The Magic of Maine
A sailboat anchored near us in one of Maine’s many islands
We had left Remedy in Norfolk for a few weeks to visit with family. When we returned at the beginning of June, our niece Claire came with us. Our first order of business was taking advantage of dock access and unlimited water, so I gave the boat a much needed bath. And then Claire and I worked on removing rust from the stainless steel up top. After stocking up on provisions for a couple of weeks, we set out for Block Island, Rhode Island—one of our favorite places. We couldn’t wait to get back there and to share it with Claire.
Not 18 hours into our journey, the autopilot died. It's not a necessity; heartier sailors than we are have managed without one for millennia. But it makes life at sea considerably easier, especially with only two people aboard. With no autopilot, Ken and I hand-steered in two-hour shifts for 36 hours straight.
The weather was favorable, but as we passed Delmarva (the peninsula shared by Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia), we picked up biting black flies. Hundreds of them. The person at the helm was constantly swatting while the other went below with a shop vac trying to catch every last one. We were easily 30 miles offshore, yet they just kept multiplying. We vacuumed up hundreds and somehow never made a dent. It was enough to drive a sane person mad.
When we finally reached Block Island, Claire proved invaluable—she manned the helm while Ken and I lowered the mainsail, a two-person job. This is when the autopilot is our third set of hands. So, having Claire aboard to steer while we lowered the sail was a huge relief. We shared everything we love about the island with her: the lighthouses, biking the roads, hiking the trails, and hunting for glass floats (which, again, eluded us).
From Block Island, we continued to Newport, Rhode Island. A highlight there is the Cliff Walk—a 3.5-mile coastal path with ocean views on one side and Gilded Age mansions on the other. All told, Claire spent 17 days aboard with us. We loved having her and look forward to her joining us again!
Pictures of Our Time with Claire In Norfolk, Virginia, Block Island, Rhode Island, and Newport, Rhode Island.
After Claire flew home from Newport, we prepared to push north ahead of an incoming heat wave. At the fuel dock, the engine sucked something through the water intake—never a good thing. Water cools the engine, and when we noticed nothing coming out of the exhaust, we cut the engine immediately. Ken jumped in to check the intake, and when nothing obvious turned up, we limped over to a mooring ball to diagnose the problem.
Ken spent two days hunched over the diesel engine in brutal conditions—98 degrees outside, 93 inside, with no air conditioning. Somehow, he got it sorted, and we continued north through Onset, Massachusetts and then through the Cape Cod Canal, stopping in Salem and Beverly. Ken had to fly out for work again, so he tucked me safely onto a mooring ball in Beverly for a few days.
On July 4th, we took the train to Boston. I had been looking forward to the Boston Pops at the Hatch Shell, but a local tipped us off that the grounds fill up by morning and easily hold 500,000 people. Large crowds in confined spaces aren't my thing, so Ken—a master planner—found a spot just outside where we could catch part of the screen and hear the concert. He also scouted a great riverside spot for the fireworks.
The crowd grew steadily, and about five minutes before the fireworks began, it closed in around me. At 5'2", I couldn't see a way out and started to panic. I looked at Ken—who had worked so hard to find us the perfect spot—and said, "I can't do this. I have to get out." I turned and pushed my way through the still-growing crowd until I reached the outer edge, just as the fireworks started. Thankfully, we still managed to watch the display from a spot that felt far more manageable.
We spent the next day exploring Boston with friends before heading back to Remedy.
Visiting with friends in Boston on July 5, 2025.
Leaving Beverly, we made a short jump to Rockport, Massachusetts, a charming seaside town we didn't get nearly enough time in. We anchored behind the Shalin Liu Performance Center, a stunning building. It’s back wall is made entirely of glass and overlooks the bay. Going ashore, we discovered that two of our favorite musicians, Drew and Ellie Holcomb, had just performed there the night before. I can only imagine what it would have been like to hear them play while Remedy sat anchored just behind the stage.
My friends Leah, Dodge, and Kate were in Maine, not far from where Ken and I were docked, so I got to have a girls’ day with them exploring Louisa May Alcott’s House in Concord, Massachusetts. Little Women is one of my favorite books since childhood, so that was a highlight. And time with one of my best friends for over a decade is always good for the soul!
While Rockport was adorable, Maine was calling, so we moved on after a day or two.
Maine has somewhere between 3,000 and 4,000 islands to explore. While there, we stayed in 33 anchorages, with favorites including Indiantown, Boothbay, Tenant Harbor, Pulpit Harbor, Vinalhaven, Holbrook, Castine, and Camden. Each one holding its own unique magic.
Sailing in Maine is no joke. Roughly 3 million lobster pot lines lace the coast, and snagging one on your keel, rudder, or prop can disable a vessel. Sure enough, early on, while Ken pulled anchor and I steered us out, I caught a pot—hemmed in by traps on one side and shallows on the other. We immediately went to neutral to stop the prop from fouling, but the line slipped into a narrow slot between the rudder and skeg, and we lost steerage. After a few failed attempts to free it, we dropped anchor, Ken pulled on his wetsuit, and jumped in, braving 56-degree water to get us loose.
One standout was Pulpit Harbor — quiet, quaint, and a little off the beaten path. In town, we found a handful of artist shops and one restaurant, where we had what might be the best pizza of our lives. The next day we walked the other direction to a tiny place called the Oyster Shack: a small shed with an outdoor refrigerator stocked with fresh oysters, run by a young man who was a 17th-generation oysterman. We bought two dozen, brought them back to Remedy, and I shucked them for the first time. We grilled some on the half shell with butter and garlic, and ate the rest raw with a homemade mignonette. They were delicious!
