Our last day at Dummers dawned clear and bright and I felt like my old self. I slept all the way through the night and awoke without a headache. I drove up to Morning Glory bakery, bought 4 muffins and a paper and returned to camp to drink my coffee on the beach. The mountains looked bigger somehow and closer. The sky was filled with thin feathery clouds with a soft half-moon still visable against the pale blue. The forecast was for hot temperatures today but just as I headed back to camp for breakfast a wind had started to blow, raising waves from west to east across the lake, a good sign.
Breakfast was typical Webb Lake cuisine. Bacon and ham, French toast, muffins and juice, and for the first time all week I could actually taste it. Wonderful. By this time a steady wind was blowing, the thin high clouds were thinning further and the sun was getting hotter. We made it to the beach by 10 or so and immediately went for a swim. The water was surprisingly warm and the slow agony of walking a half an hour in thirty minutes before we could jinn up the courage to go under was replaced by going under right away and doing the Dummers Beach crawl in reverse. All morning the view across the lake was stunning. At one point a float plane circled overhead, landed about a mile to the north then took off again soaring up towards Tumbledown mountain. The dude was clearly showing off and I was insanely jealous. Pam suggested that the four of us head to the canteen for a snack. All the very best candy was available, cow tails, Snickers, and the most delicious Nutty Buddy ever! Upon returning to our favorite spot on the beach and after an hour or so of reading, Pam and Kaitlin decided that it was time for lunch. Flashing their best 19th century feminine wiles they offered to serve us on the beach! There would be fluffer-nutter sandwiches, finely sliced chunks of watermelon, our choice of chips, and cold iced tea. Clearly, this place has magical powers.
The rest of the day was spent swimming, floating on rafts, and engaging each other in relaxed conversation. Surprisingly, no tears were shed. Because this would be the last day, Pam was determined to stay in the moment and enjoy every second. After a delicious dinner of Italian grilled chicken, we all loaded up in two cars and made the pilgrimage all the way to Farmington for Gifford’s Ice Cream. The night was perfect with not a trace of humidity, a fine breeze blowing. Heading back to camp we could see the fiery western sky in the distance. The sunset at camp would be incredible if only we could make it there in time. Although we missed the best of it, we all gathered in chairs by the lake to watch the dying embers of this perfect day in Maine. The camp fire later was quiet and soothing, but the smoke kept drifting to where Russ sat. He pointed out that this simply proved the old adage that smoke follows the “most beautiful” person!
We awoke to dark skies and a light mournful rain. It seems that every year we pack up in the rain. Sharon thought that the Lake was crying with us. It was a very sad morning. After saying our good-byes we began the 14 hour trip home. For Pam the tears didn’t slow until we made it to the Maine Turnpike. We arrived home at 11:15 last night to a rapturous welcome from Molly. Now I face the tyrannies that await me at the office, the demands that the real world makes upon me. Today I will rest, prepare for the hectic week ahead, and do my chores. But in a quiet corner of my mind I will linger on that beach and listen for the Loons.