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
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.
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