A top-rated harbor for the Tafts is really a tiny "pond" formed between several islands. The islands are named in a promising fashion: Escargot, Bartender, Little Barred, Big Barred and nearby Butter. Great Spruce Island lords it over them all to the west. You really are limited in terms of how you access this little pond. You have to come in from the north, dodging rocks and reefs. Once in, the visitor's breath is taken away by the quiet.
We had traveled in thick fog from Stonington. But as we approached, the fog began to lift. Jumping the gun, because the path in to the harbor looked clear on radar, I shut down the radar. That made reading the chart much easier. However, a ghost-like sailboat emerged in heart-stopping fashion from the still-foggy harbor. Both we and they were going about 5 knots at each other, so we passed harmlessly starboard to starboard. A friendly wave showed a degree of nonchalance perhaps better suited for cowboys. No matter. No harm, no foul.
Once in, we grabbed one of the moorings we knew existed. The fog began to lift.
Above, here's a view to the southeast.
And, again above, to the southwest.
The Tafts warn that if the weather threatens at all, one should not stay here. You can see that the barrier to keeping large waves out in a storm is thin at best. The Tafts' advice would seem to be well-founded.
As the tide rose, there was a little rock to our stern that grew smaller and smaller.
How much longer could these birds hold out?
The answer was about 15 minutes. The rising waters eliminated any standing room at all.
Of course, some of us found a safe perch to enjoy whatever was scrounge-able from the galley!
Cheers!
Brio
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