacking at Stave Island, Second Wind would not point toward Sorrento at all. I swapped jibs and Second Wind could immediately point higher and go faster. We tacked back toward green can #1 (or rather, where we should find green can #1; I could not yet see it), crossed the deep bar, and found that the wind in Flanders Bay was considerably stronger.

I reefed the mainsail and considered taking a second reef. I had just rigged the boom for a second reef this past spring, but I had not tested the sail to see if I had placed the boom fittings well. I didn't want to test them under windy conditions. I stayed with the single reef.

With my Garmin Oregon handheld GPS behaving reliably, I felt confident that we could take a shortcut between submerged rocks near Halftide Ledge, thus avoiding losing ground to go around green can #3 and having to work our way back close hauled. We kept going toward Schieffelin Point. But after crossing the ledge and passing green can #5, steering through the array of lobster buoys off Schieffelin Point seemed more trouble than it was worth in these winds. I doused the Genoa, fired up the motor, then doused the mainsail.

We motored straight into the wind to enter the northwest lobe of Flanders Bay. Suffice it to say that motoring into the wind-whipped waves was not a dry sport.

We motored up to the mooring and, on the second attempt, Stephanie hooked the mooring float, onto which I quickly attached my new mooring hook, which I could then drop in the water, kill the motor, and pause for a break before securing the mooring line for the night and putting Second Wind to bed.

Stephanie and I tidied up the boat, loaded our small bags into the kayak, and paddled ashore in challenging wind and wave. Well, I paddled. I shake my head at not grabbing a paddle for Stephanie when we first left that morning.

Once ashore, we dumped the water out of the kayak, stowed it under a tree, and hiked up to the house for quick showers and Chardonnay.

We had an adventurous day. And it was a heck of a lot of work for a crab salad.