A Cloudy Tour

Went into Camden this morning. While Pam was busy spending our kids’ inheritance at Once A Tree, I roamed the town in a thin cool mist taking pictures of various landmarks.

The best beer joint in town has fallen victim to COVID-19. Cuzzy has left the building.

The Owl and Turtle is thankfully still in business but closed on Sundays.

I wish our bank and Post Office looked like these guys.

Very disappointed to learn that The entire summer season of concerts, plays and shows at the Opera House were cancelled because of COVID. Town offices are still open, however.

The A-Frame on the left is, believe it or not, a Walgreens. The small building right next door somehow survived the great shutdown of 2020. Zoot’s Coffee Shop is a favorite and my daughter will be happy it still lives on!

The corner of Mechanic’s Street and Elm Street, an intersection prominent in the Academy Award nominated movie Peyton Place.

A memorial erected at the base of the flag pole in the center of the town Commons...right besides the Church with the iconic steeple seen from every house in town.

While taking pictures in the Common I heard muffled voices singing. I followed my ears and found this hearty congregation around the back of the church braving the elements for a worship service.

Since the Owl and Turtle was closed, We drove into Belfast to shop at Left Bank Books. Bought a couple of novels with either Maine themes or Maine authors. That should be enough to keep me busy for a couple of weeks.

 

Pierre

We have been in Maine for eight days now. It has been sunny for two and a half of those days, the rest either cloudy or rainy. This morning it’s raining again. It’s also been...chilly. Yesterday, July 4th, I was in long sleeves, wrapped in a towel on the dock, a breezy 66 degrees. But, it has been my experience that...the weather...is at the top of a long list of things about which I can do absolutely nothing. Other items on that list would include, traffic backups, toll booths, stupid people and the continued existence of yogurt. Try as I might, I can affect no changes to these things. Traffic backups will continue to happen at the worst possible time, the sand-pounding idiocy of the toll booth will frustrate me for the next millennia, stupid people will always be among us—they turn up everywhere— and people will continue to claim that yogurt is wonderful, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, especially its rancid, foul smell...like a teenaged boys sneakers drenched in sour buttermilk. Nevertheless people will persist, loading it up with fruit, granola, and anything else that helps them choke the stuff down, all the while claiming that it’s delicious. 

Much has been made of the giant pink flamingo who lives at the next camp over from us. Pierre, first appeared in a photograph I took the day we arrived...

Unfortunately, due to all the inclement weather, Pierre has been totally ignored, having gone eight days without use. Consequently, Pierre is going through the various stages of grief, having gotten stuck on depression, as these troubling photographs attest...

The neighbors have even gone to the trouble of bringing around Pierre’s child to cheer him up...

...so far to no avail. I will keep you all posted on his recovery.

I’m thinking that I’m ready for another trip into town. We’ll grab some breakfast at either Camden Deli or Mariners, then stop in the Owl and Turtle to pick up a few books and who knows what else. We’ll take more pictures this time. Camden is the type of town that is beautiful no matter the weather.

The House Library and July 4th

Every house we have ever rented up here has had one thing in common. Books. If you live in a place like Maine where it isn’t fit for humans half the time, books are a necessity, not unlike food and water. What else to do when there’s a foot of snow on the ground and more on the way? Each house has a collection of books, some of them bought for renters to read. I can tell because their spines are straight and unwrinkled, usually John Grisham or Elin Hilderbrand. Isn’t that what people read over the summer? But sometimes I stumble across a gem.

The first week at Loon Call I found one that frustrated and a second that beguiled. That’s always the chance you take when you open an unknown book. The first one I picked up was Kingdom of Fear by the frustrating Hunter Thompson. The Gonzo-Journalist who had appalled and amazed me 40 years ago with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, now frustrates me. Where did all of his nihilism and arrogant self indulgence get him? A self-inflicted gunshot to the head. The older I get, the less patience I have with narcissism, no matter how talented a writer the narcissist may be. Reading Thompson at 62 is a much different experience than reading him at 25.

Then, as if God knew I needed a mental shower, I stumbled across this book...

It was stacked under several Ken Follett books. When I saw the endorsement from Oprah, I almost passed. In truth, this is by far the most girlish book I’ve ever read. I don’t say that as a criticism, just an observation. The author was unknown to me, a German named Nina George. This book was written in German, later translated into a couple dozen languages. Parts of it were tedious, other parts too predictable for my taste. But it was so beautifully written, even as a translation. Incredible. And, unlike Thompson, entirely hopeful and celebratory of life. 

I do this every time I come up here. I plow through a half a dozen novels...because I can. I have the time. My attention isn’t divided. But now, the library at Loon Call Cottage has been exhausted and I must hit up the Owl and Turtle for reinforcements.

