September
15
(entry
from Peg Guilfoyle, presently berthed on Adirondack)
A long
fine day that started in a soul-less chain motel, and is ending in the berth on
Adirondack. Salient
features: a bus driver named
Barbara who recommended the same dive-y restaurant, J's Oysters, as my buddy at
the baggage claim yesterday.
“Ask
for my friend the bartender, Mary, and tell her I sent you!” She called out the local sights to the whole bus as we
whirled downtown. "Lady from
Minnesota!" she said.
Easy intersection
with Jeff and Sally at Dimillo's Old Port Marina and much marching up and down
the vicinity of the old port.
a dinghy tour of the harbor... ship names Harsh Mistress, Maine Responder, which on internet
exploration appears to be a huge pollution control vessel, and Sero Sed Serio,
which research reveals to be a Scottish clan motto saying meaning Late, but Steadfast. Jeff runs the dinghy below the piers! We ask some returning fishermen if they
have lobsters to sell! I nap
in the afternoon! We go to J's
Oysters, which is wonderfully dive-y and have lobster stew and we share a
bucket of steamed clams, dipping them in clam juice or butter. Then we walk through the port.
The marina has a lot of water movement in it.
September
17...or whatever day is it, because I'm already losing track. A long fine Sunday, after a snug
long night in the cabin. Went to the First Parish Unitarian in Portland
this morning, founded 1670-something, and was greeted warmly. Great church space, with heavy incised
carvings in the walls detailing early ministers, all of whom sprang from
Harvard, and a great set of religious symbols carved on a white wall behind and
above a very ship's prow type New England high and fierce pulpit, which the
minister ascended, thick gray hair swept back to orate. box pews, collection boxes on long arms, two young musicians on piano
and cello who did a fine job, detailed and full, with the hymns. Then up to the Portland Museum of
Art, arriving at the same time as a 1000/plate members opening for a new
Winslow Homer exhibit... we were not admitted! but saw the permanent collection
including a stunning NC Wyeth
Lobster Boat painting peculiarly hung when one first got off the elevator. We pulled out past the Portland
Headlight around 2 or so and out onto the Atlantic. I've never been on the ocean in such a small boat and it was
stunning. Huge swells like
breathing, a million lobster buoys to avoid, and a cool breeze rapidly
cold-ing. Jeff at the helm,
Sally with the I-pad charts navigating us down the coast, long vista of water
and breakers and cliffs, tide falling on the clock. We eventually settled for Kennebunkport, and entered the
breakwater at absolute low tide looking for a reputed mooring ball, in what
felt like half the river exposed as mud and bottom. I called out soundings, eyes glued to the depth
finder, while Jeff steered and Sally called the harbormaster to locate a
mooring ball next to a sailboat named Night Magic. Marina mooring here is $4/foot, so the free mooring
was quite a score. Hardly
any water! Now the
stars are high and cold above the river, Sally is knitting, Jeff is emailing
and we had live lobster dinner... okay, never done that before. After instruction, I chose not to eat
the green stuff or the “tomalley.” What an
amazing day. After a bit of
napping down below... it was cold up on the flybridge, I came back up, wrapped
up, to help watch for buoys.... there was one narrow shape bobbing up and down
wildly and very buoyantly. We
passed with it close on the starboard side and, not having seen that particular
shape before, I glanced down at it and to my utter astonishment, it was the fin
of a gigantic dead shark! It
looked like a great white, just like the darned movie, as if it were spiralling
up out of the deep, so the snout and jaws and torso were about to break water,
turned so its side fin bobbed rhythmically into the air. The torso must have been 10 feet in
circumference. I have never
imagined such a sight, gone in an instant and in the wake, leaving me
gaping.
This was
just after we passed the presidential buoys, where, apparently, they set a
security perimeter when the Bush's are in residence.
So
tonight we're tucked up in the Kennebunk River, tide rising, stars hanging high
and cold. Next low is at 6
a.m., so by the time we're up and ready to dinghy across to the little town,
there will be enough water to go and explore the village a little. One of the wealthiest communities in
Maine and no doubt adorable.
But that
shark!!
Monday
night, Portsmouth NH
Another
amazingly day, full of grace. Waking up in Kennebunkport to a completely
transformed river scene, the water high and full and running, no more
mudbanks. The marinas asking
a per foot hourly to tie up to explore the town, so dinghy-ed across instead
and walked into an appealing little village, full of shops; we seem to be gravitating toward
specialty food shops...today's acquisition dark chocolate sea salt caramel
sauce to be drizzled over apples.
We pulled out at 11, once again motoring down a transformed access and
out into the ocean, headed south and reviewing options for a possible two day
weather layover Seas are
supposed to run 8 to 12, and they're using the dreaded word gale. Portsmouth looked like the most
appealing spot for holing up but the currents and tides in the river here are
extreme, so we had to plan to arrive at slack tide in order to get safely
in. A beautiful ride over... but
cold on the water, and I was really cold this morning. Walked through Portsmouth this afternoon after being
met by Steve the marina guy, who presented us with an access key under
elaborate subterfuge circumstances.
