In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch XXII

Here you see the ketch “Angelique” at rest in Great Cove early Wednesday morning. She had had a beach party at Babson Island the day before and overnighted just off the island. Her passengers were exploring the WoodenBoat School in the Cove when this image was taken.

When they returned aboard, she departed with almost all sails up, but had difficulty catching the wind:

This 130-foot jammer out of Camden, Maine, was on a six-night educational cruise that featured lessons by a historian and a naturalist, according to her schedule. That schedule states that she’ll be conducting three more cruises before ending her season on October 7. Let’s hope her passengers bring warm clothes and see some beautiful foliage.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 18, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Getting High at Work, Two Options

Above, you see a cluster of bucket trucks replacing utility poles in Brooklin this week. The mechanized buckets can be raised and moved about by the operators inside them who are insulated from the electricity, but they sometimes look like alien invaders (or a snow crab on its back) when they work together.

Below, you’ll see a hometown adaptation to getting high at work. The “bucket” there is the bed of an ancient International Harvester dump truck. It has mobility, but its range on this job is pretty much limited to forward and backward. It’s also big enough to hold two basic ladders – for high and higher work. The ladders are capable of left and right movements controlled by the operator on this job.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 10 [ladders] and 17 [buckets], 2024.)

In the Right Place: O’ Nest Report XV

It’s been weeks since I’ve reported on activity at the Osprey Nest. The reason is that I’ve seen no significant activity there during my regular visits. However, on Monday, I did see a dramatic event over nearby Great Cove, part of which is captured in the image below. It probably will interest those who have been following the Osprey Nest summer saga.

But first, a brief backgrounder for newcomers: The Osprey Nest is the spring and summer residence of an energetic fish hawk couple whom we’ve dubbed Ozzie and Harriet for narration ease. This year, as usual, they raised three youngsters – David, Ricky, and June – who have been flying since August.  At that point, Harriet (having performed well her part of the propagation-of-the-species ritual) disappeared from the nest.

David and Ricky occasionally returned to the nest for short visits, but not June, the youngest who was born in June; she hung out there daily and was fed regularly in the nest by Ozzie. June did not seem to be trying to learn how to fish for herself. In late August, activity at the nest appeared to cease – not even short visits, at least when I was there. The home appeared to have been vacated for the year.

However, on Monday, I saw this event high over Great Cove. The immature osprey at the bottom there was flying loop-de-loops with that mature osprey. The older bird was carrying a fish and the younger one was begging loudly. It looked and sounded like June begging Ozzie for food (described in past reports), but this older bird wasn’t in the mood to share even a bite.

Yesterday, I checked Ozzie and Harriet’s high-rise home again for 15 minutes – it still appeared vacated until next spring:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 16 and 18, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Super

Above, you see last night’s full moon rising in the east behind the tall conifers atop Great Cove Ridge. It soon hurdled them and sailed high and westward over the Cove, chasing one sunset after another:

This was a special moon. It was a “supermoon” because it came within 90 percent of the moon’s closest orbit around Earth. It also went through a partial lunar eclipse by entering part of the Earth’s shadow, although that event was not spectacular.

Native Americans in the northeast called this September full moon the Corn Moon because it appeared at the time for gathering the major corn crop (as well as pumpkins, squash, beans, and wild rice). Colonial farmers here called it the Harvest Moon because it provided enough light to harvest the summer’s crops, including corn, beans, squash, tobacco, wheat, and cotton.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 17, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Getting Low

Above you see the tide leaving Conary Cove last week. It reached dead low one hour and 43 minutes after this image was taken; then, it slowly rose to an impressive 10.5 high tide, according to the Blue Hill Bay charts. At many high tides, the Cove’s granite ledges virtually disappear, and, from some perspectives, the iconic red boat house looks like it is floating. (Image taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on September 13, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Color It Bright

Here you see the Fishing Vessel “Dream On’” and one of her crew hauling some of her lobster-fishing gear ashore in Naskeag Harbor last week.

As I sit here, I can’t think of a line of work that has more colorful and oddly-shaped gear than the lobstermen’s (a term that includes women here).

The traps usually are yellow or some other bright color and they’re complex rectangles with circular and rectangular innards. Mesh bait bags in the traps usually are orange or another bright color. The bullet-shaped buoys are bright color combinations that are unique to the fisherman. The fishermen often wear bright yellow or orange waterproof fishing pants. The idea, apparently, is to make everything noticeable in the water (including a fisherman that has gone overboard).

As for the oddly-shaped lobsters that the fishermen catch, here’s what the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration says: “Lobsters come in just about every color but red. They can be blue, light yellow, greenish-brown, grey, dusty orange, some calico, and some with spots. However, they all turn red when they hit hot water.”

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 10, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Coronation

Here you see the September sun setting on Amen Ridge. Dusk’s shadows are on the move over a field of fleabane and goldenrod. They're slowly reaching for the waters of Jericho and Blue Hill Bays and the western mountains on Mount Desert Island. As often happens, the mountains on MDI are creating crowns of cloud.

