What We do When it’s Hot

So far I’ve told you, faithful reader, what we do here when it rains.  Today I will inform you about what we do when its hot in Maine, or HIM for short. First of all a definition of what exactly qualifies as hot. Yesterday’s high temperature in Searsmont was 89. While depending on where you live and humidity levels this might not seem particularly severe as hot goes. There have been many summers in Short Pump where any day not in the 90’s would seem pleasant by comparison. Not here. In Maine high 80’s qualifies as brutal heat for one simple reason—the absence of air conditioning. Take last night for example.

By the time dinner time rolled around Pam had already fled the premises to Belfast for an iced coffee and AC time at Reny’s. Heat is my wife’s mortal enemy, the bane of her existence. It is the only force in the universe capable of turning her to the dark side. She got out of the shower yesterday afternoon and immediately found herself covered in sweat. I knew she wasn’t long for the cabin. Her two hours reading and drinking iced coffee lounging in the soft seating inside Dunkin worked wonders for her psyche. She returned to the lake her delightfully reliable self. 

At this point I knew that there was no way she was going to cook anything that required her to turn on the stove. I wisely volunteered to head over to Fraternity General to pick up one of their fabulous pizzas. Since it was near six o’clock I know from experience that you need to call first, then allow thirty minutes before making the 3 mile drive to pick it up. I called again and again for ten minutes and the line was busy every time. Throwing caution to the wind, I drove there without ordering first. Upon arrival I noticed a sign on the door:  Due to extreme heat, the kitchen is closed to anything that requires an oven. Cold sandwiches available.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking…Oh, thats adorable! Poor Mainers can’t even handle a couple of warm days!! Nothing could be further from the truth. Fraternity General is a 100+ year old colonial structure built without air conditioning. The kitchen sits in a windowless, low ceiling section of the first floor. It is roughly 10x12 and has two pizza ovens and one regular oven. The girls take your order at the counter. When I walked in the place last night it was 85 or so outside with a lovely breeze that had come up. But inside that store it had to be 100. The two cooks had bright red faces covered in sweat. I noticed on the glass covered turn table a piping hot pepperoni pizza that looked of relatively recent origin. “Can I have five pieces of this one?” I asked. I walked out with the last pizza of the day, feeling like the great white hunter.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Pam had lowered the blinds across the front of the house to shade the interior of the cabin from the bright reflection of the setting sun now blinding us from the surface of the lake. But now the wind had picked up nicely and she had turned on every ceiling fan available and had the floor fan on the maximum speed. It sounded like the tarmac at LaGuardia but it was cooler. The hardest part of a HIM day are the hours between 5 and 9.

The rest of our HIM day was spent on the water. I fished, kayaked, and floated around on the float. Pam spent lots of time escorting Lucy around the lake on her paddle board. I swam…a lot. It was delightful. Today, the weather people are unanimous in their opinion that another scorcha is in the works. High temperature of 87 with a 40% chance of thunder storms late in the day. After that it looks like we will be in the 70’s for the next four days.

Freaking Poker Game!!

The weather here has turned sunny and fair for the last couple of days and this has been the occasion of much celebration here at vacation central. With the appearance of the sun our schedule becomes dominated by the lake. We spend almost all of our time either in it, on it, or gazing at it. What follows are just a few examples.

Around 6:00 am I took my morning coffee on the dock with Lucy who patiently waited for me to stop Lolly-gagging around and start fishing already. This was my view…

By 9:00 or so I was ready to head out in the kayak for a more serious fishing excursion a mile and a half north of our dock. Shortly after heading out I encountered a traffic jam when I met up with this beautiful woman…

Incidentally, the White House in the background of this photograph has been a consistent irritant to me ever since its construction several years ago. We have watched it’s progress each year with a mixture of admiration and resentment. Because it sits on an island, most of the heavy work gets done in the winter when the lake freezes over and heavy loads of lumber and such can be driven across the surface of the water by truck. The final result of all the work is a fine house with commanding views. The thing that sticks in my craw however is the way in which the owner of this house came about obtaining the large parcel of land where his lovely house rests—he won it in a poker game. I must admit to a small degree of bitterness at this mindless, haphazard stroke of luck. Every time I paddle by the place I mumble to myself, “freaking poker game!!” But, what’s done is done.

At this point I feel it necessary to introduce a new physical ailment that has visited my rapidly deteriorating body. I think there might be something wrong with my left hip. Whenever I find it necessary to sit down for anything longer than thirty minutes, like driving long distances or fishing from a kayak, the offending hip begins to protest rather violently. The pain is quite intense and gets progressively worse the longer I go. So yesterday’s two and a half hour expedition was a very bad idea—a literal pain in my ass. Half way in I had to find a spot to park the kayak so I could go for a swim in the cold water. Had I not I doubt I would have made it back to the dock. So, for the rest of my time here I will limit my fishing paddles to less than two hours and will make generous use of muscle relaxers, heating pads, and this nifty device I got for Christmas…

Even in THIS picture, the Poker House mocks me!

