In the Right Place: Historic Delay

Here you see “Narwhal,” another classic vessel that visited Great Cove this week. This racing schooner with a low-silhouette comes to us after a historic delay.

She was designed by L. Francis Herreshoff, the famous son of the even-more-famous American naval architect Nathanael Green Herreshoff.

Francis designed this schooner and her sister ship, the renowned schooner “Mistral,” in 1937. Mistral was launched that year, but the schooner that you see here was not built to its 1937 design (No. 73) until 1999. And, in 2021, Narwhal was restored completely, so what you see here is virtually “new.”  

Narwhal now hails from Jamestown, Rhode Island, and reportedly is managed under a private family program. She is 63 ½ feet in overall length and, per her original design, is built with gaff main and top masts to allow her to fly main-top, fore-top, and jib-top sails for extra speed.

As for her name, you probably know that a narwhal (also known as a “narwhale” or “sea unicorn”) is a strange-looking, medium-sized whale. It sports a spiraled canine tooth tusk of five or more feet that projects from the whale’s face like a knight’s lance. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 8 and 10, 2022.)

In the Right Place: One of Our Toughest Beings

This image of a monarch butterfly appeared yesterday in my monthly column in the Ellsworth American.

To read the column about the troubled state of our monarchs and their August migration south, click this: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Tough Old Girl Department

Here, looking straight at you, is Grayling, a yacht with a serious past. She has been moored in Great Cove this week.  

Grayling was built in 1915 in East Boothbay, Maine, as a double-ended fishing vessel with a distinctive cypress pilothouse. She trawled for mackerel and herring at first, and then became a sardine carrier in 1920. She trucked sardines to and from canneries for 70 years and then, when her useful life was thought to be at an end, she was left to rot.

However, Grayling is a tough old girl. In the 1990s, she was rediscovered and restored into an eye-catching, ketch-rigged yacht that sleeps 11. And so she has remained. She’s long (almost 65 feet overall) and thin (12.5-foot beam), which means she must carry significant ballast (10 tons) to avoid rolling.

By the way, as you may know, a grayling is a freshwater fish in the salmon family that prefers very cold water. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 9, 2022 [cloudy] and August 14, 2018 [sunny].)

In the Right Place: No-Shows

This year, our bee balm (Monarda) hasn’t attracted a single ruby-throated hummingbird, as far as I’ve seen. The female hummers usually swarm our bee balm blossoms at this time of year, since the males have abandoned them.

Perhaps it’s because we recently divided the plants or maybe because we’ve been experiencing drought conditions and haven’t watered enough. Anyone else having the same problem? (Archive mages of females taken in Brooklin, Maine.)

In the Right Place: Lobster or Yoga?

Here’s a scene in Great Cove yesterday morning during some ambiguous weather:

The schooner J&E Riggin has just weighed anchor and is sailing into a stiff southwestern wind. She’s running behind Angelique, a gaff topsail ketch. In the foreground, a dory-load of Angelique’s passengers are rowing themselves back to their windjammer after a tour of the WoodenBoat School campus.

According to their schedules, the Riggin was on a multi-day cruise featuring old lighthouse sights and fresh lobster bakes, while Angelique was on a multi-day yoga and wellness cruise, which apparently included rowing as a bonus. Once her passengers were aboard, Angelique raised her unique red sails and also headed southwest:

The Riggin was launched in 1927 and is 120 feet in overall length (counting bowsprit); Angelique was launched in1980 and is 130 feet in overall length. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 8, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Maine Main Masts

Here you see Angelique and the J&E Riggin as this morning’s first light reached them today in Great Cove. The differences between these picturesque coastal cruising vessels is more apparent when they’re moored like this.

The Angelique, launched in 1980, is a ketch, which usually is defined as a two-masted sailboat with the main (taller) mast being forward (closer to the bow):

The Riggin, launched in 1927, is a schooner. A schooner usually is defined as a sailboat that has at least two masts, with the aft-most mast (the one closer/closest to the vessel’s stern/end) being the main (taller/tallest) mast.

