Greenland Passage

Forget the witches or the House of the Seven Gables when visiting Salem, Massachusetts. Instead, see a great set of knockers, and a whole lot of whimsical metalwork, at Herb Mackey's Metal Sculpture Yard, the last house on  Blaney Street aside the parking lot for the Salem-Boston Ferry. It's free, and I'm told the whimsical welder who created the metal creatures will come out to chat when he's home. On Saturday, after spending a delightful time over a lingering lunch with my cousins Susan and Rita, who took the train to Salem from their Cambridge homes, I took a slow stroll through downtown Salem, maneuvering among the witches, warlocks and hanger-ons who descend upon this historic maritime hub to commemorate a nasty period in American colonial history, the Salem witch trials.  The hordes made the Halloween crowds who descend on my neighborhood for Eastern State Penitentiary's annual scare show seem puny. Salem's most notable cultural attraction is

The Fram's observation deck at night. The 'H' is for Hurtigruten A day of rain, with enough wind to make it biting, greeted us as we anchored in Rockland, Maine Thursday. Too nasty for me, even though I planned to revisit the Farnsworth Museum and its extensive collection of Wyeths, along with Chlde Hassam, Maurice Prendergast, Thomas Eakins and Louise Nevelson, among other American artists and sculptors. It's only a slight detour from my regular route to Bar Harbor each summer, so I'll return on another occasion. After taking on a pilot in mid-afternoon we sailed Penobscot Bay to its namesake river, passing under the Penobscot Narrows bridge (pictured above), a cable-stayed span which replaced a 1931 suspension bridge I crossed many times en route to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park. We anchored in the Penobscot River early in the evening a short tender ride from Bucksport, where we spent the morning and early afternoon Friday without rain or much w

When you're away from home for so long and have little in the way of scheduled commitments, knowing the day or date largely becomes irrelevant. Even holidays seem unimportant. I should have paid more attention. Egg Rock Lighthouse at sunrise At our shipboard briefing  before landing in Bar Harbor Tuesday we were told that, in addition to the optional excursion, we could hop on the Island Explorer bus system emanating from the Village Green, which I use during my regular summer visits, to reach all points on Mount Desert Island. My plan was to bus to one of my favorite spots for watching the tide come and go. But the buses stop running immediately after the Columbus Day weekend, the "official" end of the season in Bar Harbor. If only I had remembered that the Columbus Day weekend was last weekend, not next. My plan to visit my favorite rock and tide pool fizzled when I walked up from the waterfront to the Village Green and saw none of the propane-fueled buses wi

Once ashore in Halifax Monday I sought in vain to replenish my cigar supply, and pick up a Cuban or two to enjoy at sea. But it was Canadian Thanksgiving, and all stores selling decent stogies shut. Still, I wanted to enjoy a relaxing cigar after walking up and down the Spring Garden Road shopping district. I found as bench in the sun in front of the Halifax Memorial Library and lit up. Then I turned around to find Winston Churchill gazing upon me, undoubtedly as upset as when Yousef Karsh took away the PM's  cigar to make his iconic photograph. I did my best to imitate the Churchillian scowl. A traveling companion from Glasgow thinks I nailed it. Smithsonian Magazine has an interesting account of the story behind the photo. The downtown shopping district of this city of about 400,000 was filled with people -- most of them tourists off the four cruise ships tied up a 15-minute walk away in the harbor, though some locals were taking advantage of the warm if overcast weath

God damn them all! I was told We'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no guns, shed no tears But I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's Privateers I, too, found myself on a Halifax pier, but not in the same manner as described in Stan Roger's now-classic sea shanty . We were even greeted by a piper. Approaching Halifax we slowed for the pilot to board the Fram and lead us into what is billed as the world's second largest natural harbor behind Sydney. But we were just one of three or four vessels waiting to be guided to the quay: Mein Schiff 6, with berths for more than 2,500 passengers; Holland-America's Rotterdam, just over 1,400; and Ocean's Insignia can carry more than 800. By comparison the MV Fram's maximum capacity is about 250, but only 84 passengers are aboard for this trip. We squeezed our way into the narrow channel between Pier 24 and the adjacent grain pier, seemingly inches away from the Insignia, and

The captain invited passengers to the bridge Sunday evening before dinner, the day before we arrived in Halifax. Here are a few photos, taken after we departed Louisbourg. There is a wheel on the bridge, but the joystick controller is preferred. Harbor pilots sometimes use the wheel, the captain explained. I skipped visiting the famous French fortress at Louisbourg near the northeast corner of Nova Scotia. After having well exceeded my usual walking quota on previous days, I decided to rest my tired feet. I also learned that the locals, of English stock, pronounce the town's name like the Pennsylvania community famed for its federal prison, Lewisburg. No French-Canadian accents in either Louisbourg or Lewisburg.