Where does all the time go? Each morning starts with checking the weather. No, not just sitting up in bed and looking out the window, but checking all the various weather apps. Next, turn off the anchor light, turn on the genset, turn on the watermaker and then do all the jobs that need doing while the genset is running. This can be anything from putting the dinghy in the water for shore based fun to vacuuming to washing/drying and dishwasher while Maynard checks the engine room and tends to any loose hose clamps, checks bilges and goes through the day’s maintenance jobs if any. The genset runs approximately two hours each morning and evening and during the day, if the sun is out, the batteries are charged with the solar panels. We have our power consumption down to a fine art. So far this cruising season, we’ve been on the anchor for the last 57 days straight with no time on a dock at all. We provide all our own power and water and are completely comfortable 99.9% of the time. Our objective is usually to find new anchorages and go back to those we love.
Last weekend we took Vanish out to Matinicus Rock, a distance of 25 NM offshore as the forecast was 5 to 10 kn SW and 1 to 2 ft seas although it turned out we experienced higher winds. Matinicus Rock was an ideal place for puffins to breed amongst the rocks and tufts of grass but by 1908 only 1 pair of puffins remained as the rest had been slaughtered for their meat and feathers. We visited Matinicus Rock back in 2012 to see the new colony of puffins and were so impressed that we wanted to see them again this year. There are now over 500 pairs of puffins breeding on the rock every year during the summer months. Matinicus Rock is a very lonely foreboding rock in the middle of the ocean subject to huge swells and the worst of the weather. A lighthouse was built on the rock in 1827 which was built again and again due to it being constantly washed away. A stone lighthouse now exists which has a foghorn and radio beacon.
Back in the middle of the 19th Century, Samuel Burgess and his family were lightkeepers on the Rock. He spent a great deal of his time fishing and counted on his daughter Abbie to tend the light when he was away. Abbie described the great gale of January 19, 1856 in a letter to a friend when she was 17 years old. Her mother was sick and her father had rowed, yes rowed, to the mainland as they were short of food. “Early in the day, as the tide rose, the sea made a complete breach over the rock, washing every movable thing away, and of the old dwelling not one stone was left upon another. The new dwelling was flooded, and the windows had to be secured to prevent the violence of the spray from breaking them in. As the tide came, the sea rose higher and higher, till the only endurable places were the light towers. If they stood we were saved, otherwise our fate was only too certain. But for some reason, I know not why, I had no misgivings, and went on with my work, as usual…
“You know the hens were our only companions. Becoming convinced as the gale increased, that unless they were brought into the house they would be lost, I said to mother, ‘I must try to save them.’ She advised me not to attempt it. The thought, however, of parting with them without an effort was not be be endured, so seizing a basket, I ran out a few yards after the rollers had passed and the sea fell off a little, with the water knee deep, to the coop, and rescued all but one. It was the work of a moment, and I was back in the house with the door fastened, but I was none too quick, for at that instant my little sister, standing at the window, exclaimed, ’Oh look! Look there! The worst sea is coming.’ That wave destroyed the old dwelling and swept the rock. I cannot think you would enjoy remaining there any great length of time, for the sea is never still and when agitated, its roar shuts out every other sound, even drowning our voices.” Abbie’s story is now a wonderful children’s book which I gave to my eldest Granddaughter in 2012,
Keep the Lights Burning, Abbie. Again back in 1975 as keepers watched from the light tower, another great wave once again swept across Matinicus Rock which is impressive considering it is 56 feet above sea level.
We circled the island carefully avoiding the many lobster buoys, weird currents and swells pushing us up onto the rocks. We saw puffins, razorbills, guillemots and terns in abundance. We also went to Seal Rock to view puffins. A live camera is set up and can be viewed during daylight hours on the internet. If you google “puffin project webcam” you can also view the puffins. The chart shows a large red circle completely surrounding Seal Rock saying “DANGER AREA” so we didn’t stay long.
So, each day contains a new experience and often a new adventure. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “You must do the things you think you cannot do.” I’m not sure I can live by her mantra, but I’m sure trying.