We time our departure for early in morning so that we can catch the tide. Boy did we catch the tide. We usually plan for an average speed of five knots. However, with the current roaring behind us, we often exceed 10 knots over the ground. From Onset there is only about 8 miles of canal and needless to say, we slide through there like a bar soap in the shower. When we leave the canal there are substantial winds (15-20 knots) coming abeam. We reef down our main and have an excellent sail for the rest of the day. With the canal current and the ideal winds, we cover the 30 miles to Plymouth in less than 5 hours. We anchor in a rolly channel about a mile east of Plymouth Rock. We dinghy ashore and on the way in we get to see the Plymouth Rock monument.

We find the colorful town dinghy dock and walk around and do our tourist thing.

We visit an outlet store for Pepperidge farms and load up on outdated breads and varieties of Goldfish. We go to a full-size recreation of the Mayflower and learn about the pilgrims and their journey in 1620 to Plymouth.

We get a good photo of the transom of the Mayflower and its Mayflower ornamentation.

We get a good view of the shallop that the Pilgrim's used to explore the harbors and shores once the Mayflower got near a coast.

Finally, we get a really close-up view of Plymouth Rock.

We travel the 48 miles from Plymouth to Gloucester, Massachusetts. The sail is great with heavy winds abeam. We get a slip at Rocky Neck Artists Colony, which is a small peninsula in the middle of the harbor. The slip is at the MadFish restaurant. The slip is somewhat odd. It is at least a floating dock, but it runs along the back windows of the restaurant. When we get there we desperately need water and electricity. To get electricity, we need to move someone else's boat (with the restaurant owner's permission) further down the dock. The water we get from a hose that they run from inside the restaurant. There are no restrooms or showers, even though it is pretty expensive ($3/foot). With the high tides, boat slips are more rare up here and we really want and need water. We take the slip.

The artists' community is pretty cool. There are lots of galleries, craft shops, and a few interesting restaurants. It is not too busy though since today is Monday. We walk around the entire harbor exploring, about a million miles. On the way we stop at a tiny grocery. We grab a Diet Coke and a Snapple and read the New York Times on the table out front. We continue moving and get an appetizer of mussels in garlic and wine at the Catfish Grill. Gloucester is really a very appealing town. There are lots of tiny, oddly shaped, colorful houses on oddly shaped lots. It is very hilly and rocky and some of the houses are not in yards but on a single rock.

We go pass the Crow's Nest, the bar made famous from "The Perfect Storm" book and movie.

We pass the huge Gorton's fish sticks factory. We notice that any truck, outside of one of the many fish processing factories, emits a rancid fish smell. P Yeew! We head down a hill where, in September, they hold the local fish box derby. Notice that they call it fish box derby up here, not soap box derby. The town is pretty welcoming to visiting cruisers. There are at least three public dinghy docks. Eventually we walk so far that we are exhausted and take an entertaining taxi ride back to the dinghy.

When we get back the tide has dropped an astounding 12 feet. The floating dock does its job, but our power cord is connected to a non-floating outlet above. Luckily, there is enough slack in our cord to reach. We get dressed up and go to the dock's restaurant, MadFish, and have fabulous wine, scallops and corn salsa with crabmeat.

One unusual thing about Gloucester, despite its rough and tumble reputation, is that every restaurant is smoke-free by default. If there is a smoking area, it must be physically closed off from the non-smoking area by a door. This area and all bars must post a Smoke Warning sign.

In the morning, we cannot leave as planned because our cable is still up too high to unplug.

The harbor is practically gone. We see the unusual local habit of allowing boats to lay aground at low tide.

Since we cannot leave, we get a run in. We run around the harbor again and go to the famous Gloucester statue of "The man at the wheel".

It is a long run. When we get back, we finally find someone in the restaurant and he leans out the window and unplugs our electric cable for us. It is already 11 AM and we are tired from the walking yesterday and the running today. We move the boat from the slip, but only out to the Gloucester breakwater. We anchor safely behind the breakwater and spend a pretty uneventful day.

