Magic

We were sitting on the dock as the sun was beginning its slow retreat in the western sky turning the lake into a shimmering sea of gold. Both of us had our sunglasses on, faces on fire from the sparkling reflection. It was late afternoon, a time at home when we would be getting dinner started. But this place has rearranged our internal clocks beyond recognition. Late afternoon just means the sun is getting lower in the west and the lake is on fire. In a while it will be time for a paddle. The only sounds were the birds in the trees behind us, the muffled hum of a party boat in the distance and the soft splashing of water on the rocks on the shore. Dinner would have to wait.

Then Pam said something that captured my attention, although initially I misunderstood what she meant. “This place puts me in my place.” I found the phrase quite profound, even in my confusion. As she continued it became clear what she meant and for me it became even more profound. I will attempt a paraphrase…

“ When I’m at home, I am the center of my universe. I am at the center of all my plans, all the things that I have to accomplish and get done and check off my lists. But up here, I get put in my proper place. I am no longer the main attraction. I’m not the star of the show up here. I’m just sitting out in the audience enjoying the show. And it makes me feel small. Not in a bad way like insignificant, but small in the sense that my troubles are small. If God can create something this beautiful, he can hold onto me…”

Or, words to that glorious effect.

Most of you have a place like this. For some its the beach, for others its the mountains, for a small bizarre group of you its Disneyworld. For us, its here. Regardless of where it is, it is crucial that everyone find somewhere that puts you in the right place, somewhere that has the power to transform your perspective from inward to outward. When you do, its the closest thing to magic that you will ever possess.

Yesterday, we drove up to see a place on Three Mile Pond that had just been listed for sale. It looked promising and the price wasn’t ridiculous. It looked like it would be cloudy all day so we decided to go snoop around. When we drove down the driveway, we saw the owner tinkering around in the garage. He was very nice and answered our questions. He let us walk around the property a little and see the lake. We didn’t ask to go inside since we didn’t have an appointment. It was perfectly lovely…but it’s not for us. How do I know? No magic.

In our search for a lake house, the deciding factor for me at least is the presence or absence of magic. A place either has it or it doesn’t. I’m sure this is frustrating for my real estate agent and I’m not sure I have a working definition for what this magic is exactly. All I know is…its real. I felt it the first time I walked through the doors of Loon Landing. I felt it the first time I saw a sunset on Quantabacook. I felt it the first time all six of us watched a sunset on Crawford pond from the middle of the lake in our kayaks. Magic.

It’s out there somewhere, waiting for us. We will eventually find it.

Dessertpatizers

I am proud to announce that my wife has come up with a breakthrough that will soon take the culinary world by storm. Yesterday afternoon around 5 or 5:30–the specific time alludes both our memories—she walked into the living room and said, “I’m feeling like we need an ice cream appetizer.” Without so much as a clarifying question I simple replied, “I’ll get my wallet, you get the keys.” Ten minutes later we pulled up into SuperScoops Ice Cream in Belmont, Maine, a town so small, its only business seems to be this ice cream stand…

Alert readers of this space will remember that Pam’s ice cream shop of choice is Riverducks in Camden. But that would have been a 24 minute drive. Time was of the essence. That’s the amazing thing about Maine. Places like the one in the above photograph are a dime a dozen up here. I’m serious, no matter how obscure your address happens to be in this state, you are never more than ten minutes away from a road side ice cream stand. I’m not talking soft serve here people, this stuff is always hand scooped, real ice cream. I’m thinking that the people of Maine consume more gallons of ice cream per-capita than any other people group on the planet. Lucky us.

So we pull up at SuperScoops and discover that they are about to celebrate their 30th year in business which means that this is no vanity project for some trust fund woke hippie here, this is a thriving, money making enterprise, making bank for three decades! The woman in front of us in line was thrilled when the pick up window lady hollered, “Banana bucket up!!” She grabbed ahold of that thing with two hands, looked at us and said, “This thing ain’t gonna fit in my cup holder. I’ll have to eat it in the parking lot!!” I give the two scoop butter pecan in a waffle cone I got at SuperScoops 4 stars!

