Al, an accomplished blue-water sailor we befriended back at the boatyard, told us what we should do- head offshore to catch the prevailing southwesterlies and make a beeline for our northernmost goal (Bar Harbor), then work our way back south. He was prepping for a voyage much farther north, to the Bras d’Ors Lakes, in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. We recently got a pic of him and his girlfriend Kealy, bundled up in wool sweaters, mittens, and foul weather gear. In August. That should put to rest any question about his judgment.
After our first few days of shakedown, we knew a 36-48 hr. offshore venture was NOT in our cards. It’s not a scary thing to do, eventually, but we’ll have to work our way up to it. So for now, what we’re doing is working our way up the coast of Maine* in short hops, and taking it easy between hops. We are learning a new lifestyle.
(*We learned that you don’t say “up the coast of Maine”, it is “Down East”- The coastline is mostly on an East-West axis, and the prevailing winds are from the SW, so you’re going Down-wind, headed East. Down East.)
It’s funny- as we were leaving Texas, I kinda fretted about leaving a life in which I could hop in the car and run up to the HEB any time for whatever I needed. That seems silly now (the fretting about it, not the doing of it- I’m sure I’d fall right back into the same pattern if I was back there).
We sail into a harbor. Drop the anchor. Haul our inflatable dinghy off the foredeck into the water, rig the outboard on it, and putt putt to the town landing. Then we hoof it to the grocery store, or whatever else errand is on our list (in Portland, a bigger city, we did resort to Lyft). It’s a way of life that is growing on me. And before somebody points out that we’re still commuting to get groceries or run errands, know that it is the difference between the immediacy of hopping into the car vs. hitching up the horses to the wagon for the run into town. Often, we just anchor and live aboard. In any case, it’s the switch to priorities that is different – relying on wind and walking (with occasional assist from internal combustion engines) is very satisfying.
For every thing a person gives up, they get something in return. I couldn’t be happier with our new way of living.
Except maybe sailing the coast of Maine in a T-shirt, a sweatshirt, and a windbreaker, and still shivering. In August. Some things just ain’t right.
