In which Sid and Doris tell you possibly a bit too much about Rockland.
As you may be starting to understand, Nereus is a vessel of a certain size and so does not fit in many marina berths, and we have therefore been staying in the somewhat ominously-entitled “Journey’s End Marina” in Rockland.
Rockland is a town with a gracious past but a less certain present. The fishing is now mostly gone and the shops on the main street veer toward the nautical tattoria, though there is some real art for sale too. The restaurants all shut early so as not to have a second sitting. You would have thought …. no, just do not say it.
Sid, Doris and Bill case the joint. There are only a couple of empty shops. There are mixed political views proudly on show. We retreat nervously from the PDQ Stickers shop window (we have taken a close-up of one of the notices) and find a reassuringly all-purpose windscreen sticker in a pickup belonging to a very cheerful boat hand.
We are thrilled to see Rockland is on US 1, the original east coast highway that runs through towns from Maine to Florida (Nereus’s winter destination). This was bypassed by Mr Eisenhower’s new Interstates with good and bad consequences. The traffic manners here are so kind that as we went to take a photo drivers saw us on the edge of the pavement and stopped to let us cross, so we ran across and went back once they’d gone.
Rockland has done some serious thinking about its future in a post-lobster world and has unilaterally declared itself the Maine City of Art. One road back we find Elm Street and the Lucy Farnsworth homestead; Greek revival in clapboard? It was built in 1854 and Lucy lived ’til she was 97 and died there in 1935. She was reclusive and careful with her money and in her will she left $1.3m to build a town museum. We visit it with Joe and Alzbetka, and while they do some proper museum considering Sid finds the only picture of a car (a Talbot Horizon, apparently) and Doris finds a Noble Sheep.
Having fed the inner soul, the outer bodies of the crew are demanding more provisions so Sid and Doris set off in search of a spot of lunch on a Sunday morning. Not easy to find in Rockland and in fact well-ventilated conversations are being enforced by the popularity of the few open outlets. We are starting to realise that Americans really like queueing, and treat it as a casual occupation for an indeterminate period of time while you can stand around and chat or text or simply zone out. A contrast to Sid’s nervous, focused, concentrated, no-queue-jumpers-here UK approach. In fact for Americans it would appear that the longer the queue the better – perhaps it validates the choice of restaurant.
On the walk back we find more cars and boats to enjoy. Outside a bodyshop we find a tidy Mercedes 190SL and a Mazda RX7 with big body kit and an engine transplanted from a Corvette, all guarded by some very large and friendly but slobbery Great Danes.
The hopefully-named Phoenix is for sale on the dock next to Nereus. A victim of last winter’s storms, her insurers have decided not to attempt to repair the truly horrible damage caused by an embedded boat prop in her side. The marina manager says that there is no apparent internal damage although he feels there will be some nasty news once repairs do begin. As you can see she is for sale, and we believe no reasonable offer will be refused.
We cheer ourselves by envisaging the radio traffic caused by a boat named Hallelujah, which reminded us that in the Solent is a boat called Yabba Dabba Doo. Radio protocol requires you to include your own and the other party’s name in conversation, creating the eternally-amusing sound of the very proper coastguards having to say “Yabba Dabba Doo this is Solent Coastguard”. Life onboard will never have a dull moment.