Fogged IN

                            Sunrise overlooking Deer Island, New Brunswick, Canada from Seaview                                                                                                  

                                                 Leaving Seaview , Eastport, Maine

   Glumly I sit watching the droplets of rain slowly trickle down the window, barely able to see Doc's Holiday swaying on the mooring only 100 feet away. We didn't get three miles from Seaview Camp Ground when we looked up and saw a wall of fog coming in over the Lubec-Campobello bridge . Before we got half way, the bridge became invisible as the fog surrounded us like a shroud. We stopped and waited. Within minutes the bridge appeared and disappeared. It's known locally as a "breathing fog" and what was on the other side of it was to us, unknown.                                                                                                                                        
                                                                        
 "No way", says Beth.  "I'm not going. "

"But! But! But," I managed to squeak out.

"No Buts. I'm not going. PERIOD! End of discussion.!" was her response.

  I was stymied.  We turned and took a mooring in front of the Eastport Chowder House.


                                                                              

                                                                    "FOG"                                
                
     All of my peeps who thought they might be able to help me get the boat south, now had other commitments or different time lines.  Shrugging off my suggestion of recruiting a bikini clad crew with "Go for it!", Beth reluctantly agreed. (Who says pleading with a pouting lower lip doesn't work!)
I was not about to lose the one crew that I knew would stick with me the whole trip.
     Anyway, Eastport is a great place to be stranded.  Filled with hard working, friendly, fun-loving people who go out of their way to make things enjoyable for those who wander into the area.
      Take Bob Del Papa for instance, a business owner and restauranteur (owner of the Chowder House and the Waco diner).  He admitted that he makes a little more than breaking even  here in Eastport, but it was worth it because of the local people that have befriended and helped him build his business. " These are the friendliest people in the world," he commented.
     Take Susha for instance. A beautiful Russian bartender/waitress who works for Bob at the Chowder House, quick to laugh when I tried to replicate her ordering a cocktail  in Russian.  "No, its WODKA! Only harder with a growl." she yelled.  Patrons at the bar broke out laughing.
     Bob has installed new docks in front of the Waco Diner and new heavy mooring balls in front of the Chowder House. " No charge for locals because they are going to come in to eat." says Bob. Transients pay only $25.00 per night for the mooring balls and the food is excellent.
    My brother-in -law Danny Kennedy and I spent weeks fixing all that continued to plague Doc's Holiday after her long lay up.  Danny Waggoner from Eastport, and I spent days getting the computerized navigation system functioning.  A big thank you to the Dannies and a host of others who helped (my good friend Marshall Lucas, Nick and Wendy Reid, Basil Pottle, and of course Beth.)
     In the three days prior to our planned departure, Beth supplied the boat with what she thought were the essentials.  "Damn! Do you think we are going across the Atlantic!" I quipped.  We spent three days wrapping and freezing steaks, salmon, hamburger, and the all important bologna, along with hauling cases of bottled water, fruits, vegetables, frozen bread, potatoes and enough butter to slide our way to Florida. All in all we were exhausted before we began to leave,  so a few days sitting in the fog would allow us to rest up and if I have my way, catch up on a little alone time.