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…. / . / ._.. / ._.. / _ _ _ Communications resume.

It’s been a few weeks when both of our heads have been in a ‘bit of a pickle’…a real mixture of sad times interspersed with the great smiles and cheeriness. I haven’t had a particularly strong train of thought for a story which I’d feel happy committing to the blog. A few themes drifted in and out of my consciousness …. Understated people who make a big impact, hero’s who don’t need a mask or a cape, cracking on and creating the life you want, and a few others but none developed into anything in particular.

So this missive will be mostly diary-like, a brief update of the past few weeks. We’ve been in the UK since 23rd September. We will return to boat-life soon, flying back to Boston on 9th November. That’s gonna feel like my Christmas has come early day. I know the boat will in all likelihood feel cold and damp when we get back, and small and cramped and the pressure will be on to get south, not at all glamorous, but we will be home and it’ll just be Mr Savage and me planning what’s next.

We returned to the UK because Dave’s Dad was poorly and in hospital. He sadly died although Dave did get to spend time with his dad which was precious. My good good friend Becca sadly died too from cancer. Both situations were not unexpected but that doesn’t take the heartache. October has not been the best of months for us.

There have been definite positives too in being back this side of the Atlantic. We’ve seen loads of friends and my dad is 80 this weekend. (he might not like me writing that!) Northumberland here we come. We had a fab couple of days over in Northern Ireland, a spontaneous trip to see ‘The Windoras’ our Kiwi friends who were sailing with Paul, our American friend. Sounds complicated but straightforward too, we walked the cliff path to the Giants Causeway and ate fish and chips. We also squeezed in a walk with Caroline our Ex Goole friend who now lives in Enniskillen.

We’ve drunk many cups of tea, dropping uninvited into friends home in Derbyshire and beyond. Having unlimited mileage on the hire car has helped….. Maidenhead, Reading, Winchester and Manchester have been graced by our presence. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to write about New York and the Bahamas next. And maybe New Zealand this time next year. That plan is written in sand…..we’ll see.

Several people have asked me since we’ve been home, what’s been the best bit of your trip. I have found this question delightfully easy to answer. Setting off. Making it happen. Everything that’s happened since then and the life we are creating for ourselves all stems from getting out of the lock in Hull.

Paul bought a new boat…we helped him sail from Salem to Rockport

Famous statue in Gloucester

Sunday afternoon walk

Boston buildings

Science Museum Boston

Vertical garden

Sunday at the beach

Trying to fly!

Boys exploring

It’s a jack hammer apparently

I feel a bit like a chicken, cooped up, waiting for the last vestiges of Hurricane Jose to trolley off out to sea. New England has been brushed with it’s final throws. We are safely tucked up in the inner harbour in Gloucester Massachusetts with two anchors down, a batch of freshly made scones and some Netflix downloads.

For those who know knots, it’s a steady 20 to 25, gusting 30. Good news is no waves though as we are well tucked in. Think we’ve been on the boat for about 36 hours now, but we are about to escape for a couple of hours as there appears to be a bit of a lull.

Now back from Project Escape-The Boat. Hero Paul, our new found local buddy, picked us up and we planned to head to a local quarry for a walk and explore. On the way we bumped into a lovely family who we’d met before on a 28 foot boat called Tiny Bubbles. Mum, Dad and three boys aged 2, 7 and 10. They are well squashed in!

The expedition party had grown in size. The boys have been brought up with freedoms that most people will never experience. On seeing the quarry, the boys stripped off Reggie Perrin style to their shorts and went for an explore. There’s a couple of photos of them climbing which may put the heebie jeebies into some parents. The boys all appeared to have an inherent sense of managing risk, even the two year old. It was great to see and they are a lovely family to spend time with.

It’s now a few days later. Unexpectedly we’ve had to return to the UK at short notice as Dave’s Dad is poorly in hospital. The boat is safely residing on a mooring ball in Gloucester Inner Harbour. There maybe radio silence for a while.

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Shame we weren’t around in Bayside, Maine in mid August 1914. The carnival that year had a greased pig competition for men and boys and a greased pole competition too. No stipulations on the poster for the second competition though so maybe girls and women could play too. Perhaps there was a grease surfeit in 1914. Bonsall, Derbyshire take note. Your carnival needs to broaden its horizons and its grease quotient. Just saying…..

