Arnold Schwarzenegger famously said ‘I’ll be back’ and then returned armed to the nines for his task in hand. This time last year we said ‘We’ll be back’ to Mount Desert and have returned armed, or footed as the case maybe, with new hiking boots for the mountains and an OCC flag for socialising.

Waving goodbye to ‘Down East’ we were suddenly back in well trodden cruising grounds. We could see more yachts in one quick scan of one part of the horizon than we have since we entered Nova Scotia all those miles ago. There is no way that we could describe ourselves as alone or even lonely and our social calendar was rammed.

The first stop on the Ruffian social extravaganza was a flying visit to see “Breakaway” in the Cranberry Isles and it was then on to the OCC 60th anniversary rally. Motoring around the anchored OCC fleet was a microcosm of our travels. There was “Equinox” (last seen in Madeira), “Moon Rebel” (last seen in Mindello), “Petronella” (last seen in Hampton), “Over Budget” (last seen in St Martin), “Grace” (last seen in Rhode Island), “Blue Highway” (last seen in the Bahamas) and many friends who we hadn’t yet met.

With our minds exercised, or pickled, by all the social engagements it was time to exercise our bodies on some of the mountains that towered over us on every side. Into the mountains we climbed and started ticking off the peaks. Norumberga Mountain, tick, Eliot Mountain, tick, Cedar Swamp Mountain, tick and with blisters forming it was now time to head down and catch the last bus home. Getting our lefts and rights mixed up and more ridiculously our ups and downs, instead of finding ourselves at the bus stop, we scaled our 4th mountain of the day, Sargent Mountain, tick. Unfortunately there would no tick put next to the last bus home as it could be seen disappearing over the far horizon.

Finally getting to sea level, the car parks were worryingly quiet and the roads scarily fast and busy with people in their own personal bus sized cars. The last thing that Fiona’s blisters wanted were more blisters that would grow on the 5 mile walk home along soul destroying roads in the unrelenting baking sunshine.

As usual our good Karma held and a lost driver stopped for directions. Magically we knew where his campsite was, and which, even more magically was also host to a bus stop. So with only enormous blisters, instead of blisters on blisters, we returned to Ruffian by public transport ready for anther social whirl.

On Ruffian we welcomed Peter and Marina from “Sea Bear”. They were the most perfect guests in the world. Not only did they come with wine, but somehow, seemed to know it was Fiona’s birthday and came with her one and only present (bad Iain) complete with a Ruffian themed wrapping from that days New York Times.

Having Sea Bear’s company was a real honour and we felt humbled in their company. Peter dropped into the conversation that sailing to Australia he fancied being back in Maine and so he simply turned around and sailed home. Before he got home however he rounded Cape Horn, visited the Falkland’s, went north via South Georgia and just to make it a bit more challenging he did it alone. Wow. What a man, what a life. It put into place the easy warm miles that we’ve been sailing.

Day after day we scaled the peaks in the sunshine without a hint of fog obstructing the views and day after days Fiona’s blisters grew. At each and every peak we marvelled at the places we have been to east and west, and how many more places there are to see. If we ever grew bored of the sensational views and colours on the large scale of Maine, we could turn our attention to the micro scale of the blister mountains that had formed on Fiona feet and the gnarly colours they were turning after pounding on the granite.

While we’d been hitting the hills the OCC fleet had been having a much more sedate and sensible time going to museums and gardens and the rally was drawing to a close. After a day of taking in just 2 peaks Fiona’s feet could finally get a rest and we were bound for one last social whirl.

Lastminute.com goes no way to describe our entry to the last night drinks, we went from bus to boat, from filthy to squeaky clean, from Somesville to Southwest Harbor, from alone on Ruffian to surrounded by friends, without a second to spare. Doug & Dale’s organisation was exemplarity and the night went off without a hitch. Our organisation wasn’t quite so hot, not only had we forgotten to turn our anchor light on so we lost poor Ruffian in the anchorage, but we’d also forgotten to bring a torch ashore making walking through the pruned gardens and flowing wild flower meadows somewhat of a challenge where we had to be rescued by “Blue Highway”.

Mount Desert like its name suggests has once again been a sweet experience. The mountains have been challenging, the views have gone on forever and the people we have met and been memorable in the extreme.

It’s true the bugs are bigger than people.


Happy Birthday to you. Fiona receives a gift from a sister of the seas.


The joy of sunshine.


You really can see forever.


The water looks lovely enough to swim in.


Top of the hill. Time to relax.


Top of a hill. Time for the next one.


Go high where the air is thin.


Who’s more scared? Him or us?


Even the waterboat men are photogenic in Mount Desert.


The assembled OCC fleet in Southwest Harbor.


Larry, being a llama, is in his element in the mountains (safely tucked up inside Iain’s rucksack).


And at the bottom he makes the prefect pillow while waiting for the bus.