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Skip report-go straight to slideshow: https://photos.app.goo.gl/ofmcUBSgGyyWunD29 Because I have never paddled there, I had the harebrained and overly-ambitious idea of CCWing inner Penobscot Bay. (Probably not) because of the virus, I had no takers for this trip, despite all the invites. As John aptly replied “Frankly, paddling around the edges of Penobscot Bay is not all that interesting.“ Nonetheless, I was able to convince my oldest son to join me for this sea safari that was to require multiple “ on the go“ changes to the original itinerary. Sunday, Aug 23-OH Harbor to: Monroe~1/2M; Sun Nite Monroe to Calderwood~11.4M; Mon Nite Calderwood to Ram (Castine)~14.4M; Tues Nite Ram I to Searsport Shores, via Castine~8.3M; Wed Nite Searsport Shores to Warren SP, via Belfast~13.2M; Th Nite Warren I to OH Harbor~15.5M; Fr Nite Total~62.8M Islesboro tides: Aug 23 Sun 1459H 0846L Mon 1554H 0938L Tues 1654H 1034L Wed 1759H 1137L Th 1905H 1244L Fri 0751H 1350L Freshly over our fog–shortened, last-day paddle from the Lobster Buoy weekend, we took advantage of the extra hours to scoot over to nearby Owls Head Harbor to prepare for our trip. Our first night was to be spent on southern Monroe Island, a short, 1/2M mile paddle to the beach, where we were welcomed to a supreme campsite. After setting up camp, we hiked along the very well-maintained trails to the northern tip of the island, idling for some time at the apex of a beautiful meadow, with panoramic views of Owls Head light, Penobscot Bay, and schooner Ladona. The following morning we were socked in by dense fog, and all hopes for an early morning 4.2M crossing to N. Heaven were dashed. As we lingered on the island, the fog slowly lifted, and by 11:30, sunny skies and flat seas were reason enough to make the 4.2M transit, so we did, without incident, stopping briefly at Crabtree Point for our requisite two-days-old Amato‘s sandwiches, with a glorious view southward to Vinalheaven. Another three-mile slog to North Heaven village, exploring the sleepy town, and stopping at the ferry terminal office to determine escape possibilities via ferry, should we be stranded by weather. By degrees, we made our way to Calderwood Island, another MCHT island, which would be our home for the next few days. We had originally planned to take off for Ram Island in Castine, but the forecast for afternoon thunder showers put a crimp in the plans, and we spent the glorious next day exploring as far as Butter Island and the Barred Island chain- a grand day out, returning just in time to crawl into our tents to avoid the sudden, violent thunderstorm upon us, lightning and booming thunder just off shore of our campsite. The following morning, we were up early to explore NE Vinalheaven’s Seal Bay, including MITA islands Little Hens (STILL can’t find access to the southernmost, tiny, high-sided islet) and Hay, the latter visited seven years ago with Rob. Later that same year, Prudence and I paddled under the tiny bridge connecting Calderwood neck with the main island at HT, without difficulty. Now, at mid-tide we encountered a dried–out passage, and quickly portaged the two boats through the 100-yard rocky and sucking-mud terrain to access the sparsely populated Seal Cove, with its many hindrances to navigation, accounting for it’s magical setting. We paddled through the area where the ebbing current split, the waters flowing south and north away from one another. We awoke early (4 AM) on our final day, to ensure that our passage from North Heaven to Owls Head would be uneventful, if the forecast of light winds held-and it did, capping off a spectacular trip, Father and Son, hopefully the first of many more. Reflections: – Be prepared with contingent plans. Dense fog is a major part of the weather system here at this time of year, and navigating a > 4 mile crossing in fog is not for the timid. – I would recommend any trip to the Heavens include a ferry. Kayaks by themselves are not allowed on the ferry-they must be car-topped. There is public parking in VinalHeaven, a short distance from the ferry terminal, and NorthHeaven has several spots open to the public, just left off the ferry. I would recommend contacting a local church or business for permission for parking if the latter trip is considered. Don’t forget your bike! -Of course, John is correct. Island hopping/exploring/hiking beats long, open crossing paddling any day! -Please consider a membership in the 2 organizations that make trips like this possible-Maine Coast Heritage Trust (MCHT) and Maine Island Trail Association (MITA).

