A recent inquiry about the fate of Elbe No 5, the original Schooner Wanderbird, or Wandervogel as it was originally in German, left me searching for information, after she sank in June of 2019. This video from October of that year, shows that she’s been pulled up and sent to a shipyard in Hvide Sande, Denmark. As I read, no shipyard in Germany has the ability to repair a wooden vessel of her size so she was shipped up and appears to be floating on her own. It looks as though she’ll sail again thanks to Hamburg Maritime.
We’re happy to see that after 137 years of sailing, she’ll continue to sail. We’ve been searching for an artist to paint the original schooner rounding Cape Horn, for our salon. If anyone knows a skilled nautical artist, please pass long the info.
No, not us, but our namesake, the beautiful sailing schooner Wanderbird, also known as Elbe No 5, was struck by the 465-ft container carrier Astrosprinter on the Elbe river near Hamburg in Germany last June in 2019.
We often check in on the old wooden boat, to see if she’s had any work or a change of ownership. Hamburg Maritime Foundation, the most recent owners, had recently completed a $1.7million refit at a Danish yard and she was enjoying work as a tour boat when the unfortunate incident occurred.
We had always dreamt of sailing our little sister to meet the noble schooner and while she rests just underwater, chances grow slim as she’s consigned to the briney depths.
As for us, we continue to make preparations during quarantine. After more than two months, the boat is back in the water while we wrap up the repairs and improvements.
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Two years into this adventure and things are a little repetitious. Last year we began making preparations for Cuba when we had a major hydraulic failure. Now, back in the yard, we make ready to voyage out further from the safety of U.S. coastal waters and all the amenities that Florida affords.
We began by hauling out at Lauderdale Marine Center in Fort Lauderdale and having the Hundestead prop and shaft inspected. It was determined that the prop needed to be dropped, which is a chore. While this is being done Luke is making efforts to improve the cooling systems to limit marine growth as well as catching up on servicing the life rafts, installing a new barbecue, touching up some paint and many other projects.
While these chores aren’t as fun as my usual posts, I’ll include a video of our run up the new river and the haul out at LMC. I upgraded my GoPro to the new Hero 8 black and the timelapse up the river was greatly improved over the old camera functions.
With all this going on I’ve continued working on an app for managing the vessel. I just migrated to a platform called Quasar which will allow me to develop a web-based app and extend it to a native mobile app. I have the task manager pretty far along and still need to move inventory, equipment, systems and all the other facets I created in the earlier, strictly web-based version.
After the yard we plan to travel down the Exumas and jump out to Turks & Caicos. The crossing from Long Island to the first of the Caribbean islands is a little rougher from my observation of the data, so we need all systems in top shape!
After five weeks in Manhattan we departed in the late afternoon for Norfolk. The 40 hour journey a familiar one at this point. The conditions were favorable and I passed the time experimenting with some fashion photography with our friend Anderson who Luke had invited along. It was later in the evening by the time we reached Fort Mason and because of an approaching Tropical Storm named Nestor, we ducked into Mill Creek and dropped the hook.
It was a good spot to weather the heavy winds and rain for the following day with gusts hitting 35 knots. The following morning we were faced with an armada of snowbirds in the intracoastal. The first railroad bridge out of Norfolk there were about 15 boats of various types and sizes all jockeying for position.
When we finally reached the great locks it was a similar pile-up and it wasn’t until the second round of passage that we were able to make our way through. While hovering well in the channel we ran aground for a few moments so for anyone southbound, keep slightly to the port side on approach to the locks – there’s shoaling about 200 yards out. Fortunately great lock is less than two feet drop and it takes less than 15 minutes for the drop, however they have to time it with a subsequent bridge making for a real mess with so much traffic.
Quite a lot of negotiated passings in narrow canals followed until we reached Coinjock where the staff was wonderfully accommodating as usual, getting us fueled up almost immediately. It was so busy boats were rafted up; double-parked yacht-style. The next morning we didn’t bother rushing out and by the time we were up at 8, most of the dock was empty.
We motored all day into the darkness until we were just before the second to last unlit channel where we anchored just a lightning storm grazed us to the north. The next morning was bright and fresh in the North Carolina waters and we passed through Goose Creek and into Beaufort, passing some sailboats and being passed by faster motor yachts. As we approached town we realized conditions had improved on the Atlantic and it made sense to revise our plans and head immediately out to sea and make for Charleston. Fortunately we were able to get a reservation across the bridge at Patriot Point, since the large downtown docks were full up.