How do you know it’s time to move on? When’s the right time? Is the decision based on a feeling or some data or a conversation or the weather? Probably all those things for me as after seven weeks in Maine, we set off from Rockland on Saturday to make our way relatively slowly towards Long Island and New York.

The wind should be from the north or north west rather than prevailing from the south west. Helpful for our journey although predicted to be relatively light. We’ll probably end up motor sailing rather than pure sailing. We also need still need to be mindful of the hurricane situation, as although we are a long way north, wind and rain can spoil the party.

We’d had a couple of days of miserable weather. Its definitely been chillier in the morning and evening. We bought two hot water bottles. Still warm during the day when the sun is out as I determine to wear shorts for as long as possible, there is a slight modicum of colour change on the tree foliage. Autumn will be picture postcard territory in Maine.

Like Cornwall or Jersey, Maine will be a place to return to. There were places we’d earmarked to visit that didn’t feel our footsteps and coves that didn’t get the chance to grab our anchor. Next time. Heading up East again and into Canada would make for a great adventure. A short summer season but lovely and quiet and it seems very rarely visited by british boats, or any boats for that matter.

It feels like the next stage of our trip is beginning. As I type this (although it may not get uploaded for a couple of days) we’re heading towards Portsmouth, then Gloucester. Familiar British names, although unfamiliar places. Being back in big towns will be a sharp contrast to the last few weeks. Will we blend in or stand out like country bumpkins? Indeed what is the equivalent of a country bumpkin if you are boat based?

Well, if timing is everything, I need to get back on deck and let dave have a bit of downtime. 10 minutes till swap over time. If I pitch up on deck with tea and biscuits I will be popular so kettle here I come.

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It’s gonna be tough to leave Maine. We’ve hiked, climbed, sailed, cycled and socialised. It’s been fantastic. However, to provide some balance and prove life is not always sun and pleasure, I had to have a tooth taken out.

I have decided that medical people generally lie. Standard lines that get tripped out….”sharp scratch or little sting”. These lines are not true. Having an injection feels nothing like a sharp scratch. It’s a lingering jolt of stabbing pain as the anesthetic / medication is slowly injected. I don’t create a fuss because I know there’s worse to come with the pokey things and pliers. The extraction is not straightforward. The tooth cracks. Half of it comes out fine, the other half is stubborn. That’s enough detail…..your imagination call fill in the gaps here.

Weve been out of circulation for a while, sneaking into sheltered coves where phone reception doesn’t exist and wifi is unheard of. Three American guys rowed past us.  We exchanged pleasantries and they said come to dinner at 7.30. So having been acquainted for all of 5 minutes, we pitched up on their boat with a few beers and some home made scones and enjoyed an unexpected evening with good food and happy chat. That’s the unexpected world of living on a sail boat.

Other stuff…….we helped out at the International One Design World Championships Regatta based out of North East Harbour. Made some good friends and ate oysters. Nice.

Our friend Ken came to Maine and we hijacked him for two days and went sailing. Shame he wasn’t around for longer but I know he had a good time and dave and I appreciated him just sailing the boat (he’s an old hand as he’s been round the world already if you didn’t know) while we caught up in a few chores. And his Derbyshire news of course.

Now we’re in Rockland in the public library catching up. September is upon us. We ought to make some plans for what next. Hmmmm.

Evening views from the Perpendicular Trail

Topping out

Quiet anchorage

The Bold Coast, Cutler

Sneaky peaks

Journeys end

Downtown Cutler

Downtown Cutler

Otter Point

Rope boy

Bar Harbour has a bar. Not a alcoholic one for the purposes of this story, but an area of land, like Holy Island in Northumberland, that gets covered twice a day by the rise and fall of the tide. The island, maybe 400m off the mainland, is accessible an hour and an half either side of low tide. It’s a short walk from the centre of town and provides an interesting easy adventure for visitors.

We are anchored in clear view of the bar and it’s a daily sport to watch people paddle or wade their way back to the mainland. Some still choose to paddle across with a third of the bar under water on a rising tide, get to the island side, realise their misjudgement then strip down to their pants and wade back. It amuses us simple creatures.

Dave wanted to get some climbing in so we were just about to get into the tender to head ashore when a fishing boat came over saying the harbourmaster had radioed them saying there were a couple of people stuck on the island. The fishermen couldn’t get their boat in close so we would mind popping over in our dinghy. Dave ended up doing 3 trips back and forward, ultimately bringing 5 adults and 4 kids back. By now it was about 11am and one of the women said, “we were sure we had until at least 1pm before the tide came in”. I don’t think so!

