I stopped in for the night at Cliff Island on my way back from Malaga during my Mini Solo Cruise, and we stopped there again during a family weekend on the boat soon afterwards. I first checked it out just last year, but since then I've anchored or moored there repeatedly, as it is very conveniently located. Like Chandler Cove, it is close enough to Portland that I can reach it on a whim. It is also right next door to Jewell Island, which is one of the most popular cruising destinations on Casco Bay, thanks to its many trails and ruined WWII fortifications. The anchorage at Jewell, however, is pretty tight. Cliff Island makes a great easy-to-reach default destination if you get shut out there, or if an inopportune wind shift forces you out at some godforsaken hour.

Next stop on my Mini Solo Cruise after Little Chebeague Island was all the way the other side of Casco Bay at the mouth of the New Meadows River. Malaga Island, as you can see, is wedged between Bear Island and the village of Sebasco, which is part of the larger town of Phippsburg on the Cape Small peninsula. I know the east side of this peninsula, which is bounded by the Kennebec River, extremely well, but have only begun exploring the west side in detail since I started sailing Lunacy out of Portland three years ago. I was particularly interested in visiting Malaga because of its grim and unfortunate history, which lately has been discussed much more openly than in the past.

Taft & Rinlaub's Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast is a bit dismissive of Chandler Cove, which is bounded by Great Chebeague Island to the north and east, Little Chebeague Island to the west, and Long Island to the south. The guide complains that the cove is a bit too large and deep to be comfortable in anything but settled weather, but fails to note it is almost perfectly situated as a short-notice get-away hidey hole for people (like me) who keep boats in and around the city of Portland. Many times I have hopped aboard Lunacy very late in the afternoon, cast off her mooring, and have wafted north into Chandler for the night on the remnant of the day's southwest sea breeze. In the cove's upper bight there is perfect protection against any northerly nastiness, plus there are always more than a few empty moorings available. Most of these are plenty stout enough to stand up to any southerly wind you are likely to meet during the summer, even if you're sailing a 21,000-pound tank like Lunacy.

I anchored out in Chandler Cove, just east of Little Chebeague, for the first time during my recent Mini Solo Cruise. The wind was flat-out westerly, so the smaller Chebeague offered better protection than the larger one. Plus, I wasn't quite in a "pick-up-a-mooring" sort of mood. I dropped the hook in 30 feet of water at low tide (or about 40 feet at high tide), which is a little bit deep, but not too bad.

After working my way through a short punch list of boat chores the following day (including my temporary Gamage damage repairs), I went ashore to explore the island itself.

Having massaged the Insurance Gods to ensure the financing of more permanent solutions, I set out during my recent Solo Mini Cruise of Casco Bay to undo some of the damage inflicted on our poor Lunacy by the Big Bad Schooner Harvey Gamage. The ugliest bit, you may recall, was the bent forwardmost stanchion post on Lunacy's starboard side. The post is solid aluminum stock, perhaps an inch or more in diameter, so I knew it would take a Mighty Force (indeed) to make it more or less straight again.

A flash of inspiration rippled through my aging brain cells. Recalling the awful predicament of Bernard Moitessier, after the bowsprit on his steel ketch Joshua was bent in a collision with a freighter off South Africa during the legendary Golden Globe Race, I fastened a tackle to the injured post, fastened the other end to a strong point on my bow pulpit, then led the fall aft to a primary winch.

This could be one of those Twilight Zone triple-coincidence stories that once upon a time kept me up to my armpits in pulpy comic books. Cue orchestra; dial up the basso profundo Rod Serling voice-over: "And there's the signpost, straight up ahead…"

You'll recall we left the good ship Lunacy pining on a mooring in Bermuda (with a perfectly good starter), waiting for me to welcome home Reid Stowe AND preside over my mother's memorial service, so I could AT LAST return to the Onion Patch and sail her home. Stalwart crew member Jeff Bolster and I flew in Tuesday, June 22; we sailed out early the following morning. Not long after raising sail, even as we watched incoming Bermuda Race boats reaching for the finish line off St. David's, I got to enjoy my proverbial 15 minutes of fame and checked in via sat phone to participate in a National Public Radio call-in show (WBUR's On Point with Tom Ashbrook) about Reid's amazing voyage. These are my just desserts, I suppose, for being the only sailing journalist on Earth who has been truly interested in Reid and his odyssey. Said desserts also include getting savaged by the peanut gallery over at Sailing Anarchy.