Knowledge is power and the all knowing are all powerful. As we entered America we thought that with our knowledge we were pretty powerful. This however was all about to be turned on its head as Customs and Border Protection always have more knowledge and more power than the ordinary Joe that you’d find on Ruffian.

Before leaving Canada we’d gleaned some knowledge from US customs. They told us with some authority that we could check back into the USA in the little town of Cutler. This went against everything we’d seen on the web, everything we’d read in books and everything other cruisers told us, but frankly Cutler was more convenient for us. So we arrived in Cutler, got on the phone and our knowledge was quickly replaced by ignorance.

We were put on our place as the customs officer dispelled the gospel truth that we were in the wrong place and had to either sail 20 miles upwind, to Bar Harbour, or 20 miles up-tide, to Eastport. Donning big sorrowful eyes and our finest English accents we pleaded that we were a little boat, that we were foreigners in a strange land and that we’d done just as we’d been told. Quick as a flash, taking pity on the ignorant Ruffians, the now lovely customs officer dispatched a CBP officer in full uniform to meet us on the beach and check us into the USA and replace our ignorance with knowledge.

Now legal, we hiked both sides of the harbour and it was time for chores and the usual search for water. On the dock we asked a friendly fisherman about water and motioning to a house he said ‘You could just fill up there at the tap in the garden.’ Armed with jerry cans we started filling much to the consternation and surprise of the owner. In hindsight the fisherman had said ‘could’ and not ‘can’. We were reminded that we were in a foreign country where the folk spoke American and not the Queen’s English.

Offshore from Cutlers is a little visited island that is home to one of the world’s largest Puffin colonies. Puffins, as birds go, are pretty rubbish. They are not that good at flying, they build nests on rock and with their multi coloured bills, puffy cheeks and black suits they look like a vicar after a big night. As a sight however they are tremendous, their waddling flight makes the heart sour and they are masterful fishermen putting us to shame. We had to go and see them.

It was perfect weather as we approached the island. The seas were flat calm; the only ripples were made by 1000’s of puffins diving deep into the water and by terns following them in close formation while bald eagles soared high above looking for prey. Like aquatic bees, everywhere we looked seemed to be covered in Puffins.

As an anchorage, even with no wind and no waves, Machias Seal Island is completely untenable so after taking hundreds of photos we bid a fond farewell to our 1000’s of new friends and left them to their daily battle to find food.

We were now entering deserted ‘down east’ Maine and shared the most idyllic fir tree fringed bay with nothing but singing seals. The only sign of civilisation was a deserted coastguard station and a target that was no 3 on the Russians hit list during the cold war, the USA’s huge Ultra Low Frequency (ULF) base that towered over us.

Intrigued to explore the deserted coastguard station Iain climbed in through a window while Fiona found a much more conventional entrance - she pushed open the unlocked front door. The place felt welcoming in the extreme and we discovered it is the centre of outward bound adventures. The visitor’s book spoke volumes about the simple pleasures of the sea and hiking the island and we took these to heart as we had the whole island to ourselves.

The pretty ‘town’ of Cutler.


Maine beachcombing.


The bell tolls for Larry.


We’re in Maine. Lobsta pots in the national colours.


This tree seems a bit confused as to which way was up.


Hiking, hiking everywhere.


The coast goes on forever.


He’ll be eating some of his flying friends on Machias Seal Island.


Puffins are simply brilliant.


And look most amusing from the back.


And like bullets from the side.


That’s what we like. Flat anchorages in the sunshine.


The no 3 nuclear bomb target in the USA. Their primary ULF station.


Our ensign is getting some more TLC.


Ruffian all alone.


Anyone fancy mushrooms on toast for lunch?


The view from the coastguard station.


Ah that’ll be the tide going out and leaving Thug high and dry.