Lobster boats were doing their rounds inthe morning near our boat, anchored at Hen Island. I grabbed my red bucket, held out two fingers and leaned over the rail. The lobsterman and lobsterwoman fished out two lobsters and dropped them into the bucket, not without a few words about political conspiracy opinion. I passed over $5 per lobster, the going rate in these parts for fresh catch without a middleman.

The biting black flies inspired us to set sail again. We made a stop at Perry Creek, a beautiful estuary that Bryan had visited before. He was happy to see it was still undeveloped, save the same small quaint houseboat with hanging lanterns. Bryan thought it would be fun to see how far we could take the sailboat up the inlet as the tide was dropping. We anchored briefly at the most shallow possible spot, had a quick lunch and a swim in the brackish water, silty but a pleasant temperature due to the spring water mixing with salt water. Coming back, I stood on the bow to direct around rising ridges of rock at barnacles as Bryan safety negotiated the boat back down to deeper waters just in time. Whew.

We dropped anchor again at the now familiar Rockland Harbor. I called Nicholas and he supplied an extra lobster, corn and butter to join us on the boat deck, with Bryan joining from the galley so there was enough space to spread out. We shared a most delicious lobster dinner and some Irish tunes.