The planning had begun on an earlier trip to the Maine coast. At that time, as we made the left turn for Northeast Harbor at the green bell, I wondered aloud, "Why not just keep going?" After all, we had the time, and at a cruising speed of 19 knots, we wouldn't need much of it. There's a mysterious force that stops many cruisers from venturing beyond Mt. Desert. We'd soon find out if there was anything to it.

	Then we all took a moderate hike to the western shore onto the rocks, a geologically interesting lacing of granite an basalt veins, and a splendid view of the Gulf of Maine.

There would be three couples, two boats and a white terrier. There was also supposed to be a piecrust, but that's for later. Grateful Daze, our 53-foot Carver, would head to Portland and Peregrine, a 54-foot Hatteras, would stop at Christmas Cove.

So after a two-day visit with our kids at camp, Marci and I set off Sunday morning aboard Grateful Daze and met up with Dave, Tanya, Ken, Jan and Harley aboard Peregrine at Eastern Egg Rock in nearby Muscongus Bay, where we could get a glimpse of some puffins. The little guys were buzzing all around Ð a lucky start to our cruise.

After a few minutes the two vessels matched course and speed and made for Frenchboro, Long Island with harbor porpoises providing escort.

The water remained flat and we rounded the corner into Frenchboro in early afternoon. The view was of typical Downeast harbor that Farley Mowat might write about. At low tide, it looked a bit disheveled, but adding 10 feet of tidal water transformed Lunt Harbor into a postcard. We were directed to "take inny moorin' nuht bein' used." So we did.

Before the day's hike, we stopped at the Frenchboro Historical Society for the "Lunt's-eye" view of the town and its history. Marci looked through the cookbooks on display for a blueberry pie recipe. The woman in charge gave us her personal recipe, "guaranteed to be delicious."

The next day delivered another glorious morning. The women set off on a 40-minute walk to find uncharted territory on Long Island. The men puttered. Three hours later the men were scanning the shoreline with binoculars when the women returned insisting that they knew exactly where they were the entire time.

We dropped our moorings at 0900 and steamed on flat seas under sunny skies. Passing Petit Manan Light, we now saw unfamiliar coastline. As we approached Roque Island from offshore, the bold granite coast slowly came into view.

How different these shores look from Penobscot Bay and even Acadia National Park. Beautiful pink granite bluffs offer a backdrop to the working lobstermen. Peregrine came just south of Anguilla Island, careful not to disturb the hundreds of gray seals basking in the midday sun, and both vessels anchored just off the mile-long crescent beach.

We had come in at low tide and anchored in 10 feet of water at the southern end in good holding ground of silty mud. Ken and Jan launched Peregrine's dinghy to bring Harley to the beach for his mid-day relief.

Moments later, as the threesome on shore strolled about 300 yards from the beached dinghy, Marci noticed the dinghy shift, slide and É float. A loud whistle sent Ken scurrying but it would be too late. That was how we learned how fast the tide rises Downeast.

On another perfect, sunny morning the following day we headed for a waypoint at West Quoddy Head Light. The water was so perfectly calm that you felt you could step off the swim platform and walk on the surface. The air temperature was a bit chilly at nearly 20 knots, but with Peregrine's enclosed bridge and Grateful Daze's lower pilothouse, everyone was toasty warm.

Our first glimpse of West Quoddy Head light was spectacular. In the bright sunshine, those red stripes made us feel like kids who had snuck off to a secret place. After lingering for a few minutes, we turned north for the Lubec Narrows and Passamaquoddy Bay.

In Eastport, we rafted at the floating docks on the north side of the main pier and set off to explore. The townsfolk couldn't be more friendly and hospitable. There is a fine chandlery called Moose Island Marine, a hardware store and several restaurants.

The town has all the services you need, including a pottery shop that claims to ship "intergalactically," as well as free pickup and delivery by the local IGA, which made it easy to restock the pantry. We still couldn't find a pie crust, but that's for later.

After a delicious lunch at the Waco Diner, the crew of Peregrine joined Jim Blankman, a local shop owner and town character whose custom woodworking shop specializes in skateboards. They climbed into his old woody for a historic and humorous tour, while Marci and I took the ferry to Deer Island for a beautiful, if a bit strenuous, bike ride.

Freshly provisioned, we all prepared a gourmet dinner by candlelight overlooking Passamquoddy Bay.

After being the first in the U.S. to see the sunrise, we split up for a while, Peregrine for some cod fishing and Greatful Daze to St. Andrews, New Brunswick, for frozen Canadian pie crust. We met up in Cutler that afternoon with stories of friendly people, sightings of whales, bald eagles and great scenery. Two plump cod made for the best dinner yet.

