Maine: Low bridges on high seas, plenty of fun
Maine windjammers don't have a lot of room, but passengers still have plenty of fun
ROCKLAND, Maine -- With our feet planted on the windjammer's deck, our knuckles white from clutching the thick ropes, we waited anxiously for our cue.
"Ready on the throat?" Captain Jon yelled.
(Courtesy)
WHEN TO GO: The season spans mid-May to mid-October. In autumn, the fall colors come alive.
BOOK A TRIP: The J&E Riggin offers three-, four- and six-day excursions. This year's remaining cruises cost $899 a person for six-day trips and $590 for a four-day "fall color getaway," Oct. 6-9. Next year, prices range from $539 to $967. Meals are included; www.mainewindjammer.com; (800) 869-0604. Info on other windjammer trips in Maine can be found at www.sailmainecoast.com or by calling (800) 807-9463.
"Ready on the throat!" we shouted back.
"Haul away on the throat!" Captain Jon ordered.
At least half a dozen passengers and crew started pulling with all our might on the halyard, hoisting "the throat," or upper corner of the massive sail. This giant canvas sheet would harness the wind and send us slicing through the calm waters of Penobscot Bay.
A similar scene plays out on roughly a dozen other windjammers that spend Memorial Day to Columbus Day taking guests on three-day to weeklong sailing trips off the mid-coast of Maine.
These old-fashioned historic schooners leisurely wend their way around some of the state's 3,000 islands, past iconic lighthouses, bobbing lobster buoys and the occasional harbor seal.
For the 20 to 40 passengers, days on a windjammer are long and lazy, punctuated by the occasional burst of adrenaline that comes with helping the crew hoist the mainsail or reel in the anchor.
Landlubbers, don't worry: These tall ships typically stick to protected waters, so seasickness generally isn't an issue.
In early June, my family hopped aboard the J&E Riggin for the "Lighthouses and Lobsters" cruise, named for two Maine staples.
Built in 1927 to dredge for oysters, the Riggin is a floating National Historic Landmark that would be our home for three days.
When staying on a schooner, think camping, not cruise ship. My husband and I, along with my stepson Ben, 7, shared below-deck quarters that were smaller than most walk-in closets. We had three skinny bunk beds and a small sink with cold water. The ship's 24 guests and additional crew shared a pair of toilets -- or heads -- that are just a smidge bigger than airplane lavatories.
With a deck 89 feet long and 23 feet wide, there isn't a ton of room to spread out. But there are a ton of opportunities to bump your head. Ben was the only guest who didn't walk away with a souvenir bruise.
But hey, this is the high seas, not the Four Seasons. And what the Riggin lacked in space and creature comforts, it more than made up for in character.
Native Midwesterners Anne Mahle and her husband, Captain Jon Finger -- a Hoosier who learned to sail on Lake Michigan -- bought the Riggin a decade ago.
The business is a real family affair, with the couple's two young daughters often tagging along for the ride. Captain mans the helm, but his wife is master and commander of the most important part of the ship: the galley.
Mahle, an impossibly energetic, professionally trained chef, bakes her own bread and cooks three delicious, elaborate meals a day with ingredients culled from her own garden and local farms. And she does it all on a woodburning stove in a kitchen that's cramped even by Manhattan studio standards.
The culinary highlight of our trip wasn't on the ship; it was on a desolate island. Captain Jon ferried us there on a yawl boat he made by hand. While passengers stretched their legs touring the island, our traditional Maine lobster bake cooked over the fire in a steel tub full of salt water, seaweed and corn on the cob.
Back on board that night, Captain Jon and Mahle treated us to a concert under the stars. He played guitar, she sang folk songs.
Was there anything these two couldn't do? I half expected them to invite us to grab a cup of cocoa and gather 'round while they decoded the human genome.
Their youngest daughter, Ella, 7, had a talent of her own: making fast friends with Ben. The first-graders had a blast swabbing the deck, coiling ropes, hoisting flags and baking a pirate ship out of bread, complete with sails made from chopsticks and paper towels. The windjammer was their giant playground -- better yet, a playground with a cannon that Captain Jon shot off twice.
After three days of bonding over lobsters and lighthouses, it was time for these two junior deckhands to go their separate ways.
Ben and Ella shared a tearful goodbye hug on the pier. Ben wiped his eyes, took his dad's hand and walked away from the Riggin -- and a very sad Ella.
Come to think of it, maybe Ben did get a souvenir bruise. Just not the kind you can see.