About 4 nm southwest of Roque Island lies Head Harbor Island. It is next door to Mischief Island. There was a storm marching up the coast during the day we headed back from Eastport and Customs. We needed a landlocked body of water that would be protected from the building winds and seas coming from the south. Instead of heading to Roque's Lakeman Harbor, we wanted to tuck away in Head Harbor. By creeping in and going into the back part of the Harbor, a whole interior pond opens up. This is called The Cows Yard.
By the time we reached Head Harbor Tuesday afternoon, the fog was thick. The entrance to Head Harbor was only visible on radar. But the image echoes made it difficult to "see" on the display. So we shut off the radar and made it into the Harbor just by the GPS display of the land, rocks and water.
Fast forward to Thursday morning to see a clearer view of the entrance to Head Harbor as we left.
Coming in to where we sat to take this picture, the boat had to enter on Tuesday from the Atlantic beyond and thread a needle of narrow water past the rocky point on the left. Once inside, The Cows Yard opens up into a beautiful "pond." Look carefully and you can see the one house visible in the pond.
This is where we anchored, tucked in and far away from the storm. We stayed here for all of Wednesday and then left Thursday morning for Eastern Harbor for fuel.
That meant that we had to go back out to the Atlantic. We saw the rollers coming in and hitting the rocky shore along Great Waas.
Here we are poking our nose out of Head Harbor. Brio is beginning to sense the rollers that were building just at the entrance.
As we came around the corner, we saw Moose Head Light which stood over Mischief Island Harbor where we had stayed a week before.
Finally, we got to the western end of Great Waas, marked by a red bell. You can see the surf breaking on the rocks beyond the bell.
From here, we rode the rollers in towards land and Eastern Harbor where we would get fuel. It was wild, because the rollers would suck the lobster pots under water as the roller crested, making them invisible. Then, as the roller passed, the pots would suddenly pop up. Steering through a field of pots meant you'd have to remember where you saw the pots last and steer around them, even though the pots were then underwater as you approached.
By the time we got to Prospect Harbor, our favorite harbor with the stark microwave tower, we had only snagged one lobster pot. We didn't know it until we had to put the engines in reverse to land at the mooring. Out popped a beaten-up pot together with bits of brightly colored Styrofoam from the pot.
So tonight we are on a familiar mooring in Prospect Harbor, able to catch up on correspondence with superb telecommunication connections.
Cheers!
Brio
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