More of Portsmouth, New Hampshire and on to Maine

Peter wanted to spend another day at the stylist marina on New Castle Island in Portsmouth so he could install the new AIS transponder properly, clean the port fuel tank (the one that accidentally had water introduced) and do other tasks. Unable to do all the necessary and important work that he performs almost daily, Shalako and I left him on the boat and drove the courtesy car to downtown Portsmouth to visit the Strawbery Banke Museum when the buildings were open. 

At the visitor's center, a staff member provided us with a great introduction to the history of the area. Indigenous people, particularly the Abenaki tribe and their ancestors, used the area seasonally for over 12,000 years, through the middle of the 17th century, when European colonists settled there. A white settlement was first established in 1620s, and a mercantile economy soon became successful beside the tidal basin. The main trade was in salted cod, which was shipped worldwide.

Several of the buildings are open to visitors, some with exhibits on various aspects of life during different eras including the indigenous culture, conflict and treaties, shipbuilding, kitchen work in colonial times, weaving. Others are furnished and supplied with items from different times, including the Little Corner Store and attached home of the grocer, staged for 1943; the Aldrich House (built in 1797) and Garden as it would have been furnished in the mid-19th century; and the Walsh House (built in 1796) as it would have been looked around 1800. 

A loom on which a rag rug is being made

Sherri trying out weaving

Interior of the Little Corner Store

Products and prices

Exterior of the Litlle Corner Store

Museum staff welcomed us to each building that was open. When we climbed the steps to the Aldrich House, a intense, tiny old man started speaking us with a well-rehearsed monologue before our feet were fully on the landing. Much shorter than I am, he wore an assortment of mismatched clothes, including a fake-suede camel-colored sports jacket a few sizes to big; a tie featuring bright orange abstractions; a belt cinched around his waist (which sloped inward from his chest); and tan pants, also too large, the waistband bunched up between the belt loops. White-haired, he had evidently shaved himself but, either because of bad eyesight, lack of manual agility or indifference, had missed a few places, particularly among the folds of his skin. 

His speech, into which we could not have been able to interject a word, concerned the man who had lived in this house, the home of his grandparents, for a few years as a boy as well as his wife (later widow), Mark Twain and others. There was a clear assumption that we were familiar this famous personage and his friendships, which we were not, making it difficult to follow the old man's narrative, which had a tendency to turn into mild ranting. We did make out that the boy who became a famous author as an adult was Thomas Bailey Aldrich, whom we had never heard of before. (The Internet provided me with the information that he was a writer, poet, critic and editor, notably of The Atlantic Monthly for nine years.) This wizened old man was railing against Aldrich's most famous work, The Story of a Bad Boy, because it was presented as semi-autobiographical but, according to him, who had extensively studied the life of Aldrich, was pure fiction. In fact, he had researched the matter for 20 years and written a book, which he had on display alongside the Bad Boy book. 

Wondering how we would ever escape, we were relieved when a family ascended the steps, and we politely told the old man that we should continue inside to allow them space. The rooms inside of the home, obviously owned by a prosperous family, are elegantly furnished, and I was particularly enchanted by the elaborate canopies and linens on the beds. 

Aldrich House dining room

Bedroom in the Aldrich House

Another bedroom in the Aldrich House

And another bedroom

A sitting room in the Aldrich House

Formal parlor in the Aldrich House

After strolling around more of the museum property and enjoying the beauty of Governor Goodwin's garden, we decided to return to boat for lunch. I suspected that Peter had not stopped for lunch, and I was right. Shalako and I stopped in marina office to see if a package containing Peter's Father's Day present ha arrived. It had not, but we were offered and readily accepted donuts and muffins left over from an event in the morning. Shalako started nibbling away at one on the docks. We all had dessert before we ate a proper meal.

Goodwin garden

Goodwin Garden and side of the house

Peter among tools and removed panels and equipment

UPS had attempted to deliver the package on Saturday but had arrived after the office closed at 4 p.m. When it had not arrived just before the office closed on Sunday, I staked out the entrance, armed with a book to read, and waited an hour before the UPS delivery person showed up. 

While Peter continued to work on the boat and Shalako finished up fixing up the fenders, I spent a couple hours in the galley making three kinds of soup and a dish of Spanish rice with sauteed vegetables to provide us with meals for the next few days. After dinner, Peter opened his gift from Katya and Matthew, work overalls just like the ones he uses at home for dirty work, but quite a few sizes too big. I must have inadvertently selected wrong. 

Peter opening his gift

Peter's entire body from feet to above his head are behind the overalls!

After dinner and present-opening, Peter went onshore to shower and then the three of us played a game of Take5, staying up past 11 p.m. It was nearly 9 this morning when we all woke up. Before we left the marina, Peter did the online paperwork to clear in to a new area of New England with U.S. Customs and Border Protection and then worked on the squeakiness and stiffness that had developed in the wheel quadrant (I think that is what it is called.).

We cast off at 11:20 with southerly winds at 6-8 knots--a great direction, but not enough strength! Although the wind did increase a bit after we got out on the open ocean, it was not until four hours later that it was sufficient for sailing without the engine. (We could count on both hands the number of hours we have actually spent sailing since we left Oxford, Maryland, on May 30.) Sailing at 5-7 knots on a broad reach, we made it to Wood Island Harbor at the mouth of the Saco River near Biddeford and anchored in 5 meters of water shortly after 5 p.m. The surface of the water was smooth but southeast swells rocked us side to side. The rocky shoreline and increased number of lobster pots requires increased vigilance and lets us know we are now in Maine. The tidal range is now 9 feet. We anchored an hour and a half after high tide and watched as islands became bigger, others emerged and rocky outcroppings popped up as the tide dropped.

Lobster pots and rocky coastline by Whaleback Light

Still we wait for summer weather. We had our foulie jackets on over two layers when we were at the helm as a chilly wind made the air temperture, which never even reached 60 degrees, seem much colder. At least the sun was shining. Nevertheless, Shalako and I both had on wooly beanies down below(!) as daytime came to an end. 

Sunset in Wood Island Harbor