Prime Chimes Times

Next week I sail on the Victory Chimes for the sixth straight year. It is a week I anxiously await all year long. I'll recap my trip when I return, but for now, here's a look back at the previous six years. Every day aboard the historic three-masted schooner is great day, but here are my favorite days on the Victory Chimes:

July 2003 - From Burnt Coat Harbor to the islands off Stonington

Anchored in Burnt Coat Harbor, on the South side of Swan's Island, we waited a bit in the morning hoping that the fog would lift. It did slightly, but it still lingered as we left.

When we got into Jericho Bay we were greeted with fog, rain and heavy winds. The Captain said at one point it was gusting nearly 40 miles per hour. The boat was rocking pretty good.

The weather was so poor on deck, they chose to have lunch down below. It was the first time I noticed that the texture on the tables in the saloon is such that the plates don't slide.

Two girls from Florida had already been wrapped up in their winter parkas the day before. The blustery wind and rollicking seas didn't help their warmth or their stomachs.

Me, on the other hand, loved it. I sat on the bench on the quarterdeck and watched the ship toss back and forth. The wind would hit the sails like a fist and make the vessel lurch. I sat back cheering silently with every gust.

We were headed toward Stonington but the fog was so thick, the Captain chose to duck in for cover near Hells Half Acre and Coombs Island.

We anchored there for the night and took a quick trip ashore to Coombs Island in the afternoon. We sat around in the fog that evening and shared ghost stories.

We've had heavy wind and rough seas on other days in my six years but nothing like that trip across Jericho Bay.

July 2003 - From Stonington across Eastern Penobscot Bay to Carver's Cove off the Fox Island Thorofare.

Anchored amidst the islands off Stonington, we left that spot in the morning and yawled it over to Stonington itself. Still foggy from the weather the day before, boats were going ashore for sightseeing in Stonington. The Captain warned that thunder showers could be possible. Of course, forgetting that he has the weather radar at his disposal, I looked at the skies and figured, it doesn't look too bad. I didn't pack any foul weather gear and went ashore.

Sure enough, a heavy thunderstorm came through. And, I don't like thunderstorms. As the skies opened and the thunder rumbled, I hunkered under cover in the Purple Fish. It's an eclectic little shop with antiques/junk. One of the owners makes bookmarks with the schooners on them. Her husband sings sea shanties. He wasn't there that day. Good thing, listening to him sing as I anxiously awaited the storms to stop would have been too much to take.

I skipped the first trip back to the boat, but when the yawl boat began coming back, I had no choice but to venture into the thunderstorm. Running on a bad knee, that had been surgically repaired the year before, I hobbled my way down the street and back to the harbor. We crowded into the yawl boat and began the short trip back to the Chimes, only to see it rain harder. Michael commented that "It always rains when we go into Stonington." Now he tells us.

We huddled under a tarp but were all soaked. As the picture proves.

After leaving Stonington, we inched our way through fog across Eastern Penobscot Bay. The seas were pretty heavy. There were significant swells that had the ship rolling. I loved it, but one girl from Florida wasn't too enthused. She was sea sick most of the afternoon. The Captain wasn't too pleased either when another ship cut him off in the fog. He got a good yelling at.

We crossed the bay and entered the Fox Island Thorofare. I could hear Goose Rocks Lighthouse but couldn't see it. We maneuvered around so as to drop the hook inside Carver's Cove. It's a small cove behind Widow's Island on the Eastern entrance to the Thorofare.

It was an early anchorage for us but as the afternoon progressed the sun came out and the fog burned off. Michael gathered us all around and began to tell us a story which began "No $#%^, there we were." He then chronicled a less than fictional tale about warning people not to go into Stonington. The people ignored him and got soaked in the process, despite the efforts of the heroic future first mate. It had us all laughing heartily, and his little intro became out catch phrase for the rest of the week.
In the evening, we cracked open a bottle of wine someone had purchased in Stonington. There was no beer to be found in town at that time. A small group of us hung around on deck and got a bit unruly as the evening went on. At one point, Abby had to warn us that we were too noisy. She didn't want us to wake Todd, the first mate. We tried to quiet down and suggested the sign language teacher tell us jokes in sign language. That didn't help us quiet down at all. She even started teaching us dirty words in sign language. It only provoked more laughter and noise.

I wrote a bit of a poem later in the week. It referred to that evening with the lines "Abby came up, gave us heck. She threw our asses off the deck."