Sunset was as glorious as the sunrise as we approached the frying pan shoals. Just after midnight as I stood watch, I made the mistake of assuming the red light in the distance was the shoal channel marker and continued to look for the green light. Upon closer examination of the charts I realized the channel markers are not lit and the red light was a marker much further south. Using the spotlight and radar I was able to locate the green can and erring towards port, slipped through the very narrow passage unscathed.
We dropped Anderson in Charleston and waited again on some heavier winds offshore. An acquaintance from Provincetown was moving an 80 Hatteras and after chatting about the conditions made his way to meet up with us for a drink at the Harbor Club. While we run around 8 knots, burning about a gallon per nautical mile, he moves at around 20 knots, burning 140. We left Charleston in the evening on Sunday, staying close to shore out of the gulf stream and ran the next 50 hours to Fort Lauderdale, non-stop.
Greg ran from Charleston to St. Augustine on Monday, stopped for fuel and a night’s rest and then passed us in the evening on Tuesday as we approached Lauderdale. We weren’t at the dock on the New River until around 3AM, which is fine by me – running the river in the wee hours means less traffic and a very chill arrival.
Now begins some repairs and upgrades. The brightwork (exterior, Mahogany railings and rub-rails) need refinishing, a new WiFi system, batteries and soft-goods are all in the plans.
People often ask if we pass through storms. Like inquiring a solider if they’ve seen any action. The first storm we passed through on the Atlantic, which I had watched brewing for some hours, was anticlimactic: hardly any wind, placid seas with perhaps the largest rain drops I’ve yet to witness.
Tonight, along the same northbound route up the Eastern seaboard, we could see lightning storms brewing to the West, over Georgia and South Carolina and to the East over the open Atlantic. As we made our way towards Beaufort, NC, I took watch from Luke at 1 AM, and the Western front was upon us.
The sails were up as the prevailing winds were as predicted, from the south, shifting around from the west, filling our starboard headsail and adding some much needed stability in a mixed port-side, following sea. My mom and aunt were not faring as well as we’d all hoped and the seasickness patches were compounded with Dramamine to keep them in a deep sleep as we rocked and rolled northward in a classic, dark and stormy night.
As we entered the tempest, the winds worked their way around to the bow, climbing from relaxing 7 knots to guest nearing 30, the shifting direction luffing the sails, but a slight course correction allowed me to keep them somewhat to port. At one point there was a loud thud on the upper deck and amidst the rain and lightning I cautiously climbed past the tender to secure the main boom shackle which had come loose – a dangerous thing, having a massive steel boom swinging about the deck while the ship pitches nearly ten degrees each side.
Earlier in the day we did our best to stay in the gulf stream, using the current to increase our normal 8-10 knot speed to nearly 13. The navigation computer doesn’t seem to take into account the fact that this boost doesn’t stay with us and arrival predictions are modified as our speed slows. A teasing mid-day arrival shifts into the night the next day and I feel for our ladies hunkered in the belly of the ship, perhaps second-guessing this particular voyage.
By evening we were approaching the coast of North Carolina and began to feel it’s protection from the northerly wind. While checking the upper deck for loose lines following the heavy winds, I spotted a distictive fluke in the distance, headed our way. I called to Linda and Mom and despite their weakened state, they rushed with me to the bow to watch two, small, spotted dolphins enjoying the energy put out by our bulbous bow. This was the first time I’ve seen this particular behavior. The larger animal rode steady while the smaller swam circles around its cohort. The evening light, clear Atlantic waters and these beautiful creatures made for a magical moment. [see the end of the included video for a clip of this]
Everyone was happy to have a good night’s rest and we left about 9AM, considerably later than our previous trip, after sleeping in a bit. Following the same route, we ended up anchoring in a shallow tributary of the Pungo river. I wasn’t sure we’d be into Coinjock in time to fuel that afternoon but arriving about 3:30, there was plenty of time for 2,600 gallons of diesel and some world famous rib-eye, plus a case of mango salsa. We followed two Flemings out the following morning and made our way into Norfolk in the early afternoon, docking at Waterside marina for an early dinner.