We leave Gloucester and the wind is ideally abeam. We sail the 35 miles to the group of small islands called the Isle of Shoals. The islands are five miles out to sea. Half of them are in New Hampshire; the other half are in Maine. Many yacht clubs put in moorings in a protected cove there. We are allowed to use one as long as no club members are around. We grab a mooring and spy a chubby harbor seal sunning himself about 25 feet from us. We put the motor on our dinghy and go to Appledore Island. It has a marine research laboratory that is associated with Cornell University and the University of New Hampshire. There is a re-creation of Celia Thaxter's garden that she described in her famous poem. There are millions of seagulls walking around and they are closer than we like. They make an annoying cacophony. There are several baby sea gulls and we see a few eider geese that provide the valued eider down.

We then take the dinghy to Smuttynose Island. This island, though small, has a dubious history involving pirates, murders, and ghosts. The harbor is just a tiny swimming hole where we carefully bring the dinghy ashore on a rock. We follow the trails that wander over the island and barely avoid the briars and poison ivy. There are another million seagulls, all walking around, swooping closely overhead and making too much noise. There is a graveyard with colonial-era headstones and some graves of Spanish sailors that died in a ship that crashed just offshore. At the end of the island there is a stone cairn. It is a pile of rocks about 15 feet tall. It stands on a broad rock on the south of the island at the highest point. No one knows who built it or what its purpose is.

We return to our boat and, after dinner, watch "The Fugitive" on the DVD in our computer.

We plan to leave at 6:30 and go to Biddeford Pool, but when we get up it's drizzling. The synthesized voice of NOAA tells us that the rain is supposed to end by the late morning and the winds should diminish. The long range forecast is for a storm out of the Northwest on Saturday. We definitely don't want to be on a deserted island like the Isle of Shoals on Saturday or at a harbor that is exposed to the Northwest like Biddeford Pool. So we change our planned destination for Friday to Portland and proceed on to Biddeford Pool today.

It is unpleasant but not unbearable as we leave the relative shelter of the Isle of Shoals. There is light rain, about twenty knots of wind in our face and relatively small seas. After we make the next marker we turn east and the journey becomes very uncomfortable. The seas are building and are now have six foot waves with a period of five seconds. The boat is pounding through the waves and we take several waves over the bow. The wind gusts to thirty knots, still in our face. At one point our autopilot makes its preference known by turning the boat around 360 degrees. We decide to go to York Harbor, about two and a half miles west of where we are.

When we get into the harbor, it's is like a different planet. The harbor is totally sheltered and there is no chop. The winds drop to eight knots. On the radio, someone asks us what it's like outside. We can only reply, "Horrible." We call the harbormaster and he directs us to a mooring ball. We strip off our wet foulies and restore some semblance of order to our cabin.

After the rain stops, as NOAA promised, we go ashore for lunch. We have a great lunch in a restaurant that is a little fancy for two barnacles like us. We decide to walk to the supermarket for some much-needed fresh food. It is a little far, about two-miles, and we don't have our boat cart with us. But we are sure that we will be able to take a taxi back.

That plan doesn't work. Shockingly, there seem to be no taxis in Maine. We slog back to the dinghy, taking a break in a combined café and bicycle shop. Each of us carries two bags of groceries. Also, as the sky clears the air gets much warmer, but we're still dressed for the storm. So beside our two bags of groceries each of us is carrying a fleece sweatshirt and a foul weather jacket. We are very tired when we finally get back to the boat, but as John always says, "Some people pay good money to go to a gym to get this kind of exercise."

We leave York around 6 in the morning. We get a good amount of sailing in on our 5 and a half hour journey. We call ahead to get a mooring at Biddeford Pool Yacht Club, but none are available. Therefore, we have to anchor out of the inner harbor and in between a few of the outside islands. The tide is low, so it is easy to tell where to anchor. However, as we swing, our depth alarm goes off warning us that we are below 6 feet of water. It scares us but, since it is low water, we are really fine for the rest of our anchorage. We go ashore in our dinghy using the motor because there is a narrow gut with a nasty current that leads to the town. We tie up at the yacht club and check that this is okay. They say yes, but they have some of the most unfriendly signs we have seen. Not only is there the standard, "No Trespassing", but there are also things like, "If you do not have a valid sticker displayed, your boat will be confiscated".