Skip report, go straight to slideshow HERE In the pre-planning days of late winter, I worried that our numbers would crowd the small islands we had planned to camp on. As luck would have it our Group of Seven intrepid gypsies whittled itself down abruptly, one month before the planned launch date, leaving Rob and me, two solo paddlers ("bearded recluse" and the later-to-be-named "solo wanderer"), to fend for ourselves. Early on, I had relayed to Rob that I was going on this trip "no matter what". I felt compelled to clarify that statement, lest Rob think he was paddling with a crazy maverick. I assured him that I was a very cautious paddler, though I suspect he was unsettled when I told him I was comfortable paddling at night, in calm conditions. In the end, I was glad he trusted me enough to join the most-fabulous-ever trip. Within an hour of leaving the house Friday morning I received a text from Susie: "pnt btr sandwchs on counter”; reply: “frzr”; reply: “done”. The trip had officially started. We met on Friday afternoon at 3 PM, a pre-arranged time to start the bartered (in exchange for multi-day parking) work party, rather than at the end of a long trip. At the end of the two hours of toiling, we wondered who got the better end of the deal, but would realize only later that it was us. Both anxious to start our journey, we met at the pre-arranged launch site the following day at 6 AM, and were packed and ready to launch an hour-and-a-half later, taking advantage of the outgoing (two hours) tide. A cloudy start later morphed into a bright sunny day with low winds, a perfect first day to our journey. After the short crossing of Eggemoggin Reach, we swung around the northern tip of Llittle Deer Isle, Pumpkin Island light to starboard, then a straight shot to___Island, passing Pickering and Bradbury to port. A short hike to the top of the hill opened up 360° views, Camden Hills to the west, Deer Isle to the southeast, and home base to the southwest, here indicated by Rob. We hopped back into our bright-orange boats and paddled leisurely to our next stop, Mullen Head Beach, for lunch and privy. Our southerly course wound between Calderwood and Stimpson's where we were greeted with head-on 12-knot southeast winds and peak flood. The two-mile slog was barren of conversation, as predicted, though Rob's broad grin was ever-present. We finally reached the opening to Winter Harbor, and quickly identified the two Northern-most MITA islands in the group of three. We settled on the most distant island, where we would spend the next three nights. [Access to most of these islands is difficult in the lower half of the tides, but we smartly arranged the agenda to take advantage of launching and landing near high tide, except for one occasion.] We chose two side-by-side mini coves to park and set up camp. After my too-long daily baby-wipe bath we enjoyed dinner on the rocks, mine a simple pasta with sauce, enhanced by sun-dried tomatoes and vacuum-packed fresh veggies (Note: they will keep up to four days if stored in the bottom of the boat), Rob’s a simmered, lime-infused corn (hominy),onions, and garlic burrito-thingy. We watched the sun set and talked into the night, unmotivated to build a fire, content to listen to the guttural eider moans, distant seal belches, and barely-audible peepers from a nearby mainland marsh. Route of Day 1: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=5943340 Our plan was to spend the next day circumnavigating Calderwood Neck the long way, by including a long stop on __ Island, and a trip to Northaven. After breakfast (sorta-my five-day supply of oatmeal was back in the car [never pack food in a re-sealable plastic/foil bag whose presumed contents (almonds) are already packed in a 10-oz screw top plastic container]) we launched to cloudy skies near high tide, crossed the bay to __ Island, beaching at a protected northerly pebbly cove. I had hoped to bag a geocache at the top of the hill, and within minutes Rob spotted the booty just off the trail. We explored the whole island along neatly-maintained paths, and shared muted fascination with changes to the landscape. Were the seemingly-charred, juniper-like bushes in the broad field a result of a controlled brush fire, or were they evidence of a selective fungus/virus decimation? Bent grass along the trails suggested a very recent visit by mainlanders, but upon closer inspection, the thin, central line of depression was likely an animal. The chalky shell-laden path scat was deposited by some quadraped akin to a small dog, we presumed-maybe a coyote? The meticulous trail maintenance should have resulted from a power saw, but different-angled cuts surely were placed by a hand lopper? Our legs rather enjoyed the 1.2 mile land hike, a welcome diversion to hours of paddling. Upon scouring the beach at our return to the boats, I found a nice pair (yes, pair, unattached) of Teva sandals. Both without timepieces (save stowed GPS and cells), we took turns estimating the time of day, with reference to primitive methods involving analog clock faces and sun location. Apparently Rob is tuned into the universe more acutely than I, as his guess was within one minute of 11:33am! Off to Northaven via the Fox Island thorofare light, landing at a desolate muscle mussel beach. At the ferry office we were happy to top off our six-liter dromedaries, as I had lost half of my supply due to a loose cap! The eatery across the street was temporarily closed for a Sunday afternoon play at the community center. The waiting line was qued up with teenage boys, and we joined in, anticipating its finish anon. Our late lunch was delicious, Rob enjoying his “Victor” double burger with fries, my “spurch” built with pesto, avocado, artichoke, feta, onions, sun-dried tomatoes, and vinaigrette