The next 36 hours we ran up the coast. Leaving early put us into the Hudson well before our intended dawn cruise past the statue of liberty. Thick fog blanketed the coast, but fortunately the harbor was fairly clear and we all agreed the run in at night, with the Statue of Liberty and city lit up, was magical, more so than it would have been the following, grey and rainy day.
This winter passed quickly, as the summer once did. Growing up in the NorthWest I was always biding time through the cold months and longing endlessly for summer. The first day of frost in fall left me in a funk, in contrast to those late winter, early spring days that would tease the long, warm days of summer, spent exploring the creek or driving the jeep into the mountains.
After our first trip out and the mess with the hydraulic lines, we were looking forward to some spear fishing and visits from a few friends. Paul and Tyler flew out we staged at Las Olas Marina in Fort Lauderdale for the crossing. We had hoped to leave earlier, but as it has become the norm, we were scrambling with last minute repairs and provisions, knowing we would be away from American supply chains for at least a month and with many hungry mouths coming and going.
Tyler and Mike were to meet us in Nassau, but with a one-day weather delay, I was able to stall their flight from Grand Cayman at no charge, which was perfect. It seems no trip can be without some sort of issue, and on the way over the diesel fuel lifting pump, which draws fuel from the main tanks for the generators, decided it had enough of its mundane task. We docked at Atlantis and Luke booked a flight back to Florida for the emergency replacement part. The rest of us did our best to manage this trial with a visit to the water park and aquarium.
Then we were off across the banks where we spent the better part of a week anchored at Bitter Guana, tendering to our favorite local activities and charging up the dive tanks for some cave diving.
The next week Pat, Lisa, Todd and Donna flew directly into Staniel Cay. The weather for their annual trip was less than perfect but fortunately they are the type of people to find joy in any activity, even if it’s moving the boat to avoid an atypical southwest wind. We did get out to a reef on the banks for a day for some spear fishing but the wave action was a little rough, making it a challenge to free dive and limiting our catch. Luke found two massive lobsters and I had great luck with the lion fish, so there was plenty of seafood for a decadent night of surf and turf with our favorite from Bush Brother’s Provisioning: the Wagyu strip steak.
A couple of days were optimal for the Hobie Tandem Islander and it was a real experience watching the couples sail down the coast in azure seas, propelled solely by a light, Bahama breeze.
Next on the docket, my best friend Joe modified his return from New Hampshire to stop off for six days. We immediately had him in a wetsuit, snorkeling in sub-optimal condiitons, which made subsequent snorkels seem comparitively simple. We enjoyed Thunderball Grotto at high tide again – not something recommended for the novice or anyone who isn’t substantially athletic. The cave ceiling is sharp and precariously low at high tide, resulting in dangerous surfacing if you dive below. A couple were shooting very unique wedding photos in full dress and tux in the deep blue cavern.
One evening a small sailboat anchored nearby and we were hailed by voices with thick french accents. A group of recent college grads from Quebec were on a week long sailing trip and had scored a Mahi Mahi earlier in the day. They invited us over for a meal and we all agreed that Wanderbird’s kitchen and dining area would be more appropriate for 7 people. Luke and I prepared the fish in a light, white wine reduction and we enjoyed regailing tales of sailing and other worldly adventures.
After Joe’s visit Luke had a couple friends from Florida visit and we continued to explore, moving around just north of Big Major, otherwise known as the famed Pig Beach. While lunching at Staniel Cay Yacht Club, our friend Miguel introduced us to Misha and Brennan from Seattle, who he had met on the plane. They were traveling on a vacation they had won on a TV show and we enjoyed hosting them for sunset cocktails and dinner on the Wanderbird. Leery of motoring back between the islands in the dark, we prepared a guest cabin for a good night’s rest before their long trip home.
We worked our way back to Florida stopping for a night in Nassau and a night at the Berry Islands in a tumultuous little channel conveniently just south of Hoffman’s Cay, where we explored the large, inland blue hole and relished jumping from the cliffs and swimming hte warm and surprisingly salty water.
The trip west was smooth, with a night’s stop in Bimini and smooth crossing with 3-4 foot, short period waves typical in the Gulf Stream. Back on the New River I prepared for a trip out to California and Dallas for work and wedding, while Luke settle into Southern Florida life: a balance between minor ship repairs and socalizing.
Luke carried on for several weeks with the air conditioning compressor project – we had to remove the new compressors to install a new rack as well – apparently they don’t make the 4 ton any longer, so they sent us three 5 ton compressors which called for a different mounting rack and manifold.