The differences in length between the main and other masts can be so small that a “main” mast is basically a figure of speech. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 8, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Fogatta

Here you see Great Cove at dusk on Friday. Boats are collecting for Saturday’s annual Eggemoggin Reach Regatta.

Some of the vessels are the racers and some are floating platforms for visiting spectators who like to be close to the finish line. That finish line is at the southwest entrance of the Cove, just to the left of Babson Island in the above image.

The race began as scheduled on Saturday morning, which was clear, but with weak winds. At about 3:45 p.m. that day, however, fog started rolling down the Reach and into into the Cove. Here you see it enveloping the spectator boats:

By the time that the racing boats reached the finish line, some of the fog patches were dangerously thick:

All’s well that ends well: The Cove was clear this morning as the early light reached it:

The Regatta began in 1985 and has been run over the same 15-mile course since then.  All of the boats in the race must be wooden and at least 24 feet long. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 6 and 7, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Portents

Here’s an eastern black swallowtail butterfly sipping from liatris (blazing star) blossoms yesterday. This insect (Papilio polyxenes) also is known as the American swallowtail and the parsnip swallowtail.

I’ve seen relatively few of these butterflies here this year; in fact, I’ve seen fewer of them than their struggling orange cousins, the monarchs.

Black swallowtails were rare before Americans started clearing forests; they prefer open field habitats and are almost never found in the woods. However, what humanity creates it can take away. There are reports that have associated the decrease of farming fields in the northeast with the decrease of black swallowtails as well as other butterflies here.

As with many black things, some cultures reportedly view these swallowtails as evil omens, even as portents of death. (If you hear reports of my sudden death, you’ll know what to blame.) (Images taken on August 6, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Getting High

We’re in “high summer,” a term that traditionally means the hottest period of summer. The word “summer,” in turn, has a lengthy history that ultimately began with the Proto-Indo-European word for “together,” according to entymologists. Thus, it appears that summer is the season to get together, except during a high summer heat advisory.

Nonetheless, as you see above, on the coast we usually have cooling breezes that sooth us and make the high summer Queen Anne’s Lace and Tansy perform ballets despite the heat.

The high summer woods are dense and usually don’t have enough breeze to counteract the heat and humidity. But, they can be pleasingly sultry if you don’t mind a little high summer sweat and you’re well-sprayed with insect repellant.

As we speak, it’s a comfortable 75 degrees (F) here with an increasing overcast that raises our hopes of getting rain, which we need desperately in this very high summer. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 3, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Drought Report

Below you’ll see one of our dry stream beds yesterday; there was fast-flowing water there in the spring:

The condition of more than half of Maine’s coastal areas has gotten worse this week, moving from moderate drought to severe drought, according to today’s U.S. Drought Monitor:

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The rest of the coast was found to be in either moderate drought or abnormally dry, according to the official report, which is based on data as of August 2.

Unless there is a significant break in our weather trends, more than half of Maine may start seeing wells drying up and forests becoming fire hazards. (Photograph taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 3, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Berry Early

Some viburnum bushes here already are producing berries, perhaps being induced by our dry conditions. The following image of these berries was taken on Monday, although they started appearing more than a week ago. They are on a double file viburnum bush (Viburnum plicatum f. tomenosum).

This plant’s common name is descriptive of its white spring blooms, which appear in axils of leaves on each side of a node (that is, they appear in “double file”) on horizontal branches. This plant’s berries historically have been survival food for fall and winter birds.

There reportedly are over 150 species of viburnum, several of which are native to North America and were used by Native Americans and European settlers for food and tea. This double file species, however, is a native of China that has been cultivated widely in the United States and, when abandoned, sometimes naturalizes itself. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 1, 2022.)

In the Right Place: 5 Stars

We happened to catch Free Spirit’s act yesterday afternoon on Great Cove’s windy stage. Or, maybe it was just a rehearsal for the famed Eggemoggin Reach Regatta that will end in the Cove this Saturday. In any case, the performance rated five stars.

