|Count Gregoire de Frontenac|
What I neglected to promise Count Gregoire de Frontenac, however, was the glories of a gigantic low pressure system that was going to park itself over Maine for two days. Oops. So much for my budding meteorological skills.
|"Hi, my name is Mr. Twirly and I'm going to rain on your parade, you buffoon."|
A few disclaimers. We spent our time on privately-owned islands along the Maine Island Trail that are available to MITA members and described in the guidebook. It is requested to not publicly blather about such islands with respect to the islandowner. I will honor this request. As I have a done before and will do now, I highly encourage the intrepid reader who is interested in these waters to become a member at MITA. It is not expensive and it pays for itself immediately. It is a worthy organization for a worthy cause.
I present, with humbleness, BILTrek2012:
|Peace. Notice lack of houses anywhere. Quiet.|
Fickle winds started us off the public launch at Brooklin. I carefully ghosted out of the harbor, and once out in the bay we started to scoot along-- just barely. The boat was heavily laden with the two of us, gear, food, and water for five days and winds ere light. We made good time, all things considered to our first island. That was the last of the sun. In came the fog.
|15 minutes later after "peace." No joke.|
Out came the WX radio. Thunderstorms on their way. Flashes through the tent. 2-3" of rain per hour. Rumbles in the distance. I struck IAZ,Ps mast/lightning rod. Flash flood watches throughout Maine. The wind came up and started folding over Count Gregoire de Frontenac's tent. My tent was in the lee, so I thought it was quite peaceful. We skippers need to stay well rested and dry to make good decisions.
|Gregoire's tent blowing in from the wind. Wet. Rain seeping through the seams.|
|IAZ,P with mast down|
|Stoic Captain...? Feelings of foolishness lurking underneath stone cold face.|
We had a good wind pushing us along, and we passed some lobstermen who gave us energetic waves and smiles as we blew through some chop in the pouring rain. To them we probably looked like we were off on an adventure as opposed to turning back around... I waved back. Lobstermen in Maine have always waved at IAZ,P. Better keep up the impression that we are a salty bunch too.
|Romantic second night camping location. IAZ,P loved this. (sarcasm) Count Gregoire de Frontenac observing.|
|Drying tents. Why not?|
|Camping in a hotel room. Talk about sand and wetness. That chart book? Pissing water.|
|This is a historic picture for blatantly obvious reasons. Take note.|
|Sailing out. Cute Maine Island. What dangers lurk around its waters?|
|Count Gregoire de Frontenac navigating and keeping us safe from said dangers.|
|I just like this island.|
And then, we turned to the corner into the small harbor.
Splashing into the crystal clear water on the beach, we decided that there was no further reason for exploration anywhere else. Day three was henceforth spent relaxing in the sun warmed harbor, circumnavigating the island at low tide, and napping.
|Camp. Gregoire up on the hill, I'm closer to the boat.|
|Trees and what-was-once-tree communing|
|Count Gregoire de Frontenac bathing. This ain't no damp breezy castle no mores, this be real saltiness!|
|The beach/bathtub dries out|
|Further and further the water falls|
|Officially stuck for the night. We're not going anywhere for another 6hrs at least. And then it will be dark.|
|Legal fire below high-tide mark|
|Calm and mist. Woe.|
|Waiting for the tide|
Fair winds, intrepid reader.