Waters I Have Loved 4: The Rugged Coast of Maine

I suffer from an illness: a love of things nautical. My desire to sail is kept alive by a stack of well-worn copies of Good Old Boat and Sail Magazine, and by a fifty-year old, trailer- bound, O’Day- built little red sailboat. Out of despair or inspiration, my remarkably understanding wife presented me with a trip to Maine and a three-day cruise for us aboard a “windjammer” named Victory Chimes. (https://www.victorychimes.com). Her planning took weeks of detailed attention. Car rentals, airline tickets, schedules and elusive hotel reservations all conspired against her. But in the end, she had done it!

The idea of a “windjammer” cruise on a historic, hundred-year-old sailing vessel made my heart sing. The Maine coast was scraped and carved by glaciers. They retreated, leaving the central shoreline in a tatter of inlets, harbors and islands that have made the Gulf of Maine among the best sailing waters in North America.

Victory Chimes was built beside Chesapeake Bay a century ago as a coastwise shipping vessel. Its three great masts are gaff rigged and its bottom is mostly flat, design elements that make for smooth sailing in protected waters. Her masts are larger than electric power poles, her stays are steel cables and the ship was built of thick timbers of Longleaf Pine from Georgia.

The Delta flight from Atlanta to Providence, Rhode Island and the drive to Rockland, Maine would prove to be the most stressful part of this adventure. Maine has more toll booths on their interstate highways than Georgia has barbecue joints. And, we had difficulty finding a hotel room on our way. It was the height of the tourism season. We had to spend our travel night in Augusta, the city that is Maine’s capital and fifty miles beyond our ultimate destination in Rockland. The next morning we drove an hour to Rockland and knocked about long enough to visit the Farnsworth Museum, home of one of the largest collections of art by painter Andrew Wyeth. This is an inspiring way to encounter the unique light and landscapes of Maine as seen through the eyes of one of America’s greatest artists -and through the eyes of Andrew’s son Jamie, whose work is also on exhibition.

Before embarking from Rockland harbor we spent the night aboard Victory Chimes with twenty seven passengers and nine crew, including the captain, and perhaps most critically, a cook and his assistant. Our cabin was about the size of our bathroom at home, with only a small porthole to afford a view. No matter, the air was cool and the cabin quiet. One of us would get in bed while the other dressed -and vice versa. Karen wisely had taken the precaution of choosing the only cabin with a “head” (that means “toilet” for you landlubbers). “Tomorrow,” we thought as we tossed excitedly in our tight quarters, ” we will be underway at dawn!” Actually we sailed following a hearty and leisurely breakfast about eight-thirty.

Believe me, at more than a hundred feet, this was a BIG boat-much larger even than those on which I sometimes crewed for my doctor and accountant friends aboard their sleek fiberglass thirty footers. Surprisingly, the boat was not equipped with an engine for propulsion -though the anchor was lowered and raised by a five horsepower engine that was itself about a century old and roughly the size of a Mini-Cooper.

Next morning we had a briefing by the captain. The sail was to include overnight anchorages near land or islands. There were small boats hanging from davits alongside that some of us might enjoy paddling or sailing. A “push boat” was brought along trailing the Victory Chimes which did have a gasoline motor’ It eased us into the harbor and out past the Rockland Lighthouse. The light was situated at the end of which sat at the end of a long rock breakwater that served as a causeway. As we passed it, it was clear from the many sailboats and dinghies in the harbor that this was indeed a popular sailing venue and very picturesque.

Our first bit of fun was to help haul up the heavy canvas sails (not light-weight nylon as on modern boats) sandwiched between enormous upper and lower booms, that is, the sails were “gaff rigged.” This rig permits shorter masts while retaining a large sail area. It was designed to haul (we were to learn) coal, lumber, wheat, even stones from the quarries along the coast. Whatever paid the fare. She is a sold- feeling boat with little of the heeling (tilting) associated with faster boats with more rounded underbodies. Big and efficient, she was -in her working decades- crewed by only a captain and two seaman, and was inexpensive to operate. Space below decks was converted into cabins and a salon for dinning was added when she became a windjammer. Only a half dozen or so such boats are to be found on the Maine coast.