Climbing delayed but only for an hour. We went to a place called Otter Point and I enjoyed some banter with a local ‘young buck’ instructor who commented on my climbing footwear. They do represent the history of climbing being around 25 years old. I’m supporting the ‘don’t throw it away when there’s still a modicum of life in it’ lobby.

We’re back in Bar Harbour as there are things we still want to do here….hire bikes for the day, walk the Precipice Trail and do a bit more climbing. For a change of scene though, we had a couple of nights over at Southwest Harbour, a 3 hour sail from here. We met Susi, a brilliantly entertaining b&b owner and longtime sailor. We were welcomed into her home, fed, watered, offered a car and regaled with tales of her family living on a boat for three years and travelling round the Pacific when she was 12, back in 1970.

She recruited Dave and I (there wasn’t much of a struggle) to help out for a few days at next week’s International One Design World Championship Regatta. It’ll be a hoot. Then we get to spend a few days with our friend Ken who is out in Maine on his hollybobs. Looking forward to a fun few days.

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Canada sits about 20 miles away. We saw it today on our ‘Helen Hike’ around the The Bold Coast Trail. 4 miles on the road to the trail head, then what felt like a long 9 miles around the trail. We gratefully hitched a lift back from a generous woman and her niece. Another 4 miles on the road back to Cutler and Dave was threatening sense of humour failure, big time.

The walk itself was pretty undulating through fir and spruce forest but also provided great views on the coastal section. I didn’t see one piece of litter on the whole trail. There’s something to brag about. Not even a piece of abandoned orange peel or pistachio nut shells. That’s been our experience around Maine. It’s very clean here…and friendly.

For example, we asked one of the dock lads on the working pier about where we could get a couple of jerry cans of water. There’s just salt water on the dock so he had to think for a mo but replied that the church over the road had a kitchen downstairs with sinks. “It’s always open, have a look there” he said. “ and if the jerry’s don’t fit under the tap, Jeremy on the boat over there will be ashore in 10 minutes, that’s his house next to the church, he’ll sort you a hose”.

We filled the cans then another lobster fisherman spotted us leaving the church. “Have you got far to walk with those?” We said about 300m. “Take them to the dock and we’ll lower them down onto the platform for you with the derrick. Bring your tender round and it’ll save you the walk”.

The dilemma is do we pop over the border in Canada? Another country? We’ve love Maine. Everyone who has sailed here said we would. They were right. But at some point we have to turn round and head back west and the winds will probably dictate that.

Other remnants of news…I got older. We ate loads of mussels that we’d collected from a rocky ledge with Brian and Steph and also bought lobsters to complete the sea food fest. We had a top campfire on the beach of Knight Island. And we’ve seen no other british flagged boats since we’ve been in Maine. It feels like we’ve been off the beaten track a bit.

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I chatted to friends about this when I was back in the UK in June. Living the kind of life we have currently chosen doesn’t remove frustrations or worries. They just become different ones. Okay, we don’t have to concern ourselves with getting the bins out on Monday night for a Tuesday morning collection or having to be home between 8am and 6pm to receive a parcel that might arrive today or not.

Our current frustration is that of the metric v imperial reality. In many ways the US and UK are similar and in others so so different. We use gas on the boat to cook. We currently have 3 small Camping Gaz cylinders that fit into a treasure chest style locker on the foredeck of the boat. They have metric fittings. Furthermore we cannot get them refilled in the US as the gas of choice here is propane and Camping Gaz contains butane. In the Caribbean getting them refilled was a piece of cake…. Nobody was at all bothered about what substance went into what tank.

So we seem to have spent several hours (well Dave has to be strictly accurate here) researching propane bottle sizes and fittings. We now have one bottle that fits size wise but the attachments are imperial and not metric. The guy in the hardware store did his best to sort us out but it was a case of ‘nice try, no banana’. We probably have about a week’s supply of gas left before we run out completely. The prospect of no tea will resonate with some of you.

Anyway, to conclude what is turning into a slightly dull story here, we have an adaptor on order, plus another propane bottle and in a few days we should be sorted.

