Crossing the Gulf of Maine

Embarking on the 100-mile journey between Yarmouth and Bar Harbor turned out to be a challenging task for both our trusty boat and its intrepid crew. As darkness cloaked the sea, a sturdy northwest wind barged in at 25 knots, unleashing waves up to 2 meters. These sea conditions demanded a strategic shift to motor sailing. We took turns standing watch in two-hour intervals, grabbing precious moments of rest that amounted to no more than an hour. The storm raged unabated through the night until the first light of dawn revealed the silhouette of Mount Desert Island. Yet again, we marvelled at the perks of our stout and lengthy vessel, excelling in stability amidst the tumultuous waves, thanks in no small part to the robust 1-inch thick hull. The genius design by the renowned William Gardner, complete with a sharp bow slicing through the waves, further bolstered our maritime mettle. And the cherry on top? Our engine purred along flawlessly!

Initially set on making port in Bar Harbor, a chat with the harbormaster yielded a change of plans. Bar Harbor, it seemed, was sans customs control at the moment. The harbormaster’s sage advice pointed us toward Northeast Harbor Marina. Not a big deal, just an additional 10 miles through a barrier of lobster traps. When we were going along the Island, the speed went down to 3 knots. It surprised us, we decided it was a tide current against us. But gradually speed diminished to 1 knot, we were barely moving. At that point, we began to worry. We were afraid something was wrong with the engine. Or prop. Or something else. But then we noticed a rope following us along the boat. You can guess what it was. We were towing lobster trap! We knew that there were a lot of them here and we did our best to avoid them. But… We caught it by the keel and after a backward maneuver, we released the trap and got full speed.

In the Northeast Harbour Marina, we underwent customs control and got a berth on the dock at the friendly marina’s office. We are in the United States of America!

After resting a bit our weary sea legs, we decided to explore the surroundings before darkness fell. For more than a century, Northeast Harbor on Maine’s Mount Desert Island has been one of the most exclusive summer retreats in the world. During the 1880s and 1890s, families such as the Rockefellers, Pulitzers, Fords, Morgans, Astors and Vanderbilts – many of whose descendants still come here – built grand homes here.
From the very first glance, we could see how stylish this little town is. There are houses of various sizes and shapes, but all of them have one main thing in common: they are designed in Shingle Style and finished with wooden shingles. Behind the apparent simplicity, one can guess the thoughtfulness of every detail in the complete absence of kitsch. 

Here comes the Sun!
Moving westerly – sunrise astern
The cockpit is well-protected from the elements with a dodger and a top bimini
Iryna is at the helm dressed in offshore gear
Captain in foul weather gear (PFD and harness are a must!)
Mount Desert Island is ahead!
Watch out!
Typical coastal picture: fishing boat, lobster buoys and seagulls
Bear Island Lighthouse, was built in 1839.
Arrived in the USA, safe and sound!
Off-season, all docking spaces are designated for fishing boats.
Maine seagull feast: lobster!
Stylish shingle houses go well with white cars.
Mussel shell sculpture by local artists Susan Lerner and Miita Westerlund stands guard in front of the Great Harbor Maritime Museum.
Fisherman’s House is always recognizable
One of Shingle Style houses
Seaside United Church of Christ, 1886
Saint Ignatius Catholic Church with the monument to the first French settlers

Yarmouth – On the Edge of Everywhere

Yarmouth, nestled on the southern edge of Nova Scotia, is practically the gateway to the world’s largest lobster ground. I’ve scoured every nook and cranny of Nova Scotia, and nowhere else have I witnessed such a lobster trap extravaganza. It’s like the lobster capital of the universe.

We sailed into the marina fashionably late, arriving after the sailing season had gracefully bowed out. But don’t let that fool you – the port was bustling with energy, thanks to the upcoming lobster season. The town was taking a post-season breather when museums and information centers decided to play hide-and-seek until the next season. The streets wore a deserted look, the trees had shed their leaves, creating the perfect backdrop to appreciate the town’s unique architecture.

Approaching Yarmouth
Fishing vessels
Yarmouth Marina is out of service for the season
Free-docked
Replica of 1084lb Mako Shark, caught by local fisherman in 2004
Fishing gear in Yarmouth port
Lobster Cages ready to load
Lobster Cage DIY
Holy Trinity Anglican Church
East coast lifestyle
Waterfront at low tide
Colours of Yarmouth
Low tide
Leaving Yarmouth marina with docked SV”Black Dragon” – the second Mike’s attempt to reach Cape Cod ended in Yarmuth – broken engine and rudder.
Goodbye, Yarmouth!
Passing the last Canadian Cape Forchu Lighthouse
Goodbye. Nova Scotia, goodbye, Canada!
100miles of night motor-sailing to the USA shores
New moon, new adventures ahead!

Strategic Port La Tour

Before tackling the aquatic rollercoaster around Cape Sable, the southern tip of Nova Scotia, we made a strategic pitstop at Port La Tour, just shy of the cape. Why, you ask? Well, let me spill the tidal beans. Cape Sable dances with some serious tidal forces, thanks to the dramatic ebb and flow from the Bay of Fundy – home to the highest in the world tides, reaching a towering 18 meters.

In this watery ballet around Cape Sable, currents can go a bit haywire, swirling in multiple directions at speeds up to 3 knots. Imagine trying to waltz your way through a counter-current phase – not the smoothest dance move. So, what’s the savvy sailor’s strategy? Wait for the passing current, hitch a ride, and enjoy an extra boost of 3 knots. Smart, right?

So, there we were, making a turn into Upper Port La Tour – a pint-sized fishing haven shielded by sturdy breakwaters. It was fashionably late, and the only soul we encountered was a passing cyclist, probably wondering why anyone would anchor at that hour.

With a tight schedule dictated by the currents, our wake-up call was set for a jaw-dropping 3am. Under the cloak of darkness, we’d bid adieu to the harbour, riding the current at speeds hitting a whopping 10 knots. Night sailing, anyone?

Cape Roseway Lighthouse
Canadian Coast Guard Radar (ex NOMAD Radar) at Baccaro Point
Cape Negro Island Lighthouse
The Salvages Lighthouse
Docking at low tide
Sunrise – the Cape Sable Lighthouse sent us a goodbye flash
Sunrise in the Ocean
Windfarm
Frosty morning
Morning coffee
Peases Island Lighthouse
Candlebox Island Lighthouse
Moving between islands
Cape Forchu Lighthouse
Bunker Island Lighthouse at the entry to the Yarmouth Harbour