Free Spirit is a 33-foot Concordia sloop built in 1948. She’s been owned and sailed for decades by Jon Wilson, founder of famed WoodenBoat Publications and School in Brooklin. She reportedly was the first design in the process that evolved into the historic line of Concordia Yawls.

Yesterday, Free Spirit continued to live up to her name. Here she is taking a bow, literally:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 1, 2022.) For a few more images of the performance, click here:

July Postcards From Maine

July is the beginning of summer here in Down East Maine, no matter what June claims. It’s a time for cheerful clouds to congregate in very blue skies and for day lilies and daisies to to appear in profusion.

Yet, there can be too much of a good thing. This year we had too many bright July days. and not enough dreary wet ones. We’re in a moderate drought; it’s beautiful, yes, but our flower-laced fields need rain.

Our ponds started shrinking in July and our streams flowed slower. Yet, they retained their allure for us and their fish for those that fished there.

Speaking of fish hunters, the three osprey nestlings that I’ve been monitoring grew at a startling pace during July. They watched their mother fly and practiced their own wing flapping. We expect some test flights in August.

Many of us also have been watching — with some concern — the birth and flights of the monarch butterflies that migrate here, lay their eggs, and produce their young in the form of multi-colored caterpillars. In July, migrating monarchs were declared to be endangered by one of the largest international conservation groups.

Fortunately, one of the oldest forms of flying insects was abundant here during the month: dragonflies.

On the other hand, windjammers have made a dramatic comeback in Maine in the form of coastal tourist cruisers. Most begin their multi-day cruises in July, overnighting in safe harbors such as our Great Cove in Brooklin. Among those that visited us during the month were the yellow-hulled American Eagle and the black-hulled J&E Riggin.

On the other side of the peninsula, in our Naskeag Harbor, the lobster fishing season opened in July.

Of course, July is a month for all sorts of recreational boating, including one-person paddlers, fast motorboats, and yachts made to look like fishing trawlers,

But, when it comes to recreational boating in July, the favorites around here seem to be sailboats.

Boats are also being created here in July. The boatbuilding classes of the famed WoodenBoat School in Brooklin are in full swing during the month.

I would be remiss if I didn’t send you postcards of Brooklin’s acclaimed Independence Day celebration, even though the entire event was documented fully in my July 4 post. Here are a few scenes:

Finally, we end with postcards of two of Maine’s many roads less taken.

(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during July of 2022.)

In the Right Place: Goodbye July

We say goodbye to July with this nice memory of yesterday’s stratocumulus clouds breezing over Blue Hill Bay while, in the distance, Mount Cadillac is performing its perpetual breach out of Acadia National Park.

However, in the foreground, we already see the flowering of goldenrod that arrived here ahead of schedule. It’s not eager for fall; it’s been accelerated by July’s heat and dryness. We’re in a moderate drought already.

Let’s hope that August brings us more rain clouds than July did. Rather than these happy bundles of stratocumulus clouds, we need to see some nasty, lower-level clouds with “nimbus” (from the Latin for “rain”) in their names and dispositions. Nimbostratus clouds that rain steadily all day would be best. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 30, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Bear Sighting

This is Little Bear visiting Great Cove this week. Research indicates that she’s a replica of a North Sea fishing trawler with ketch-rigged sails for stability.

Built in Scotland in 1964, she’s named after Ursa Minor (Latin for “lesser bear”), the northern sky constellation commonly called Little Bear.

