Back in Salem, Tom H. from the boatyard told us “Oh, you’re gonna LOVE sailing Maine. There’s only two things about Maine sailing that are less than perfect. Lobster pots and fog.” Tom was a profane man, and on lobster pots and fog, he laced his speech with plenty of profanity, which I have edited out for general consumption, but I understood everything he said (“I know all the words…”) and generally agreed with it.
I’ve already recounted our adventure with lobster pots, and we have cursed them roundly as we have made our way here. Actually, it’s more a matter of just getting used to the fact that you have to be hypervigilant as you sail, to keep from running them down. We’ve gotten used to them.
Fog is another thing altogether. We’ve been lucky so far, there not being a whole lot of the stuff to deal with. But this last week in Bar Harbor the weather changed, and it’s been foggy for days on end. And I don’t mind telling you, the thought of sailing in that stuff just terrifies me.
We made a point of getting a new radar transmitter when we left Texas, so our radar unit would work (it does), but reading a radar image is a learned skill, and we’re pretty green at this, so, yeah, we’ve got radar, but hmmm, not really sure it is that much help.
So while we are here in Bar Harbor, we’ve been watching the fog roll in and out, daily. As long as we’re solidly anchored, it’s not so bad- kinda pretty in a way. It flows in and you can’t see the boat anchored next to you, and then it lifts, and the town and islands nearby come back into view, and then it socks in again…
Tom H. said, “The thing about Maine fog is, if you think you’re just gonna wait for it to lift before you go sailing, you might never get to go sailing.” But we must be living right, because we were ready to leave Bar Harbor today*, and guess what- no fog. Also no wind, so we just motored back to Southwest Harbor.
We may still have to deal with foggy sailing, but for now, we have dodged the bullet.
*We would have left if it had been foggy, but wouldn’t have liked it, and would probably have invented some new words.
Wonderfully written. Please put all these short stories in a book someday…love y’all. Onward through the fog! Be safe!
This s awesome stuff. I love living vicariously through you two. You better put this into a book when all said and done.
Ah brings me back to childhood many trips downeast with my family. Lobster pots bitter sweet. I used to think that lobstermen just wanted to piss off pleasure craft but risk getting their “pot warp” cut and i remember many a time when my father had to get in the dinghy with his huge knife and slash the line to death while un fouling the prop. Stonington ME most memorable. He tried every option to not cut it, sometimes just backing up would un foul it. Those were triumphant moments as my dad has deep respect for protecting someone’s lively hood. Fog. Nature’s expansive deprivation tank. Don’t get me started. Thanks for the post. Love you guys!
I had two profound experiences with fog. One was taking the Boliver Ferry to Galveston in 1971. Pea Soup. Usually I enjoyed the ride but that time it was pretty scary, just moving through a gray mist with muffled waterfront sounds drifting in as we chugged across the channel.
The other was just after I moved to Austin in 1978. My brother lived out Bee Caves Road … it seemed pretty much like the middle of nowhere back then. A thick fog came up from Lake Austin and it was quite a drive on that winding two-lane nightmare.
Great posts … keep them up.