My Excellent Kayak Adventure

Yesterday afternoon I took the kayak out and headed north along the edge of the lake. I had my fishing rod with me, as I searched for a new fishing hole. The lake seemed ideally suited for such an adventure, not completely calm with just enough current to make it fun. I must here confess that fishing from a kayak is probably easier than I make it look. Fifteen minutes in, I sent a cast too close to the edge, launching one of my prize lures into a low hanging branch. Unfortunately, it could not be saved. The fishing part of my adventure came to an abrupt end since I had only brought a few extra lures with me, no swivels. At this point I decided to continue my trip and enjoy the scenery.

Quantabacook is a small lake by Maine standards. It takes up 665 acres of real estate. Loon Landing sits at the southern end and our view of the entire lake is limited by the shape. If a kayak were deployed on a voyage around the perimeter of Quantabacook, it would require an 8.4 mile cruise. My voyage was considerably less...

However, the 4.4 miles I did manage revealed some incredible beauty. Of course, everything looks better when framed by crystal clear blue skies. I believe that what makes Quantabacook special is it’s anonymity. This is the lake that nobody has ever heard of. It’s one of the few up here that cannot be seen from any State road. It sits back in the woods, isolated and ignored. I don’t know how many cottages, camps and homes are here, but when you kayak along the edges it doesn’t seem like many. There are long stretches when all you see are looming pines, spruce, and birch trees and rocks jutting from under the water line. There was one section where it seemed that I was completely alone on an abandoned lake, with only the sound of birds in the trees and a couple of loons for company...

I took this photograph from the marshes to the north, around two miles from Loon Landing. An otter lives there, I’m told...but I didn’t see him. 

I made the wise decision not to take on the top quadrant of the comma. Instead, I cut across open water to the western shore and immediately found something that had so far eluded me. Every time we come here, we see a magestic eagle soaring above us. He comes and goes in his impressive way, making sure we know that Quantabacook belongs to him. Up until yesterday I had never found his nest, but suddenly, there it was near the top of a giant pine tree...

The last leg of my journey found me getting uncomfortable. The giant catcher’s mitt shaped clouds had thinned, leaving me in the bright sunshine. At the one hour mark, my backside was feeling it—this kayak has a paper thin seat—and I was getting hot. Just about this time of maximum discomfort, Quantabacook threw me a bone...I turned a corner and found this lovely spot in the shade where the current had died down. I sat there for probably five minutes just looking and listening...

Looking back on these photographs it occurs to me that they really aren’t all that impressive. Unless you’ve been to a place like this yourself, seen it, smelled it, and heard it for yourself, it might not resonate. Quantabacook cannot be experienced in third person. It’s a here and now place.

Coming Attractions

A while back, I wrote a novel called Saving Jack. The idea for the story had come to me at this very place a year earlier as I was sitting on the dock fishing. So, I suppose you could say that Loon Landing was my muse, adding to the long list of it’s magical powers. Anyway, I like the novel, so much so that I am planning on publishing it as an e-book on Amazon. To that end, I have employed my daughter, Kaitlin, to edit the work. She has editing experience, has a Masters Degree in English literature, and an English teacher’s intolerance for bad grammar. I sent her the transcript as a Google doc so I can actually see the suggested edits she makes in real time and either accept or reject them. It has been a humbling experience.

When I was in high school and should have been learning all about grammar and sentence structure, I was otherwise engaged in more pressing matters such as the proper construction of paper airplanes, flirting with the many beautiful girls in my classes, and skipping school to go swimming. While it was all great fun, I have lived to regret my less than stellar performance at Patrick Henry High. When Kaitlin gets finished with a chapter it looks like a disaster, like there has been an ink pen accident involving the color green, slashes and dashes everywhere!! 

She makes very few plot related suggestions aside from an occasional - develop this character more. It’s almost exclusively grammar and balky phrasing. In her defense, I probably approve 95% of them. She is making the manuscript so much better, earning her money. When I attempted an apology of sorts for all of my errors, she attempted to reassure me with this classic—Dad, you’re a great writer, its just that you struggle with grammar and phrasing. That’s like a pitching coach telling his rookie pitcher—Kid, you’re a great pitcher except for the fact that you have no control, your curve ball has no bite and you need to work on your velocity!!