She reportedly was built as a recreational vessel for a professor of classical arts at Cambridge University. That is, inside she’s fitted for human comfort, not slithering fish. Her home port now is Rockport, Maine. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 27, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report

All is well. For those who have been following these reports, here you see Harriet taking a break from her nest-guarding duties on Wednesday; that’s June looking on:

That left our symbolically adopted 2022 Osprey nestlings alone to wait for her return. From left to right, there is June (youngest), David (oldest), and Ricky (the energetic tweener):

Here’s a closeup of David:

Soon, the three nestlings will be taking short test flights. David and Ricky are now regularly flapping their wings in the breezes that come by their 100-foot-high penthouse over Great Cove. Here’s David flapping away; note his wings, they’re part of the reason why ospreys are unique:

Although ospreys are considered to be hawks (often called “fish hawks”), they’re special hawks. Other hawks are considered to be part of one large family (Accipitridae) that includes numerous species of harriers, kites, and eagles. Ospreys are in a family (Pandionidae) consisting only of their one species.

Ospreys are designed to fish and their wings are part of several special adaptations to make them master fishers. They use their almost eagle-sized wings like helicopter blades to hover while targeting their underwater prey. Unlike those of eagles, the long osprey wings are narrow with a distinctive “crook” (gull-like bend) for extra maneuverability.

Adult osprey wing spans are reported to average 57 inches for males and 67 inches (5 ½ + feet) for the larger females. Yet, their bodies are trim for speed. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 27, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Drought Report

Below you’ll see the conditions of one of our ponds as of Tuesday. It and other local ponds are shrinking, and our smaller pond-feeder streams are dry or have a greatly-reduced flow.

Today’s official Drought Monitor reports that the recent hot and dry air in the Northeastern region of the U.S. has “led to growing precipitation deficits, reductions in streamflow, poor soil moisture, and water shortages in some areas” of the region.

As you see above, the Maine coast and more than half of the entire State continue to experience abnormally dry or moderate drought conditions. We can’t say that we weren’t warned. (Photograph taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 26, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Another Mystery Bird

This little flycatcher has his mouth open, but he’s not making a sound. (It was hot and fluttering around catching hundreds of insects in the heat is a strain. Sex assumed.)

I’m sorry to have to ask again for help on identification – Eastern Wood-Peewee? Olive-Sided Flycatcher? Other? (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine on July 22, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Half-Light

Here’s the Belford Gray in repose yesterday. She’s at her mooring in Great Cove during an eerie interim between rain squalls. The sun is trying unsuccessfully to break through the overcast, creating a shifting half-light that draws attention to the vessel’s innate grace.

She’s a small Friendship Sloop, modelled after the iconic Maine fishing boats that were sailed primarily in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. These highly maneuverable boats reportedly were first conceived and built in and around the Town of Friendship in Maine’s Muscongus Bay area.

Friendship Sloops typically have sharp clipper bows with breathtaking sheers that swoop back to low deck areas and overhanging transoms (stern ends). The low aft portions are designed to make it easier for one or two fishermen to haul nets and traps out of the water.  

Nonetheless, the Belford is not used for fishing. She was created by a series of WoodenBoat School students and volunteers and launched in 1972 as a schooling vessel. She’s 28 and ½ feet long and 9 and ½ feet wide at her beam (widest part), according to WBS data. Her name honors Belford Gray, a WBS instructor who was a highly regarded wooden boatbuilder. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 25, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report

All is well, but the nest is getting crowded as the nestlings grow at seemingly supersonic speed. In the photograph below, you see Harriet with her nestlings David and Ricky, which is what I see mostly when viewing the nest:

Sometimes, June makes herself visible, especially when her mother leaves the nest and there is more room to join her brothers and gaze at the waters of Great Cove. That’s June to the left of David and Ricky below:

David, the oldest and largest nestling, has been flapping his wings when a good breeze comes by, often whacking his mother and two siblings When this happens, Harriet often flits to a nearby tree to make room.

David seems to be enjoying a sense of potential lift, but I’ve yet to see him do an “osprey bounce” – riding an air current straight up four or five feet on his outsized wings, coming down, and repeating the move like a yo-yo. If all goes well, all three nestlings soon will be doing that, which will mean that they soon will be ready to leave the nest for extended trips and learn (apparently from emulating their parents) how to fish for themselves.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 23, 2022.)