But, enough about me! On lake days I have a steadfast companion. Miss Lucy had a day of days yesterday. She swam about all morning at Pam’s side as Pam took the paddle board out for a spin. She literally never tires of swimming. Could stay out there all day if we let her, and we nearly did. Later in the afternoon  we took the swim floats out and Lucy came out with us stopping every now and then to rest her head on my float so she could let her paws hang free in the water. She then closes her eyes and lays there taking a snoozle while I scratch her head. Finally after a very long day of great fun she laid down on the dock looking like a furry life guard…

Around 5:30, we drove into Camden for dinner at Sea Dog and ice cream at Riverducks. Our food and our view at dinner was first rate, and Riverducks never disappoints…

Who knows what today will bring?

What Do We Do on Rainy Days?

The last couple of days have been very rainy with lots of fog and flood warnings flying about. The forecast is for more of the same until mid-week. Everyone around here says that its been like this for at least six weeks. So what are we doing? Yesterday was fairly typical for a rainy day.

We decided to head into Camden for breakfast at The Deli. Its nice when the owner of the place greets you by your first name despite the fact that he hasn’t seen you in seven months! The blueberry pancakes were sublime along with some delicious coffee…

Then we putzed around the damp streets for a while stopping in to some of our favorite stores. On our way back to the lake we stopped at Lincolnville General Store to pick up some coffee from our favorite Maine photographer, Dan Dishner, owner of Coffee on the Porch—Camden. The store is an absolute beauty.

But, it ain’t cheap. One pound of coffee cost me $16! Oh well. Its only money, then you die.

Right across the street from the General Store is a place called the Red Cottage. Since we drive through Lincolnville Center on our way into Camden, we have watched this place blossom from a run down shack to the loveliest little shop you’ve ever seen over the past four years. But we never stopped to check it out until yesterday.

The proprietor, Janis Kay and her husband saw potential in this shack several years ago and put in a bid to buy the place. They outbid a contractor who was planning to tear it down and build a new house. After four years of hard work and lots of sweat equity, the Red Cottage is a gem. Pam saw several things she just had to have, and we made a new friend.

For the rest of the day and night Pam worked on her latest cross-stitch project. I enjoyed a world class nap and nearly finished my first book of the trip, John Le Carre’s The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. When it was time for dinner Pam whipped up some tacos and a salad made from vegetables she picked up at a farm stand in Belmont. After dinner, courtesy of Roku and the wonders of technology, we settled down on the sofa with Miss Lucy to watch the Livestream of Hope’s worship service from yesterday morning. At that point the rain was coming down in torrents, slashing the metal roof above us and making a sound like none other. This morning we woke to 60 degrees.

I imagine that today will be much the same. Lots of reading, a little fishing with Lucy down on the dock. We might wander into Belfast later on. Or not.

Here

I was the first to spot the green bridge arching in the distance through the fog at one o’clock in the afternoon. But this was real fog, not the noxious Canadian smoke we had been driving through for two days. Pam took a photograph, like she does every single time we pass under the green iron rails of the Piscataqua river bridge. She says that crossing the bridge is when vacation starts. Once on the other side she busied herself with making a grocery list. She will want to make a quick run into the Belfast Hannaford before the Saturday crowd descends.

By the time we exited off 295 just before Augusta, the sun had come out. The sky was a radiant blue, the temperature an idyllic 74. Despite the sharp pain radiating through my left hip and hamstring—an unfortunate physical staple of post-60 long distance driving life—I felt my spirits soaring. We were less than an hour away. Lucy, as always, lay curled up in her space in the back of the car, oblivious to the glorious sunshine. Then, I made the turn onto New England Road, ten minutes away from the lake. Lucy stood up and began sniffing the air, big goofy smile on her face, staring out of the rear window, ears perked up expectantly. How could she know?

Its hard to explain the feeling that comes over us when we see the lake for the first time every year. Quantabacook can’t be seen from any State road, one of the few Maine lakes for which this is true. In fact you don’t even see it when you first pull off the dirt road into the driveway. You have to clear the overhanging trees first. But once you do, there it is, bathed in sunlight, the water glistening as if on fire. Dan the Man from Ducktrap Kayaks has delivered as promised. There are brand new Adirondack chairs on the dock. The girls at On The Water In Maine had dropped off the package that Pam had shipped to their office—something she had bought for the trip but worried would arrive at home after we had already left. They are used to this with us. One year Pam left her contact lenses at home. Another year it was all her bathing suits! We don’t even have to ask tell them anymore. “Hey, you guys have a package. We can bring it out there or you can pick it up the next time you’re in town.” Customer Service isn’t some strange and novel concept to OTWIM. Its how they roll.

I texted this photograph to Tif, the owner of OTWIM, upon our arrival. She replied with one of her own from her front yard on Owl’s Head, a forty minute drive down the road…

“ ohhh. You have sun!!” She said.