The plan is to scrub all of my grammar and phrasing embarrassments away and come up with a clean copy. Then, come up with some compelling cover art. After that, I will devote myself to the business of getting it self published for sale on Amazon. To make it work, I will have to market Saving Jack. I will start with promoting it here on The Tempest. The hope is that many of you will be willing to purchase it in ebook form for the currently undecided price of between $5.99 and $9.99. The second part of the plan is that those who do buy it will love it and immediately start telling their friends about it and spreading the thing around Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, and more importantly...write glowing reviews of it on Amazon! Of course after the thing sells 100,000 copies, a bidding war will erupt between all the major New York publishers, I will end up on a book tour, get interviewed on the Today Show and make a million dollars, and about the time it gets made into a movie I’ll be ready to publish  A Life of Dreams. ( I think this is an excellent example of what Kaitlin is talking about when she says—confusing phrasing)!!

Anyway, I’ll keep you all posted on the development of this project. Set aside your $5–$10 bucks now.

A Quiet, Magestic Day

Today, it’s raining and 65. It’s a quiet day, a day for reading and clam chowder. A trip into town is in the works to pick up some odds and ends, perhaps another book, since I’m about finished Anthony Horowitz’ The Sentence Is Death. A game or two of Rummikub will be played. Naps will be taken. Maybe dinner out. Usually, Lucy gets unsettled by the rain. This morning not so much...

What follows are some pictures we have taken over the past couple of slower days, which gave us a chance to revisit some of our favorite spots:

A schooner on Penobscot Bay

Camden, from the top of Mount Battie

Lucy, unimpressed with the view

Perhaps the loveliest picnic spot in all of America

Pam swinging on her favorite swings at Camden Hills State Park

I am the only one in this photograph without a small mouth 

My faithful fishing buddy

Lucy protecting Mom from the dangerous approach of four Canadian Geese

Lucy inspecting her catch

Dinner

Yes...another sunset

And now as Pam paddles back from another sunset trip on the lake, the loons begin to call out. I have no picture of the sound. You’ll have to close your eyes and imagine it for yourself.

Week One in the Books

We’ve taken a bunch of pictures since we arrived here just over a week ago. If I had to pick only one of them which summarizes what this first week has been like, it would be this one...

There has been a lot of this, me kicked back on the dock, Lucy standing vigilant guard after a swim, and Pam reading a book on her Nook. Last night was the first time we have gone out for dinner, that’s how magnificent the weather has been. But the past two days have been much hotter, especially around the dinner hour, turning our un-air-conditioned cottage into a steam bath. So, we decided to drive into Belfast for dinner at Delvino’s. First of all, Delvino’s is the best restaurant in the area, and secondly Delvino’s is air conditioned! We ordered beer-battered haddock bites with lemon aioli tartar sauce for an appetizer and I was tempted to tell the waitress...Ok, I’ve decided that I don’t want an entree, just keep these babies coming! Sensational. 

Afterwards we tooled around the streets of downtown Belfast, which we have always considered Camden’s red-haired stepchild...(just as Rockland is Camden’s annoying younger brother). But, over the years, Belfast has grown on us. It is quite charming and generally not as crowded in the evenings. Except for Delvino’s. SRO at 7:30. We waited 30 minutes for a high top. Worth it.

As we were leaving, we noticed that the sky was, once again, lit up with sunset colors. Belfast is a harbor town. Our restaurant was two blocks from the ocean. But, 18 minutes away, we knew that we were missing another fire show at Quantabacook. I hustled home as fast as I could, but by the time we arrived it was mostly over. Still, Pam and Lucy walked out on the dock to watch the last few minutes...

A word about my wife. I run a considerable risk publishing the above photograph of her on the streets of Belfast without her consent. I took it partly to capture the sky but also to catch my wife in the act of being beautiful without even trying. Here’s the thing...Pam is always put together. It’s who she is. She always takes care to look her best when she goes out in public. It’s not born of vanity, its more like she considers it bad manners to look sloppy. Me, on the other hand, on many occasions have been stopped at the door and delivered a sharp rebuke...Um, no. You are NOT going out in public dressed like a homeless man. So, last night Pam went out without doing anything to her hair. It was far too hot to even think about running a blow dryer. She just let it dry on it’s own. She was worried that she would look like a scarecrow or something. But I had to remind her of a fact about beauty that most women don’t understand.

