We were sailing along on Blue Hill Bay in Maine in mid-July with two other boats from our club. It was a wonderful sail, tacking back and forth across the bay. The weather was starting to turn to "schmutz," as we like to say. We were on our way to Buckle Harbor, a favorite of one of the couples, and they were very anxious to show us its beauty. Soon the fog rolled in Ð what a surprise in Maine! Our friends on their 40-foot boat were way ahead of us as we coped with the fog, since we had no radar at that time. We had taken our sails down and were in pretty good shape, for the shape we were in. But we were concerned about our friends on the third boat, who definitely seemed lost behind us.

We arrived in Buckle Harbor safely and anxiously awaited our friends' arrival. Soon they arrived, trailing a lobster buoy from their stern. How very attractive, very yachtsman-like! The captain of a 50-foot sleek yacht they were passing called out, "Captain, do you know you have a lobster pot on your stern?" Our friend gave him a cursory glance, keeping calm as always as he reflected on the last hour's events: trying to get the sails down, coping with fog and getting caught on a lobster pot. He wasn't ready to give the sharp retort that he probably had on the tip of his tongue.

At this point, there wasn't much of the harbor to see, as we were in fog. Having done enough anchoring, the captains let out the scope we thought was necessary. When we were all shipshape, our friends on the one boat came over for a meal and conversation. We had been together on the boat for several hours when all of a sudden we heard a lot of yelling. It was dark now, and we went topside to see what was going on. Our cruising buddies' boat was dragging anchor! He and his wife scrambled into their dinghy, rescued their boat and finally re-anchored. Once again, we heard the voice of the captain on that 50-foot yacht. "Marjorie, stay away from those people!" "Hmmph," I said, "Don't they ever have any trouble?"

By now the tide was rising and a storm started to blow in. It was getting time to retire for the evening. My husband thought he'd stay up for a bit and work on the log and do some light reading. He would check the anchor before retiring. I went forward to sleep.

At some point it seemed that we were moving, but I was in that sleep state where you don't know reality from dream, and assumed that the water was just rushing by the bow. The captain didn't seem concerned sleeping next to me. But All of a sudden we heard, "Bob! Bob! You've broken loose from your anchor!" Our friend jumped into his dinghy and came to our rescue. We were heading for the rocks on the starboard side, and definitely would have hit them if his wife hadn't been in the cockpit, watching out in the storm. It was quite the night. Everyone was up! Obviously we had needed to put out more scope because of the intense storm Ð lessons learned!

At this point, my husband was exhausted. He has trouble getting enough sleep and obviously someone needed to stand watch. At 3 a.m. I told him to get some sleep while I kept watch. No way I was going through that again without being at the ready. I took the radio into the cockpit, sang to every song, and watched the sun come up. It is true what the say Ð it is always darkest before dawn.

The next day's weather wasn't much better, but we needed to move on. We would come back to Buckle Harbor another time.

Last year was the other time. We had been cruising for about two weeks with our club members and friends. We broke off and decided to be on our own for a while. What better time to revisit Buckle Harbor than a beautiful summer day in July? As we were approaching the harbor, I said, "hasn't this just been the very best sailing vacation ever?"

Big mistake! At that point the engine stopped Ð bam! We had snagged a toggle from a lobster pot. And it was really wrapped on the prop. The captain attempted to free us with the telescoping boat hook, but we lost the top half in the attempt. We looked at each other and realized the captain had to go overboard. We anchored the boat in York Narrows, just outside Buckle Harbor, so we wouldn't drift off. The captain was down to one flipper Ð the other had split Ð and his snorkel and goggles. The water was freezing.

After 15 very long minutes, we were free. The captain quickly came on board and got into dry clothes. We got out the cruising guide and read about what to do when you get tangled in a lobster pot. We had done everything right, but one more thing would have been great. Guess who's getting a wet suit for Father's Day!

The next morning was a rare gift you receive in Maine every so often. The harbor was calm, the skies were blue and the sun was shining. As our friend often says, "It doesn't get much better than this!" We were happy to have given Buckle Harbor that second chance. We'll go back again and hope that it will be uneventful. And we must confess that we'd have great satisfaction in seeing that very smug captain of the sleek 50-foot. yacht trailing a lobster pot on his stern!

Author Valerie B. Wellmann lives in Stoneham, Mass.

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