December 2024
By Christopher Birch
Marinas are handy, moorings are great, but nothing beats the satisfaction that comes from spending a night at anchor. As the year winds down, I’m feeling nostalgic for some of my favorite spots to drop the hook along our beloved New England coastline and have compiled a list of my top nine anchorages.
In part one, published in the Fall 2024 issue of Points East, I counted down from number 9 to number 7:
Here in part two, the countdown continues with favorite anchorages numbers 6, 5, and 4.
The southern end of the Muscle Ridge Channel is one of my favorite landfalls. The ocean swell flatlines as Whitehead Island and the iconic Whitehead Light pass astern. The fog that prevented an earlier landfall tends to dissipate around here and the sun warms the boat. A southwest wind delivers smooth sailing on a broad reach in flat water towards the Camden Hills. For many sailors, this is the moment to exhale deeply and celebrate a cherished summer sailing tradition: a return to the Penobscot Bay.
A sprawl of small islands sit off to starboard. Tucked away in there, almost hiding, is the protected anchorage between islands named Birch, High, and Dix. It’s the perfect place to stop and rest after arriving from offshore. The surroundings deliver that familiar tableau of spruce, atop granite, atop low-tide weed, all segregated as crisply as Neapolitan ice cream. Temperatures run pleasantly cool in the shade and pleasantly warm in the sun. No one else is in sight and it’s quiet. The air is cleaner than any you’ve inhaled in a long time, or so it seems. You’re back in Maine, a place you’ve been missing since last summer.
Dix Island is home to a commune. Visiting sailors are welcome to land a dinghy and enjoy the walking path, spongy under foot with pine needles, that circles the island. The granite quarried from High Island was used to build the Custom House Tower on the Boston waterfront centuries ago. That island is off-limits for visitors now, or so says the sign. Tiny, uninhabited Birch Island (no relation) doubles in size at low tide when a sprawling network of sandbars dry out and snake away towards deep water. A fine place to run a dog or dig for clams or sit with a book in the sun and nap instead of read.
The perfect day has you pulling anchor from Birch/High/Dix (see above) and sailing across the western Penobscot toward the Fox Islands with a building southwest breeze kicking up whitecaps on your starboard quarter. Jibing down the meandering thoroughfare between the islands, I imagine you’ll probably find time to sit back with foot on tiller and enjoy a sandwich. Then, when the eastern Pen Bay comes into view, you’ll tighten up onto a close reach and carefully make your way into Vinalhaven’s Seal Bay where you’ll drop anchor and still-wet chain to the bottom once again. A celebratory arrival beverage is in order, because you’ve just moved up a peg on my greatest New England anchorage list and had a twofer kind of day.
The gunkholing is what makes Seal Bay so special. The labyrinth of routes you can explore by oar here is epic. It’s helpful to break the options down by difficulty level using the ski mountain protocol:
The green circle route takes you out and around woodsy David Island. Waiting for mid-tide or higher is advised. A delightfully tight and twisty waterway passing between rocky shores in clear water will be your reward. The blue square route is a bit longer and has you circumnavigating Penobscot Island. If you are daring, you will break up this row by beaching your dinghy under a bold granite face and scramble up to the top for a view over one of several Winter Harbor anchorages. The black diamond route has you rowing all the way back to the town of North Haven via an intricate inland passage. Once again, high tide is required. So are strong arms; it’s a long row! You may need to wait out a half-cycle of the tide while in town. If so, there is a good new brewery there – North Haven Brewing – in which to while away the hours. But mind your p’s & q’s, because you still have a five-mile row back to the mothership ahead of you.
Way Downeast over the waves and through the fog, past the Penobscot Bay, past Acadia’s Cadillac Mountain, past ’Tit Manan Bar, past all the delights that can be found in Jonesport’s Eastern Bay, and nearly in Canada, sits a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow called Roque Island. The remote nature of the place is half its appeal. The massive crescent of white sand beach is the other half. A lot of sailing is required to get to Roque (#worthit). Dropping your anchor here is a bit like stepping on the summit of Mt. Everest: an accomplishment worth savoring.
Hey, isn’t this supposed to be a list of top anchorages in all of New England? Why are only anchorages in Maine included? Fair question. Nine might be a basebally sort of number, but this isn’t the Major League All-Star game and not every New England state is granted an entry in my top nine anchorage list. Truth is most (but not all) of my top spots are in Maine. And I call ’em the way I see ’em.
Christopher Birch is the founder of Birch Marine Inc. on Long Wharf, Boston. He and his wife, Alex, are now cruising full-time aboard their 36’ Morris Justine. Follow their voyage at www.EagleSevenSailing.com.
The post My favorite anchorages – Part 2 appeared first on Points East Magazine.