Paul, Jacob and Tyler came into town for the holidays and we spent some time entertaining with Luke escaping to the engine room whenever he could and I at my desk catching up on programming work. We locked onto a weather window to cross the gulf stream and it was the usual scramble to prepare: running around town buying parts and provisioning for 6-8 weeks in the Bahamas.
At around 2AM on the 8th we cast off the lines and made our way down the New River. The stretch of river that once brought me to a borderline breakdown with it’s narrow, winding waterway, has become a pretty relaxing cruise, particularly in the quiet hours of late night or early morning, depending on your perspective.
We crossed to Bimini, arriving at 10AM and anchored just south of South Bimini, given the swell from the north. Luke took our passports in to clear customs while Jacob and I had a swim around the boat and made breakfast. We immediately headed north to round Bimini to the bank and make our way across the shallow waters, past the Berry Islands and around the west side of Nassau then along it’s south coast to cross the White Bank for the Exumas. Evening was upon on by the time we could see Norman’s Cay so we anchored just south and in the morning, traversed the cut to anchor near the plane wreck.
We geared up and took Jacob and Justin to free dive the downed drug plane, then over to the pristine beaches on Norman’s, which Jacob refers to as ‘fake beaches’ – due to their postcard-perfection.
We moved south to Shroud Cay and were delighted to find deep enough water to get within a few hundred yards of shore. Luke jumped on the radio to arrange for a mooring at Warderick Wells the following morning. The weather was a slightly cooler but still comfortable enough to take the tender to explore the tidal river that cuts through Shroud and Jacob and I enjoyed swimming with the current back to the sea.
The next morning we motored another hour south and began to negotiate our way into the narrow channel at Warderick Wells, littered with a few sailboats on their assigned moorings. I stood on the bow with the hook ready to fish the mooring line when Luke called down that the bow thruster was not responding. I raced to the lower helm to see if the controls there would illicit a response. Nothing.
Now at the stern, I watched the shallows behind us as Luke negotiated a tight turn with only the single prop and rudder, around a larger sailboat and back out to open waters. Upon investigating the forward bilge, a hydraulic line to the bow thruster had given out, dumping nearly 50 gallons of fluid into the bilge and rendering our hydraulic driven systems offline. No anchors, no crane to the pick the tender, no bow thruster, no windlass winches for docking. Fortunately the steering is on it’s own hydraulic system or we would have been hand tilling the hefty bird!
We radioed back to the Exumas National Park office and they suggested a first-come-first-served mooring back at Shroud. Upon approach we could see that these tie-ups are another 100 yards closer than we had anchored the night before. Those further out were already taken by very shallow-draft catamarans, but the charts indicated similar depths, so we carefully worked our way in and secured to a mooring within 50 yards of shore.
Luke spent that afternoon on the phone with his hydraulics contact back in Fort Lauderdale. He decided we needed to remove the hydraulic pump and seal the opening that would be left. The next morning Luke manufactured an aluminum plate and gasket and we used a come-a-long to hoist the heavy pump off the engine so we could get the engine running without ruining the expensive pump and avoid the $7,000-$10,000 towing back to Nassau.
It was late by the time we had everything ready and crossed the banks. The hour made it challenging to watch for coral heads – a required duty when crossing. Typically one makes this move in the mid-day, with the sun high, so these massive coral out-croppings are clearly visible, as dark black areas below the surface. With some luck and a keen eye, we made it into Nassau around 7pm with dead calm conditions, perfect for docking sans bow-thruster.
Two weeks in, the hydraulics are adequately repaired for now. A local outfit created new hoses, cleaned up the bilges and loaded new fluid. The weather was initially near perfect and then turned quite intense, with strong winds and in the meantime Luke cut the end of his thumb off testing a generator fan he was replacing.
Today we wait for UPS to deliver a final generator part and then.. south to Georgetown.
The weather in the Northeast continued to worsen, with strong northern winds bringing freezing temperatures to Norfolk. After biding our time through a couple particularly nasty storms, we made our way south on the ‘inside’, cruising along the system of rivers, canals, locks and waterways called the Intracoastal and somewhat affectionately referred to as ‘the ditch’.
Running this route keeps us out of the notorious Cape Hatteras and allows us a stop at Coinjock for cheap diesel and the purportedly famous prime rib. Needless to say the fish special with green curry was quite good.
