CRUISE ISSUE: FALL / WINTER : Maine : Watercolors : Ogling fall’s show from an ex-sardine boat along the fingers and inlets of this rocky coast

It’s 7 a.m. and someone is pummeling my cabin door. Want to go for a run? I recognize the voice of the blonde from Miami. Run, where? We’re in the middle of Penobscot Bay off the Maine coast on an 83-foot dolled-up sardine boat. And, while it’s roomy enough, it’s not the Queen Liz.

Sleeping in is now impossible. Might as well see what she’s about. After hastily making my ablutions at the tiny sink in my cabin, I scoot up the iron steps to the ship’s salon. There she is, outside the window, ponytail bobbing, red Windbreaker flapping, circling the perimeter of the deck. She waves as she passes.

Some people are obsessive about exercise. Others would rather have breakfast. The aroma of bacon is seductive. Peering into the galley, behind the calico curtains next to the dining room, I can see wild blueberry pancakes stacked high and pitchers of pale gold Maine maple syrup.

Since I moved to Maine in the mid-’80s, fall cruising had become something of a hobby. Up to now, I’d signed on for day sails with friends, dallied on ferries and hopped aboard tour boats up and down the coast. This was my first sleep-over. Sure, 10 years ago I’d been on a three-day float in the Greek Isles on one of those posh Italian ships. But this was a different scale entirely.

Fall cruising in Maine has its own rhythms. The major port towns along the coast are lively with ferries, day boats, and tall-masted windjammers, some of them vintage schooners. But the boats are less crowded than during the summer peak--there were only six of us on the Pauline, which can take 12--and so are popular harbor stops such as Boothbay Harbor, Rockland, Camden, Castine, Blue Hill and Bar Harbor. There is the occasional discrete advertisement in the New Yorker, but Maine cruising is still very much a word-of-mouth scene.

Cruising is also a novel way to do fall leaves. Gold, orange and cha-cha red against the cool blue sea. Sunny days, nights cool enough to use a wool L.L. Bean blanket. The clarity that autumn gives to Maine’s coastline and its thousands of finger peninsulas. I recall my first ferry trip out of Portland as a newcomer to Maine, weaving between the islands of Casco Bay, a new photographic backdrop around each curve. A few years later, a day sail on a lobster boat in Frenchman Bay left me gaping at the peaks of Acadia National Park, Cadillac Mountain being the most famous, dressed in what Calvin Klein would call earth hues.

For this trip we had all met the night before at the captain’s cocktail party. Sitting out on the fantail of the Pauline in padded deck chairs, we were schooled in nautical lingo and the rules of the boat. Unlike the schooners that ply Maine’s coastal waters on both sail and diesel power, the Pauline, commissioned in 1948, is completely motorized. This means she can pretty much go where she wants, regardless of the vagaries of the wind.

From our berth at Windjammer Wharf in Rockland, the self-proclaimed windjammer capital of Maine, we’d be heading toward Tenants Harbor the next day.

That first night in the cabin was a learning experience. Those whose cruising history is limited to the big ships will find compartments on the Pauline, and on most Maine windjammers for that matter, more in line with a sleeper on a train. By small-ship standards mine was quite luxurious, with buffed wood, creamy linens and a porthole. But the beds and the bureau didn’t leave any pacing space and I could wash my hands in the sink while sitting on the lower bunk. To keep clutter at bay, I stored my duffel and Kiehl’s moisturizer in the overhead locker. Beyond my door, right across the hall was the bathroom--there was one for every three cabins--and a hot and cold shower.

By the next morning, I’d become accustomed to the scale and the barely perceptible rocking. Though not as stable as a big ship, the Pauline is unusually steady for a small craft, far more so than windjammers, which roll and heave with the breeze.

My wholesome running friend had gone to wake her husband, a lean, seedy-looking fellow with two days’ growth of beard. I’d thought them mismatched until they revealed, somewhat hesitatingly, that he was an undercover narcotics agent, still in disguise. The 50-ish couple from Tennessee hadn’t yet emerged. But the genteel grandmother from Virginia, who’d been touring New England for the past month, was already settled on the striped couch in the handsome mahogany paneled salon, knitting. I soon found myself outside, hanging over the railing mesmerized by the whitecaps.

We’d been asked, democratically, where we’d like to anchor and what we’d like to explore, another advantage of being on a small boat. Coastal towns and islands such as Isle au Haut, Islesboro and Monhegan were all possible on this five-day tour. The only constants were that we would anchor close to shore in a sheltered cove or harbor every night and that we’d return to Rockland at the end of the journey.

As we set out to sea, the air turned a shade chillier. I could see the small sailboat-filled harbor of Rockport, known for its photography workshop, meandering inlets and jagged peninsulas, and, closer at hand, fur seals flapping and sunning on an island of rock. Lobster boats were out, trailed by unruly factions of greedy gulls.

As we skimmed the mid-coast, new scenes unraveled: The foliage cloaked Camden Hills; Mt. Battie, which I had hiked up one fall, and the even more prepossessing Mt. Megunticook in the distance.

The colors were blazing, a pointillist’s canvas. Moving at several knots, we were going slowly enough to really savor the scenery, seeing the world at boat speed, not jet speed. Even the narc, who’d been jittery last night--and maybe his whole life--seemed to be mellowing out.

