The Basin, Casco, Maine

[Kyle]We departed Burnt Island in fog and rain, but with some good winds for actual sailing; not exactly summertime sailing, but at least we were sailing.

On route to The Basin, desipte the rain, we sailed by the Eastern Egg Rock Islands to see if we could see any puffins, and yay! we did see them (the other bird is a laughing gull)

.. and some of the lighthouses we passed by on passage: Ram Island and The Cuckold's Lighthouse shown here

The Basin was the first anchorage in Maine that we visited the very first time we came way back in May 2008 (in Footprint). It was early in the season then and we had not only The Basin to ourselves, but also the surrounding five or six anchorages. Since entry requires two ninety-degree turns, it really did feel like we had left the ocean entirely and had been plopped down on an alpine lake.

Five years later (in June 2013), we returned in Begonia to relive that sense of remoteness and solitude. It was a month later in the season, but again, we were the only boat.

Since this year may well be our last pass through Maine, there was no way I was going to just sail by. This time, when we rounded the last corner, we were shocked, SHOCKED, to find over a dozen vessels bobbing around. We actually had to weave our way through to find a space.

I blame the internet. It's so easy to look up "great hidden gems in Maine that no one knows about". I don't now why I thought I was the only one who knew that trick. I didn't even use the internet this time, just my own memory. The irony is that this very blog could have steered a few people this way. Then, when word gets out...

Also, there was a rumor floating around that there was some sort of "Come See Maine" rally out there and this was one of their stops. The crowd may be just an "unlucky" coincidence of timing. The place may be empty again next week.

Anyway, it was a lovely bunch. They were all very well-behaved. We're glad they got to see it, too.

Since we have been here before, I was quite content to spend our time sitting in the cockpit and enjoying the views. Perhaps we'd do some light kayaking and introduce ourselves to some of our neighbors.

Maryanne wasn't having any of it. She wanted to go ashore and walk one of the slightly longer trails in the area that we haven't done before. It didn't look too bad. The whole thing fit on her phone's screen.

Well, sure! Why not?

It wasn't until we were well away from even the vicinity of The Basin that I realized she had zoomed out A LOT. By then, we were committed. I am particularly goal oriented, so once we realized we were already getting sore well before we were even halfway out, I was determined to finish the whole thing, even if we had to feel our way home in the dark.

It didn't come to that, fortunately. There was a section, though, where it became quite clear that we were on a disused part of an archaic trail that hasn't been maintained, or possibly even seen, for years. One stretch had since been completely flooded by beavers, giving us the choice of backtracking a long way or improvising a crossing way off where the track was supposed to be. If we get stranded out here, vultures will have our bones picked clean before anyone ever gets a chance to notice a funny smell.

We did eventually find a way through and after another couple of false starts, finally located a trail that looks like it is in regular use. We still don't know by whom, because we never saw anyone during a whole day of hiking.

The scenery was nice. It wasn't amazing, but it's always nice to be in the woods and the main point was to feel like we had earned our dinners. That we did, arriving back at The Basin properly sore from a good day's exertion. We were then able to do a tour in the kayak, enjoying the antics of the Bald Eagles and Ospreys.

We parked the dinghy and set off for the Mica Mine trail, which was an easy trail; but then we attempted to connect to the Sprague Pond Trail things became a little more challenging (we should not always believe the maps it seems!).

We made it safely to the Sprague Pond Trail

We returned to The Basin via the road (much easier, and quicker) and ended the day paddling around and enjoying the wildlife

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Anchorage location >> On google maps

Burnt Island, Maine

[Kyle]Our leg from Matinicus Island to Burnt Island was a two-tack "V" that started in fog so dense that we couldn't even see the walls of the harbor as we left. That made us scrap another pass at Matinicus Rock to look for Puffins, as we could barely see our own bows.

Burnt Island is close enough to the mainland that it benefits from being in just slightly warmer air, which was enough for us to break out of the fog about a mile or so out and actually see our anchorage as we approached.