MDI is Maine’s largest island; it’s accessible by bridge and is where most of Acadia National Park is located. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 8, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Sailing Away

Here you see a few of the WoodenBoat School’s fleet of small teaching boats drying in the sun after being power-washed Wednesday.

Sailing school has ended there and the boats and their gear are being plucked from Great Cove and prepared for winter storage.

It’s poignant to watch this vital part of summer prepare for hibernation. But, boatbuilding and other dry land courses still are being taught at WBS through most of the month and football has returned. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 10, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Magic Dragons

This image of a green darner dragonfly appears with my monthly column in the current Ellsworth American. 

To read the column about the amazing migrations that some dragonflies undertake each year, click here: https://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Getting Gray and Fat Is OK

Here you see one of our red squirrels eating a spruce cone. The image shows that he’s starting to get his grayer winter coat and to gain weight for the cold months.

I haven’t seen any of his kind storing food yet, but that will start to happen after a few frosts remind them to be frugal. As you probably know, red squirrels don’t hibernate. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 8, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Sail-In & Sail-Out

SAIL-IN

The Annual WoodenBoat Sail-In took place in Great Cove yesterday afternoon. This year, seven of Maine’s finest windjammers appeared here to honor WoodenBoat Publications and School. The School’s sailing classes ended last week, but the boatbuilding and other land-based classes will continue throughout September.

The weather for this Sail-In was good for the windjammers and their excited passengers, but it was the kind of day that could drive photographers crazy: peek-a-boo sun, which at times became intense shafts of light that illuminated the jammers and produced glare on the water, and periods of gray and shadow that swallowed color and turned the vessels into silhouettes. But the temperature was in the high 60s (F) and the winds often gusted up to 10 miles per hour or thereabouts.

Below, you’ll find a few images of, and a bit of information about, the visiting windjammers (all hailing ports are in Maine):

“American Eagle,” launched 1930, hails from Rockland, reported overall length 122’:

“Angelique,” launched 1980, hails from Camden, reported overall length 130’:

“Heritage,” launched 1983, hails from Rockland, reported overall length 145’:

“J.&E. Riggin,” launched 1927, hails from Rockland, reported overall length 120’:

“Ladona,” launched 1922, hails from Rockland, reported overall length 105’ — she came late, this image taken the next morning:

“Lewis R. French,” launched 1871, hails from Camden, reported overall length 101’:

“Stephen Taber,” launched 1871, hails from Rockland, reported overall length 110’:

At about 2:30 p.m. yesterday, the visiting vessels were anchored or about to anchor in Great Cove to allow their passengers to enjoy the rest of the day, fine dinners, and a star-lit night with a bright waxing moon.

SAIL-OUT

The next morning (today) at sunrise, we got a bird’s-eye view of “Angelique” and “American Eagle” and, a little later, we got a panorama of the windjammer visitors:

By 10:30 a.m., all of the windjammers except “J.&E. Riggin” had raised sails and departed Great Cove. The “Riggin” anchored off Babson Island, apparently to conduct island activities and have a beach lunch. Here they are sailing out (or anchoring off Babson):

“American Eagle”

“Angelique”

“Heritage”

“J.&E. Riggin”

“Ladona”

“Lewis R. French”

“Stephen Taber”

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 10 and 11, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Good Angles

Here’s the sun setting on Naskeag Harbor Sunday evening at 6:16 p.m.:

I find myself attracted to, and even distracted by, the new docking float and its hockey stick design. I can’t seem to stop taking photographs of it in different lights and weather conditions. Here’s the float at 5 p.m. on a prior day:

Often, a right angle (90°) is not THE right angle to achieve an optimum design combination of functionality and appearance. Good angles can be surprisingly pleasing for the visually-oriented. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 2 and 8 (sunset), 2024.)

In the Right Place: Zen, Watered Down

Here you see our resident great blue heron taking his usual early morning breakfast in the shallows of Great Cove. He often just stands in water up to his knees or thighs and waits for the fish schools to come to him, moving his head slightly in one direction and then another.

Watching him can be a Zen exercise in differentiating patience from boredom. He usually averages a small minnow-like fish about every 30 or 40 minutes – on a good day.

When he sees me, he pretends to leave by flying 100 feet or so into the sea grasses. (See the image in the first Comment space.) I pretend to leave by walking 100 feet or so back from the shore. In 10 or 20 minutes, he walks back into the water and I walk back to where I can see him stand still or move very slowly. (Or, I don’t walk back out of boredom.)

From the fishes’ perspective, I suppose his skinny legs look like reeds or sea grass and his above-water body looks cloud-like. But that cloud contains lightning in the form of a long, thin beak that can pierce the water with remarkable velocity. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 6 and 8, 2024; sex assumed.)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch XXI

“Angelique” sailed into Great Cove at mid-morning Thursday, right in the middle of sailing lessons at the WoodenBoat School there and before I could catch her coming in. The red-sheeted windjammer was on a six-night “unscripted” cruise, according to her schedule. As usual, she drew a lot of attention from the WBS sailors and others in the Cove.

