Saturday we awoke to calm weather and I was surprised to hear that our weather zone had a “Small Craft Advisory” issued. Stranger still were the lobstermen conversing on the VHF, planning to head back to port, saying the lobsters could wait another day. In hindsight, we probably should have listened to NOAA and the locals.
We left our dead calm anchorage under cloudy skies, planning to sail through the Deer Isle Thoroughfare. 10 minutes later we had made a 180 degree turn, buffeted by 25 knot winds on the nose that were screaming through the tight passage of the Thoroughfare. We decided to head east across Jericho Bay, now fully understanding why there was a “Small Craft Advisory.” If we thought that dodging lobster buoys in calm weather was fun, we had a blast dodging them in 2-4 foot waves! And it was right about that time that the fog descended….
Before we left Maryland, our friends Jay and Tanya told us a story about their time in Maine, one day while they were sailing they heard a shaky VHF call from a boater come across the radio, saying something like ‘I don’t know where I am, the fog just came down, I don’t know where I’m headed, I can’t see anything…’ etc. The downeast-ly response that filled the silence? A salty voice answered, “If you’re sca-yerd, SAY you’re sca-yerd.” Now, Sabrina and I weren’t scared, but now I can see where the shaky voice was coming from.
We had already prepared for fog, our radar was running (and we knew how to read it,) we had our signal bell and foghorn on deck, and we had planned ahead for what we should do. When fog takes your ability to see, you should rely more on your other senses. We were already sailing with the engine off, so we craned our necks and listened for the diesel engines of the lobster boats in the area. I also noticed that you can locate the upwind boats by smell alone. I measured visibility at less than a quarter mile, so even though I’d have a radar hit, it was still entertaining every time a lobster boat would suddenly appear, seemingly right on top of us. All in all, we enjoyed our foray into the fog. As we reasoned it, we couldn’t come to Maine without seeing what all the fuss was about.
We entered Eggemoggin Reach and shortly thereafter we sailed out of the fog. The sun was out and we stared at the beautiful houses and islands that line Penobscot Bay. The stately manors peaking through the pines and brightly colored trees were gorgeous.
We’d mapped out some anchorages at the end of the Reach, but there was no shelter from the winds, so we continued on to Smith Cove near the town of Castine. Late in the day we finally arrived, and found a touring schooner already anchored there, they must have know that this was the place to find a quiet anchorage. Smith Cove wasn’t where we had planned to end up, but it was protected, and it was near the town of Castine, a destination on our list.