Navigating the narrow and shoal ridden ditch is a challenge in a boat with 7-foot draft even though the locals claim that the hefty barges passing day and night are 10-12 feet, we dragged our keel a number of times.
At the notorious Alligator river, where I wrote earlier in the year about running aground, we were behind two very slow sail boats which were running dangerously close to the shoals well within the marked channel. We notified them on the radio and squeezed by at their insistence, in the worst possible spot. This quick passage put us steaming hard for the open bridge and saved us waiting on the next opening.
Another anchoring on the Neuse river that night and morning run through the canal into Beaufort was a rare, late fall day that felt more like spring. We secured a slip and OneWheeled to an excellent lunch and then prepared for an overnight to Charleston.
The weather was in our favor that night and around noon, we docked behind the massive, triple mast sailing vessel Adix. They like to pack them tight at the Charleston City Marina, with the stern flag pole extending nearly over our bow and their colors licking the bird’s bulb!
Thanksgiving was upon us and I flew home to Oregon to surprise my family while Luke did some improvements and repairs, including starting the daunting task of replacing the air conditioning compressors. It seems the previous three, installed just three years earlier, had all failed, likely due to improper installation; either a fouled fluid line or power grounding causing corrosion.
I had a few days after my return to provision and explore Charleston, a beautiful city, and we finally found a restaurant that exemplifies everyone’s tendency to call this city a foodie town. Magnolia’s had southern, homestyle cooking with subtle twists and an elegant flair. Highly recommended.
A series of heavy rains, lightning and wind passed through and we were stuck on board for several days, watching the weather closely, looking for an opportunity to move further south, if not all the way to Fort Lauderdale.
Finally a reprieve gave us a chance and we planned a route to Cape Canaveral where we thought we might opt to duck back into the Intracoastal and make the last 140 miles inside. We left at 1AM after Luke had secured the engine room and took roughly 4 hour shifts through the night, the following day and next night.
The winds were from the North and Northeast for the better part of the second day and third night so we rolled out the starboard headsail and for a while, the mainsail as well. Now we can comfortably say ‘yes we do’ when people ask, do you use those things as they stare quizzically at what is perhaps the only trawler with sails.
The predicted, growing winds in Southern Florida had pushed back to Sunday which gave us a solid window to reach Fort Lauderdale, so now, as I type this, it’s just after midnight and we’re just under 5 hours from the port entrance. Running up the New River early, before any weekend traffic should make it nice and easy, with a slack tide, albeit low.
Definitely first on the agenda: O-B Breakfast House, after securing the lines of course.
There’s a song that says something about living in New York, but not so long that it makes you hard. After a month at Chelsea Piers I understand what that means. The location is prime but the wave action, which they warn you about explicitly, is incessant, calming slightly in the evenings. It was so bad that our bowline, which we didn’t realize was against a steel piling, broke under the constant friction. The rest of our lines saw a year’s worth of wear in the 30 days there.
I also realized I’m a west coast boy at heart. The city is amazing, vibrant, intense and frustratingly agro. As we made our way up and down the west side bike path there seemed to be more electric board devices daily, clearly to the chagrin of the cyclists barreling down the path at top speed, their huffs and curses not restrained and their middle fingers occasionally thrown, all while blowing past the ‘yield to pedestrians, it’s the law’ signs. Even a leisurely ride down the Hudson is an angry affair for a native New Yorker.
Being along the west-side bike path was ideal for us; with the OneWheels we could travel anywhere in the city in less time than it would take to Uber, Taxi or take the subway, given the 20 minute walk to the station from the pier.
Between work and some maintenance, we spent the time exploring Manhattan and living like natives, getting to know friends and new acquaintances and flying through the city on the OneWheel. One day I pushed the limits of the board, riding from Chelsea Piers, at about 23rd, up to 110th, cruised some dirt, wooded trails near the Blockhouse, an old fort and the second oldest structure in the park, and wound my way all the way back, racking up about 14 miles in the process and ending with 15% charge.
There were the typical tourist sites as a few people visited, but the highlight was time spent with friends: Jacob’s extended visit, Broadway on the Hudson with Bob Eichler on the beautiful sailing vessel Altair, a going away cocktail party for him on Wanderbird, meeting the very talented Mike Ryals, running into TJ and Jason randomly and hosting Graeme and Daniel and their rambunctious son Jackson who was enamored with the boat, particularly the anemometer, used to measure wind speed. I certainly can’t say I knew what that was when I was 4!
