Raspberry fields forever

Over the past week we became huge fans of the Maine Coast Heritage Trust. We enjoyed Black Island with its quarry, but our adventure on Calderwood Island, also managed by the trust, ended up being even more memorable and tasty.

Getting to Calderwood was one of the best sails that we had in the past week. We ran the engine for all of 2 minutes to ensure that we don't hit any vessels after leaving the mooring ball. After that it was all sail power in winds of maybe 10 knots -- perfect to carry us forward under full sail. We saw a beautiful schooner also going under full sails, we managed to duck all lobster pots and arrived at a nice anchorage completely shielded from the waves. Engine power was necessary again to drop the anchor.

Very quickly after we passed the "Welcome to Calderwood Island Preserve" sign we spotted wild raspberries. I'm used to seeing raspberry bushes that are over a meter tall, but these bushes were tiny, some only a foot high and yet they had plenty of berries. Or so we thought until we got to the top where raspberry bushes were so thick that the 5 of us didn't talk for a good 10 or 15 minutes. Well, not quite true: 6-year old Erik kept saying "My raspberries, I want to eat them all!" Raspberry fields. Since the bushes were tiny walking around them was quite easy. Surprisingly easy given how impassable the forest is on the eastern part of the island.

As we walked along the trail I noticed leaves that looked sort of familiar. Like a childhood flashback. And then I saw purplish berries under the leaves. Gooseberries! I have never seen wild gooseberries, and I don't remember the last time I ate them fresh, and especially off the bush. Yummy! We were totally ready to rename the island to Berry Island.

By the time we reached the rocky beach on its southern shore we had low tide and remembering last summer when Irina and Margot gathered a bunch of muscles I thought I should have a closer look. One area of the beach was totally littered with half-shells. Hmm, that is probably a good place to look. By the time we were done we had more than enough for lunch for the following day (one has to give them time to clean themselves of sand). Erik counted 91 muscles aboard, we changed their water regularly after cleaning the barnacles off the shells. And indeed, muscles steamed in white wine with some garlic, onion, and parsley were magnificent! To make clean-up easier, we sent the shells back to where they came from. I'm sure the sea will recycle the shells.

Navigation in Maine is more involved than I expected, even though I didn't expect it to be easy. First, since we are hopping from island to island we are passing other islands large and small, and we have to go around them and the rocks that surround them. Second, we have lobster fishermen to duck as they go swiftly in a given direction until they quickly stop to pick up a trap, rapidly turn and continue their swift pace in a completely different direction. Third, the lobster pots are everywhere; much denser than I expected to find. Finally, there is the fog which has been mostly kind to us over the past week or so.

Saturday morning we had a glorious combination of all 4 complications. Dima, Katya, and the kids needed to catch a plane, and I needed to pick up my new crew: my cousin Anton, his wife Katya, and their kid Leo. Crew change needed to happen in Camden, just 12 miles from where we were.

When I woke up at 6:30 I could tell we had fog by looking up at the mast through the window. I thought it should get better, so I had breakfast, did a bit of clean up, got Salty Ginger shipshape, the dingy was ready to go as well. Then I turned on marine forecast which stated that patchy fog will continue through late afternoon. We didn't have patchy fog -- we couldn't see past 200 meters. Since waiting out the fog till late afternoon was not a good option, we picked up the anchor and I started motoring. I wish I was sailing so as not to snag a lobster pots, but the wind was definitely not cooperating.

My tactic for avoiding the lobster pots was to put the engine into neutral every time I saw one that was too close to the side. The biggest menace are pots that have 2 buoys that are interconnected. Initially we learned through luck that two buoys floating close to one another may mean that they are tied together. The line that connects the buoys usually sinks, and frequently is long enough for our 2-meter keel to pass over it. But if were to wrap it around the prop, then clean up would be much more difficult. Luckily, I passed on the "right" side of all the pairs.

Fishermen boats could be heard before we pulled up the anchor, so I knew they were there. Now you would think that the fishermen would want to avoid collision with one another and all their vessels would not only have a radar, but also be equipped with a good radar reflector. Not always so, as I learned. The radar did help me to avoid one boat that was on a collision course. I changed our course by 20 degrees when the radar showed a dot about 1/4 mile away and we passed each other within 100 meters. Another vessel passed safely about 200 meters behind us, and we could barely make them out in the fog.

And then there was no fog. Beautiful sun, warm, light wind -- life is good! As we found out, the "patchy fog" forecast was correct: 3 miles later we sailed into the same thick fog that lasted till late afternoon with varying intensity.

When we were pulling into Camden harbor we maybe had 1/4 mile visibility. We could hear one of the buoys but only saw it on the electronic chart and on the radar. Lyman and Morse sent us to mooring ball #47, but we couldn't find it. So we tied up to mooring #479, and then the launch boat came by and steered us to the right location. It seems that at times visibility was less than 100 meters.

Crew change was productive: laundry was done, we got food and wine and walked around Camden. We were surprised seeing squash, tomatoes, and cabbage used as decoration along with flowers, and not at all surprised to see tourists in large quantities.

Now that it's dark we have pretty heavy rain (I'm sure berries and mushrooms will appreciate it) and lightning which is staying mostly far away. It will be a rolly night since the part of the harbor where we are is open to the Pebnoscot Bay and thus the Atlantic ocean. The crew is asleep, and it's time for me to turn in as well. It was an exciting day and rest is in order to the sound of raindrops hitting the deck.