“Angelique” anchored off Babson Island beach and her passengers were rowed ashore for exploration. The crew soon had a fire going on the beach for lunch. The seemingly elaborate meal may have been a lobster bake with corn on the cob. (That’s on the advertised menu for at least once on each of her cruises.) She slipped out of the Cove, again undetected by me, sometime in the afternoon.

As you may know or see, “Angelique” is a ketch, not a schooner. That is, “Angelique’s” foremast is her main (taller) mast, although that is not always clear at a distance when she’s got a topsail up on only her aft mast. She’s listed as being 130 feet long overall, was launched in 1980, and now hails from Camden, Maine. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 5, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Dog Food

Here you see the outrageously orange berries of the American mountain ash tree:

These berries have been appearing here for at least a week now, but there seems to be fewer of them than last year. And some seem to be turning black sooner:

That may be good if the Ojibwa tribe’s legend is correct in proclaiming that the more of the robust berries that appear, the harsher the winter. However, there’s a lot of misconception about these trees (Sorbus aucuparia).

For one thing, mountain ash trees aren’t especially fond of mountains and they’re not really ash trees; they’re members of the rose family. (Their name reportedly derives from the Old English word “aesc,” meaning “spear”; the wood of the similar rowan trees in England was used for spear and arrow shafts.)

Speaking of those English trees, the American trees also still are sometimes called rowan trees because our settlers from the British Isles did so under the mistaken impression that they were the same as their European cousins. The Celts (and some of America’s colonists) thought rowan trees warded off witches and had other magical properties. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any witches near our trees.

Canada gets the prize for the most interesting alternative name for their mountain ashes, which are the same as ours. They’re called  “dogberry trees” by our northern neighbors. (The reported Old English etymology here dates to the 1550s, when the bitter rowan tree fruit reportedly was considered inferior – “only fit for a dog” to eat off the tree.) But they do make good jellies and jams, I hear.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 6, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch XX

The “Heritage” eased into Great Cove Wednesday afternoon and left earlier than usual yesterday morning. It was too early for a good wind and she had to be pushed out by her yawl boat, despite raising a good amount of canvas:

Two of the smaller Cove residents seemed to look on in sleepy adoration:

The “Heritage” is a big-boned lady with a nice shear to her. She’s listed at 145 feet overall and wears her distinctive topsail like a cocked beret. She was launched in 1983 and now hails from Rockland, Maine.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 5, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Attraction

Above, you see Naskeag Harbor at low tide on Monday. This picturesque Maine working waterfront often illustrates those special qualities of varying Maine light and weather along the state’s rugged coasts that attract many artists here. Here’s one of them trying to capture the spruce trees and rocks along the Harbor shore:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch XIX

Yesterday was as close to perfect as it gets in Great Cove: pure-smelling breezes that got worked up to double-digit gusts; a bright sun in a blue sky, temperatures hovering around 70 degrees, and sails up everywhere, greedily grabbing the air and running with it.

It gets better. About midday, the classic schooner “Stephen Taber” was sighted cutting down Eggemoggin Reach and really moving before a following wind. She usually passes several miles outside of the Cove. But, yesterday she decided to short-cut through the Cove at a nice clip, constantly adjusting her big sails to catch as much air as possible:

Watching that fly-by was like peering back into the best of the 19th Century. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 3, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Apple Check

We had some hard rain and significant winds over the weekend, and I was worried about the wild apple tree branches and the fruit in the unpruned trees. So, I went over to my favorite abandoned orchid yesterday to check things out.

I found that there was not only no damage, but that the trees were choking with fruit from top to bottom. Moreover, the apples seemed prematurely advanced in ripeness. They were very hard and spit-out tart, though.

They could be picked and pressed into passable cider, I suppose;  but that won’t happen. They’ll just fall and be eaten by the wildlife or rot. Nonetheless, the black bears will have plenty to gorge themselves on before their winter’s sleep this year. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: A Small Event

Below, you’ll see the pocket cruiser “Martha” in Great Cove yesterday afternoon during a small Down East weather event. The fog was receding but not totally gone, sunlight was beginning to reach the water, south-southeast gusts of maybe 10 miles per hour were rolling the water intermittently, and a late-summer haze was filtering out color.

We live on a ridge above the Cove and we look down on “Martha’s” mooring. She has become one of our weather descriptors. For example, when I’m not near a southwestern-facing window and the fog is moving in or going out or its raining hard, I might ask Barbara: “Can you still see ‘Martha’?” The answer can tell you a lot.

As many of you know, “Martha” was built for the author E.B. White by his naval architect son, Joel, the founder of the famous Brooklin Boat Yard. She’s not quite 20 feet long and reportedly a joy to sail. “Martha” is now owned by Rich Hilsinger, the former Director of the WoodenBoat School and a Brooklin resident who has a fascinating music show on WERU. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 1, 2024.)