FOG AIN'T FUN!

Sometimes the Plan Goes Awry: A Foggy Run to a Safe Anchorage

The weather was a gray cloudy day with rain in the morning, predicted to clear up in the afternoon. We were in a hurry to leave Dysart’s Marina in Southwest Harbor, so we walked to town to have breakfast at Sip’s Cafe which was reasonably priced but so slow. Then to kill some more time we walked to a Hamilton Marine to browse this wonderful exclusively Maine marine supply store. It started to rain, but fortunately “Island Boy”, Miller Dupuis, from Dominque was at Hamilton and gave us a lift back to the dock. We had met Miller at the docks while he was doing the brightwork on an adjacent boat. It was great to discuss the variations of Caribbean cuisine - beans and rice vs rice and beans, or peas and rice, or rice and peas.

Back at the dock the rain subsided to a mist and we bid farewell to Pat and Frank as their 28 ft Honey Badger left the dock bound for McGlathery Island. We thought we might join them, but really wanted to get a bit further, so we plotted the course to Matinicus Island. It is the outermost inhabited island in Maine. Hoping for seals, puffins, and whales.

Wanting to pump our holding tank before leaving we called the dock master to find that we were fourth in line to get to the fuel dock. Big boats were refueling, taking about a half hour each, further delaying our departure. When it was our turn we headed for the dock and quickly emptied our waste. Then off in acceptable weather. Although departing later than we had hoped, we could still get to Matinicus within a few hours if traveling our normal cruise speed of 20-22 knots.

As we left Southwest Harbor the fog thickened the further out we travelled. Then it seems like we hit a wall of fog at Swan Island about 10 miles out. It started patchy at first, but quickly deteriorated to very low visibility. We had to slow to 8 knots at best. Dodging lobster pots with quick glances at the radar and chart plotter required intense concentration. The ETA for Matinicus kept refreshing to later arrival times. Our automatic fog horn sounded a blast for 5 seconds every 2 minutes. Each time it blasted we jumped. Our nerves got really frazzled. 

On two occasions large lobster boats appeared out of nowhere crossing our course. We didn’t notice either on our radar or AIS (automated identification system). We slowed to idle speed to determne a new destination to get on the hook (at anchor) as quickly as possible.

Can't change the channel, so we changed the destination.

Fortunately, although the fog was thick, the seas and wind were calm. So Marvin found an acceptable anchorage, a mere 5 miles from where we were. It was also very near the great cove Pat and Frank were headed. We changed course and headed to our new destination, abandoning Matinicus. 



Steering by the GPS plotter like a video game between shoals and islands, we made our way to Marshal Island. There, Sand Cove is exposed to the SW, the direction of the swell, but with less than 5 knots of wind, it wasn’t perilous to be windward of the shore - just a little uncomfortable so long as the anchor holds.

Entering the anchorage we started circling, checking the depths for just the right spot and distance for the shoreline. Lee shouted “there’s a sailboat” as the dim outline of a boat appeared ahead, perhaps 200 feet on our bow. Marvin quickly altered course and tried to take a mental fix on where the boat was, so our anchoring would mirror theirs and allow enough swing room for the tide. Visibility was so bad that we could only hear their halyards slapping. We could not see them or the shore.

We dropped the hook and nervously watched our GPS plotter to see if our position was steady. It was. As the sun began to set, the fog lifted enough to see the shoreline. When the daylight glowed through the mist, we could see a ghost of shoreline. (Thank you Navionics and Garmin.) No other boat was there. 

Perhaps the sailboat was a ghost ship, giving up the cove to wimpy novice coastal Maine mariners? Or maybe seeing our erratic maneuvers to find an anchor spot, the sailboat crew departed to take their chances in the fog rather than risking a collision with our powerboat. Shortly after we set our anchor we quit hearing the halyards so we suspected they had left.

We set an alarm for every two hours to check AQUAVIT's location on our plotter. Lee had an anchor alarm set which signaled when we were out of position - always false alarms, but still startling us awake to check and recheck. So between bouncy swells rocking the boat, the anchor alarm, and scheduled intervals to check, we didn’t get much sleep through the night. 

In the morning we checked our chart plotters that we had left on to track our position. The boat was in the center of a perfect circle or track lines, showing that the anchor had held and we had not drifted. 

