The Queen of Flying Mountain

It's not always easy coordinating the activities of twelve people who happen to live in five different households, but family vacations can be demanding in that way. Today we split into four groups and headed off in different directions with loose plans to text and meet up in a few hours.

The three big boys went solo on a hike over the Beehive and on to summit Champlain, and although I envied them, my little group of Grandma, Heidi, Annabelle, the dogs, and I had a sweet adventure of our own.

Flying Mountain got its name because from the ground it looks like it is fleeing from the larger peaks of St. Saveur and Acadia behind it. At just over a couple hundred feet, it offers some of the best views on the island in a sort of compacted hike of piney woods and granite ledges. The trail ends on a rocky beach where dogs and kids will happily scramble over barnacled boulders to splash into Somes Sound.

Our merry band of hikers enjoyed it all. We ate apples and pita chips at the summit, spied little trampolines for spiders, found letters in the tree roots, shook a few baby balsam trees, and sang loudly in the rain all the way back to the car.

It was just how imagined my birthday vacation might be.

My Next Fifty Years

When I considered how I wanted to start my fifty-first year I hit upon the idea of a sunrise hike. Just a few miles from here is a 300 foot or so nubble of a mountain called Pigeon Hill overlooking several piney islands and the Gulf of Maine beyond. At this time of year, the sun comes up before five AM this far north, and so I set my alarm for four AM.

I heard the soft patter of light rain as soon as I opened my eyes, and peering out the window, I knew the plan was a wash. Only slightly disappointed (it was 4 AM after all), I alerted the boys and my mom that the hike was off and went back to sleep.

I didn't give up though, and this morning at 3:55 there were a few clouds in the sky, but nothing to justify bagging the plan again. Heidi got up, and so did Emily, Josh, Treat, and Victor. In the lessening gloom we found the trail head and started up at a quick pace-- it would be silly to get up so early and miss the main event. 4:45 found us perched on a conveniently bench-like section of the granite ledge on the eastern shoulder of Pigeon Hill.

The horizon was a hazy pink and orange and for a time I was worried that our sunrise would be obscured by clouds.

"C'mon, Sun! You can do it!" Josh said.

And then, just as sure as the sun rises in the east, the sun rose in the east.

And it was breathtaking.

Saturday Night Special

I was born on a Saturday night fifty years ago today, and this morning I sat on a gigantic deck overlooking Pinkham Bay in Steuben, Maine considering my birthday dinner. My whole family has traveled thousands of miles from Minnesota, Georgia, Pennsylvania, and Virginia to spend the week with me, and nothing could be more special than that. Even so, we have to eat, and meals are always a celebration for us. I knew there would be lobster, of course, but what else should we have?

When we were kids, our usual Saturday night dinner was steak, french fries, salad, and sauteed mushrooms, peppers, and onions. My mom bought an economical cut of beef, grilled or broiled it, and then sliced it thin. A few shakes of Lawry's seasoned salt and it was the finest of entrees to us. My dad peeled the potatoes and hand-cut them for the fries. He also cut up the onions and peppers-- and that is most of the cooking I ever remember him doing. As for the salad, iceberg lettuce, cucumbers, celery, and tomatoes with Wish Bone Italian dressing was a delicious compliment to the meal. We loved it.

2601 Saturday nights in, I decided to go with a classic, updated to be sure, but the steaks are grilling right now.

Schoodic Sound Bites

The bottom of the ocean here is much like the shore-- granite ledges and boulders.

Where's my journal? I need to draw some of this.

Follow me! I see the blue slashes!

This is the best hike we've done so far, and it's really close to our house... why haven't we been here before?

Did you ever think 10 years ago that you'd be doing these hikes at 73 years old?

Actually, I'm thinking of how it will be ten years from now.

Flip flops might not have been the best choice for this hike.

That was only one mile?

I've been thinking the whole way that this whole forest reminds me of a Harry Potter movie. Awesome!

She did it in flip flops!

New Trick

You know it's been a good day when your dog falls asleep in the car on the way home... sitting up.

Look Upward

After four days of solid rain we finally saw a rainbow today. It was in the eastern sky near sunset and so Annabelle, Courtney, and I stood on the beach in our wellies, sunset before us, rainbow behind. I would say that it was a lovely ending to the day, but just a few minutes ago I noticed the setting moon casting a looooong reflection that resembled nothing more than a silver razor clam over Pinkham Bay, and when I stepped out to admire the view, a godzillion stars in the night sky blinked at me, so now I'm thinking that that might be a fine ending to this day.

Little Cat Feet

It was raining again today, so Heidi, Louise, and I headed east to Machias. The town itself was a bit underwhelming, but the fog we encountered along the way almost made up for it. As we rolled along the coastal highway, the sea was invisible, but gray stands of balsam and fir emerged from misty shrouds at the edges of ghostly blueberry fields. It was never a solid bank of gloom; we could always see just far enough ahead to wonder what else was out there, and it shifted so that what was visible might be completely obscured when next you looked.

Stephen King is from Maine. Enough said?