What is it about saltwater that charges the appetite? Lunchy aromas were escaping the galley and, despite a much heftier breakfast than usual, I was hungry again. The galley on such a boat is a study in efficiency. Watching the Pauline’s chef dig for flour, reach for bowls and pull boxes out of mysterious cubbies was almost as riveting as the scenery. The glass-doored icebox was the real thing, filled with blocks of ice.

Owners Ken and Ellen Barnes, co-captains of the schooner Stephen Taber and parents of Pauline captain Noah Barnes, had held onto as much period detail as possible when renovating the boat. The cast-iron diesel stove, basically a furnace, is original, the prize possession of the first captain, said to be something of a gourmet. Still, there are some modern gadgets, such as a guardrail for the stove when seas get rough.

Homemade pea soup was on for lunch, thick slabs of pink ham and yeasty Newfoundland rolls. A plate of still-warm molasses cookies. We helped ourselves buffet-style and sat around the gleaming table. Light filtered in from the dining room windows. The afternoon was spent playing rummy in the salon, before the wood stove. There was some talk of hauling out the dinghies and going ashore, but the consensus was to keep moving.

Back in 1948 the Pauline had a humbler calling: as a sardine boat in the Thomaston shipyard. In 1989 its spartan berths were turned into private cabins and its wheelhouse elevated to a state-of-the-art navigational machine. We were cruising at five knots--8.5 is the top speed--through teeming Penobscot Bay. Yachts, fishing boats and tall-masted windjammers were out in force.

It had been nearly four hours since lunch. Time to nibble again. Teatime is a Pauline trademark. Other boats may have a 4 o’clock snack, but the Pauline does a full tea complete with bone china and an ornate silver tea service, melt-in-your-mouth scones, jellyroll crescents and tomato sandwiches. To keep things from getting too stuffy--and to make us laugh--steward William Cooper made like Jeeves and announced, “Tea is served.”

*

It was late afternoon, what I think of as Edward Hopper time, when the light looks as artificial as it does in his paintings. The coastline was a little wilder, rockier and harsher as we glided northeast, or as Mainers would say “down east,” and a lazy contentment had settled over the group. Even the runner was nodding off.

As the sun paled, the air turned cooler and all the layers I had shed--a cotton sweater and Windbreaker--went back on. One could get used to this. True, after two weeks claustrophobia might set in, but typically the Pauline sails for four or five hours each day. The balance can be spent on land, hiking, biking (bikes are allowed on board) and shopping.

Earlier in the day we had charted a course out to sea, but now that the sun was sinking lower, we were hugging the coastline again. It was nearly the end of our first day. Islets rose out of the choppy water. Tenants Harbor was graced with a few sailboats and a dock, but other than that it was a mass of small boulders and rocks, a dead-clear lagoon and the shadings of fall.

We anchored here for the night. It was several hours before a silvery moon rose and dinner was still to come. Roasted salmon, California Chardonnay, a whipped cream kiwi-berry tart. Fresh flowers, snowy linens, china, silver, and after the sun set, flickering tapers. The Taber had anchored alongside us and we could hear laughter and tinkling glasses on deck. And soon the strumming of a guitar.

As the stars came out, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and mused: Maybe tomorrow I’d make that run.

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GUIDEBOOK: Maine Ferries

Getting there: United, USAir, Delta and Northwest offer connecting service (change of plane) from LAX to Portland, Me., with restricted economy fares starting at $458 round trip. American and United offer nonstop flights from LAX to Boston, restricted fares starting at $443 round trip, with connecting service on Colgan Air to Bar Harbor, Me., for $190 round trip. Portland is 68 miles from Rockland, Bar Harbor is 40 miles.

Cruise facts: The Schooner Stephen Taber and Pen Bay Packet M/V Pauline, Windjammer Wharf, P.O. Box 1050, Rockland, ME 04841; telephone (800) 999-7352. The Pauline and the Stephen Taber leave Monday mornings from Windjammer Wharf. Cruises run Memorial Day through October. Six-day cruise on the Pauline, $1,000-$1,100 per person including all meals; six-day cruise on the Taber, which carries 22 passengers, $650-$720 with meals. Both offer a few three-day trips: $378-$550.

Ferry options: Casco Bay Lines (P.O. Box 4656, Portland, ME 04112; tel. 207-774-7871), offers a variety of year-round trips, from a 20-minute run to Peaks Island to a 5 3/4-hour cruise to Bailey Island. Fares range $4.50-$13.75. Note: Ferry fares are for passengers only; bikes and cars are more.

Maine State Ferry Service (P.O. Box 645, Rockland, ME 04841; tel. 207-596-2202) operates ferries from the mainland to coastal islands. Prices vary. Longest trip--70 minutes each way--is Rockland-Vinalhaven; $9 round trip for passengers (ages 5-11, $4); $26 round trip for car and driver.

For more information: Maine Windjammer Assn. (P.O. Box 483, Blue Hill, ME 04614; tel. 800-807-9463, fax 207-374-5272). Maine Publicity Bureau, P.O. Box 2300, Hallowell, ME 04347; tel. (800) 533-9595.

--C.H.