We were hoping it wouldn't be too crowded as we had read several reports that the bay is so filled with lobster pots that it is difficult to find space. So far there was only one boat visible and they seemed to be in the process of leaving.

Then a boat called "Pan Pan" (the level below "Mayday") to the Coast Guard, saying they had snagged a lobster pot, lost power and were adrift, giving their position as the northeast corner of Burnt Island. They asked the Coast Guard to contact one of the commercial towing companies and send someone out to get them before they run aground. After a bit of back-and-forth, it was determined that the disabled vessel had both an anchor and a working cell phone, so it was suggested they drop anchor to stop the drift and start making calls themselves to arrange a tow.

This all seemed a little odd to us, since we were clearly approaching and were by that point only about a quarter mile away. Why hadn't they reached out to us? Perhaps they thought we wouldn't be able to give any useful assistance. Perhaps they just didn't want to involve us.

After a short while, they called the Coast Guard again to say they were safely anchored and that TowboatUS would be coming to get them in three and a half hours. They no longer needed assistance. Thanks for the help.

Nope.

Three minutes later, the Coast Guard put out one of their standard scripted messages referring to our neighbor as "a vessel in distress" and asking any mariners in the area to assist if possible.

Crap!

The Code of the Sea is that you always offer assistance to a vessel in distress, unless you think you might be killed in the process (or something like that). Helping these people wasn't likely to be nearly that dangerous and since we were conspicuously the only other vessel, not just in the area, but right next to them, it looks like we're getting involved after all. Even though we knew they were no longer in any actual distress, The Coast Guard will be repeating their broadcast every ten minutes for the next, oh, three-and-a-half hours. If someone else comes around the corner and sees us blithely enjoying a glass of wine in the cockpit ten boat lengths away while every other boat in the state is being asked to help, well... it wouldn't be good.

We called the other boat and offered to pop over to see if we could clear the issue (but if we couldn't they still might need that tow, so don't cancel it yet). I called the Coast Guard and told them we were with the other boat and we would see what we could do. They relayed our response back to the other boat, which seemed a tedious extra step. Now they're going to be in the middle of the whole thing.

Of course, we knew what we had to do. Despite my proclamation just YESTERDAY that I wasn't going swimming again until we get below forty degrees latitude (or at least into significantly warmer water), I was going to be diving on the other boat's prop to try to clear it in water that is farther north than that in Matinicus Harbor.

Maryanne gathered my gear, I donned the full wetsuit, hood and all, and we headed over in the dinghy to see what we could do. The couple in the big monohull did not seem to be in the best condition for any cold, unplanned dips. When we arrived, they had their engine running in neutral, so they could at least charge their batteries while they waited. Maryanne went aboard and persuaded him that the safest thing would be to shut it off completely while I am near the prop. She handed me a sharp dive knife and down I went.

Their prop was indeed very fouled. They had picked up not the expected lobster pot float line, but a big piece of thick fish netting that had transformed their propeller into a hydrodynamically useless ball. The good news was that it wasn't very tightly wound, so I was able to slice it free with three quick cuts. I was finished in one breath. We had them start up the engine again and check both foward and reverse worked fine while they were still anchored (all good).

The couple seemed surprisingly blasé about the news, as if they thought, perhaps, my job was going around from anchorage to anchorage, cleaning other people's boats. Perhaps they were still in shock, coming down from their previous adrenaline surge. I definitely had a feeling like we were being seen as 'the help'. {Maryanne: They really were not the usual cruiser-level chatty before or after the fix, I think they were somewhat distressed by the whole thing, so it was good we were able to help them.}

They asked what the fee would be, Maryanne managed to very diplomatically mention that, typically in these sorts of situations, a cold beer or some other small token of thanks might be given. That's when the poor guy seemed to come to, said 'thank you' to both of us, shook our hands (one wet, one dry) and then disappeared below to retrieve a nice bottle of red. I'm sure he was especially glad to no longer be subject to a major delay and a $500 towing fee.