We wander around and try to find the beach using our shadows to guide us eastward. We meet some kids selling lemonade, candy and milkshakes. We get a bit lost, but eventually some young folks, guide us to the beach area. There is a public restroom and showers, which tempt us but we decide to wait until tomorrow when we will have a slip. We put our feet in the water. The beach is surprisingly warm, but the water if cold, cold, cold - 55 degrees. We return to the boat.

Since the heavy winds, we have had some trouble with our headsail furling correctly. After our nap, I go decide to go up the mast for a look. This time I use an additional safety harness around my chest, while Jennifer guides me up using the spinnaker halyard as a safety net. The headsail is fractionally rigged to about 3/4 of the mast. Once I get there I see that the top sleeve has moved up and rotated. Jennifer unfurls the headsail and I then easily put it back in place. I do not understand why it keeps rising up.

I continue up the mast to attempt to change our anchoring light bulb. At this point, I believe that I am the evening entertainment for the anchorage. Unfortunately, once again, I cannot get high enough to make repairs.

Later we take our dinghy to a nearby, uninhabited island where there is an unusual stone, conical monument. There is too much seaweed by the shore's edge for us to get in, so we return to the boat. At sunset, one of the nearby boats runs through the standard repertoire of bagpipe music, that is "Amazing Grace", the Old Spice song, "You Take the High Road and I'll Take the Low Road", etc. It is a great end to the day. As we get ready to go to bed, there are a few fireworks set off on a nearby island.

In the morning, we go ashore again and go for a run. We head east to the end of a road, where there is a bird sanctuary, We run through winding trails, until we come to a sign that says, "Please respect our neighbors private property. Return on the trail that you came in on". The sign was nice, so we did. Oddly enough, we did not see any birds in the bird sanctuary.

We motor 27 miles with light winds behind us to South Freeport. We finally enter Casco Bay, which is a fascinating archipelago of hundreds of islands. In fact at one point it was called Calendar bay, because there is an island for every day of the year. On our way we pass a boat that is taking on water. They motor perilously close to us. A frantic woman on board is bailing. We radio them and offer assistance, which they decline. Within minutes, the Coast Guard arrives and boards with a huge pump to keep them going.

We continue on to Haraseekit River where we have reserved a slip for the evening. The marina is Brewer's South Freeport. Brewer's is a chain of marinas throughout New England that have an impeccable reputation for service and accommodations. We thoroughly enjoy our first land-based shower since Milford, 20 days ago. We get some laundry done.

The city of Freeport is about 3 miles away. The town is centered on L.L.Bean's retail store, but there are hundreds of other outlet-stores that have taken over the entire town. The coolest part is that LLBean is open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. In 1955, they threw away the keys to the retail store and took off the locks on all of the doors. We take a free shuttle to the store and then walk about 1 and a half miles to a brew pub and have dinner. We walk back and go to a free concert by Shawn Mullins, who sings, "Lullaby". It is great. For a person from loud New York, it is surprising how rude the audience is. They talk loud and often throughout the entire concert.

We savor the dock experience and decide to stay another day. We sleep in and eventually get up for a run. It is very hilly, so we take our time. There are not many shoulders for us to run on. At one point, some people are having pistol-shooting practice in their back yard. There are kayaks, canoes, and big dogs everywhere. We're not in Jersey any more.

We do some more laundry and take another shower. Whooeee! We take the shuttle into town and plan to do some shopping and get some groceries. Downtown Freeport is a center for outlet shopping. All of the usual suspects are there. Gap, Nautica, Bass, Reebok, etc. We end up buying 5 pairs of shoes! Two sandals we can wear when we beach the dinghy, one pair of boat shoes for me, and two pairs of hiking boots. We walk six blocks out of town to a simple market. We really load up because we are going to call a taxi to take us back to the marina. We get not only a case of diet cola but also a 30 pack of Miller Light in addition to all of our regular groceries.

We have the number for the taxi company but no one answers! We are quite distressed. No one in the grocery store is very helpful. We plan to trek back six blocks with the liquids and the 6 bags of groceries. I grab a young guy coming out of the store and beg him to help us. He drives us within a block of the LLBean shuttle stop. I carry the 30 beers, 2 12-packs of soda, and a bag of groceries. Jennifer carries four bags of groceries and five pairs of shoes. We eventually get back to the marina on the shuttle grateful that we pulled this one off.