I ended that day by trying to sleep topside. I had been able to look at Goose Rocks all day and watch it shine its light that evening. I wanted to sleep on deck with its red light flashing and fog horn sounding. After a little while, I gave up on sleeping on deck and returned to my bunk.

It was one of the funnest days I've had on board, but the best thing was being able to spend the day with Goose Rocks in view and watching it shine at night.

September 2004, Swan's Island

We sailed out the first day through the Fox Island Thorough, past Stonington and into Blue Hill Bay. We anchored at Swan's Island, but unlike the previous year when we visited Burnt Coat Harbor, we were on the other side of the island. That evening we saw one of the most glorious sunsets I have ever seen. Looking across Blue Hill Bay and towards Mount Desert Island, the entire sky glowed with incredible light and colors. Sunsets and sunrises have provided some of the greatest moments on board the Chimes, but none of them compared to dusk that evening.

September 2004, From Brooklin, to Bucks Harbor, around Cape Rosier and into a cove outside Castine Harbor.

I'm not sure we ever saw the sun this day. It was the second day of the trip. We were anchored in Brooklin, where the Wooden Boat school is. We awoke to heavy fog. We went ashore and checked out Wooden Boat during the morning. This was the time that a group from Wooden Boat approached Michael as we unloaded at the dock. They asked whether they could take some students out to visit the Chimes. Michael's reply, pointing to their gear on the dock, was "Depends how much beer you have in that bag." They didn't seem to know what to make of that answer. I just laughed all the way up the pier.

As the fog lifted later, we made our way down the Eggemoggin Reach. It was my first trip down the Reach, and subsequently, the first venture under the Deer Isle-Stonington bridge. By late morning/afternoon, we were stopping for a quick visit to Buck's Harbor. We went ashore there and were on our way around Cape Rosier. We didn't have much wind. The yawl boat pushed us much of the way around Cape Rosier. Though we didn't have the sun, we had a good view of the land. We all sat on the starboard side of the vessel spotting bald eagles and gawking at the houses.

We pulled into a cove near Holbrook Island and Nautilus Rock and spent the night. A storm was coming the following day. We visited Castine that next morning and returned to the same anchorage to wait out the rain. One guy, from Kentucky, asked Michael "Isn't this where we last night?" He answered emphatically, "No -- Last night we were right over there." Pointing to a spot a few yards or so away.

September 2004, From outside Castine down Western Penobscot Bay to Owls Head and then to Rockland.

After waiting out the weather Thursday, we used the fifth day of the trip to sail down Western Penobscot Bay. We left our anchorage near Holbrook Island as the fog began to lift. It remained cloudy for much of the day, but we had good wind. Our bow was bouncing up and down most of the voyage down the Bay.

We had a great view of Islesboro and the mainland, from Searsport, to Belfast, Camden, Rockport and Rockland.

Goldie, a galley hand that year, decorated a potato and brought it on deck. The Captain put it on display with his charts. We named the potato, but I forget it's name. It was later chomped on by Raquel, the Captain's dog.

We pulled into Owls Head later in the day. A boat went ashore, and I decided to go along, even though visiting Owls Head Harbor or the lighthouse is not a rare opportunity.

I sat on the rocks to take pictures of the Chimes at anchor but then realized that the vessel wasn't anchored anymore. It was moving. It had raised the anchor and pulled out of the harbor. I was wondering what was going on, but figured the ship wasn't leaving (even if it wanted to). The Captain's wife and dog were still ashore. Plus, I was in Owls Head. I was only a few miles from home.

When we returned to the Chimes, the appetizers were served, a dip using the leftover lobster. At the same time, the Captain announced we were leaving Owls Head Harbor. He was dragging his anchor, and he wanted to try Rockland Harbor. Because the wind was blowing so hard, the crew needed our help in getting the vessel underway. So, we had to divide our attention between sailing and eating the appetizers. Sometimes sailing can be hard. Needless to say, we had a flawless sail set - and got back to the lobster dip.

We got under sail and out around Owls Head Lighthouse (photo to the left). We were met with a potent wind that blew across Rockland Harbor. We had a pretty good sail. The Captain, at one point yelled out to the cook, "Hold on to the turkey's Pammy!" The final night on board typically means a turkey dinner.

We anchored inside the Rockland Breakwater and had nice sunset that evening, despite the glow of the Home Depot.