As hurricane Michael made its way around Florida and headed for the SouthEast we departed New York, out the harbor as we had arrived around 3 months earlier and up Delaware Bay, through the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal (C&D) and down the Delaware towards Washington DC to meet Luke’s mom, Carol Anne and her boyfriend Jim for a few days site-seeing. After a full night and day, with Michael about to make it’s way just south of us, we ducked into Middle River and set anchor with as much protection as we could find, given that a passing hurricane can mean dramatically shifting wind directions.
At ten PM I stood up top and looked around at the peaceful waters and still shoreline and I understood fully the phrase ‘calm before the storm’. At 2AM I woke to the sound of heavy lapping and wind whipping the lines. I headed to the flybridge to make sure things were secure and the winds were sustained at 35 with gusts reaching 50 knots but the anchor was holding solid and things were secure. With the anchor alarm set to go off if the boat moved from a specified zone, we drifted back to sleep and woke to sunny skies and calming seas.
Having posted on Facebook about this, I heard from my High School buddy Chad. As we would be in Annapolis the next week, we planned to meet.
Arlington National Cemetery and the Holocaust Memorial made for an impactful but not exactly uplifting first day. The next day was the Hirschhorn Contemporary Art Museum and the American History Museum followed by a get-together with our good friend Dave, his friend of 40 years and a couple of Carol Anne’s former students, one from High School and one from Camp Mead-O-Lark, both successful and delightfully personable.
Back down the Potomac, we briefly brushed the bottom in the middle of the channel, which was a surprise, but the Potomac, while navigable, isn’t a deep vessel river. An overnight put us right outside of Annapolis and in the morning we discovered the rigging company had not arranged a slip for us, so we scrambled to find a spot in Chesapeake Harbor Marina until things were sorted out in back creek, where we had the sails rigged. In the interim, Chad took us on a tour of Annapolis Naval Academy which was a real treat. I never imagined I would witness people saluting Chad – it’s a wonder he survived the high school hijinx he, Liam and Jeremy got into, let alone being thrown off a snowy, mountain cliff on an innertube behind my dad’s truck, but that’s another sordid tale.
With the head sails back in place we departed Annapolis for Norfolk, down the Chesapeake over night. With the wind at our backs and a following sea, we were finally able to test them out. We launched the out-riggers and rolled the sails out. The wind filled them both and seemed to even out the shifting caused by the seas driving at us from behind. We sailed into the night as the seas grew from a foot to about four and in the early morning we rolled them up and prepared for what was sure to be an adventurous turn west, putting those four foot seas hard at our beam.
Sure enough the boat was rolling hard for an hour until we came into the protection of the James river and set anchor near our next port-of-call, Portsmouth, Virginia. In the morning, the winds were diminished but still pushing off the dock, along with a bit of current. We threw a bowline to the dockmaster who secured it to a piling and attempted to apply power on the line to pull us around. This failed to bring us in so threw a second line to the dock and once secure, used the stern winch to haul the boat into the dock. Certainly not the easiest landing!
We found someone from a local yard to watch the boat and ensure the power remained on and headed to California to catch up with Paul and Jacob for Halloween in Los Angeles and our friend Nick’s birthday just north of Ensenada in Mexico. Ten days later, we were back at Tidewater Marina to discover that two of our three air conditioning compressors have failed, so now, we wait on replacements as the temperature has fallen from a high of 80 several days ago to a high of 47 today. Thankfully the heat still works!
Hopefully we’ll be moving south again with a week or two – those mid-eighties temperatures in Florida are sounding very enticing right now!
Luke and I headed back to Washington for a few weeks to catch up on things at home while I had a short film to shoot with the fine people at Olympia Film Collective. We left the boat tied to a dock in Marblehead, Massachusetts with the intention of having the brightwork done – the name given to the wood railings and rub rails. We had issues arranging the work we wanted done so Luke flew back across country to move the boat slightly north to Salem.
When we returned in early August the power had been out for a couple days and the battery bank was fully depleted. Letting this happen is very bad for the health of the batteries but fortunately we have plans to replace them shortly.