In the morning we do some repairs on our dinghy. One of our previous patches was leaking, so I remove it and re-glue it. It is supposed to dry for 24-hours, so we haul it up with our main halyard and place it on the foredeck. It is deflated and we tie it up. This is the first time that we have sailed with the dinghy on deck.

We leave the Brewer's marina with what seems like another undetermined emergency. As we back out of the slip, the boat will not go into reverse. It starts to back up and then it will go no further. We re-tie up to the slip and try to investigate what is happening. I notice that we cannot even pull it back past a certain point using the lines. Aha! Insight! . . . .Duh! The port bowline is still tied to the dock. I have heard of people doing this but I never thought it would happen to me. Oh well, we remove the line. Our hearts are still pounding, as we easily exit the marina and harbor.

There is little or no wind on the four-hour trip to Snow Island. Snow Island lies 5 miles up the narrow, poorly marked Quahog Bay. In two separate instances, we see a harbor seal gently swimming in the waters. We anchor southeast of the island. The dinghy on deck was fine but it was in the way a bit as we anchor. We are appropriately impressed by the cove's beauty.

This is the Maine that we came to see. The shore is beautiful and rocky. There are stately, straight firs and pines that would make a terrific wooden mast. We play around. We swim, since the water is 64 degrees instead of 55. I, of course, wear a wetsuit. I fish while Jennifer takes pictures.

We take a dinghy ride into one of the many inlets. 

Surprisingly, this is not an isolated spot. There is a yacht club cruise to here, soo there are about 12 boats with the same club burgee. We do not know the club, but the burgee is triangular, sky blue, with an emblazoned white seagull. We have been to Horseshoe Cove at Sandy Hook, NJ with fewer people around.

 We leave Casco Bay and proceed to the Middle Coast of Maine. We are motoring again and we spot another harbor seal. Giant flies beset us. Maine has a reputation for bugs and that reputation is not an exaggeration. Here is a picture of a fly that is bigger than a quarter.

 We approach Dammariscove, which is 3 miles long but only a quarter mile wide. There is a harbor on the south that lies between two high knolls. It is low tide, so the inlet is at its narrowest. It seems like less than 100 feet. We need to set fore and aft anchors, another first for us, so that we will not swing into the shore. We get a second anchor ready to drop off the back. We drop the forward anchor as usual but then we back down 150 feet. We drop the back anchor straight down. Then we pull in the fore anchor chain as we let out the back anchor line. We end up with 75 feet of anchor fore and aft. This was not too hard to do, but there are no other boats around, the tide is slack, it is daylight, and we are protected from the wind. I cannot imagine doing this under worse conditions.

Every boat that comes in uses a different approach for fore and aft anchoring. One sets his anchor as usual and then rows the aft anchor out. Another drops the aft anchor and then motors forward to set the fore anchor. A fourth ties up to a Coast Guard mooring ball and then rows his anchor back.

We go ashore and explore the island. This island was the first year-round settlement in America. Plymouth was the first colony, but Dammariscove was the first place that fishermen lived year round. When Plymouth settlement, got into trouble, they came to the fishermen of Dammiscove Island to get the supplies they needed to survive the winter. Like all of Maine's Islands, there are tales of beheadings, pirates and ghosts. Currently, the Nature Conservancy owns the island and there are trails that we follow.

The island has multiple mini-environments. The island is partially granite and partially gneiss rock. The picture shows some of the grassy, open fields.

In another part there are fields of wildflowers. The following picture shows fireweed growing on the granite foundation of an abandoned farmhouse.

 Here is an entire field of yellow cinquefoil and blue-eyed grass growing in an upland meadow.

 On the eastern side of the island there are tidal pools in the shallows of the granite.

 From the island's highest point, we can see Finn planted into the sliver of the harbor.

On the eastern side, there are huge flat ledges of granite that were quarried for granite building blocks. The outcropping dwarfs Jennifer. Notice the squared off blocks that are setting to her right and behind her.

There is a large fresh water pond in the center of the island that grow cranberries and cattails. On the north there is a stone beach where the stones are two to three feet across. At the extreme northern end of the island, there are nesting sites for migrant birds, including the eider duck, whose down is so valued. There is also a salt marsh and coastal tundra. We have a truly astonishing hike all over the island.