Maine Windjammer | Sailing the Penobscot Bay
We board the schooner American Eagle in the late-summer darkness, the last of the 26 passengers to arrive for the four-day Penobscot Bay cruise that will set sail in the morning. Captain John Foss welcomes us. His pride in this ship that his hands transformed from a worn-out fishing schooner to a jewel of the […]
The schooner Lewis R. French at sail.
Photo Credit : Carl Tremblay
Photo Credit : Carl Tremblay
We board the schooner American Eagle in the late-summer darkness, the last of the 26 passengers to arrive for the four-day Penobscot Bay cruise that will set sail in the morning. Captain John Foss welcomes us. His pride in this ship that his hands transformed from a worn-out fishing schooner to a jewel of the Maine Windjammer Fleet is obvious after only a brief tour en route to our cabin.
In the morning I learn the first truth about windjammers: There may be no finer way to snap awake than to the sight of sunlight on the water, gulls wheeling by, lobster boats chugging to their harvest. We hoist the sails together, nearly everyone grabbing line and heaving to; with the sails snapping, we skim out of the harbor, past Owl’s Head Light, heading to wherever the wind—and Captain John’s whims—take us. “The best cruise is one with no itinerary,” he says.
Most of the people aboard have sailed the American Eagle before. They book the same week each year, like migratory birds returning to the nest. This nest comes with fresh-baked breads, pies, chowders, and stews enjoyed on deck with the sun on your face, and an all-you-can-eat lobster bake on a deserted beach.
Each day we row ashore in a dinghy. The pulling of oars feels as good as a massage, and we stroll along pebbled beaches and narrow island paths, or sit outside cafés in harbor villages whose white-painted houses appear as crisp as the breeze. At night everyone talks softly as though hushed by the blazing stars, the way you speak around a campfire. The dark settles like a blanket. We wait for Captain John to retire to the galley and read aloud to his passengers by lantern light.
On our last day we anchor off Lasell Island. I’ve seen sunsets in South America, in Florida, in the Caribbean, but I’ve never seen a twilight descend like this one. As the colors deepen, everyone grows silent.
Which leads to the second truth: In the days that follow a schooner trip, the irritations of the tiny cabins and the snores of neighbors all fade. The scent of morning at sea, the incessant splashing of water, and the dazzling light of the sun setting behind Lasell Island remain. You’ll return.
Mel Allen
Mel Allen is the fifth editor of Yankee Magazine since its beginning in 1935. His first byline in Yankee appeared in 1977 and he joined the staff in 1979 as a senior editor. Eventually he became executive editor and in the summer of 2006 became editor. During his career he has edited and written for every section of the magazine, including home, food, and travel, while his pursuit of long form story telling has always been vital to his mission as well. He has raced a sled dog team, crawled into the dens of black bears, fished with the legendary Ted Williams, profiled astronaut Alan Shephard, and stood beneath a battleship before it was launched. He also once helped author Stephen King round up his pigs for market, but that story is for another day. Mel taught fourth grade in Maine for three years and believes that his education as a writer began when he had to hold the attention of 29 children through months of Maine winters. He learned you had to grab their attention and hold it. After 12 years teaching magazine writing at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst, he now teaches in the MFA creative nonfiction program at Bay Path University in Longmeadow, Massachusetts. Like all editors, his greatest joy is finding new talent and bringing their work to light.
More by Mel Allen