Cutler is a fine working harbor with a fully functional general store. When I mentioned to the woman in the general store that we were looking for some fresh blueberries to make a pie, she headed to the cooler and brought out a tub of freshly picked fruit. Marci needed one more cup for the pie, but we were getting closer.

Cutler is home to the friendliest lobstermen we'd met. After they finished unloading the day's catch, they'd swing by our moorings in their skiffs for a chat. One recalled seeing the two of us run past the harbor on our way to Eastport and said he was glad we stopped by for a visit. We felt very welcome.

The next day we made a turn to the west just outside Cutler on a heading for Petit Manan. By now we were used to the sights of seals and porpoises, but were a bit surprised as Dave pointed out a school of bluefin tuna breaking the surface just before 'tit Manan. There we made our course change for the Cranberry Isles.

As the haze cleared, we caught our first glimpse Cadillac Mountain. We were back in civilization.

Peregrine went off to Southwest Harbor for a couple of days, while we visited Northeast. Harbormaster Will Boddy let us raft alongside Sunbeam, the Maine coast's missionary boat. With no reservation, we were grateful to be accommodated.

On our folding bicycles, Marci and I set out for Acadia National Park's carriage paths, quickly discovering that in Acadia all roads eventually lead to the Jordan Pond House for the famous popovers. There the two crews bumped into each other in the lobby.

Later, we stopped at the Otter Creek Market for some flour Marci needed for the blueberry pie. We were getting closer yet.

The next day I had arranged for a float for the two boats to share in Northeast Harbor. During dinner preparations both boats were running generators at about 6:30 while preparing dinner when our neighbor 40 yards away motored over in his dinghy to announce that he'd been listening to our generators for an hour and 10 minutes and he'd like them shut off.

We were disappointed that this sailboat owner couldn't have been a bit more polite and understanding. The same type incident had befallen friends on a sportfisherman on a prior cruise to Northeast Harbor. It's something for powerboaters to remember when visiting. Needless to say, after dinner was cooked the generators went off for the evening.

Marci now had all the ingredients, including just the right amount of freshly grated nutmeg, for the much-talked-about fresh Maine blueberry pie and went at it. The warm pie with a dollop of ice cream made a perfect end to a memorable visit to Acadia.

After visits to picturesque Blue Hill Bay, Eggemoggin Reach, Bucks Harbor, Castine, and Pulpit Harbor, we steamed into Camden, where the harbormaster held two spots for us at the town dock. Grateful Daze had developed a mysterious raw water leak in the port engine that so far had been untraceable, so we called Art's Marine Service. They say in Maine that people are willing to go out of their way to help. Art's visit at 6 a.m. the next morning to make the repair proves it.

Camden has much to offer the cruising yachtsman, and the six of us all found something to hold our interest for the afternoon and evening. But it was up bright and early the next morning for the climb to the top of Mt Battie. Of the two routes, this hardy group chose the tougher Mt Battie Trail. The view from the top was well worth the effort, and the reward was a delicious breakfast of eggs, omelets and fresh fruit.

But we had a five-hour run this day to Chick's Marina in Kennbunkport, so there was no dilly-dallying after breakfast. Then, at 11 the next morning, it was time to say goodbye to Maine and begin the four-hour run to Scituate, Mass. The forecast called for southwest winds 10 to 15, maybe a bit higher, with a chance of showers or occasional thundershowers. As we neared Cape Ann, a glance to starboard revealed darkening skies. On radar we saw a 10- to 20-mile swath of storms to our west and southwest. If we headed west, toward land, we'd hit them.

By then we were starting to see some lightning, so we changed course to head east and get outside the storms and let them slip past. As we did, we could watch two distinct storms very clearly on the radar screen. Within a few minutes they had merged and reached our positions.

Peregrine had chosen a more southeasterly route to Grateful Daze's more east-northeasterly. Both vessels were getting wind and rain, but Peregrine reported later getting hail as well as gusts up to 50 knots. Once the storm's direction was clear, both vessels turned south to get outside it. Grateful Daze shifted course once again for an opening to the due west and got in the clear. Peregrine was still in it, and though we couldn't see each other on radar due to the rain clutter, we were in constant radio communication and marking the position of each vessel. Just to be on the safe side, all crews donned PFDs.

By the time we made it into Scituate Harbor we were all a bit damp and wanting to go back Downeast. But it had been a wonderful voyage, and we can't wait to point our bows back to the land of fresh blueberry pie.

This story was written by Michael Cohen with substantial help from the rest of our traveling party: Marci Cohen, Dave and Tanya Mahoney and Ken and Janice Yelland. Thanks to the many people we met along the way who provided the inspiration Ð and the blueberries.

Return to top of page