An apple a day, keeps the doctor away. A slug of TCP through the lips, makes dentists want to quit!

While walking endless sandy beaches, warming ourselves in the hot sun and weathering storms there has been an ever present undercurrent gnawing at Iain’s soul, or more accurately his teeth. Toothache has followed Iain everywhere he has gone and the smell of TCP on his breath has made Fiona think that halitosis isn’t that bad after all.

Down east in Maine there’s not a lot of civilisation, not many services and you’ll certainly not find a practicing dentist on an island where there are only mosquitoes for company. There was nothing for it but to ‘bite the bullet’ and be creative in attacking the infection that was attacking Iain’s teeth. Iain resigned himself to gargling TCP morning and night and Fiona resigned herself to living with someone who smelt like a hospital.

Wanting to get away from the smell of TCP we left Cross Island in search of the longest sandy beach in Maine. The sun shone making the blue of the sky look like a giant sapphire and the trees were so green they could teach emeralds a thing or two. The crowning glory as we entered Roque was the white sand. It was so bright it wasn’t far from being turned into the world’s biggest diamond.

When we ventured ashore our footwear was left firmly behind, instead of leaving great boot marks we left just footprints in the soft soft sand. We paddled without freezing and never tired of just walking back and forth giving our feet a priceless pedicure. This was the usual activity for all the boats anchored in the bay, and, as we stopped and chatted with new friends, we noticed that no one we met got too close. The TCP aroma was in full effect.

We’d now been away from civilisation for days and days and needed to both hide from some nasty weather and try to reintegrate ourselves with humanity. There was also the small matter of Iain getting very bored with the TCP treatment.

Into Jonesport we ventured hoping that the boatyard would be able to supply us with washing machines for our clothes, showers for us, a dentist for Iain’s teeth and a shop to replenish our stores. Within minutes our clothes were spinning and our bodies squeaky clean; now it was time to tackle the matter of shopping as no dentist was forthcoming.

Seeking local advice we discovered that the shop described in our very up to date, 1991 pilot book, was no more and the new one was ‘a good drive away’. This presented us with a problem as we had no car but the yard said they’d happily give us a ride, not wanting to put anyone out Iain refused and said “We’ve got legs”. In the place of a ride we were simply given some car keys and told to ‘”drive slowly”.

Thinking we’d been lent the yard workhorse we went out and pushed the magic central locking button. Instead of the lights on an old banger lighting up, a brand new immaculate silver Volvo sparked into life. We’d been given a ride that came pre-pimped and we felt like pillars of society driving slowly around town in this middle class sensible car.

As the forecast weather came in, the winds started to howl and rain started to lash. We faced it like real men and hid. Taking the same manly approach of hiding was John from Aberdeen and his wife MA on a rather glamorous tugboat. All day they’d had their heating on while we wrapped ourselves in blankets and so the offer of drinks and warmth come the evening was eagerly accepted. Power boating on a budget is really quite different from sailing on a budget and we revelled in the opulent surroundings with the most entertaining company.

The joy of sailing in Maine is now in front of us once again as the sun is forecast to shine, the fog is due to be absent and the countryside is calling. The TCP treatment will continue as will the search for a dentist in this sparsely populated part of the world.

Dive, dive, dive. 1 of a 1000 Terns.


Feet in clarty stinky Cross Island mud. Great for the skin.


The non rockily anchorage at Great Beach in Roque Island.


Bare feet in super soft sand. Great for a pedicure.


Blue skies, soft sand, flat seas. It’s like the Bahamas, only chillier.


Bare feet in clear water. Amazing for the circulation.


Now that very much looks like a dead end. There is a way through there somewhere.


2 days, 2 beaches.


All alone to witness another sensational sunset.


Our world became very small once again as we were enveloped in fog.


Iain loves his new ride.


That’s nice and calm. 32 knots sustained wind in the anchorage.