“So, ah Nate, I think we dragged your mooring a bit last night”. This was a new way to start my day, as I stared at the radio in one hand, paint brush dripping in the other, mulling over the statement just made. I had gotten up early to get a jump on what I presumed would be a busy day, and after making coffee & filling the cistern, had began some small painting projects. What I had not done was walk down to The Cove, to check on the boat that had spent the night on one of our moorings. Clearly, I should have been more concerned. “Okay” I responded, “Are you folks alright?” “Well, we are now, around 0430 when we were banging on the rocks I wasn’t sure we would be, but I got it off pretty quick”.
Understand at this point I am forming a picture in my mind of what has happened based primarily on the word “drag”. While in a full gale a ship can drag an anchor for a mile or more, on a relatively calm night the most a small boat could drag a mooring would be a few feet. Or so I foolishly assumed. I wished them well, and took my time descending the hill to check out the situation. Turns out the mooring was not dragged a few feet, or a few yards, it was carried over 300 yards, clear to the opposite corner of The Cove from its starting point.
This path, of course, goes directly across the path of the cable. Given the fact we still had lights in the Keeper’s Quarters, and in the Tower, I knew he had not dragged the mooring anywhere. The only thing I can figure is that at low tide, all of the slack had been pulled out of the mooring pennant to avoid swinging, and as the tide came in, the boat just lifted the anchor up, and away they went. What I want to know is, how we’re going to get it back?
Our day only got busier from there. Amy tells me we set a daily record for visitors this summer, with a total of 37 just today. It goes without saying that with that many visitors, the mooring shenanigans did not end. I had people rafting boats together, I had people trying to anchor who I stopped, one guy who did anchor before I could stop him (he claimed it was an emergency because his engine died…an emergency he responded to by calmly touring the island for two hours, than starting his boat up again right away when it was time to leave), and finally the crown champion, the dude who tied up to a lobster buoy. I rowed up to this clown, who had a boat full of people and beer, and quietly observed he was using a lobster buoy for a mooring. Gesturing with a beer can, he replied, “Ahh, it’ll be alright, I’ll only be a minute”. I considered that position, and responded “Well alright, but the fisherman won’t like it if he comes by, and the Game Warden will probably assume you’re trying an illegal haul”. He was gone in about ten seconds flat.
I’m wrapping the night up in my usual spot, on the futon, with Darcy Dog curled up next to me, and listening to the Dunn Family Players- our museum guests asked me if I minded them bringing up a few instruments. Two guitars, a mandolin, and a banjo, played by knowledgeable folk, make for pleasant background sound while finishing the log. Happily the weather, beautiful all day, remained so into the evening, with the temp in the low 60F’s, clear visibility, and light SW’ly breezes
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