We weren't rushing home, but we were not dawdling. So in the morning, we slipped out of Boothbay Harbor in a drizzle with an ominous overcast and a sail-snapping southerly wind. Heading into the wind with the mainsail raised, we motored until we got well clear of land and then turned west.
At first, we were protected from whatever was out to sea by some small islands. But once clear, we found steep, black waves advancing on our port bow.
Robin turned around one red buoy and bore off, enough to use the wind. Ahead on the charts and chartplotter were more rocky obstacles. And then we had to choose whether to go through a narrow pass between a point of land at the eastern end of Casco Bay and the pile of rocks offshore or to steer a more southerly, offshore coast to evade the rocks entirely. That would add miles to our travel toward our next destination -- Quahog Bay and Snow Island.
We decided to go for the short route. I don't know about John, but I was almost holding my breath when we entered the shoal passage.
Then, on the far side, we noticed a universal Maine navigational aid -- a steel rod or pipe, bent either on purpose or by rough seas and ice, poking up above the four to five-foot waves. It marked a rock that may or may not have been exposed at low tide but certainly was very close to the surface.
We gave the bent steel a wide clearance before turning north into the mouth of New Meadows River and then striking a course slanting to the northwest, toward the narrow fairway of Quahog Bay. The boundary between New Meadows and Quahog is marked by small islands and rocks on which the waves were crashing.
Robin rode well in the following sea, and the chartplotter helped us find the deep course. Soon, we were motoring between the steep evergreen walls of islands on either side, with Snow Island coming into view ahead.
My plan was to visit Dodge Morgan free of the crush of a picnic for 140. I had emailed in advance and Dodge said he and Mary Beth would be home.
So we anchored off the southern point of Snow Island, launched the dinghy and went ashore.
We spent an hour talking with the Morgans. But they had come home around midnight from the airport and we assumed they had had little sleep. So we cut the visit short and hiked around the island before returning to Robin ahead of the coming rain.
For the first time in sevral days, I prepared dinner -- chicken breasts, potatoes and a vegetable -- and we settled in for the night. The long, rainy night.