Fly Boy

It was no easy feat to get our party of nine people and two dogs out the door by 8 am this morning, but we did it. We only had one chance for the mail boat in Stonington that would take us over to Isle au Haut for the day, and so everybody got up early, ate breakfast, and packed lunches and enough water to last all day-- there were no stores where we were going.

The island was just as beautiful today as I remembered it, with plenty of wide granite ledges and cobble stone beaches overlooking the deep blue Atlantic, but it was a much buggier than last time, too. The cool ocean breeze kept a lot of pests away, but there were still a few stretches of trail where we were all swatting deer flies and some pretty huge horse flies, too. It became almost a social activity; each of us obligingly smacking anything that landed on the hiker in front of us. Kyle pursued the parasites with particular alacrity, reveling in each successful swat. "Pow!" He exclaimed at one point, "I got him right in the buzzer!"

Parking

There's a little park at the end of Main Street in Bar Harbor that looks out over the Harbor itself and the Porcupine Islands beyond. Our group of nine split up after doing our traditional picnic on Great Head this afternoon. The big boys and Seiyoung headed off for the Bee Hive and other challenges while Bill, Emily, Heidi, Kyle and I took the dogs into town. Once here, I thought it was a little too warm to leave the dogs in the car, and with not much interest in shopping, the three if us set off down the hill. Here I found a shady spot on the grass just a little ways up from the four masted schooner Margaret Hood. Right now bits of conversations in several different languages are floating past on the warm breeze blowing through the maples and birches, and the dogs are sleeping only to be roused by the friendly folks asking to give them a pat as they pass. 

HBD

From the moment I got up this morning and my oldest nephew appeared like an apparition and wished me a happy birthday before mysteriously vanishing again, to the time I spent with him and his girlfriend on the beach learning to navigate the silky, croc-thieving mud so that we could fill our bucket with mussels, to the freshly-squeezed carrot-grapefruit-strawberry juice my brother served us on the granite ledges, to the warm noontime sunshine and perfectly cool breeze I enjoyed while tossing the tennis ball for the dogs, to the time we spent exploring the scenic back roads of this rural peninsula on the way to John B Mountain where the trail to the top is so springy it's like mini-trampolines propelling you forward until you reach those granite ledges with views of Camden and Rockport to the west and Mount a Desert Island to the east, to the inexplicably natural art-laden trail along the Penobscot Bay on the way to Goose Falls, to all the birthday love on Facebook, and my niece and nephew singing, facetiming my mom as I relaxed on the deck listening to the gulls screech and Josh softly strumming his guitar, while the daylight slips away with the tide and my birthday feast is being prepared inside, I couldn't have conjured a more wonderful day.

Stellar

After dinner tonight Josh built a fire in the fire ring in the backyard. Kyle and I were the first ones out there, but eventually the rest of our group joined us, lured by the fire but snared by the stars. Because the stars were amazing tonight. Up here away from the city lights of our hometown we can see so many more, not to mention the Milky Way, several satellites, and a ton of shooting stars. I pulled up the star gazing app on my phone, and despite implying that Pluto was visible with the naked eya and we could see through the earth to the other side, in general it was very helpful, allowing us to really see why they ever decided to name some of those constellations in the first place. It was kind of a revelation, and Treat summed it up best when he marveled, "Just look at that great bear!"

What's the Name of this River?

When we were children living in South Jersey our family made the drive to DC pretty often. In those days that road trip involved me, my brother, and sister tucked in the back of our Ford Falcon eating Chikn-in-a-Biscuit crackers and playing the license plate game with our parents. About halfway into the journey and a little while after passing under the hairpin towers of the Delaware Memorial Bridge, the highway would open up and cross a huge expanse of water. "What's the name of this river?" my dad always asked, and in a chorus we replied,

"The Susquehanna!"

A few miles down the road we'd find ourselves descending through Baltimore Harbor Tunnel, its submarine subway tiles shining wetly in the dim yellow lights. Keep up Speed Keep up Speed Keep up Speed we chanted along with the reminder signs posted every hundred yards or so. Back then, the pay off of those trips was always a visit with our grandparents, or one of our beloved aunts and cousins, which was a very grand reward indeed.

Today I made that journey in reverse on my way to a family vacation in Maine, and it was impossible not to note all the usual landmarks. Oh the highway is wider, and tunnel has been updated, and there are two spans to the DMB now, and there's no longer a Hot Shoppe at the rest stop in Delaware, but the name of that river is still the same.

0630

Tomorrow's ETD and...

yes,

my birthday!

The van is packed.

Let the wild rumpus begin!

Things You'd Rather NOT Hear...

...ever, much less 36 hours before your vacation:

"This is going to be an awkward conversation..."
"Neck to toe for 12 to 14 hours..."
"EVERYTHING in VERY hot water..."

Things you can't do anything about:

See above.