The next morning, Raquel and I watched a wonderful dawn as the sun rose over North Haven and the Breakwater.

September 2005 From Port Clyde to Isle Au Haut

I awoke to the sound of the Port Clyde fishing boats leaving the Harbor as the day broke. It was a nice quiet sunrise with fishing boats, sloops and the schooner American Eagle in the harbor with us.

We started the second day of the trip by hauling out late because we had to wait on getting lobsters. There was talk the night before that we'd be headed for Monhegan Island. Of course, I had forgotten to charge my camera battery that morning while the generator was on. So, I begged Kelli to see if she could "charge my battery" for me in the galley. She did so, only if I promised to get her a Sun Journal Red Sox Championship t-shirt (which I did).

When we finally passed Marshall Point Lighthouse, the Captain steered the vessel East instead of West. He said because of a storm making its way, he wanted to be in Penobscot Bay instead. Sitting on the bench on the quarterdeck (where I can eavesdrop on the Captain's conversations), I heard him say we might go to a particular harbor. I didn't recognize the name but looked it up on my chart and discovered it was on the Eastern Penobscot Bay side of Vinalhaven.

We sailed through the outer channel of the Mussel Ridge Islands, which we had sailed the day before. I spotted my cottage in a brief instance as we passed the slight opening where I could view it through binoculars.

As we approached Vinalhaven, I spotted a whale in the water. The Captain saw it also, but I think we were the only ones that got a look at it.

We sailed past Heron Neck Light and could see Saddleback as well. At one point, the Captain began talking on the radio about anchoring in Isle Au Haut. That pleased me because I'd always wanted to go to Isle Au Haut.

He hadn't anchored there in quite some time but decided to give it a try. It made for a later anchorage than usual and had Raquel "anxious" about getting ashore to find a fire hydrant.

We anchored just outside the Thorofare. It was Lobster Night. So Lenny had his game-face on.
He and I went claw to claw and each finished with four. It was the first and last time I was able to keep up with him on Lobster Night.

That evening we had a glorious sunset and hung around on deck to hear some stories. Michael and I discussed whether we could see Goose Rocks Light from where we were. He said we couldn't. I was adamant that we could.

It was a great trip across that part of the Bay, but being able to anchor alongside Isle Au Haut (and go ashore the following morning) fulfilled my hopes of seeing that part of the Maine coast.

September 2005, Smith Cove, down Western Penobscot Bay to Islesboro
Smith Cove, from what I understand, is near where some of my ancestors had their shipbuilding operation. My great, great grandfather's house was barely visable from our anchorage, and it was exciting to be in a cove where my Mills, Douglass, Wasson and Farnham ancestors certainly had sailed.

I was up early and got some great photos of the sunrise. After breakfast, we hauled out and tied up to the mooring outside Castine. Some went ashore. Having been in Castine the year before, I stayed on board.

I went below at one point, and Kelli said something about what Adele was doing in the galley. She literally pushed me into the galley to give me a look. Before I knew it, I was holding blueberries on a donut while Adele turned the pastry into a female. Let's just say the blueberries I was holding in place were not the eyes. We would name it Vickie, and I've never looked at donuts the same way since.

When we pulled out of Castine, we headed down Western Penobscot Bay. We didn't have as much wind as we had the year before on a similar sail, but we had sun.

At one point, I went down below in the afternoon. I descended the rear companionway and began down the hall. I heard Kelli say "Here comes Kevin, he'll help you." I turned around and ran the other way, but my curiosity got the best of me. Having not learned by lesson with the donuts, I had to investigate what Adele was up to now.

When I got to the saloon, she had a coat hanger in her hand. She asked if I could straighten it. Being the big strong brute that I am, I did just that. I asked her what she needed the wire for, and she told me she had dropped her cell phone down the bilge.

She led me into her room and showed me the hole it had fallen down. Apparently, she had put the phone by the port hole, not knowing the hole was there. When the phone slipped from her grasp, it went down the hole a good three feet.

I stuck my hand into the hole but could only reach down as far as my elbow. I put the wire in to see how deep the hole was, and there was no way an arm was going to reach down far enough. At least not a huge bulging bicep like mine. So, the plan was that Adele would use the wire. I'd hold a flashlight into the hole so she could see. I cleared the top bunk of boxes (that's where the ship's store merchandise was stored). She climbed onto the top bunk and began fishing into the hole. After a few moments, she was able to hook it and bring it up. She was a pretty happy girl, and I had done my good deed for the day.