Pam just left the house in her morning kayaking outfit, a bright pink athletic ensemble with a sky blue Camden, Maine baseball cap. She will disappear into the  fog and by the time she returns it will have lifted. It will be time for breakfast. Then, who knows? It’s the 4th of July, a national holiday which has suddenly fallen out of favor in our woke new world. The people around this lake still celebrate it if the booms, cracks and pops from last night are any indication. We will celebrate it too. I’m still grateful for my citizenship, if a little less triumphant. The sins of America do nothing to dampen my appreciation for her virtues. Show me another country without flaws and I’ll show you a country without great responsibilities or accomplishments. We struggle with our past sins. We wrestle with how to atone for them, but we move forward with gratefulness.

Larry, Louise, and Jeremiah

This is the Dunnevant Compound on Crawford Pond. Unfortunately, it is nearly impossible to take a photograph of anything out on this lake that doesn’t feature the increasingly forlorn Pink Flamingo lurking in the background. Nevertheless, I thought you might like to see where we spend most of our time here on sunny days. Yesterday was picture perfect in that regard, perfect in every way except for the item which appears in the extreme foreground of this photograph. Yes, my lucky lure has lost his luck. Still, I will persist, since the idea of fishing is nearly as much fun as catching actual fish. At least for me. The waiting, the anticipation, then the startling surprise when you feel a strike, it’s all part of a process that can be endearingly slow. In that slowness you find rest and joy. It’s a mystery that someone with my antsy temperament would find it so satisfying. Maybe its the things you see while fishing...

Meet Larry. Or maybe this is Louise. It’s maddeningly difficult to distinguish the sex of loons from a distance. It’s also difficult to get a high quality close up of these majestic creatures. They are camera shy and mercurial. As soon as your camera is ready they slip under water with one silky flick of their head, then they are gone for a minute or so before they pop up just as silky 25 yards away, having done God only knows down in the depths of the lake. Our cove is the domain of Larry and Louise who prowl this terrain with confident nobility. When we first arrived, on one of our first appearances on our dock, both of them rolled out of the deep just off the end of the swimming dock to inspect the new arrivals. After satisfying themselves that we were harmless and not from Massachusetts, they both went about their business. It may be the most comforting part of living on a Maine lake for a month, the fact that our presence is acknowledged by a pair of guardian loons who are keeping an eye on us.

Oh, one more character you all should meet. Unfortunately, I have no photographic evidence of his existence, but believe me, he’s here. He lives in the reeds and lily pads just off the the right of the walkway to our dock...Jeremiah the Bullfrog. This guy sings to us...LOUDLY...mostly in the evenings. We can hear him all the way in our upstairs bedroom 100 feet up the bank on the hill. He has a deep baritone and only knows one tune, one note, but he has that note down and sings with great enthusiasm. When his inelegant grunt intermingles with the the plaintive call of Larry and Louise, well...it is something else in this world.

Picnic, Anyone??

Yesterday, the weather broke. After almost three days of rain, the clouds cleared and released us out on the lake in earnest for the first time since we arrived. I took the kayak up around the big island towards the north end of the lake. They call it the 100 acre island. It was granted to the State of Maine many years ago by the three families who owned it in exchange for a pledge by the State that it would remain undeveloped and open to the public for exploring. I fished around the nooks and crannies and marveled at the beauty of a place that has been untouched by modern schemes of progress. To give you all an idea of the size of Crawford Pond, here are some photos to provide a frame of reference:

The blue dot is Loon Call Cottage. In our little cove the view is blocked. We can only see our cove, but paddle in a kayak for three minutes and suddenly the entire expanse of the place opens up. To travel the entire circumference of the lake would be 11 miles. The surface area of the lake is 596 acres, it’s average depth is 50 feet.

In this shot, the blue dot is Crawford Pond. It’s a 27 minute drive to Camden and the harbor of Penobscot Bay. I have circled the other lakes we have stayed on in this beautiful part of the State, Hobbs Pond, Meguntecook, and Quantabacook. Pemiquid Pond is just south of this map near Damarascotta, where we have also stayed.

This map of the entire State gives you an idea of why they refer to this part of the State as Mid-Coast Maine.

So yeah, this was my kayak adventure yesterday, a 3.66 mile meandering get to know you paddle which included a lot of gawking, a bit of fishing, and some picture taking. One particular picture stands out. It is so thoroughly Maine...I laughed out loud when I saw it. The people who live on Crawford Pond, like all lake livers, mark areas of shallow water with buoys of some sort, sometimes with colorful retired lobster trap buoys, sometimes with simple plastic milk jugs. But, in a beautiful cove towards the north of the lake, I turned a corner and saw THIS:

Picnic, anyone? When I got closer I noticed the lovely touch of plastic roses in a vase secured somehow to the center of the table because...well, what’s more inviting than a centerpiece of roses on a picnic table in the middle of a lake?

I. Love. Maine.

Rainy Days and “the look”

Yesterday was a rainy day and a cool 64 degrees. Maine in June. I hear that my friends in Short Pump are simmering in the heat. If I were a more empathetic person I would feel for them. I should work on that.