  

We cooked up our usual oatmeal and apple breakfast. In a couple hours the fog lifted a bit. We decided to pull anchor and head on our way to the next point on our itinerary. When Lee used our windlass to pull the anchor, all went smoothly for the first 100 ft of line, then went straight down and pulled the nose of our boat toward the water. Indeed we had been securely hooked.

Marvin moved the boat a bit to get a different angle on the anchor rode and used a little of the power of the engines. The windlass gear started complaining about the strain and finally quit pulling the anchor up. But at least the anchor had broken free. Both of us pulled it manually, hand over hand, to the deck. No mud on the chain or anchor, so it’s likely we were hung on a rock. We were so relieved it broke free.

We had been so preoccupied with the anchor that we hadn’t noticed the fog lifting to reveal how close we were to the shore. In the darkness of night and fog, we could hear waters lapping at the shore, but didn't realize the shoreline was about 600 ft away on three sides, and open on the SW. Veiled by mist, the shore was tree-lined with rocky outcrops interspersed with curves of sandy beach. Yes, the little cove was speckled with lobster floats.

Marshal Island 

And, to our surprise and amazement, we could see there were three islands on the horizon. Somehow, through the fog, using our electronic GPSes and navigating like a video game, we had successfully avoided them.

One of the islands we didn't see coming in to Sand Cove

With a broken windless to pull the anchor, we decided we would forgo the next anchorage and head to Rockland. We were familiar with the town from our earlier visit and the Hamilton Marine there was certain to have a replacement for the windlass. Part of our route was a course we had made previously, so we had a confirmed breadcrumb trail to follow. We plotted a course to connect with that route through the Fox Island Thorofare passage between Vinalhaven and North Haven Islands. Visibility was much better and the closer we got to Rockland, the better it became.

With better conditions we were able to make better speed and go faster through the fields of lobster buoys. Patchy fog was easier to deal with than being socked in, so the anxiety level was only a quart low on tension. 

Return to Rockland

We came into Rockland and hailed Yachting Solutions (YS) Boat Basin - a different marina from our previous stay. It was our good fortune. The YS marina has very nice docks, a helpful staff, fine dining restaurant at the top of the pier and perhaps the best shore-side bathroom and showers. 
They even have brand new loaner cars available for transient boaters. 


We're not sure if they arranged it, but they even had the friendliest cat to stand in for our feline trio that are likely partying at home, under the supervision of Katherine, our wonderful cat sitter.

We spent the rest of the day recovering and looking into the failed windlass. After determining that a replacement wasn’t available at Rockland Hamilton Maine, except by special order, we set out to diagnose and repair ours. A little investigation revealed a loose wire and a blown fuse was what stopped the windlass. The groans were from the loose wire and the stop was from the blown circuit breaker. Tightened-up and reset we were back in business!

Boats on moorings inside the 7/8 mile breakwater with a lighthouse at the end.

Too late to resume our travels after resolving our windlass issue, we decided to stay another day and recuperate from our sleepless night at anchor. The day started overcast, but cleared to a beautiful day by noon. 

Talent Runs in the Family

On an enthusiastic recommendation by Pat, an art history major, we took in the Farnsworth Museum. We thoroughly enjoyed seeing the eclectic collection of Mainer art and the works of three generations of Wyethes - N.C, Andrew, and Jamie. And, works by spouses, friends and their kin. 

N.C. Wyeth, Andrew Wyeth, and Jamie Wyeth

We were particularly impressed with the Andrew Wyeth gallery having photos of him at work and an original tempera, titled The Patriot, that was technically flawless and artistically emotive.

  

Did you know that Andrew Wyeth has a thin local connection to our south Georgia and north Florida area? He illustrated a couple of books written by Robb White, an author of young adult fiction, TV shows, and movie scripts, and father to Bailey White, NPR commentator and author, and Robb White, IV, a wooden boat builder and author, who hail from Thomasville.



 

...and Maine Coon Cats by Jamie Wyeth

  

 

Onward 

Our Rockland respite was a needed opportunity for us to recover. With a loaner car we could also get to a grocery store to stock up for the next several days. Rested and nourished in body and soul, we are ready to resume our travels back south. We’ve still got weather to watch and to inform our plans, but the next day should take us by Eastern Egg Rock to see Atlantic puffins.

There’s a lot more to enjoy in Rockland, self proclaimed "art capitol of Maine” so when we are back in Maine, by land, this community will be a destination. 

08.18.2019