between fresh, local focaccia slices-yummie! A quick check on tomorrow's weather via Rob's Internet phone, and a bathroom break, before heading back to the boats to continue our journey around Calderwood neck. We poked into Mill River, with all its nooks and crannies, passing the three giant wind turbines that supply much of Vinalhaven’s power. The current was flooding north under the tiny bridge, and we still managed to scrape our paddles two hours before high tide. We turned west and peeked into Vinal Cove, passing shoreside quarries close to the entrance to the Cove, surprised that granite-laden vessels would dare venture this far up the inlet. Curiosity got the best of me and I was determined to explore an outcropping that I presumed might lead to a quarry above. Not to be, but the short hike and rock scramble was fun nevertheless. Water levels allowed us to pass between Penobscot Island and the mainland back to our base camp, where we set up the tarp in anticipation of rain, and enjoyed another fine supper. A visit to the tool kit for a quick, but effective field repair to Rob's balky skeg before light drizzle, fog, and a dismal weather forecast drove us to our tents early. With our plans to break camp and make a clockwise trip to Vinalhaven the next day squelched, we both decided to sleep in, with nothing on tomorrow's agenda. Route of Day 2: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=5943358 It rained heavily during the night, and I dozed off and on during the early morning hours, quite surprised to be unzipping the tent fly at 9:54. Today's forecast was for showers, mainly in the morning, and we half-expected to be lolling about, reading in our tents. My legs, not pleased with the agenda of lolling about, had other ideas. I'm not sure Rob was happy to hear the suggestion that we could walk to Vinalhaven, but being the trooper that he is, thought it a splendid idea. I had packed a pamphlet of the Huber Preserve, a beautiful trail that cuts through forest and wetlands. The trailhead was within a five-minute paddle, and we parked the boats on a large granite outcropping before embarking on our overland trek. The trail brought us to Round-the-Island Road; our eight-mile hike would cover this aptly-named "square" by traveling south, west, north, and then east along equidistant segments-no map needed. My puppies were groaning as we arrived at the only eatery open at this time of year/day, the “Harbor Gawker”. Rob ordered a fish sandwich with chowder, and I dispatched a lobster roll with haste. Not enough for this breakfast/lunch/water-deprived sailor, I chased it down with a fresh crab roll. We were perplexed why saltwater Carver’s Pond was winning the battle with the near-peak opposing flood? A quick check on tomorrow's weather (ideal) before we headed off to finish our hike. In no time we were lucky to hitch a ride with a local, who drove well out of his way to drop us off at the Preserve parking lot. We were thankful to have the lift, watching the 4 extra miles slowly tick off from the back of the speeding pick-up. Back to the boats, sharing stories of getting lost on land, before clockwising Penobscot Island back to base camp. Route of Day 3: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=5943366 We had planned to launch 6 AM for the long paddle back, but as almost always happens, we pushed off one hour late. I keep a plastic ruler and credit card calculator in my kit for purposes of calculating waypoints to recognizable aids to navigation. I had calculated W68.48.125 and N44.07.864 for nun #2, east of channel rock, at the entrance to the thoroughfare. The forecast called for showers, fog, and light winds from the east. It would be prudent to have a backup of GPS for potential fog. When we arrived at the nun my GPS read W68.48.105 N44.07.861, off by ~82 and 18 feet, respectively. On Rob's chart only, a neighboring bell buoy was conspicuously absent-remember to report to NOAA. Rob made a quick stop on ____ to rearrange his weathercocky ride; a thirteen-pound dromedary shifted from behind the backband to the fore-most cockpit did the trick. We proceeded to Spoon and Snoop Ledges, where dozens of seals, some with pups, half-surrounded our stilled boats with staring occupants. We beached at___within the Barred Island chain, despite warnings to stay away, per state of Maine law, exceptions to which include fishing, fowling, and navigation (us). I coveted Rob's newly-donned storm cag; nice to see it employed for its dual purpose off AND on the water. A long (seemingly, to this tired paddler), chilly (forecast was for 60 degrees, but my car later told me 52), and wet (showers) crossing to for a final stop, before heading back to the cars, and home. Route of Day 4: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=5943378 TAKE-HOME NOTES/OBSERVATIONS: -I was quite satisfied to have such a compatible, knowledgeable, and skilled paddling partner; we were able to agree on every major decision. -My buddy shares the same fondness for PB&J-don't ever leave home without it! -We made the right choice to camp first on the eastern side-lots of protected coves and areas to explore for several days, including day hike options. -Rob's research indicates the weather is stronger on the SE side, based on historical buoy data. Use utmost care attempting this route. -Pay attention to the weather 2-3 days out. Remember you have to make the long return trip once out there, yet still allow a full day or more for exploring. -Always wear a timepiece-important for dead reckoning. -GPS data indicates our cruising speed averages 3.3-3.5k. -Practice calculating waypoints; fog is ever-present in this neck of the waters. -Breakfast and lunch are over-rated (my back-up: lemon granola bars, Dove chocolate squares, and 10 oz almonds).