The next boat up

The author, at the tiller of Resolute, the vessel for their September cruise. Photo courtesy Pamela Harwood.

September 2023

By Pamela Harwood

As Maine residents for 30 years, we know firsthand that September offers some of the best weather of the year for outdoor activities. The humidity is down, skies are crystal-clear, the water is relatively warm, and the temperatures have not yet plunged dramatically. Under these favorable conditions, my husband, Hugh, and I embarked on an unexpected and out-of-our-comfort-zone sailing adventure.

Back in 2013, inspired by Hylan & Brown Boatbuilders’ 43-foot, workboat-type power cruiser Deliverance, we bought a 46-foot wooden bridge-deck cruiser, Katie Mack, in Tacoma, Wash. Designer unknown, she was built in 1932 by brothers John D. and William L. McGregor in Vancouver, B.C. We had her transported across the country to Yarmouth, Maine, and enjoyed our first summer with her exploring Casco Bay with family and friends. This was life in Maine as it should be.

However, this life was temporarily disrupted when a survey showed that octogenarian Katie Mack required restoration work on her hull before we ventured farther afield. We understood why Chip Miller and Scott Conrad – of Six River Marine, in North Yarmouth – said they’d need 18 months to complete the work, but the prospect of not getting out on Casco Bay in 2014 was inconceivable.

The solution: transport Resolute, our 21-foot open-cockpit, gaff-rigged wooden cutter from Southwest Harbor to Casco Bay for the summer. Resolute, designed by Ralph Stanley and largely built by his son Richard in 1996, allowed us to get out on Casco Bay virtually every weekend, and frequently after work. A late-August afternoon sail around Clapboard Island found us talking about when we would haul and transport her back to Bass Harbor for the winter. Trouble was, we weren’t nearly ready for the sailing season to end.

Hugh is the avid sailor, and while I enjoy the ride, how we “get there from here” under sail often remains a mystery. He was quite surprised when I asked why we couldn’t sail Resolute Downeast in September, when Maine offers some of the finest sailing conditions, and the wind should be blowing us in the right direction. He agreed after I said that, if anything went wrong, he had permission to remind me that this was my idea.

We figured the trip could be done in six days, over two to three weekends, and would be a great way to test some of the gear we’d purchased for more extensive cruising aboard Katie Mack, such as the Mustang inflatable PFDs, portable GPS, and handheld VHF radio. We could also refine our navigation skills. The guest room at home began to fill up with clothing and gear we’d need for this cruise, and I began to investigate B&Bs along the way.

We plotted a course on paper charts (highlighting in yellow ledges and rocks) with the help of Memory-Map.Com and the indispensable “A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast” by Hank and Jan Taft and Curtis Rindlaub. Then we began to listen to the marine radio for a weekend weather window.

Day 1, Sunday, Sept. 7: Our original plan was to depart on Saturday, but brewing thunderstorms convinced us to drive in tandem to Port Clyde that afternoon, drop off the truck, and drive home. Good plan, as that storm was a doozy, but the night’s storm cleared out to blue skies and light winds in the morning. We stowed our gear in the cuddy cabin: foul weather gear, lots of layers, hats and gloves, plenty of snacks, water, lunch fixings, and an Airpot full of tea.

We slipped our mooring in Falmouth at 8:48. But, by 9:45, we realized we’d need some help from our Minn Kota trolling motor, which got us through Chandler Cove, between Long and Great Chebeague islands. Once through the cove, however, we needed more power. So Hugh lashed the dinghy to the side and started up its nine-horsepower motor, which pushed Resolute like a tugboat.

Finally, at 2:30, on the backside of Jewell Island, the breeze picked up to 5 mph, with seas less than one foot, and we were off. What a glorious sail to the eastern part of Casco Bay and up to Sebasco Harbor. We picked up one of the Sebasco Resort moorings, enjoyed dinner overlooking the harbor, then called Carol at the Edgewater Farm B & B, in Phippsburg. As we had pre-arranged, Carol then picked us up and brought us to her inn.

Day 2, Monday, Sept. 8: After a tasty breakfast of “Dartmouth Eggs,” which we called “Toad in the Hole,” we set off at 9:55, with 10-mph winds coming from the east. Rather than sailing Downeast on a reach, we had to beat our way across Sheepscot Bay, Boothbay and Johns Bay. Understandably, lots of lighthouses are to be seen along this rocky and unforgiving shoreline, and each one is more spectacular than the last.

We rounded Pemaquid Point as dusk fell. Hugh had us well prepared for all situations and conditions, though, and we had handheld running lights, just in case. I wish we could show you a picture of New Harbor, on the east side of Pemaquid Neck, as we finally cruised in, but a high overcast covered the full moon. We glided in under the cover of darkness at 8:40, grateful for dinghy-tug power. Thankfully, the proprietor of the Gosnold Arms met us at the dock, with lights, to guide us in.

Day 3, Tuesday, Sept. 9: The Gosnold Arms Inn is not to be missed, whether coming by land or sea. With a quiet, comfortable room and a lovely reading nook, we could have stayed longer. The cheerful breakfast room – a long, glassed-in porch – overlooked the harbor. If one is interested in going out to Monhegan, Hardy Boat Cruises departs from New Harbor.

A quick dinghy tour of the harbor allowed us to fill the gas tank at Shaw’s Fish & Lobster Wharf. New Harbor is a working harbor, full of charming boats and friendly fishermen. The harbor is small, so it’s rare to find pleasure boats here.