So, after a gorgeous Sunday, we are in for a three day rainy spell it would seem. Tomorrow will at least have some sun, along with a thunderstorm later in the day. By Thursday the forecast brightens considerably for the Holiday weekend, sunny with high temps in the 70s. Glorious.

My fisherman skills seem to have gone the direction of ethics in politics...they have disappeared. So far, I have landed exactly one fish! Meanwhile, I have hooked five others, only to see each one leap out of the water and shake free. Embarrassing. Of course, I only go fishing when I’m in Maine, so what skills I have atrophy while I am in Virginia. I’ll get better by the time it’s time to leave. Eventually I will send photographic evidence of success.

This photograph is something of an embarrassment. Whenever the huge Dunnevant/Roop/Schwartz clan goes to the Outer Banks for vacation there is always a snack table. There are close to 20 people in the house, it’s vacation, so we all just let our freak flag fly when it comes to eating. You will find no gluten-free, lactose intolerant paleo-vegans in our tribe. It’s a free-for-all. So, when this much smaller family heads to Maine, we have a snack table too. But with only two of us, this seems excessive. We comfort ourselves with the notion that...”yeah, but soon the kids will be here, what about their needs?” Still, there’s enough artery-clogging trans fats on this table to last two people the rest of the year. The table should come with a disclaimer, something like:

Warning: The Surgeon General has determined that if the snacks on this table are consumed by any human being, that human being is screwed.

But, look closer at the picture. You probably missed it at first glance. There is evidence that the table was assembled and organized by wife. Do you see it? Yes...that’s a pump bottle of hand sanitizer. Sure, we might gain ten pounds here, but ain’t nobody catching no COVID on her watch!!

Speaking of Pam, she’s still asleep. She already has the look, that shine and sparkle that comes over her face when she gets to Maine. It’s truly remarkable. I think we might drive into town today. It’s not really raining, just a fine mist and low clouds. That makes for a beautiful view of Penobscot Bay from the porch off the back of the Camden Deli. Maybe it’s time for blueberry pancakes. Besides, I need to buy a few books from The Owl and Turtle...

It’s the sort of bookstore you can get lost in for hours. Hope it’s open. Of course, I could always just go to the Library and hang out. That would be this gem of a building overlooking the harbor...

I’ll figure something out...

You Can Run But You Can’t Hide

It has been said by wise men through the ages that you can run but you can’t hide, a wise reminder that although we might change our exterior circumstances, what plagues us on the inside survives all of our schemes of self improvement. I was reminded of this truth at 6:00 am when I was confronted with THIS:

Behold, the bane of my existence. I plan and scheme. I plot my escape. I drive 800 miles away. And yet...within 24 hours of filling and hanging our old bird feeder we brought along for the Maine birds...this guy...flaunts his renewed presence in my life. No, this is not the common grey squirrel of Virginia, but make no mistake, this is a squirrel, the Maine variety, smaller, quicker, browner, looking more like a chipmunk than a squirrel, but every bit the diabolical fiend of his Virginia cousin. This one has designs on the delicacies inside the bird feeder. Meanwhile, I am without my trusty Daisy Powerline 35. However, I can look forward to watching him fail in his efforts to steal nuts, and he will...no squirrel has ever solved the riddle. The difference with this bird feeder is that failure for the squirrel will result in not your ordinary fall, since this thing hangs from the upstairs deck of the cabin, 30 feet above the ground. I will try my best to get that blessed event on video.

Last night it started to rain after we went to bed. The sound it makes on the roof of our upstairs bedroom is magical. Looks like today will be rainy as well. This will mean a more relaxing day for us. The first two days or so are usually filled with chores, yesterday was our initial grocery run along with my continued efforts to make the outside of the property more efficient for our needs. So, now that all the heavy lifting is over, today we will slow down, do some reading. I might write a chapter or two of my latest book. If the rain lets up, Pam will probably take out her new SUP out for another trip around the lake. 

Special Note:

I have a friend in Nashville I met years ago when Patrick was an undergraduate at Belmont University, one of his professors...Deen Entsminger. He’s a really cool guy and we hit it off from the first day. Anyway, Deen is one of those friends who, because of circumstances and geography, I don’t get to see very often. But, like all good friends, that never seems to matter much. Several years ago I got a cell phone call at literally 5:30 in the morning from him where he gleefully began telling me about this amazing woman he had met and was going to marry! It was so random a thing to do, and exactly the sort of thing I would expect from Deen. He did marry her, for what it’s worth, and we would both agree that Kim Daus was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Anyway, for some reason that I can’t explain, while I was kayaking around the lake taking in the grandeur of Crawford Pond, the thought came to me that I should return the favor. So, out of the blue, I FaceTimed him. This time it was my turn to tell him about something amazing that I had found that had made me terribly happy. Deen, being Deen, totally got it. It’s nice to have people like him in your life, isn’t it?