Day 4
There was still some wind on Monday, but the sky was clear and the weather radio said the wind and waves would calm during the day. I decided to proceed but I changed my course. Instead of north through the Reach, I'd go back past Stonington, then turn north to Island 39. This would cut a few miles off the day and would also allow me to use the onshore wind and incoming tide to get to 39 more easily.

This time, getting back into the boat was easier. The day of rest had done me good and I was itching to paddle again. I stuck close to Deer Isle this time, sheltered from the north wind, and took my time getting to Stonington. I passed through some coves that got very shallow; in one, I ran aground on mussel beds.

Pulled into Stonington and called my friends to let them know I was OK, got some new provisions at the store and splurged on lunch at a cafe. It was smoky, the service was slow and the food was not great. It occurred to me that if anyone asked me what was the most dangerous thing about the trip, I'd say: "the onion rings at the Harbor Cafe in Stonington." I was still feeling their effects that evening on Island 39.

And back at the public dock (no commercial boats allowed) two lobster boats were warming up. In one of them, two men were drinking beer and fooling with bait bags.

I took off and headed west. An uneventful trip, mostly, punctuated by little by lobster boats.

One of the most interesting things waves do: I'm going along, headed northwest into one-foot waves coming straight at me. Then from behind me, comes a long, slow swell. It might be a four-foot swell but it's stretched over a long distance. And within it, the small waves from the north continue. These big swells come along seemingly randomly, sometimes one at a time, sometimes three. It's weird but beautiful.

The bigger islands of the northeast Penobscot Bay hold many fascinations for me. Most of all as the home of Elliot and Fairfield Porter. Elliot was a great photographer and his brother, a great painter. They summered on Great Spruce Head Island and their pictures show this world. This was my first time seeing it in the flesh and I couldn't help seeing it through their eyes a little bit.

I paddled around to the northeast beach on Island 39, pulled out and set up camp on a grassy campsite. This was the best beach of the trip and I thought about swimming. By this point, I was a little ripe. But it was kind of cold, the sun was going down. The hell with it.

Another amazing sunset. These were clear-sky sunsets, not full of magical cirrus, but still pretty fantastic.