Day 28 – Lunenburg
Yesterday, we overheard a local say that the tall ships were coming in tomorrow morning, for the Lunenburg Folk Festival. As I laid in bed, I heard the loud, deep horn of one said tall ship announcing her arrival. After visual confirmation of said arrival, I attempted to fall back asleep, but soon after the Wylde Swan had glided past more ships started blaring their horns, bleating or booming. The clamor rose to literal cannon fire and I conceded to rising.
The barque Europa came into the harbor, white hull shining, square rigged sails tall, and contributed the deepest, rumbling, bass horn imaginable to the symphony. Other ships and boats answered her call in relative embarrassment.
We hopped into The Dingy, crown jewel of the harbor, started rowing and managed to shear the screws of the starboard oar lock clean through. Andrew now rowing only the port oar while I paddled the starboard, we reversed course and limped, comically, back to Isla. Screws replaced, we rowed back to town.
The docks were now swarmed with tourists, surprising for a Thursday morning. We joined the masses, looking at the remarkable sea-faring relics, thirteen all told, now tucked into their appropriately sized berths.
Andrew recognized the Bowdoin, the Maine Maritime Academy’s schooner. She was designed for arctic exploration, and relegated to cheerful-touristy-port-town exploration, evidently. We walked up to the Anglican church and I followed Andrew through an overpriced but very stylish boutique and then a coffee shop. We went into the bookstore next door and saw two Torontonians we had met in the Brooklyn Marina. The bookseller took a picture of Caly and talked to us about sailing in Maine, specifically we commiserated about the sheer density of lobster buoys around Mount Desert Island.
Caly wasn’t allowed on the docks where the tall ships were tied, so we took turns watching her or walking around and on the huge vessels. We stopped at Foodland on the way back and grabbed burgers to grill, and for the very first time, two blocks of ice for the ice box. I bought half a gallon of milk, which I’d been missing desperately for the lack of refrigeration.
The wind was now strong enough, and precisely aligned, to push dinghy-rolling waves across the harbour. Groceries in hand we weighted her very carefully before setting off. The row to Isla was alarmingly rolly and also exhausting; the waves and wind pushed hard between each stroke. The effort required many more minutes and, in the name of forward progress, a much faster pace than I would have liked. I felt a slight shake in my arms as I pulled myself up onto Isla‘s deck, still breathing hard. After dinner we enjoyed a much easier row back into town and took pictures of the tall ships at night.
When we walked back to the dinghy dock, Andrew saw “the Lunenburg Harbor cat” disappear under the pier. Judging from the wet paw prints and slide mark at the edge of the dock, it must have been an otter. Or a very aquatically inclined cat. A harbor cat, if you will. We rowed to the far side of the harbor and walked up the golf course to the opposite hill, to take pictures of the entire town.
The mosquitoes quickly proved unbearable for any more long exposure photography and we returned to Isla with countless bites, but also a few nice photos.