The weather offered few challenges and everyone spent virtually all the daylight hours -and after-on deck, moving about and getting to know their new ship mates. This was a fun aspect of the trip I failed to anticipate. We all seemingly had much in common, self-selected because of our interests in nature, history and the out of doors -and yes, a love for the sea and sailing. Many were older, their active sailing days behind them, but many had once owned sailboats. Others, the “younger crowd”, consisted mostly of young women who shared interests in tourism, arts and crafts, as well as the fresh air and sun. When the time came to jump into the 60 degree waters in the afternoon, they were the first to dive overboard.

There was a lovely group of mature women who called them selves the “hookers” because they did fabric and -thread hook work together (as I am sure you guessed). They seemed well versed in windjamming.

Dr. Herb, an eye doctor from Boston, introduced himself when he noticed I closed one eye when I read and quickly described how a new pair of glasses could help correct an old eye injury I sustained as a boy playing football. He was also a professional musician who played the French horn, and was a great teller of stories.

Steve the Forester (from Vermont) and his wife were breeders and trainers of Beagles, loved hunting and baseball. So we had much to talk about and became instant friends. Exaggeration of our triumphs on the diamond and in the field would surely have become tedious if not kept between us.

A seemingly shy, middle-aged couple turned out to be Ukrainians who had come to America in 1989 at the height of good relations between the new, noncommunist Russia and the West, a time known as “Glasnost,” the short period in which Russian-American relations were markedly less tense. You may recall this was brought about in part by a famous meeting between President Ronald Ragan and the Russian leader Michael Gorbachev (who died as I was writing this piece). Ukraine became independent in this period. Uri turned out to be a practicing physician and his equally bright and informed wife managed his practice. I learned many new things about Ukraine’s past, and about the difficulties that came with moving to a new country -even for a professional man like Uri. We shared much more than an interest in current affairs. Uri was quite a philosopher and was well read in current affairs.

Aboard too was a handsome young man who brought with him his steel drum. He provided our entertainment above deck in the afternoons and below deck in the evenings. We all had much to learn about the versatility of the steel drum which he used to play serious as well as popular songs. His interest had been sparked as a teenager by Jimmy Buffett’s music. (www.TheJPsMusic.com.) Who among sailors does not enjoy Jimmy Buffett’s blend of tropical and rock sounds? Karen arranged for John to wind up one of his performances by playing Happy Birthday in my honor as everyone joined in -including me until I realized I was the honoree. John’s joyful music was the perfect soundtrack for our cruise.

Maine is incredibly beautiful of course and it was easy to pass much of the time studying the light on the rocks, the sails of passing yachts, the sky and the wind-shifting surface of the waters. There were artists aboard- a group of people associated with Makers of the USA (https://makersoftheusa.com/), a podcast that features craftsmen, businesses and artists that have discovered ways of building careers and businesses inspired -in the case of those on board-by Maine’s beauty, history and environment. In the group was a young woman with red hair who was a careful watercolorist. We watched as she applied brightly colored cyphers to paper, magically creating rocks, sky and water using (she told us) a squirrel-hair brush. She spoke of her struggle with illness and the restorative power that comes when we allow ourselves to create.

Much of our last day was spent in Stonington, a granite quarry town gone “touristy.” Karen and I had spent a night here years ago and pledged to come back someday. It was here that we once had taken the mail boat out to Isle au Haut where we spent a memorable and romantic day early in our marriage.. The Island is part of Acadia National Park. Stonington has apparently done well as tourism has boomed in Maine in part because in the first year of the Covid, epidemic when thousands from cities like New York, Providence and Boston traveled to hike, sail and enjoy coastal Maine. We were told that many such “refugees” bought homes in Maine, sight unseen. There were shops with beautifully-made art and souvenirs from Maine artisans and artists . It was enjoyable to stretch our legs and to look back across the water at our floating home-away-from-home, the beautiful Victory Chimes.

We ate well, slept well and felt relaxed for the entire three days. After breathing in the glorious environment and fellowship we were full of experiences to share and fresh inspiration for our own lives in rural North Georgia.

John Patti’s performances on the steel drum enlivened our time aboard and demonstrated the remarkable versatility of this instrument which few of us might have imagined. Photo by the author.