We had a heck of a time getting out of New Harbor as we were headed directly into the wind. With both the electric motor and “dinghy tug” to help the sails, we managed not to end up on the rocks along this narrow harbor. We decided, just in time, to take in a reef as the winds soon picked up to 15 mph, with two- to four-foot seas. What a wild ride that was!

Again, heading east into the wind meant tacking across Muscongus Bay. We headed closer to land behind some islands, and the wind and waves settled to 10 mph and only one- to three-foot seas. Just beautiful. Through everything, our little open cockpit daysailer showed she is capable of handling much more robust conditions than we have sailed her in around Southwest Harbor.

After some tricky navigation through narrow, rockbound, ledgy areas, Marshall Head Light, at Port Clyde, was a welcome sight. I cannot imagine attempting to navigate this coast without the buoys, lighthouses, charts and GPS that we have today.

The Port Clyde General Store maintains moorings for transients, so we grabbed one, packed up, loaded the truck that we’d left there on Saturday, and headed home. We could hardly wait for the next phase of this adventure, which would take us across Penobscot Bay, through some of the world’s best cruising waters, to Bass Harbor, where Resolute would spend the winter.

Day 4, Saturday, Sept. 13: Once again, we drove to Port Clyde and dropped off the truck. We were brimming with excitement as we loaded our gear. This time, we decided not to make reservations at a B&B, figuring there’d be plenty of rooms available wherever we landed in Rockland, Rockport or Camden. Given our after-dark arrival in New Harbor, we understood why people say, “The most dangerous thing you can bring on a boat is a schedule.”

With a good weather forecast, and after letting Hugh’s brother know our general plans, we were happy to play it by ear. Seas that morning were less than one foot, but winds were 10 to 15 mph, so we put in a reef before we slipped the mooring. Unfortunately, we were headed into the wind as we traveled north toward our intended destination of Camden.

With the tide and a chilly wind against us, we found ourselves beating through Muscle Ridge Channel. Challenging for Hugh; lots of fun for me as navigator. We also had many alpaca and wool layers, and the Airpot full of tea, so we were comfortable. As Hugh has learned, a warm wife is a happy wife, and “happy wife, happy life.” We were in our element.

By 2:30, we realized there was no way we would make it to Camden before dark. We changed direction and headed east across West Penobscot Bay rather than continue north. Hugh let the reef out at 3:30 p.m., and we enjoyed a lovely sail on a reach.

Shortly before we arrived at North Haven, Hugh mentored me on dead-reckoning with a handheld compass and the chart. Using Owls Head Light in the distance and Stand-in Point, on North Haven, I found our location on the chart – exactly where the GPS said we were and, more importantly, where we were supposed to be.

We arrived in North Haven at 5 p.m. and picked up one of the J. O. Brown moorings. This is the boatyard where all the original North Haven Dinghies were built. Hugh’s mum learned to sail in one, and our Bob is a replica built by the Maine Maritime Museum’s Apprenticeshop in Bath.

North Haven is a tiny village halfway along the Fox Islands Thorofare. While there are a bazillion B&Bs in Camden, the only one I was familiar with on North Haven, the Pulpit Harbor Inn, was no longer open. Another inn we called said they had no room. We had visions of a cold night aboard Resolute, but as we walked around the village, some nice people pointed us in the direction of the Nebo Lodge, just two blocks away.

A trio of guests gave us the number of the innkeeper, who was having dinner with her in-laws. No answer, so we dropped our gear, went to dinner at the nearby Calderwood Hall, and reached the innkeeper when we returned. She offered to come back to show us the room, or we could pick up the key to Room 3 that was hanging on a peg, go on up ourselves, and settle up in the morning. This was Maine, especially island living, at its finest!

Day 5, Sunday, Sept. 14: Next morning, after a full Nebo Lodge breakfast, we slipped our mooring under sail and ran before the wind in a fast reach with 5- to 10-mph winds from the northwest. What a glorious run across East Penobscot Bay! We could see Cadillac Mountain, on Mount Desert Island, from Jericho Bay, between the Deer Island Thorofare and Casco Passage. Although we had allotted an extra day, and could have spent that night in Stonington, the pull of MDI and the perfectly clear, crisp weather convinced us to keep going.

The wind came around to the west in the early afternoon as we neared our destination, Bass Harbor. We tied up at Richard Stanley’s yard, where Resolute would be hauled out for the winter, and awaited our ride back down to Port Clyde and the truck.

The exhilarating experience of seeing just what Resolute, Hugh and I could do over the course of five days – in clear weather, but with some challenging seas and long distances – built my confidence and competence. We were able to test safety gear that we’d purchased for Katie Mack, and put my navigation skills and Hugh’s sailing skills to the test. Best of all, as Hugh said, “Never once did I have to remind you that this was your idea.”

Pam learned to sail on Tomales Bay, in California. But it wasn’t until 1978, when she helped her soon-to-be husband, Hugh, rehabilitate Resolute, a 1929 Vineyard Sound Interclub, that the wooden-boat bug really bit. After raising their family in Cumberland, Maine, they sold their farm and restored – then moved aboard – Katie Mack. They ply the New England coast, spending summers in Maine, where they still sail Resolute, and they winter “on the dirt” in Oak Bluffs, Mass.