“Well, I specifically ordered it for my arrival,” I replied.

I woke up this morning at 5:20. I always wake so early up here. Pam is still asleep and Lucy has hardly acknowledged my presence…

Yes, we cover the sofas here with her favorite blankets, she being a creature of quite specific habits. Plus we don’t want her getting dog hairs all over the furniture. Summer Dreams is such a delight. Anyone lucky enough to own a place this lovely deserves to have it taken care of. If this place or Loon Landing ever come up for sale I would write a check so fast, Wells Fargo would have a hernia.

Last night we slept with the windows opened. Its foggy out and cool. The only sounds are the occasional loon call, a persistent chickadee and the pulsing bellow of a bullfrog at the water’s edge. I’ve finished my first cup of coffee. The fog seems to be lifting, the sky  brightening. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. 

“We’re Goin to Maine”

Its quite a lot like waking up on Christmas morning, only there aren’t any presents, just piles of stuff that needs to be organized, folded, stuffed and crammed into the back of a car. I still have several items on my checklist but make no mistake about it—this is the day.

Pam told me the story of how when she and Sharon were little, they slept in the same bed and on the night before they were to leave for Maine they would whisper to each other, “We’re goin’ to Maine…we’re goin’ to Maine.” Since Pam isn’t here this week I’ve been whispering it to Lucy. She knows.

I texted a friend who lives in Lincolnville, Maine yesterday and she said that she hoped we brought good weather with us. The entire month of June has featured gray fog and rain. The most recent 10 day forecast has just one day with a temperature above 80. However, it should be noted that a ten day weather forecast in Maine is about as worthless as a campaign promise. The weather will be whatever the hell it wants to be and there’s not a thing we can do about it.

So whether its this:

Or this:

It’s not going to matter. There will still be the call of the loons, blueberry pancakes at the deli, the comforting aroma of the Smiling Cow, lobster rolls at Hazel’s, and the stillness of Quantabacook at dawn.

Hiding In Plain Sight

This poem has been hanging in our guest bathroom for years. We found it in a shop in Camden. The text seemed a perfect representation of a place that we have grown to love deeply. But although I’ve glanced at this a hundred times I never noticed until today. The author’s middle and last name…Melcher Heart.

I’ll say!

I suppose the lesson is obvious. Pay closer attention to life. There are incredible things all around you hiding in plain sight.

A Responsible Adult?

It feels weird around here this morning. Just Lucy and me. Pam left yesterday for Hatteras Island with my extended family. I couldn’t go because I have too many things to get wrapped up at work before we leave for Maine on Thursday. If my dinner last night is any indication, I’m in big trouble. It consisted of a re-heated chicken breast I cooked on the grill Friday night and two fluffier-nutter burritos I just threw together last minute. I washed it all down with a glass of Arnold Palmer Lite half and half. 

Lucy is confused and disoriented. She had been on pins and needles over the last several days as Pam was packing for the beach trip as well as setting up her famous Maine staging area. Lucy isn’t a fan of disruption. She abhors nothing quite so much as turmoil in her house. The sudden appearance of piles of trip gear results in much harrumphing and heavy panting. So when Pam pulled away from the house yesterday in a fully packed vehicle without us, she was not happy. Luckily, I happened to have a nearly empty peanut butter jar at the ready. When I offered it to her, she gladly accepted then retreated up the stairs to her special peanut butter jar licking spot for half an hour, distracted and happy. For the rest of the day she just slumped around the house stopping at every window, looking perplexed.

I am not confused, but I too am disoriented. This is the second time this month that Pam and I have been apart, the first time a couple weekends ago when she drove down to Columbia to help Kaitlin set up her new classroom. And now this. I’m a big boy. I can handle living alone for a while. But that doesn’t mean I like it. What is it that the Bible says? It is not good for man to be alone. I agree. One of the last things she did before leaving was to give me a quick tutorial on how to run the dishwasher. Yes, I realize that sounds pathetic. My experience with that particular appliance is with the loading and unloading thereof. I can count on the one hand of a three fingered clown the number of times I have actually run the thing. So, there she was patiently walking me through the three step process. I kept saying, “I got it”, when in point of fact I will probably play it safe and wash dishes in the sink for the next 4 days. Pathetic.

Because we will be leaving for Maine in less than a week, I won’t be taking any undo chances while she is away. When I am alone and don’t have to explain to Pam my plans to run sixteen miles while wearing a weighted vest, I tend to push the envelope. Since if she were here the aforementioned run would be rejected out of hand, there is a certain freedom that comes with not needed to get her permission first. But Maine is T-Minus 4 days and counting. Now is not the time for free-wheeling asshattery. I have a 15 hour drive in my immediate future. Its time to act like an adult. 

That is not to say that I won’t slip away to walk nine holes of golf at some point, or head over to Wong’s for one or three cold beers and their spiciest tacos. The difference is that I will remember to stop by Publix to pick of a bottle of Pepcid on my way home….like a responsible adult.