We sailed into Islesboro in the late afternoon and anchored there for the night. We had a fantastic sunset, but it was also a bit bittersweet because it was our final night and we'd be sailing back to Rockland the next morning.

September 2006, From Swan's Island, through Stonington, across Eastern Penobscot Bay into the Little Thorofare by North Haven.

We had anchored at Swan's Island on Wednesday and sailed out through Stonington Thursday. It was the sunniest day of the week. Therefore, it had been determined that the couple on board that had planned to get married would be wed on this day. What we didn't know was where the wedding would take place.

As we sailed across Eastern Penobscot Bay, I had hopes of going to Carver's Cove. That's where we had anchored on my first trip. It was one of my favorites spots because I could see Goose Rocks Lighthouse. I hadn't been sitting on the quarterdeck to listen in for any clues the Captain might give. I was daring him to surprise me.

But, judging by the direction and the time of the afternoon, I thought Carver's Cove might be likely. I was excited. That's certainly where I'd want to get married. (Like it would ever be my decision).

But, just as we got near the entrance to the Thorofare, he tacked to the Northeast - away from the Fox Island Thorofare. At first, I thought maybe he was just doing an about to kill time before anchoring, but soon enough, he was headed in between the islands off North Haven. It was what is called the Little Thorofare. It's a small opening between North Haven, Stimpson Island, Burnt Island and Calderwood. One of my Douglass ancestors once owned one of those islands.

We dropped anchor and had the wedding that afternoon. It was a nice sunny day for it and the brief ceremony went off well. We had plenty of photographers and even some video coverage of the event. Adele and Sally had put together a nice basket of gifts we had all collected for the bride and groom. I did my part by not hiding that basket on Adele and Sally. (I had told them where they could store it so it wouldn't be seen. I thought for a moment that I could move it elsewhere but didn't, knowing I'd be the immediate and only suspect).

We sat around following the wedding and discussed having a party that evening. That's when Mark told us that he had beer in his room.

We had the wedding cake on deck under a nice sunset. During the evening, we stood around and laughed about Mark's comment about beer in his room. Someone mentioned that we should all go visit him, knocking on his door expecting a party. My idea was that we should be IN his room when he arrived. When he appeared headed for his room, we gathered whoever we could and rushed down the back companionway. We all hid in Mark's room. We had arranged for his father to stall him a little. When he opened the door, we all shouted and made like there was a party going on. It was pretty funny.

The fog moved in that evening. I couldn't see Goose Rocks from where we were anchored, but I sat on deck and listened to its fog horn echoing through the Thorofare.

September 2007, From Bass Harbor out to Frenchboro around Swan's Island and into Stonington.

Bass Harbor is a lot like Port Clyde. Early in the morning, the fishermen are up and on their way. Many had passed us before the sun even came up over MDI. I was up early to watch the sunset.

We had no idea where we might be headed. Being Wednesday morning, there were many possibilities. Some hoped for Bar Harbor or Southwest Harbor. Swans Island seemed feasible.

We pulled up anchor and sailed out past Bass Harbor Light. From there, we continued South as if we were headed out to sea. We passed the Gott Islands and could see Great Duck Island in the distance.

We got well offshore and had a great view of the mountains on Mount Desert Island. We were so far out we were all on alert to spot whales. We had a sunny day and some good wind.

We sailed out past Frenchboro and got out to the backside of Swan's Island. At one point out there, we could see the back side of Isle Au Haut, but the most impressive part of the trip was we could see the mountains on MDI on the right while on the left were the Camden Hills. It's not often someone can see both mountain ranges in one panoramic view, but we had it.

We had lunch down below because it was too windy. That's when the whale appeared. A call came down from topside that a whale had been sighted. People raced up on deck to get a look.

There were a couple of other sightings later in the day.

As we neared Isle Au Haut, we tacked into Jericho Bay and charted a course toward Stonington. We pulled into a small inlet between islands, just across from Stonington Harbor.

We actually pulled in fairly early in the day. It allowed me to take the rowboat and row around the cove a bit. Two other passengers took the kayak out and got into a bit of trouble when they paddled outside of the cove and around the islands. Apparently, the "stay within view" order didn't register with them.

We had a nice sunset that evening, capping off a wonderful day where we all got to sail somewhere none of us had ever been.