There was wind from the east at 6 a.m. Tuesday when I climbed back on deck. To the west, we could see Monhegan Island, a gray specter under dense clouds.
We turned Robin to fill her jib and resumed sailing into Penobscot Bay, where the wind seemed to turn to the northeast and make sailing straight toward Rockland a matter of pinching, of squeezing as much as we could out of close hauled sails.
We placed phone calls once we were within cell phone range. Monica was glad to hear from me and, I think, hadn't been too worried. But she issued an ultimatum. She would fly to Maine on Friday, as planned, only if I would agree that instead of cruising north as we'd planned, I'd agree to head back toward the Chesapeake with her as my crew. She didn't want to spend time frivolously cruising and then leave the stressful chore of the return voyage to me alone. And at that point I had no other crew.
I didn't know what awaited me in Rockland as far as mechanical assistance, so I agreed.
Tom Gilmore, up ahead in Rockland, was relieved, having expected us the night before. He warned us that we faced a thicket of lobster pot buoys. But thanks to the fact that we had no engine, I didn't need to concern myself with getting the propeller snagged on a buoy line.
At one point, we came up behind a lobster boat tending its pots directly on our course. Because we were squeezing every bit of northerly way from the wind, I didn't want to fall off to go around the boat, but I was certain I would have to.
In this instance, we were engaging a thoughtful lobsterman who noticed our predicatment and, when he'd deposited his baited pot overboard, moved his boat out of our path with a smile and a wave.
A bit farther up the bay, we saw a ketch coming from our port through a break in the chain of small islands there, and as it drew nearer, we saw that it was not just a ketch, but a magnificent example of classic yacth design, with long overhangs bow and stern that tapered exquisitely. It reminded me of Cotton Blossom, the William Fife-designed 72-footer on which my friend Richard Griffiths once served as captain. This prompted me to call Richard in Oxford, MD.
When I described the boat, Richard named it -- Belle Aventure, an 82-footer with a solitary doghouse cabin amidships.
We watched he sail past our transom and then were able to remain on a starboard tack all the way to a point about three miles west southwest of the Rockland jetty, off of Owls Head lighthouse. Then we began steering toward the harbor. I had decided that we needed to get a mooring in order to have a mechanic come aboard. I've found anchoring in Rockland Harbor tricky due to an unpredictable bottom.
But I didn't think it would be wise to sail into the vast mooring field to take a mooring. Robin is a cutter, which is a fine offshore rig. But in close quarters, it can be difficult to tack the Genoa around the inner forestay -- difficult and slow. And sailing with the staysail alone, which can be tacked easily, is best done with a steady, strong breeze.
I didn't want to risk either method, so I'd called TowboatUS and they had arranged for a local towing company to bring Robin to a city mooring once we had sailed into the harbor.
The tow cost $150 and took us perhaps 500 yards to a mooring. The towboat operator was a bit rough, banging into Robin's hull twice, roughing up her cosmetics.
Once we were secured to the mooring, I called the local Beta Marine dealer, Johanson Boatworks. Stanley Fiegenbaum at Beta had told me they were good people, and that their mechanic, Jonesy, was excellent.
I scheduled Jonesy's visit for Thursday, his next available opening, and John and I settled in for a couple of days of decompression. All the while, I reminded myself to make sure this Jonesy didn't settle for the first solution he found to Robin's problems.
Make him check everything became my mantra.