We left Northeast Harbor with 200 feet maximum visibility and, employing the chartplotter, turned west and north, into the mouth of Somes Sound. We couldn't see the shore until we were well into the mouth and approaching a choker passage, and then the fog never lifted much higher than 100 feet, so we motored the entire way to Somesville and never saw the imposing and legendary cliffs and mountains on either side.
For the first time in three days, we anchored, this time in a mooring field, and settled in with onboard activities. Monica read. I sketched a nearby downeast boat and its backdrop of rocks, forests and a landing with a floating dock. Then I attempted to fill in the drawing with watercolors, hoping this time the picture would be a little less muddy than the last effort.
Late in the day, a sailing megayacht arrived and took a large mooring between the sound and Robin. Shrouded in fog, she looked mysterious, her dark hull turned so as to obscure the name on her transom. Her lines were exceptionally beautiful and I guessed she was a Ted Fontaine design. Every curved line blended perfectly with adacent curves, a Fontaine hallmark.
In the morning, the fog lifted and the sun came and went. There was a seal in the harbor and there were numerous kayakers. And there were many interesting boats in the harbor, in addition to the megayacht.
By nine o'clock, we had weighed anchor and begun motoring toward the sound, which we've been told several times is North America's only fjord. As we passed the megayacht, I hollered to the owner, who was having breakfast with several others and reading a newspaper in the center cockpit. "Who's the designer?" I asked. I think he said Chuck Paine, the man who has designed many of the Morris yachts. We'll never know for sure. I was unable to readthe yacht's name on the transom, in shadows.
Finally, as we headed through the sound, we got to see the magnificent scenery, the cliffs and mountains.
Out in Western Way, the entrance from the ocean to Northeast and Southwest Harbors, we raised the sails and for most of the morning, we tacked in light breezes toward Long Island and Frenchboro, where we hoped to anchor for the night. But after passing some rocky islands with ocean waves bursting on their stone chests and reading once again the description of the anchorage in Frenchboro, we thought again and went on to Burnt Coat Harbor on Swan's Island near Toothache Bay, where we took a mooring for the night and spent another good afternoon, reading and sketching aboard Robin and, with the binoculars, snooping on our neighbors and the local lobstermen who, in the afternoon, returned with their catch to the fishermen's coop.
Just before dinner, the sky darkened as if to blow up some electrical entertainment. But the clouds moved on, leaving only a beautiful sunset with oranges and purples and cool air that blew into the V-berth hatch and made for a pleasant sleep in a secure harbor.