It's a new moon with extreme tides and a storm coming; he made no bones that he was hoping for
salvage and a few necessary tows in the next few days. There's a Navy shipyard here that
works on nuclear submarines, and a very lively street life. Monday night, dozens of restaurants and
shops open, hundreds of people out and about.
Tuesday
a fine
long harbor day waiting for the gale to hit, changeable weather and a good day
to be ready to change clothes.
i charged off for a walk first thing, wanting to walk out to the beach
and hoping to see wild sea in advance of the gale. It was a long hike and so diverting that the relative
still-calm of the ocean did not disappoint. Through Portsmouth and to an extended road, over a few
bridges with beautiful vistas of the town and the water on both sides... and a forlorn little skiff on a mooring
ball lettered Chicken of the Sea on the stern. If you were afraid, fear would run rampant since the
water is such a dominant feature of the universe here. On to New Castle Island, full of
winding streets and dead end lanes and beautifully kept houses tucked patchily
together with gardens bright with flowers, doors and house walls closely
bordering the roads, and occasionally the bones of the island revealed, huge
granite sloping up and disappearing. I don't know when I've enjoyed a walk more. Eventually past the Congregational
Church and a little post office with an elderly caned man emerging, and finally
to a beach opening up to the bay.
Tide low revealing that ecological system so mysterious to me. Sitting, looking at the horizon, the
small strand with a dog-and-man, some seabirds on rocks. Jeff and Sally brought the dinghy over
to pick me up at the Portsmouth Yacht Club, and then we had a fine ride through
the river and harbor, admiring it all, while the weather turned south and the
breeze chilled. We borrowed dock
space to stop for a snack and wait for the tide to slacken so the run back
would be easier and by then it was starting to look like weather. It's hours later now, though,
post-hot-chocolate and used bookstore and chasing fairy houses and calling home
from the back deck in the night with the river running hard back out to the
sea.
Tonight
the seas are supposed to be 8 to 12 feet and it won't likely settle for a
couple of days. I'd like to see it
from the beach, remembering how all my life I have loved a storm.
Wednesday
Storm
passed with no fuss here at this safe dock, and really little sense of it. Another day of being in love with
Portsmouth...who knew?
There's a nice little theater, too, that shows good touring stuff and arthouse
movies. Things I've considered
from here... a wonderful felted birdhouse. some great-looking but expensive clothes. fancy salts. a compass rose medallion. a towel that looks like a kilt for my
Scot husband. Things I've
bought.... none.
I had sea
legs in town today. Nearly a
two hour walking tour of the port and then a visit to the Strawbery Banke
museum.
4 a.m. Thursday
into Friday
in
Gloucester Bay. The wind has come
up and that heavy line from the mooring ball is rubbing back and forth along
the bowline, just above my feet. I
am used to the night and day sounds of Blue Boat Home, but not Adirondack, so
knocked at the stern cabin door and then went out to take a look, with the
ready-at-all-times starboard flashlight. The stars! Orion is hanging low off the port bow, and the Dog Star
at his heels. They all seem
lightly fuzzy here, a trick of the air above the water?
We had a
lovely run today over a rough-ish ocean, (Jeff and Sally say it's the roughest
day they've had), as the water settles down from a gale-ish storm now two days
past. We were fortunate in
heading, with wise Sally adjusting from her I-pad charts, to be able to stay in
relative harmony with the disorderly waves, but still some tossing and pitching
(or is that 'yawing'?) Bright sun and at the end heading into the sun's path,
and a cool breeze. Fewer lobster
pots farther out, but still hazardous.
When visiting with their friend tonight here in Gloucester, I added the
word 'cutters' to my maritime vocabulary, with Peter reporting having hauled
his boat out for work and finding a watermelon sized ball of line, presumably
somewhere near the props.
'Cutters', installed on the shaft, will sever any line encountered ("cutters
and throttle up!') The approach into Gloucester Bay was lovely, the welcome
shelter as we neared the entrance to the river, and a long twisting channel
with boats on mooring balls everywhere, beautiful homes with grass running down
to the water, (“Massachusetts
is civilized!”,
Sally says) and something I've never seen before, small, neat summer homes
simply set on floats off the channel.
A narrow railroad bridge after a hard right hand turn, lifting quickly
after we called... I always like to think of the bridgetenders working on
manuscripts for their novels in the hours between lifts... and a wonderful and
very low little town bridge in which we were perched well above the roadway
even when all their lifting was done. Joggers, people walking dogs, town traffic, pausing in
their day as we swept through into the open expanse of Gloucester Bay and
toward the house of a friend.
What could possibly be better?
The
lights of Boston, some 25 miles away, glitter like the Emerald City through the
opening in the breakwater off the bay. We're headed there tomorrow and then on toward Cape
Cod.