Most of the time, Pam looks her best when she is all dressed up, nice outfit, hair done, makeup in place etc..etc.. However, there are times when she looks even better...when she’s not even trying. Every man reading this will understand this instinctively. Yes, we all love it when our wives get dressed up in their finest. But there are other times when they are a bit disheveled, windblown and harried when we glance at them and think...Wow, is my wife gorgeous or what?! Last night was one of those times.

It appears that the weather is on the mend today...high only 76 with plenty of sunshine. The owner is coming to cut the grass at some point today, so we will have to be on our best behavior. Met our new neighbors yesterday...family from Pennsylvania. Dan works for a company with a branch office in...wait for it...Short Pump. Small world! Pam so impressed them with her effortless paddle boarding, they went out and rented one for their 16 year old son. Pam gave him a short lesson and off he went. 

Another day in paradise.

A Mysterious Connection

After six days of glorious weather, the next two days will find us catching up with the rest of the country which has been in the grips of a merciless heat wave ever since we left Short Pump. Our part of Maine will be under a Heat Advisory from 11 am today until 7pm tomorrow. What this means for us is...a high temperature today of 93 and 89 tomorrow with unusually high humidity. Before you scoff at 89 producing a Heat Advisory, you should consider that most people on this lake and probably 60% of the businesses in Camden have...no air conditioning. Our plan is to spend as much of this day as possible either in or on the water. If there is no wind today, this cottage will become an unbearable steam bath by around 4 o’clock. If so, we are planning a grocery shopping trip to the Belfast Hannaford’s...a very slow and casual grocery shopping trip which may take a couple of hours to complete. (Hannaford’s is delightfully climate controlled!)

Of course, we have zero right to complain. Our first week has been like something out of a dream...perfect weather, calming breezes, and a series of sunsets seemingly intent upon outperforming the night before. Here they are, in order of their appearance:

Last night’s may have been the most dramatic. From the picture you will notice on the far right an intimidating rainstorm that was passing by up towards Bangor. Although it missed us, our horizon was split in two, dark thunderous clouds to the north and brilliant sunshine to the south. It was fascinating to watch, putting a perfect ending to my wife’s birthday. She spent it doing all of the things she loves most in this world, a 4 mile kayak trip at dawn, a leash-less walk with Lucy, a drive into Camden for a lobster roll and a root beer on a park bench down the hill from the library overlooking the harbor, then an afternoon of floats on the lake, with Lucy swimming with her, and a couple of long paddle board jaunts. The coolest thing that happened featured something that I have long suspected about my wife...loons love her. No, I am not making a wisecrack about her husband, I am referring to the mysterious connection that she seems to have with this iconic Maine bird. Just before she left for her early morning kayak trip, five of them magically appeared at the end of our dock, as if to greet her on her big day. It is quite rare to see more than two or three loons together at one spot, but where my wife is concerned they ignore convention. Then, at the close of the day, two more incredibly docile loons plopped out of the water in front of our dock again, this time falling asleep for over thirty minutes while we inspected them up close. It was spooky, in a way, as if they knew it was her birthday, and that she loves them so. 

Of course, she also spent time talking with her two children and getting to see our new GrandPup, Frisco, on FaceTime. When we finally called it a night, I knew that she had a perfect day. All the ingredients for perfection were here already. All we had to do was show up.

The Reminder In The Wind

For better or for worse, I am a man of the south. I was born in Virginia and have lived in the old Capital of the Confederacy all of my life except for three years which was split between New Orleans and a two horse farming town called Nicolsville, Alabama. Most of my vacations have been taken on the ocean in either North or South Carolina. My children live in Nashville, Tennessee and Columbia, South Carolina. But I am not just southern by geography, I am also southern by temperament. My attitudes and lifestyle were formed here. Its been a mixed bag. Everything about the south clings to you, the traditions, the food, the humidity. There is much about being a southerner that I’m proud of, but there are also things I’ve had to overcome, ways of thinking and being that borrow too much from the past. There is a tendency towards the provincial here, an us vs. them mindset. Down here, it’s either SEC football or nothing. It’s been said that you could blindfold a southerner and drop him anywhere in the country and in five minutes he could tell if he was in the south or not. I believe it. It’s in the atmoshere. It hovers. It’s a presence.

