Today (the 16th), we circumnavigated the Acadian Peninsula, traversing Frenchman Bay south to the Cranberry Islands and then west to Blue Hill Bay. We did much of this in the fog, which is a trusted and loyal travel companion for Maine mariners. You can see the fog, draped on those giants' hills to the south of Sorrento. It was clear sailing for the first five to eight miles. Then it became thick, pea soup. That slowed us down!
The radar is essential for avoiding collisions or hitting buoys or ledges or islands. The fathometer is key as well because it confirms for you that you are deep or shallow water. And the electronic charts show you where you are, where you're going and what you might hit. Together, it is a mosaic.
For example, the chart shows you are heading 47 degrees magnetic. The water depth is 52 feet, so you have plenty of water. But the radar shows a little red fleck about 3/4 of a mile in front of you. As the helmsman, you can't see anything. It is too foggy. So, you watch that like a hawk as it moves on your screen. If it remains on a constant bearing to you and is getting closer, it could collide with you. You turn to the right to avoid collision and watch to see what the "target" does. Hopefully, it will turn to its right and you pass safely, maybe 200 yards away from each other.
The fog can be so thick that you and the target will never see each other. But you know you are both there, straining to see each other through the foggy drapes.
As you can imagine, speed is your worst enemy. Everything must be done slowly. If you are going too fast in the fog, danger approaches faster than you expect or than you can avoid. Slow and steady does really win the race.
Once we passed by our friendly harbors, Bar, Northeast and Southwest, we headed south through Western Way and across the bar to Blue Hill Bay. All in the fog. Then it all opened up and the fog lifted and we had a glorious run up Blue Hill Bay.
Lunch was served! Rough life!!
Further north, up the Bay, we rounded an island towards Blue Hill Harbor. The water opened up to the western bay. And, glory be! there was a race of sail boats going on! It was a sparkling day with no sign of fog anywhere.
This was a fleet of Atlantics, signified by the A on the sail. It was the National Regatta and we happened to stumble on it. Incredible.
It was time to turn around and head to Blue Hill Harbor. Below is a picture of Blue Hill. You can see the masts and motor boats under the Hill. That's where the Harbor is.
Look more closely at the top of the Hill. The Hill itself is an old volcano, all worn down, most recently by the glaciers. In fact, you can see a couple of bare spots just below the top of the Hill. These are rocky cliffs, formed by the last glacier's "plucking" at the Hill as the glacier flowed over the Hill and continued southward towards its terminus out in the Gulf of Maine.
In we went, into the Harbor. We found an empty mooring and we happily grabbed it for the night.
Brio and we are happy!
Cheers,
Brio
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