But, Pam wasn’t finished. Today at roughly the same bewitching hour she shows up down at the dock with whoopie pies, coffee and tea, a little something she has decided to call…dessertpatizers, (two S’s because you want more). I don’t have to tell you what this new idea would do to the culinary hot-shots at the food channel. But, Pam will become the patron saint of 3rd graders the world over if dessertpatizers becomes a thing. For kids, the Holy Trinity will be Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Miss Pam.

Of course, the down side is that by the time we are hungry for dinner it’s like 8:30. But, is that really a problem?  I mean, does anyone really know what time it is? Does anybody really care? 

Ain’t Technology Great?

Elsa has moved out to sea, the sun is out, and judging by the water level on the steps down from the dock, the lake is eight inches deeper than it was before the rain came. On absolutely no evidence, I’m thinking that the fishing will be greatly improved today due to all this tropical storm action. It very well may be the exact opposite, but isn’t it great to be optimistic? And now, this…

When we arrived at this cabin a week ago today, we noticed that there were three of these on the ledge above the coat rack at the door. I thought they were maybe some sort of yard game racket or something. Pam remarked, “Wait, are these pickle ball rackets?” But a closer inspection revealed that each of the things had something written on them in sharpie..NOT A TOY. Ok. So, what the heck are they then? We got quickly distracted by other things. Then the next day I went out for my first run and noticed that every single other person I saw out for their morning constitutional was carrying one of these things. 

Honestly, sometimes I’m the biggest idiot. I’ve been coming up here for over 35 years now. How on earth could I have not known what these things were for??

 

Maine is not all moonlight and magnolias. There are a few major annoyances, chief among them…the dreaded black fly. When you’re on the lake or anywhere near it you’re generally fine, but the further inland you roam the worse they get. It’s as if nature is doing everything it can to remind you to slow down, relax…stay at the lake!! Every year I deal with them when I’m out for my morning runs. Again, when I’m close to the water, very few black flies, but when the trail leads toward the paved roads, they start to descend upon me. A couple of years ago Pam got me these chemically drenched bandannas to wear while I ran and they worked a little, but the resulting hallucinations were troubling! But now…some smarty-pants who is probably in the islands sipping exotic drinks right now…has invented the SuperhighVoltageBugZapper. It comes equipped with a detonation button for you to push when waving it about which sends a murderous jolt of electrocution to whatever hapless insect is in its path. But, don’t take my word for it. Here’s a customer review I found on Google:

“If you hate flies as much as we do, I assure you that using this product is MOST satisfying... There are no words to describe just what a joy it is to hear that loud SNAP when you make contact with a fly in mid-air!!”

I’m not exactly sure I would have used the word joy there, but I get the point. Its much the same as the rush of euphoria I feel when taking down a squirrel mid-flight with my Daisy Powerline 35. Maybe not joy…but a reasonably close facsimile. 

So, this morning when I head out for my run I will be armed with 4000 volts of eco-friendly, fly-killing power literally in the palm of my hand.

Genius!!

Sunset Hunting

Now is about the time when people start growing weary of my incessant Maine-bragging. It’s been over a week now and I’ve given you a steady stream of pictures, videos and anecdotes extolling the virtues of lake living. Some of you are probably thinking, I thought I would never say this but I actually miss the Dad Jokes, or maybe…What happened to the political stuff? What’s up with Lucy?? These are all legitimate points and I must say that I sympathize. But here’s the thing…I can’t help it. Take yesterday for example.