When I come to Maine, I am always aware that I am...away. It is, quite literally, in the wind. Since marrying a girl from Maine 35 years ago, I have probably spent nearly a year of my life up here now, mostly in June or July, but more recently in September and October. Everything about this place is different from what I know. But nothing is as unique as the wind. It will be difficult to explain. Mainers probably won’t know what I’m talking about because they have never known anything else. People from down south will think I’m exaggerating. 

Of course there are winds in Maine about which I know nothing. The howling gusts that savage these people over the five brutal winter months are something that I am grateful never having experienced. There isn’t enough money in the world to make me live here from November to March. In Virginia, we love our snow and brief relationship with cold. It is a quaint photo opp, a postcard scene that closes schools and sends suburban Mom’s scurrying to grocery stores to stock up on bread and milk. It’s delightful. Here, snow lost all romantic pretense about 300 years ago. No thanks.

So, basically I’m talking about the breezes of summer. There are so many different kinds of breezes in Maine and if you’re lucky you will experience all of them in a single day.

At 6 am, I wake up and walk out on the deck. Today it was 58 and the lake was drifting by from the west, the breeze gentle and forgiving. Still, I had long pajamas and a long sleeve shirt on. It was chilly. Other days when you wake up the lake is as still as glass. The trees hang motionless as the dead...but still you feel the occasional breeze in your face from out of nowhere. It’s the oddest thing. Around ten o’clock in the morning a mysterious thing happens, and it happens almost every single day...the wind picks up from across the lake and begins to stiffen. Soon the wind chime starts singing. This keeps up for thirty minutes or so and you begin the great anticipation, the answer to the question that each day presents itself...will it blow all day, or die back down? Forget the weather forecasters on the subject, they are like sorcerers from the Middle Ages, bumbling and stumbling about making fools of themselves trying to pretend they can predict the winds. Up here, the wind has a mind of its own.

The first two days we were here the wind blew all day with several gusts that sent the wind chime into musical orbit. It was nearly 84 one day, but the wind coming off the water made it feel so much colder. Yesterday it was 79 and the breezes that came were 
intermittent and surprising. But no matter what the temperature happens to be, there is always a startling coolness in the wind. It comes like a reminder to me that I am not in the south anymore. It’s Maine’s way of letting me know that I am...a guest.

There is also a distinct smell that is stirred by these breezes. Although we are a twenty minute drive from the Ocean, there is a briny ingredient in it, mixed with the deep woods aromas of pine straw, moss and balsam. Sit outside in it long enough and you become ravenously hungry despite the fact that you’ve spent all day doing nothing.

In the evening everything changes. The wind dies down, the lake settles itself, becomes like glass again. Then we wait for the sunset. It’s a long performance in several acts that begins around 7:45 and doesn’t finish up until almost 9:00. I’ve learned to never give up on a sunset here. You look at the dark, cloudy sky and are tempted to say, We won’t get one tonight. Too cloudy. But, you are almost always wrong. Some strange thing happens in the heavens...the wind stirs something up...and suddenly the show is on. It is breathtaking. You take photographs, to no avail. It cannot be captured, it seems, as if it is here just for us and no one else. We are, after all...guests. The wind reminds us every day.

Better Vacations With Technology

As many of you know, my wife and I had a long and vigorous debate before this year’s Maine trip as to the disposition of Lucy. Should we bring her with us like we have twice before, or should we leave her at home with Becca the Dog Whisperer like we did least year? It was a tough call, since although she loves it here, leaving her in Short Pump last year did give us a lot more freedom. What it boiled down to for Pam was...I feel nervous leaving her alone for half the day in a strange house. What if she hears someone shoot a gun or what if a thunderstorm pops up and she goes all postal??

Obviously, Lucy is here. So what happened? Did my famous powers of persuasion overcome her arguments? Was I forced to resort to bribery? Did I fall on my knees begging? No, no, and no. What happened was...technology.

Allow me to introduce you to...Wyze Cam v2, the digital security camera which allows you to keep tabs on your hyper-neurotic dog from your cell phone 24/7. If she were to get into any mischief, you can even send a corrective rebuke through the ether to remind her that...we’re watching!!

Pam had visions of Lucy standing at the back door whining for hours after we leave to head into Camden, then once the poor thing realized we were gone, she imagined her sulking around the house, mourning our loss and looking for ways to lash out at her duplicitous humans. Instead, we got this...

Is this a great time to be alive or what??