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Photo credit Bonnie Kane
The bad news is that I have completely abandoned keeping logs. On the brighter side, photos remain both doable and engaging. So the departure date for this trip could be pieced together. It was a Thursday, at the end of May, and I was off for a little over three weeks. This was the sendoff from Gouldsboro Bay, with Chubba, Bonnie and friends.

Initially I had thoughts of sailing to southern New England, and ridiculous amounts of food and water were stowed. But departure was a couple of weeks later than hoped because of how much time it took to complete all the 12 V wiring and autopilot installation. By a week after we were on our way (myself and Great Auk) the weather pattern was getting ready to change over to summer, with consistently south and west winds.
In the end, we went as far as the harbor in the Pemaquid River, on the west side of Pemaquid Point, around the backside of that big peninsula that is about halfway between Penobscot Bay and Portland. This was a good run, including some nice explorations of Muscongus Bay. Muscongus is the next big indentation in the coast west of Penobscot Bay, filled with interesting islands. I hadn’t been around that southwest corner of Penobscot Bay since the big move to Maine, over five years ago. It was nice to bust out a little bit.



Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Suzanne Jean

Photo credit Suzanne Jean
***
Some adventures were had, over the course of those three weeks, particularly related to sailing in somewhat more demanding conditions in order to take advantage of that early east wind. The boat is more capable than one would think from looking at its flat bottom and straight across barge bow. In a good breeze, down or across the wind, Great Auk likes to sail between 4 and 4 1/2 knots. The boat will go 5, but things start to feel strained, on both rigging and steering, and it makes more sense to reef (or reef more) and take the pressure off.
One morning, after several days of erroneous weather reports that forecast bigger wind which did not materialize, I chose a route that would’ve been perfectly reasonable in milder conditions than the ones that developed. I should not know that the boat is capable of what we did – in theory one would keep oneself out of that kind of situation – but it has been very relaxing to have this benchmark, now that it’s done. Taking smaller waves in this boat no longer fazes me in the least!

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel
***
There were of course many peaceful harbors on this trip, as well as lovely visits with my Aunt Patsy and various friends, and some very sweet days of sailing. An especial standout was Louds Island in Muscongus Bay. This island has a drying harbor on the east side, and I had the good fortune to pass nearby at just the right time to get a good look at it at low tide, and then when the water came back to go in for the night. Bonus, while waiting for the tide the boat got to go down on a sand bar outside the harbor! Drying out on a sand bar was actually one of my goals for this expedition, and I had no idea that I would get to do it this soon. Because of this boat’s flat bottom, it’s perfect for settling down on tideflats. Downeast is almost entirely mud, wherever the water is peaceful enough to do this, which is not terribly satisfying for stepping off the boat when it’s aground. Sand is a completely other matter, and spending time on wide, protected sandflats was one of my motivations for wanting to sail to southern New England. Although I didn’t get there (this time), I did get to have my fun stepping off the boat onto this really nice bar. It made me incredibly happy.

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel
On this trip there was also quite a bit of night sailing. This was to catch the favorable wind and tide, but happened to coincide with that I enjoy being out in the night quite a lot. Further, so close to the solstice, one can go to sleep early, wake up at about 2 AM and set out in the dark, and by 3:30 AM the light is already starting to show in the eastern sky.
During the day there was a good bit of motoring, with that hefty 48 V Torqeedo. I do very little motoring at night, as it’s challenging to dodge the lobster pot buoys, which can get hung up in the motor. Under sail, the boat can just run right over them without problems. The boat really could use the second motor on the back – which I haven’t yet done – for good steering control in gusty changing wind when under power. But apart from that complication, the motor arrangement worked out amazingly well. The solar panels all over the top of the cabin make a real difference in range, even when the motor is drawing more electricity than the panels are producing. The solar charging extends the run time for a given battery bank considerably, and if one travels slowly on a sunny day – say about 2 knots on flat water – the charging will keep pace with the draw from the motor, making the run time unlimited. Routinely, dodging that south wind, we would start early before the breeze came up and motor for two or three hours to jump to the next harbor upwind, sometimes driving pretty hard into the breeze as it started to fill in for the day. The batteries replenished easily once the motor was not being used, and the entire trip was done without using any shore power at all, maintaining both 48 V battery banks, recharged to full capacity within a day of even quite demanding motor runs. Cloudy days charge more slowly, but still take care of business.
This is a Torqeedo 4.0 outboard, 48 V, running off of one or the other of two battery banks, each made of 4 (four) 12 volt 100 amp hour AGM batteries, connected in series to make the 48 V. The solar panels for the motor are 4 (four) 12 volt Xantrex 165 Watt flexible panels attached with adhesive to the top of the cabin. Interestingly, Xantrex technical support said that it would be fine to wire these in series, to make the output for 48 volt batteries – and it has been. But the instructions that came with the panels said that they should not be combined in that way. Regardless, it has worked out fine.
The charge controller is a “Victron BlueSolar MPPT 150/45-Tr” with which I’ve been hugely happy. It talks to the smartphone, and shows off how hard the solar panels have been working, including with a very informative history tab. So far, on a day with excellent sunshine and lots of motor use, the maximum energy produced has been shown as 4 kW, which works out to roughly 80 amp hours for that one day. Not bad!