After a rough weather start to our trip, the past three days have been delightful, particularly yesterday which alternated between clear blue skies with super low humidity, and appearances of thin feathery clouds. I think the high temperature was somewhere around 75. We took full advantage. For me it started with some ill-advised exercise. The dirt road that leads from State route 131 to our cabin is only .85 miles long but in that short span it falls 145 feet in elevation. Naturally, I have taken it as a personal challenge to run up this very steep grade without stopping or dying. Since yesterday’s morning temperature was so perfect I decided that there was no time like the present. The good news is that I did not perish. The bad news is that my days of dreaming of become a Navy Seal are officially over. By the time I made it to the top my lungs and legs were on fire. It took me 8 minutes and 43 seconds. I couldn’t even break a 10 minute mile pace!! However, I did make it up without stopping so that’s something. 

Having put in three and a half miles of road work, I turned my attention to the kayak and fishing. I paddled the mile from the cabin down to my favorite spot on the dam at the southern end of the lake. Caught a couple of bass and one pike but enjoyed being at this beautiful spot for two hours.

When I made it back to the cabin I stopped at the swimming float, tied up the kayak and dove in to the chilly water for my first swim of the week. Here I must admit to being somewhat of an embarrassing wimp. I am a southern boy. I will always be a southern boy. I have southern boy sensitivities which include, but are not limited to, aversion to cold water swimming. But, I love Maine, so every year I have to overcome my DNA and take the plunge. Once I do, I always love it and yesterday was no exception. Of course, I can hear my Maine friends now…Wait…you’ve been at that cabin since Saturday afternoon and you’re just now taking your first swim?? Bruhahahah!!! Whatever. I did it, so hush yourselves!!

When it was time for dinner, the wind had died down and the lake was still. The humidity was still very low. Even the bugs had decided to take the evening off. A point of order here on the subject of “dinner time.” It’s a fluid topic. The sun rises up here before 5 in the morning, and it doesn’t get what most reasonable people would call “dark” until 9 in the evening. So, “dinner time” could be 6 or 9 or anything in between. It just depends on some sort of mystical inclination. Pam prepared and I grilled up a fabulous meal…

We ate at the picnic table down by the dock as we wondered what kind of sunset might be in the works since it had suddenly clouded over. The presence of clouds makes no difference when it comes to sunsets here. You watch long enough and one will appear. So after dinner Pam went sunset hunting on her paddle board. This time she casually invited me to tag along in my kayak if I wanted to. I jumped at the chance. This nightly ritual of hers is not something I normally interfere with, sunset paddles being entirely a Pam Thing. So when she offered, I accepted and off we went…

That’s me keeping a respectable distance. But then we turned a corner about 45 minutes in and found this…

When we got back to the cabin, neither one of us wanted to go inside, so I built a fire and Pam made s’mores using marshmallows and Keebler fudge striped cookies instead of graham crackers. She said they have more nutrition, are better for the digestive system than regular s’mores. I did not question her on this subject since it is never wise to question a woman’s arguments while they are eating chocolate.

And, just like that, another amazing day in the books. The next two days look bleak. We are told that a tropical storm is scheduled to speed through central Maine late today and all through the day tomorrow dumping as much as three inches of rain here.

We will manage.

Pam at the Lake

For Christmas I bought my wife a brand new camera, a fancy Canon with all the bells and whistles. I thought it would be something she could develop as a new hobby of sorts as we enter the next phase of our life together. The reason I thought this was all of the beautiful pictures she takes up here while she’s on her kayak…with her cell phone. The problem is that a brand new grownup camera is a complicated thing and my wife is a rule following maniac. She pours over all the instructions, reads every manual twice, then Googles a thousand articles about the camera, all before taking a single photograph. Pam is one of those people who is all about the details of a thing. If she is going to do something, she’s going to do it right or not at all. Me? I would have taken a thousand pictures by now, half of them blurry and off center, my preferred manner of learning being, doing. However, in her defense, its hard to put in all the training time on a new fancy camera when you’re busy taking photographs like this with your iPhone…

I might get that first one framed.

