By Jo Mellis
For Points East
I guess fun is all in the eye of the beholder. "I think it would be fun to go under the bridge in Jonesport rather than go all the way outside," my husband said during our Downeast cruise this summer. "There could be more things to see."

Hearing this as we approached the bridge that connects Beals Island, Maine, to the mainland, I recalled seeing on the chart that the height restriction is 39 feet. I knew our mast is higher than that.

I also remembered one of our cruising guides reported a sailboat with a 45-foot mast had made it but a Hinckley had been dismasted in 1999 when it hit the bridge.

So I questioned my husband about that fact and he got into a great explanation about how the charted clearance is at high water, not mean low water, as we would have. With an 11.3 foot tidal range, we could make it under the bridge with no problem, he assured me: 39 feet, plus 11.3 feet would make it 50.3 feet — plenty of spare room for our 42.5 foot mast.

So we analyzed the tides and current charts and planned our trip up the bay from Cape Split to coincide with the time of low water under the bridge.

We awoke early in a light, foggy haze. As we came through Tibbets Narrows, we entered a minefield of lobster traps. Most all had toggles on them, increasing the potential for propeller wrapping.

But my thoughts were all about the upcoming bridge and my husband's comment that he hoped he'd measured the mast height properly. I just looked at him and said, "Don't tell me something like that now!"

My mind said the math was right, but my heart took a flip when the bridge came into view and there was a big old American flag hanging down right in the middle of the center span. It was suspended on a bar about 10 feet below the bridge.

We both gulped and talked about staying to the upwind side of the flag. We also prayed for a nice gust of wind to lift the flag as we passed. I had visions of the flag becoming entangled in the radio antenna and wind indicator at the top of our mast.

I really got nervous as we approached the bridge, so I decided to go below and not look up any more because it simply looked like we wouldn't fit.

As it turned out, we did coast through with a lift from the ebbing current. The flag was lifted just in time by the morning breeze. I noticed my husband's hands were firmly planted on the wheel and a big sigh was uttered when we emerged on the other side of the bridge.

At Jonesport Shipyard in Sawyer's Cove, we found a delightful stop after the stress and challenge of the bridge. To top it off, the fog came in thick.

I was just thankful it waited for us to make it through the bridge before rolling in.

Jo Mellis and her husband, Robert, live aboard their Willard cutter, Quiet Passage. They spent three months this summer cruising the Maine coast (mostly in soupy fog). They now are headed south for a return to the Bahamas.