Sunrises, stories, and kinship aboard an unforgettable sailing voyage.
The sea is full of adventure, and so is the Angelique, the windjammer moored up in Camden, Maine. With her maroon sails furled tight as secrets until the captain says, “Let loose.”
You clamber aboard, not knowing what to expect, and suddenly you’re no longer a land creature; you’re half saltwater, half sky, breathing like gulls do when the sun kicks open the morning.
Cold sea mornings until somebody hands you coffee, and it tastes like the Atlantic itself, dark and fresh and alive. The boat groans, the ropes creak, the sails rise, and then you’re gone, out past the breakwater, no internet, no inbox, just wind, waves, and that endless water that doesn’t care who you are or what you left behind on shore.
I went to Maine for four days afloat. Rustic, simple cabins no longer than closets, bunks stacked two to a side. You hear everything in the night: the snoring, the creaks, even someone using the head. Somehow, that becomes its own music. Everyone works. You push sails, wash dishes, scrape tables. Together, it hums.
And the people, oh, the people. A married lesbian couple in their seventies, they met in church. One of them does triathlons, while the other is wise and academic, with a book or poem recommendation at the ready.
A conservative couple, devout Catholics, full of stories, full of history, and surprisingly curious about my own. We talked for hours about El Salvador, Monseñor Romero, faith, and what it means to hold on to it, especially in these challenging times.
A widow in her fifties, a cancer survivor, with red curls like a match flame, a laugh that rang like bells over the waves.
A former funeral director turned Mérida exile, in her seventies, snores like a trucker and curses like a sailor. Still, when she talks about laying babies to rest in her past life, you can feel her tenderness and the soft ache of her enormous heart.
And the crew. Captain Dennis at the wheel, former theatre kid, now master of sails and family man, mischief flickering in his eyes as he turns the wheel at the helm. He knows this life won’t make him rich, but it feeds his family and it feeds his soul, and that’s wealth enough.
First mate Pierce with hair that won’t be tamed, quick with a grin, strong with the ropes, and at night he plays the piano and he sings, voice rising over the sea. The music threads itself into the creak of the ship until you don’t know where one ends and the other begins.
That’s the ride. Strangers turning into kin, stories spilling like water on the deck, laughter bouncing against the sails. Fresh baked bread every morning coming from reliable old “Rhonda” — the kerosene stove where all food is prepared. Coffee strong enough to fuel revolutions, lobster bakes on the beach, ice cream thick with cream, cold plunges in the Maine sea that shock you awake like baptism.
Nights stitched with stars, so many it hurts to look. Days with nothing but wind, salt, water, and the feeling of yourself remembering how to be human again.
It was good. It was better than good. Four days that gave me faith in humanity again.
If You Go
The Angelique sails out of Camden, Maine, one of the postcard harbors of New England, where schooner masts spike the skyline and seagulls provide the soundtrack. She’s part of the Maine Windjammer Association, a group of traditional tall ships that keep the old schooner life alive and well. Trips usually run three to six nights, depending on how much sea you want in your blood, and everything is included: your bunk, your meals, and the camaraderie that makes the voyage unforgettable.
- Booking: The Angelique’s official website and the Maine Windjammer Association’s site have trip calendars, availability, and seasonal specials.
- What to Bring: Pack light. Soft luggage only, as hard suitcases will be a challenge to fit in the cabins. Bring layered clothes (Maine mornings are chilly, afternoons warm), deck shoes, a flashlight for night, and maybe a notebook and a good book if the spirit hits you.
- Life On Board: Expect simple but comfortable bunks, hot showers, and a communal spirit. Everyone helps in small ways: hauling sails, washing dishes, or tidying the galley. Cabins are small and intimate. You’ll hear your neighbors, but that’s part of the closeness.
- Food: Lobster bakes, fresh bread, pies, and hearty maritime fare cooked daily by the crew. Coffee flows in the mornings. Sometimes there’s homemade ice cream, churned right on the boat.
- Getting There: Camden is about a two-hour drive from Portland International Jetport. Rental cars are easy, and many people pair a schooner trip with a larger Maine coastal road trip.
- When to Go: Sailing season runs from late May to mid-October. June and July are classic long-day summer sailing; September brings crisp weather and the famous New England foliage.
- Passengers: Expect a wide age range, often late 40s to late 80s. You’ll meet couples, solo travelers, professional sailors and people like me, who have never been on board a windjammer; adventurers, and characters you couldn’t dream up if you tried. It’s close quarters, but that’s the point. People arrive as strangers and leave as friends.
- Pro Tip: You don’t need sailing experience, only a willingness to unplug, pitch in where you can, and let the wind carry you. .
Sail the Angelique once, and the land will never feel quite right again.
Thank you, Maine Windjammer Association, for hosting me on this adventure.
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- Lobster, Chowder, and Potato Doughnuts in Portland, Maine
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Mary Sheridan writes about food, wine, and travel at maryinvancity.com.