Yesterday was, except for a bit of wind, nearly perfect. I got in a 3.5 mile run, kayaked for a couple miles, caught a lake trout, and got the dock organized. I cooked hamburgers on the grill, which we ate on the picnic table down by the water. Then I watched as Pam took her paddle board out into the choppy water for her first sunset ride. We ended the day with a fire on the lake’s edge. Now, this morning, before the fog has lifted, she is off for a kayak trip north…

I’m just trying to keep up.

Day 1

This morning begins our fourth day here in Maine and so far we have yet to see the sun. It has been overcast and chilly. Today, the 4th of July, will be 58 degrees with cold rain. All of the dreariness is scheduled to end tomorrow with bright sunshine and 76. I feel bad for the town of Camden since they have a whole host of things planned for the holiday celebration, a series of outdoor concerts at the library amphitheater might get washed out along with the famous fireworks show over the harbor. Here at the lake, the association has their own fireworks display planned. Hopefully by the time the sun goes down tonight, the rain will have slid up into Canada.

Here’s the strange thing…I am not in the least bit disappointed by the weather. Would I have preferred bright sunshine? Of course. But there are two reasons why the bad weather doesn’t matter. First of all, we will be here for five weeks. There will be plenty of glorious days ahead, and a few more washouts. The weather is at the top of the list of things about which I have no influence. Second of all, lake house #1 has exceeded our wildest expectations. This little place is about as perfect a two bedroom, one bathroom lake house can be. There is a montage of photographs on the wall here that show what this place looked like when the current owners bought it…think, dump. Now it is a jewel, warm and inviting, clean as a whistle with a yard and deck system that is functional and beautiful. Keep in mind that the pictures which follow were taken under a dreary, low sky…

Meanwhile, the inside of the house is the very definition of the word charming…

Last night, before the rains came I walked out to the dock to listen to the loons who were in full voice. I took this picture of the house lit up like a campfire…

The lantern was the only light in a sea of dark, except for the dock lights on the cabins across the lake…

Yeah, so its raining today. Pam is planning a grocery run into Belfast. I will tinker with my fishing gear, getting it all ready for tomorrow’s gorgeous blue skies. I will also listen to the rain on the tin roof of Summer Dreams and consider my great good fortune. And although this is our fourth day in Maine, its really day 1, because its our first full day on Quantabacook.

The Chestnut Street Baptist Church Clock Tower

This year is the first time we have stayed in a hotel in Camden prior to moving into our lake house. It was Pam’s idea to beat the 4th of July traffic by driving up during the week. It has ended up being a delight. Although it has been chilly, rainy and overcast the entire time of our stay, we have loved being here.

Want to play some music? Management provides instruments for its patrons…

Or maybe you would like to sit around a fire after dinner…

…and make s’mores…

But honestly the best part of this experience has been something that sneaks up on you. You don’t always notice it but when you do it serves the same function as Prozac or a stiff drink…

That clock tower in the distance sits atop the Chestnut Street Baptist Church, directly adjacent to the town green. It is one of the most iconic sites in Camden. No matter where you are in town, when you lift your eyes skyward, its there, performing its orienting purpose better than any GPS possibly could. But as an incalculable bonus, every hour on the hour it tolls out the time. This morning I was sitting at a table in the dining room drinking coffee and catching up on the news when through closed windows I heard the soothing sound. Seven gentle peals, each one clear and cheerful, cutting through the dreary clouds. I wonder if the locals even hear it anymore. I decide that when 8 o’clock comes around I will be outside on the front steps so I can hear the full effect. Eight calming notes that tell me that I’m alive and in this place, right here…right now. And, if I’m lucky enough to still be here an hour from now, I’ll hear it again. It’s reassuring, dependable. In a world that has become scattered and unmoored, the Chestnut Street Baptist Church clock tower is…steadfast and true.

I believe I would love to live in a place with a clock tower.