Some local workers finished a few minor repairs and buffing half the boat and we headed north to Portsmouth, New Hampshire with my best friend Joe aboard. It was a perfect day with calm seas as we weaved our way through the mess of lobster traps that litter the east coast.
Coming into Portsmouth with Joe was a treat as he grew up in the area and had boated out to the Isle of Shoals many times in his youth. The tide was ebbing which made for a slow run up the river to Badger Island, but we discovered this current was far better than the alternative for docking, as a flooding tide pushed the boat hard off the dock.
Over the next week we would watch the boat snug against the dock as the tide moved out and it was pushed out firm against the lines in the flood. The first shift our lines were a little loose and the boat was a good four feet out from the dock, secure, but quite a jump to shore!
Joe and his family were incredibly accommodating and we reveled with them, celebrating Joe’s brother’s birthday and hosting brunch and dinner on the boat.
While it felt like we were with close family, Maine was calling and we made an eventful departure from Badger Island as our friend Jacob joined us from back home. I thought we might run a looped line near the stern but Luke thought the spring would suffice as the last line. With the tide pushing us hard out, the stern immediately swung out hard and we had to cast off fully as the boat was in danger of being swept into the bridge.
Luke made a couple passes to pick me up from the dock and at one point, without a clear view of the situation, insisted I jump. Knowing, even with my long legs, I could not make that distance, I faltered and ended up in the swift moving river, just for a moment.
On the third try he was able to get the stern within a few feet and I was on board. We motored north, once again weaving through a maze of buoys marking lobster traps. The prop on Wanderbird is thankfully well protected and we believed it posed little danger for fouling from these traps. We would test this theory into the night as the buoys failed to dwindle off shore and the sun set for a long, overnight run north.
In the early morning hours the number of traps thickened significantly as we approached the first islands off Maine. Eventually we resolved to the fact that the prop was not in danger and began to pass over the buoys without harm.
By mid-day we anchored off Eagle Island where our friends Stephen and Michael have a summer cottage or cabin – the definitive title is still pending. Our friend Bob just happened to be sailing south and anchored in the bay next to us, arriving just 20 minutes after us. We picked Bob up and went ashore so Stephen could give us a walking tour.
About 15 families live on the island, most of them descending from one family who have lived there for over 200 years as I recall. At the end of the day we bought some lobsters trapped by a local fisherman and retired to the Wanderbird for a very memorable dinner.
The next morning we headed for shore to say goodbye to Stephen and as we approached a floating dock, an elderly woman came running. My instinct was that she was waving us off, telling us the dock was private. As we approached we realized she was trying to warn us of a rock in the area and she was the most delightful personality.
She thanked us for anchoring on that day, for the afternoon prior her extended family had held a memorial for her seafaring husband. She said the presence of the boats, just off the coast of their summer cottage, had been a real treat.
A half day’s run and we reached Bar Harbor. We anchored off the edge of the town mooring field and the next morning the fog lifted, giving way to perfect weather for hiking Acadia National Park’s, granite speckled mountains, though on the west coast, we’d hardly call them hills.
The second day we moved to a mooring at the request of the harbor master as a cruise ship came in to anchor not far from our original spot. At $35 per day, cash only, to be paid to the mooring’s owner, we were happy to be slightly closer to shore and more secure for our day excursions away from the boat.
One afternoon as we headed back to the boat, I spotted someone waving frantically from a boat in the distance. We motored our tender over to find two teenage girls on a dilapidated boat with a couple lobster traps on board. Their motor had died and one had started to swim to shore but thought the better of it against he ebbing tide and head wind.
We rigged up a towline and pulled them back to their mooring and they thanked us by offering some of their catch. Seeing as how our tender has seen better days, we thought it good to contribute to the sea-faring karma pool, as we may someday be on the receiving end of a tow, likely without any lobsters to offer our saviors!
We made our way south again, stopping for a few days in Portland, Maine and then on to Provincetown for a long weekend. It turned out this was perfect for a small bit of winds that passed through and our travel days were exceptionally calm and peaceful. We discovered the annual Labor Day White Party at Provincetown Inn and met new friends Jason and Adam from Connecticut along with their son Xavier and very kind and endearing friends Harvey and Carl who have been together more than twice the time Luke and I – 40 years!
Another calm day of travel put us into Newport Shipyard where a crew pulled the headsails and hydraulic furlers to be overhauled. Next stop: back to New York City.