On a much more exciting and less domestic note, we are now in Maine. It’s a bit like Scotland, just much warmer! Although it does rain and the fog can roll in. The scenery is delightful….a mix of deciduous and coniferous trees, hills with views over the sea, trails to walk and bike, granite rocks to climb, inlets and islands to explore and so so many lobster pots to avoid, especially when motoring. We thought Portugal had plenty of pots. Forget it. There are forests of the things everywhere waiting to snag your propellor if you’re unlucky. Blighters.

We bought a year’s pass to the National Park which allows you be the park legitimately but also gives access to a plethora of free buses which crisscross the area. Hop on a bus, travel to the start of your trail, walk the trail and hop on another bus home. So civilised. There are also about 50 miles of carriage roads that were prepared at the beginning of the 20th century which are traffic free and great for cycling.

We spent yesterday anchored in a cove near the village of Winter Harbour and explored the Schoonic Peninsula. We picked wild blueberries and saw a Bald Eagle. Not at the same time.

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Best made plans and all that. Today was dedicated as a non chores / work day. We’re in Providencetown on the very end of Cape Cod. Or P Town to give it its local name. At present we can see about 100m through the fog. I think we’d need a compass to safely get to the end of the pier to tie up the dinghy. Our bike hire plans are on hold and while I tippy tap away here, Dave is assuming a horizontal position reading and drinking coffee.

P Town seems to garner fame for three reasons.
1. The Mayflower landed here in 1620 with the Pilgrims aboard who later settled nearby
2. There’s a strong artistic presence with lots of galleries and theatres
3. Summer brings holidaymakers swelling the population from 3,000 up to 60,000, the town being a big draw for the gay community

People watching is the main activity on the high street here, with a scattering of attention seeking individuals hanging out. The vibe is buzzy, properties are classic clapperboard and there’s plenty of disposable cash dripping around the place. I like it.

It’s a complete contrast to Cuttyhunk our last port of call. Think Alderney or the Isles of Scilly, a delightful throwback to a previous era. Very few cars, mostly golf carts provide transport otherwise you can walk the whole island in a few hours. We sailed in on a foul evening in heavy rain and while looking to pick up a mooring buoy, ran aground in the mud. What to do….well we are British. Kettle on, tea, wait for the tide to rise. A couple of kind folk came over to help us as the tide rose and we spun the boat around to pick up a mooring. We’d provided some evening entertainment for the onlooking audience. Always good to take your turn.

The fog did lift…here’s a few photos of our walk around the headland.

We have turned our tracking off for the time being. Almost all of our sailing in the next few months will be coastal so we’ve invested in an American Mobile Phone instead and turned off our sat phone / tracking. So apologies, no red dot to watch for a while ….we’ll be operating in stealth mode instead.

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When I contemplate the All American Diner the picture that comes into my head vividly is the one Michael J Fox frequents in Back to the Future, interestingly (to some perhaps) one of my top ten favourite films.

The diner should have a checkered floor, red shiny bench seats plus counter stools too while black and chrome are the only two other colours allowed for any additional furniture or décor. There should be plenty of staff visible to the customers as the preparation area is in full view to all. The menu should be limited to predominantly breakfast items and the diner will shut at 3pm as most of the trade happens at 8am when locals pile in on their to work.

We found such a place in Newport, a local’s hideaway away from the tourist throng. It felt good to know such a place existed and wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. Dave had found the place while I’d been back in the UK and the owner recognised him as we paid up. “How many times do you need to visit to become a local?” Dave asked. “Just once” was the reply. Guess that exceeded my expectations.

Today we had a truly leisurely sail of about 10 miles up to Bristol. The winds were light when be pulled up the hook, maybe 8 knots but we sailed all the way enjoying the scenery and the change of pace. This area is renowned for its sailing history and there are boats everywhere. Motoring would be bad form; sail it properly and feel a bit smug as other yachts motor past not making the effort to work with the light conditions today. Or maybe we just had more time!

Bristol has a museum dedicated to one particular family, more specifically two boat building brothers who designed yachts, some used for the America’s Cup in the early twentieth century. The main designer, was actually blinded by cataracts at the age of 15 but that didn’t stop him having a prolific career.

The best ‘spy’ of our day was by Dave. As we were sailing along he scanned the horizon with the binoculars spotting Airforce One on a runway parallel to the stretch of water we were heading up. Guess it must have been an airforce base but look as we might, no sign of an orange top or tango skin luminescing in the distance. Can’t say we were too disappointed.