1983 (6) – Painting Tropic Moon’s Bottom

Aquarium.  An art quilt.  30" x 34"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

It had been over a year since we’d painted the bottom of the boat; the hull was covered with a weedy, green beard.  Ed had seen too many pictures of people who took their boats in to a shore at high tide, and painted the boat's bottom while the tide was low.  He decided we would try this with our 20-ton sailboat.  My protestations that Tropic Moon would fall over made no difference.  I was somewhat mollified when Ed found a tripod of logs by the marine store, where they told us we could lean our boat.  

Aquarium.  Detail.

The next day was an auspicious one with high water at 7:00 a.m. and 7:00 p.m., and good weather predicted.  We tied Tropic Moon to the tripod, set out bow and stern anchors, and ran ropes into the trees.  We felt quite sure she had nowhere to go. 

We were wrong. 

Tropic Moon went down - the front of the keel sunk about three feet into the mud we hadn't known was there.  The rear of the keel and the rudder and propeller were high and dry.  As the tide went out, we worked from the dinghy, scrubbing off the green weed, and hand-sanding the hull.  With the water gone, we continued the job standing in the mud.  Ed had less trouble than me because his boots fit, while mine were a size too big.  With the mud up to my ankles, when I'd try to move, my foot would come out of the boot.  

Aquarium.  Detail.

By the time we were ready to paint, the water had started to return.  It was a frantic race with the tide, rolling on the quick-drying paint before water covered an area.  As the water rose, we had the paint can and roller pan in the dinghy.  It felt like I had a lively dog at the end of a leash, hanging on to the rope as the dinghy pulled with the tide.  With my other hand, I was using a brush to paint the waterline freehand. 

I started to worry that the water would cover my boots, but then quit worrying.  By the time we were ready to climb back into the dinghy to finish the stern area, the water had reached my hips.  I would occasionally feel something on my leg, and lift it up to pick off a water bug.  When I finally walked out of the water, there was a snail clinging to my boot.  It was an unusual way to paint the antifouling, but, on the whole, it went pretty well. 

And mark that one on the list of things I never need to do for a second time…

1983 (5) – Buck’s Harbor

Tropic Moon, posing for her glamour shots.  Buck's Harbor, Maine.

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

We arrived in Buck’s Harbor on a Tuesday, which happened to be lecture night at the yacht club.  We saw a notice on the bulletin board that read, “Talk on Whales, 8:00 p.m.”  The speaker was from the College of the Atlantic, located in Bar Harbor, Maine.  He gave an excellent talk and slide show on how to identify the different types of whales in the Gulf of Maine.  He passed out sighting forms to everyone so that when a whale was sighted, we could circle the particular part of the whale we saw.  An example would be a humpback’s white flippers.  Then mark your location, and mail in the form.  He said they got a lot of help with sightings from yachtsmen. 

We were anchored in a cove at the far end of Buck’s Harbor, to avoid the hustle and bustle of the yacht club.  A seal visited our little cove daily.  I was sitting on deck one morning when I heard what sounded like a sneeze.  Looking down into the water, I saw the whiskered face of a husky seal staring back at me.  He sunk below the surface when I called Ed.

Tropic Moon (I was rowing around in the dinghy.)

Dave and Doris Baardsen (Ed’s brother and sister-in-law) visited us for a long weekend while we were at Buck’s Harbor.  They drove down from New Brunswick, Canada, on a Friday.  On Saturday, we sailed/drifted to Holbrook Island.  On Sunday we sailed back to Buck’s Harbor.  They got right into the spirit of life on the boat.  Dave and Doris were so completely relaxed; we practically had to pour them off Tropic Moon when they left on Monday.  They were quickly, and rudely, brought back to reality by a dead battery in their car.

We kept an eye peeled for interesting places to eat for the occasional dinner out.  Ed and I supped one evening at the Buck’s Harbor Inn.  The Inn offered one entrée nightly.  A typical week’s menu would run something like:  Tuesday – Leg of Lamb, Wednesday – Roast Beef, etc.  Reservations by 11:00 a.m., and bring your own drinks (no liquor license).  We reserved on a Thursday – Fish of the Day.  We picked up a bottle of wine at the market. 

Yes, she was very photogenic.

The innkeeper, on our arrival, told us all the hotel guests were visiting friends or relatives.  That night, all the dinner guests would be boat people.  There were two tables besides ours - an older couple from Kennebunk, and a young couple, with a small daughter, from New York.  The others were vacation cruisers, rather than live-aboards.  One of the men told us they’d read about people like Ed and me in Cruising World.  We were able, in the small dining area, to carry on a conversation through the evening.  We answered many questions about the cruising life.

The food was delicious.  A clear soup with rice and fresh peas, a tossed salad, flounder in a butter-lemon sauce, boiled potatoes, steamed carrots and spinach, and warm rolls.  The portions were adequate, but not overly generous; everyone was pleased when the innkeeper came in to offer us all seconds.  Dessert was a pound cake topped with vanilla ice cream and capped with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.  Everyone just groaned when we were offered seconds on the dessert.

Buck's Harbor.  That's not Tropic Moon, just a boat on a permanent
mooring.  If you squint, you can see the main anchorage in the distance.

1983 (4) – The Great Schooner Race

Sunset, Pulpit Harbor, North Haven

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

We heard that the annual "Great Schooner Race" would be starting at 10:00 a.m., July 8th, from the main harbor on North Haven.  We decided to anchor in Pulpit Harbor, and walk across the island to watch the start of the race.  North Haven looked pretty narrow on the chart, about 2-1/2 miles across. 

Ed, waiting for the start of the Great Schooner Race

Three people left Pulpit Harbor on foot just before us.  As we didn't have a map, and assumed they were also going to the race, we just followed them when they made decisions at the forks in the road.  Fairly close to our destination, we caught up with them - an older couple and their grown daughter.  They were running out of steam, and were hoping to be offered a ride.  The man said something about the unlikelihood of five people being picked up, so we took the hint and started to pull ahead.  I turned back to say there was only half an hour left till the start of the race.  I got a "What race?" in reply.  The man couldn't believe they'd start a race of the big windjammers from little North Haven.  He bet me a nickel I was wrong.  A short time later they passed us in a truck that had stopped for them. 

Another shot of the Great Schooner Race

As we approached the town, we could hear the roar of cheering from the harbor.  I asked the first person I saw where the race would be.  She led us along a dirt road to a public boat launch.  We had a ringside seat, gazing out on the twenty or so large wooden schooners taking part in the activities.  (The people we had met on the road watched the race from town, and I never did get my nickel).  We had binoculars and camera with us, and lots of time to catch our breath, as the race started an hour late.  A booming cannon signaled the start, at which point the captains rowed out from shore in their dinghies, to board their ships, and begin the sail to Rockland, a couple hours away.

Tomb with a View

 Our walk back to Pulpit Harbor was more leisurely.  We stopped several times to take pictures of scenes we'd noticed on the way over.  I was particularly drawn to the beautiful old cemeteries that were set in incomparable scenery.  One cemetery overlooked a lovely cove, and was surrounded by the piney woods.  I started taking shots of these cemeteries, and was toying with the idea of a series called "Tomb With a View."  The road across the island was lined with thousands of daisies, and passed through heavily wooded hills.

Tomb with a View