One evening in Pulpit Harbor, two tall ships—the kind that look straight out of a pirate film—sailed in and anchored beside us. As we sat on the bow watching the sunset, someone aboard the nearest ship began playing the fiddle and singing. It felt like we'd slipped back in time.
The Oyster Shack manned by a 17th generation oysterman.
Beautiful old wooden ships anchored beside us in Pulpit Harbor with a fiddle player giving a concert.
Some of my favorite stops were the remote anchorages where nature was the only entertainment. The scent of evergreen drifted off the land. I loved it so much that I bought Fraser Fir oil and reed diffusers to carry a little of it with us when we left.
Two absolute highlights were Vinalhaven and Holbrook, where we were surrounded by seals, bald eagles, and ospreys. We watched seals and ducks hunt just beneath the surface, the water boiling and bubbling as hundreds of fish erupted into the air trying to evade capture.
My sister, brother-in-law, and three nieces came for a week-long visit. Seven of us, sharing 250 sq ft of living space. My sister, her husband, and the youngest (then 5) took our bed; the two older girls shared the other; Ken and I slept on the settee. It was tight quarters, but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat for the joy of having them along on the adventure.
We spent the first half of their visit aboard Remedy, taking them to my favorite anchorage at Holbrook Island and to Camden, a charming seaside town full of shops, ice cream, and good restaurants. My sister introduced me to what has become my new obsession—scouring the shore for sea glass—and I introduced her and the girls to hunting for heart-shaped things in nature.
For the second half, we rented a cabin at Camp DeForest, an adorable little roadside motel that had been renovated into an adult summer camp. When I booked their largest cabin—500 square feet—and mentioned there'd be seven of us, the manager warned me about the size. I assured him it wouldn't be a problem; we'd be doubling our square footage. It felt like a mansion. If you want a sweet little getaway in Maine, reminiscent of simpler times, be sure to check out Camp DeForest.
We also had two more visitors during our time in Maine. My friend Kat spent a few days with me in Camden while Ken flew out for work again. She is an incredible children and family photographer, so some of the images she took in Maine did a much better job capturing its magic! She travels, so if you want great photos of your family or kids, be sure to check out her website.
Ken's Aunt Jean also joined us for 10 days. In roughly six months, we'd hosted friends and family aboard for a total of 47 days. It can be a lot of work in a tight space, but we love sharing this unconventional life with the people we love.
Some of Kat’s Photos from Maine
As far as I am concerned, it is hard to beat Maine. I loved everything about it. It is absolutely magical. In one anchorage, the fog enveloped us, and the call of a loon rang throughout the anchorage. It was lovely…until he started doing it at 2 am, and then I wasn’t too keen. The Boothbay Botanical Gardens were gorgeous, but the highlight there was Thomas Dambo’s five Trolls. The cool, crisp air even in mid-summer. Jumping into 58-degree water for a refreshing dip. Kayaking around remote islands that we had all to ourselves. Placing WholeHearted Project books in Little Free Libraries all over Maine. The sleepy fishing villages. It was everything I hoped it would be.
Loon calling out in a foggy anchorage in Indiantown, Maine
Duck fishing. Fish evading.
The time eventually came to leave Maine, and I was not ready. I could have stayed another month, but we were eager to get to Annapolis to reunite with sailing friends and our church community there—and I had a WholeHearted Project women's conference to teach in a month. So we pointed the bow south and made our way back down the coast.
We arrived in Annapolis on a Wednesday evening. As we navigated back to the Weems Creek anchorage, we found ourselves surrounded by hundreds of boats of all sizes — some racing, some training. Many Naval Academy cadets were running sailing drills around us, so we bobbed and weaved, doing our best to stay out of everyone's way.
When we finally reached the anchorage, our friends Mia and LJ from Lolota D’Argento met us in their dinghy and whisked us off to dinner at Metropolitan Cafe, followed by ice cream at Always Ice Cream Company. It was a sweet reunion — in more ways than one.
Celebratory reunion dinner with some friends in Annapolis
Reunion with Heartstring
Celebrating Ken’s 50th birthday
Teaching a Wholehearted Project Women’s Conference at Redeemer Anglican Church in Annapolis. Maryland
We had intended to stay only a month or so before moving the boat to Oriental, NC, where we planned to haul out for major repairs and a few other projects ahead of our next big sailing adventure. But a month with dear friends in a city we love so much was not nearly enough. When our friend Mia found us a slip at a nearby marina, we decided to winter in Annapolis. We also got to reconnect with “our kids,” Dan and Sarah, our friends Angie and Mike from Oso, and Scott, Jennifer, and Alyssa from Heartstring. Our friends Jill and Phil also came and spent the weekend with us. We also got to celebrate Ken’s 50th birthday!
We put the boat to bed in November and spent the next two months traveling back and forth every two weeks between Annapolis and Greenville — reconnecting with friends and family while Ken began transitioning out of his job. For the first time since we departed Brunswick, Georgia, on December 27, 2023, the boat was still and would not move for four months. And, as the year wound down, we found ourselves deeply grateful—for the miles behind us, the people who'd shared them, and the adventures that lay ahead.
More Pictures from our time exploring Maine
