This week we have enjoyed peaceful anchorages, the fun of meeting 120 new people at an Ocean Cruising Club Rally, and dancing to steel band music in Blue Hill.  Flash in the Pans, as the steel band is called, is a community band made up of 30-45 locals who put on at least one charity concert a week.  It is run by Karl who incredibly, despite his very laid back attitude and appearance, not only runs a Community Band, a Youth band and a professional band, but also makes 100 instruments (and there can be several drums to an instrument) a year.

We were almost sad to leave the picturesque anchorage of Blue Hill.  Yet again, people were incredibly helpful: the customer service manager of the local supermarket giving us a lift back to the dock; being to hitch a ride to the concert in the back of a pick-up truck; a local fisherman suggesting the best place to leave the dinghy on a falling tide whilst we were ashore. Still, we went on to have a long, but lovely day.  We discovered that Blue Hill really is blue in the morning light.  We had a very serene motor across an expansive bay, empty all but some inquisitive seals and a flight of cormorants drying their wings.  It was a real treat not to have lobster pots to contend with.  The day started so tranquil that our minimal wake tickled the still water as it opened up as a fan behind us, making the surface sparkle in the early morning sunshine. 

It was satisfying to get a lot of jobs done – two lots of washing, filling up with water, cleaning the deck and hulls.  Something that you would take for granted ashore – your gas supply – became quite an epic: four miles on a small wheeled bicycle balancing a 13kg gas bottle on my back; going to one harbour to collect an American certified gas bottle, then sailing further than planned as there is just one place that we can get our British bottle filled.

We then had a 25 mile trip to the very southern part of Penobscot Bay, where the coast really is kissing the ocean – Isle au Haut.  As it was late in the day, we were virtually the only boat on the move.  As on other days, the beauty of the sky was awe-inspiring.  When you are at sea you are given a new perspective of the sky as it becomes a complete dome, sweeping over you in all directions.  During the day there can be a dramatic build-up of cumulus clouds, the billowing white towers hanging above you.  But as you sail towards the evening the expanse overhead truly fills your emotions with a fantastic kaleidoscope: sapphire blue, pink, orange, crimson, gold, the shimmering reflection rippling out across the water just adding to the dramatic effect.

I know I may sound as though I work for a travel agency, but this area is sensational!  Penobscot Bay is sprinkled with some 200 islands in its 40 miles long by 15 miles wide cruising heaven.  There are great stretches of open water and small, winding thoroughfares.  The sea state seems to be perpetually calm, which is something of a mystery to me, and the winds moderate.

We woke this morning (19^th August) to fog obliterating all but the closest of moored boats.  As the sun gained strength, the granite ledges, rock-strewn beach and pine trees of the small bay of Merchant Island reappeared, yet with the fog still cloaking the horizon, sailing boats and small islands had an ethereal feel, as if they were suspended in mid-air.  For the rest of the day we have been privileged to a feast of delights:  the area is strewn with islands, all of which seem to try to pack as many pine trees on to their granite bases as they can.  As a result the panorama is a medley of what seem like green cargos floating on rafts of granite in a blue sea.  What the travel agent won’t tell you is how vociferously the mosquitoes bite, but it’s a small price to pay and a quick swim soon dulls the pain - as does one of John’s rum punches.