Piecing together the plan for that system was an enormous job. I am not receiving anything for mentioning the manufacturers, and am including the information above only in hopes of helping others along the way.
Anyway, that’s how we got around: sometimes sailing, when the wind was blessedly workable (no significant upwind sailing in this barge houseboat), often motor sailing, and rarely motoring with the sail not even raised. One of the advantages of having put so much time and effort into sailing motorless over these last years is that I was able to gauge situations of limited wind, judging how long it would take to do what I was hoping to do, as far as destinations and timing, if entirely under sail. Those runs entirely under sail can be exhausting, and the comparison to what was possible using the motor was striking. I have rather sheepishly been telling numerous friends and acquaintances that I’ve become “motor woman.” But at least there are no fossil fuels involved!
Eventually it became clear that it was time to turn around, and let go of the big southerly goal. Every single day in the extended 10 day forecast promised south and southwest winds, with the pattern likely to continue. Also, I felt that my health was not as up to snuff as I would have liked, for venturing so far from home. Sometimes being on the boat has been truly magical, with my well-being improving the longer I stayed. This time, it was instead going the other way. Too many crazy nights, and long days, and apparent limits to the stamina I had upon which to draw.
Suzanne came to meet me in Pemaquid Harbor, to help with doing an adjustment on the autopilot motor position, which had been shifted on the day with those big waves. We had not foreseen a couple of tools, and bolts, that would be needed to really complete this repair in a lasting way, and at a three hour drive from home, I was already well beyond how far Suzanne wanted to travel to meet me, though she generously made that trek, with both tools and supplies. All of the various issues converged, and after Suzanne had gone home, I decided to make Pemaquid my turnaround point.
In hindsight, that was an excellent call. There wasn’t another decent batch of easterly wind for close to a month, and it didn’t last – we are solidly into the summer weather pattern. And there was fun to be had along the way, heading back east.
Not being in a rush anymore, I went all the way up to the head of Penobscot Bay, had some lovely visits with sailor friends, and then ventured up the Penobscot River to Bangor, some 25 river miles inland. (In the chart shown earlier, Bangor is a bit further north, outside the frame where the Penobscot River runs off the top edge of the chart.) This diversion was partly for the adventure, but mostly to get to do more visiting, with friends made over this past year and a half via zoom, as we have worked together to address the woeful state of US politics during these last few years. Some adventure was had on the river, which should have its own post. The lovely visits made it all worth it.

Photo credit David A. Weeda

Photo credit David A. Weeda

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel
***
Then I ran for home. It’s amazing what the motor makes possible. By motor sailing when the breeze was in those light times, which previously, in other boats, involved tremendous amounts of floating around, Great Auk and I got a good head start on the miles. Once the wind would really fill in for the day we would blast along entirely under sail. We left from East Hampden, a mile or so south of Bangor, at 3:30 AM, just as the tide started to run out. With the assist of that marvelous current in the river – outbound tide plus the river’s natural flow – we had covered the 23 miles to where the river opens into Penobscot Bay by about nine in the morning.

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel
Once out of the river, as there was so much of the day left to go, and another couple of hours of workable tide to make the turn that one really must get to before the incoming tide starts running strongly north, we hustled south, and indeed got around the corner of Cape Rosier before everything turned. This set things up for riding the flood tide further toward home, and by the end of the day we were putting the anchor down in Mackerel Cove on Swan’s Island, some 50+ miles from where we had begun that morning. In a barge houseboat! The design really has been showing itself surprisingly capable.
The next day would have been ideal for sailing home the rest of the way, on a good 10 to 15 southwest wind, but it would have been another long day, and rest was in order. The day off was delightful, in such a pretty spot.