Newly re-powered, they pulled up anchor as we were returning to Begonia. Then they went in completely the opposite direction from where they told us they were trying to get to tonight. Perhaps they had changed their mind. They did that for about a mile and then turned to steam the other way.

Oh, my...

At least we finally got the Coast Guard to issue a "Cancel Pan Pan" message.

Burnt Island itself is half administered by the Maine Island Trail Association and half by Outward Bound. We did one big loop on the western side that crossed between boundaries before it started getting too late in the day, and with a threat of rain. We determined to get up early the next morning to have enough time to do the entire perimeter trail, plus any other interesting side-trips, before making the row back to Begonia in the afternoon. The Summit Trail was good exercise, but the long perimeter trail provided the best ever-changing views as we rounded each headland. We did cross paths with various Outward Bound groups getting their dose of wilderness; they were swimming (brrrr!), hiking, solo-challenges (overnight camping), and rock climbing.

With only two trips ashore, we had managed to see pretty much the whole island. That was good, because the weather was about to turn and we needed to be out of that anchorage before a swell builds and swings us into some of the pots clearly surrounding us.

Burnt Island

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Anchorage location >> On google maps

Note that there are SEVERAL Burnt Islands in Maine - this one is part of the George's Islands, in Muscongus Bay.

If you are planning to visit the islands of Maine, it is well worth the membership of the Maine Island Trail Association where you can find details of trails and anchorage in the area and support a good cause.

Matinicus Island, Maine

[Kyle]Once the weather cleared at Hells Half Acre, we had half a day of sailing in light headwinds to Matinicus Island, ten miles from the entrance to Penobscot Bay and billed as Maine's most remote island community.

Before we arrived, we did the five mile detour to Matinicus Rock, home to Maine's largest Puffin colony, in the hopes of spotting a few of the adorable seabirds.

We were not disappointed. Although we could not land, we circled the little island twice and saw hundreds of them bobbing around in groups on the sea around us. I had the easy job of driving the boat while Maryanne tried to get good shots of the birds from a rolling and pithing platform.

The harbor at Matinicus Island is much too small and crowded with local lobster boats for anchoring, so we picked up one of the available visitor moorings. The system for paying is to go ashore, ask around, and see if you can find the right guy. Or you can put money in the attached canister. Just for the fun of it, Maryanne dug out our checkbook (I didn't even know we still had one!) and wrote her first check in what must have been a decade. With that done, we went ashore to have a little look around.

We enjoyed a day of simple, fun, quirky, idyllic island living!

We really would have liked to find a cafe or a pub as our way to contribute to the local economy, but alas, they have neither. We had to settle for an honor bakery where you take what you want and leave your cash in the box with the rest where we were able to pick up a fresh fruit popsicle (and pastries).

Fortified for the day, we decided to walk literally every trail on the island. We saw mossy forests and rocky sea cliffs and even found a little fairy village that seems to have been a school project.

Then we went to the library (One room. Just let yourself in and shut the lights off when you leave) for the only internet on the island. While we were in there, we noticed a lot of the islanders stopping in the middle of the road outside to check their messages.

One more stop at the bakery shack for an afternoon snack pretty much exhausted the available entertainment options on the island, so we made our way home for the night. This is when Maine's big tides got us. When we had arrived, the dinghy's gunwales had been almost level with the pier. It was easy to step off. Now our little boat was a tiny, half-grounded speck of yellow at the bottom of a long, slimy ladder.

When we got back to Begonia, I decided that between all of the sweaty, dusty walking, and the coating of seaweed slime from the ladder, I was going to follow the lead of some of the revelers on a nearby charter boat and try a refreshing swim/bath.

Well, those people are crazy. This water is still way too cold to be going into it for fun.

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Mooring location >> On google maps - payable by the honesty system (instructions in the screw top jar on the mooring setup).