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel
The morning after that the tide was not right until about 10 AM, so there was no need for a crazy-early start. There was also not a tremendous amount of wind. We got underway using the same approach from the other day, motor-sailing during the morning light breeze to get a bit of a head start, and running all under sail once the wind filled in. (I still cringe to admit this part about the motor, particularly on this blog where I know that some confirmed motorless sailors are reading about this unfortunate conversion.)
By evening we had covered another 33 miles, and were back in Joy Bay, anchored for the night and ready to go in to our float with the early morning high tide. This was none too soon, as there does seem to be a more significant health thing going on, rather than the regular run of long-term issues that can be accommodated one way or another. And it’s nice to be home!

Photo credit Suzanne Jean
Now I’ve been back for a few weeks, regaining some strength, and having decided that manual hauling of a heavy primary anchor and chain has become a serious impediment to my solo boat fun, as well as to the range of crew possibilities. Great Auk is in the process of acquiring an electric windlass. Installation is not simple, but is progressing. That will get its own post.

Photo credit Shemaya Laurel
In the meantime, it was a great trip to start off the summer. The starry and moonlit night sailing was exceptional, and the boat has shown itself to be a sturdy traveler. Being just early July, and with excellent sailing possible through September, we are hoping for a good bit more.

Photo credit Frank S. Plimpton
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Shemaya
This is an amazing craft that fits your traveling style. The engineering is a marvel. Your skills more than make up for physical limitations. This blog is an incredible story of how to soak in the beautiful Maine coast. And it’s your story!!!
This is a classic example of the possible. How to enjoy responsible boating and cruising. You have seen more, done more, and taken in more by slowing down.
Thanks for sharing this adventure, your wisdom and insight, and your world. You make it a better place.
Keep smiling,
Chubba
Awww, thanks so much for all of that, Chubba. And it sure has been fun, seeing Maine this way! Best part, it’s only July :-)
Shemaya
💞
Good to see DaveZ’s trilo concept working as intended. Looks like a beautiful trip. Hoping you recover quickly from your short term health issues. I’m still working on the T16 in small chunks here and there. Got a donated bermuda sail & mast, so it looks like I’ll launch with that, though still hoping to sew up a junk.
Isn’t it a treat, Dave’s designs, and getting to see them work. Tremendous that your boat is coming along. Not such a big deal to change out the rig on a T16 – and what a great opportunity for comparison! Want to remind everybody of the link for your blog, for those who are interested in seeing your project?
Shemaya
Great photos, I feel like I was on the trip with you, it was good to get out on the water.
I also like the way the boat sits in the mud and when the tide comes in your off again.
Linda Yaroch
P.S. I know nothing about boats or sailing, but it looks like you sure do.
Hi Linda,
So glad you got to come on the trip!
Yeah, can’t beat that flat bottom, for ease on the mud in these big tides. And don’t forget sand, which is the best of the best!
It’s never too late to start playing with boats ;-)
Shemaya
Love this post, Shemaya! I felt like I was there with you, especially seeing the great photos you took. Those waves looked terrifying 😲
You were there, Janine ;-)
It’s funny, about the waves – especially by the time I took those pictures, those waves were not a problem. They were big, but fairly rounded on the tops. In some ways, if you want you can use pictures like that to adjust your psyche to how they look, so they become less scary. Before I had come around the south end of those islands and gotten a little bit inside them, there were a lot more whitecaps on the tops of the waves. That was a little more concerning, but the rule is that if they are not overhanging and breaking, they are really pretty okay. The reason there aren’t pictures from when there were a bunch of whitecaps also is because during that time I was busy steering, to make sure one of those ones with the foaming whitecaps wasn’t going to catch the boat broadside. But I actually kind of like the waves that are big enough that the islands disappear in the trough – I’m glad to know that this boat can do that, and still feel stable. Not that I’m going to be going out looking for it!
Hi SHemaya,, thanks for the details on the trip… You are a Sailor indeed !! ust a question,, do you still have the Peep Hen ,,if so is it for sale ?? Best Regards,,George Rootring
Hi George,
Glad you enjoyed the story! As for the Peep Hen, it is actually just in the process of going to my friend Chubba, whose name you might have seen here and there in the blog. So Serenity will be staying right here in this bay, where I get to visit with it now and then. But they do come available pretty regularly, as they change hands periodically. That Hensnest group (https://groups.io/g/Hensnest) is really the best way to find them – when group members notice one that comes up on Craigslist they generally copy the notice to the group. And of course if any group members decide to sell they post it there as well. Another thing that has worked for folks is posting in that group that they are looking – sometimes somebody is ready to sell but just hasn’t gotten around to doing anything about it.
Wishing you luck in getting a hold of one very soon!
Cheers,
Shemaya
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