Mixty No More

For months I had a daily reminder on all my devices to Plan the big 6-0. I set it back when I was trying to find a rental place up here in Maine big enough to accommodate our group, and then I left it, because the agency I ended up doing business with had several deadlines and lots of paperwork to keep track of, and I wanted to make sure they were all on my daily screen. 

Oh, I canceled the reminder once everything was all set, but it's a little hard to believe that the day is actually here. This morning we tried to find a phrase to capture the birthday, something along the lines of fifty is nifty, but not much rhymes with sixty. Victor proposed "betwixty" and I'm still thinking about that one, and what I might be betwixt. Privately, I considered "My feelings are mixty about turning sixty," but it seemed a little too true.

And I needn't have worried about planning; the day was perfect: blueberry pancakes with peaches for breakfast, yoga and meditation with Courtney, Emily, and Josh, a hike up Gorham Mountain with 10 of our 11, picking blueberries along the granite ledges on the way up, and lunch at the summit overlooking the ocean on one side and over to Cadillac Mountain on the other, a brief stop at home, and then a mini-golf 5 on 5 team challenge complete with a school yard pick. 

Even though my team lost by just a little over 1 stroke each, we had a great time, and I danced to One Step Forward all through the 17th and 18th holes, never mind that group of dudes breathing down our necks in the back nine. And now? I get to relax and wait for my lobster and steak and lemon-glazed birthday cake.

Now that's what I call a plan!

A Win Is a Win

Originally created to keep a crew of energetic, competitive boys engaged on relatively tame walks along the rocky beaches, the Smoothest Rock Contest is one of our Maine traditions. The concept is simple: as contestants explore the incredibly scenic cobble stone beaches, they sort through the kazillions of beautiful granite stones tumbled round and smooth by the North Atlantic to find the smoothest one of them all. It is a ritual we have repeated with Riley, Treat, and Josh on each of our visits for the last 16 years.

Sometimes the judging is honor system, sometimes it involves voting for the smoothest rock not your own, and sometimes there is an impartial judge. That's how we did it today down at the beach at the bottom of the Wonderland Trail, even though 2 of the 3 original boys, now grown to men, were off hiking on another part of the island.

A cool breeze blew off the ocean under bright blue skies as Heidi, Courtney, Emily, Victor, Emily, and I all dropped our entries into a hat for Bill to judge blindly. Taking his time to run his fingers carefully over each of our submissions, he considered them rock, by silky smooth rock. At last he had it narrowed down to two, one traditionally flat and oval, and the other a prism-shaped piece of fine-grain, speckled black granite with a little dimple that perfectly fit my thumb.

"The winner is..." he announced, "this one!" And he held out my black triangle.

Silly as it was? I felt a bit of a thrill-- I've never won the contest before. After a little cheer and a friendly postmortem comparison of smooth rocks, we headed home where I could not wait to report my victory to Josh and Treat.

"It's only because I wasn't there," Josh joshed.

"Maybe so," I shrugged. "Too bad for you."

Crunching the Numbers

It's a blessing to have eleven family members all in one house on vacation, but coordinating logistics, such as where to go and when to leave, what to eat and whose to cook, can be challenging, especially with a group who range so widely in age. Statistically it might seem overwhelming, but I think we're doing just fine.

 

Just dig a little deeper into the data. The median? That's Emily 2, and the mode is Treat and Josh, both the same age. The smallest is Annabelle, and the largest is me. Sure, there are 46 years that separate our ages, but in between there is Emily, Bill, Courtney, Heidi, Emily, Victor, Treat, Josh, and Nadika, and a whole lot of love and mutual respect. 

And that's no mean thing.

Come Again Another Day

The rain arrived on schedule this afternoon, although Courtney and Annabelle did not. Their flight was delayed a second time, pushing their arrival to a full 24 hours late. Coincidentally? Victor and Emily will be on the same plane with them tonight into Bangor from Boston. 

Knock on wood.

That Maine Thing

We tossed around several hiking possibilities this morning before settling on our plan for the day: it had to be Acadia Mountain. Just a few minutes from our rental house, the hike features a steady and challenging climb through a balsam forest up to granite ledges punctuated by shrubby blueberry, juniper, and huckleberry, and opening up to amazing views of Echo Lake, Somes Sound, and all the little Islands in the Atlantic Ocean beyond. It's everything I love about hiking in Maine, and today our hike was quintessentially so: warm sun, cool sea breeze, photos at the summit, and lunch on the ledges overlooking the sound just below. When we spotted two bald eagles soaring a couple hundred feet away, I knew it doesn't get much better than that.

There's Always Something

Few vacations are without their challenges, but this trip is really starting to rack them up. 

To start with, Richard and Jordan can’t come, and Victor has COVID in Iceland. When Heidi, Emily, Josh, and I arrived at our rental house it was all locked up, despite the promise that the door would be open. When at last the agency returned our message from their emergency line and led us to the "secret key", we found that the place itself is sort of strange. 

The original part of the house was built in 1828 and the structure was added to over the centuries. The result is sprawling and warren-like, room leading to room. The decor is somewhere between museum and cottage, and after being closed up in the uncharacteristically warm June sunshine the place smelled 200 years old before we opened the windows and turned on the fans. 

But, when Heidi was opening one of the old fashioned storm windows, the heavy sash slipped and fell on her fingers. She’s in the ER right now, properly cared for and waiting for X-rays and possibly stitches, but it was a harrowing and bloody ride to the hospital with real fears of partial amputation.

And yet, here I sit on a comfortable bench watching the sun set over the eponymous Bar Harbor and its yachts, schooners, and lobster boats. COVID precautions prevented me from waiting with Heidi as she was treated, and with at least a couple of ours to kill, I walked the few blocks from the hospital to town. 

Emily and Josh are making dinner and caring for the dogs at our place: Treat and Nadika are on their way; Bill will be here tomorrow morning; Courtney and Annabelle will arrive tomorrow night; and fingers crossed? Victor and Emily will make it on Monday.

The world is a turbulent place, for sure,  but there is beauty to be found beside the turmoil, too. 

The Only Way Out Is Through

We had the van packed and ready to go by 7:15, hoping to thread the traffic needle on I-95 up the Eastern Seaboard. Our interim destination was Andover, MA, a trip that could take a little over seven hours, if we were lucky. That would leave another four and a half or five to get up to MDI tomorrow. 

Josh rode with Emily and Rosie to spell the driving, and Heidi and Lucy and I were right behind them, until the display on our fancy rental van dropped the map app on my phone. We pulled over to the curb and sat reading the manual and troubleshooting for about 20 minutes. 

"F*ck it!" I told Heidi and twisted the knob on the dash board to put the van in drive. "Lets' go." By the time Heidi actually fixed the problem (by turning everything off and on again) we were inching along in stop and go traffic north of Baltimore. Navigation system activated, I took the next exit and bypassed the snarl. 

We made pretty good time until we were about 20 miles south of the GW Bridge on the Jersey Turnpike. Against my better judgment, I had followed the map instead of bailing for the Garden State Parkway and the Tappan Zee Bridge. Soon we were gridlocked by an accident, our route a red line on the display, and the delay time creeping from 10 to 20 to 25 minutes. 

With nothing to do, we texted Josh and Emily, who having narrowly avoided the obstruction were 30 minutes past the bridge. From there, the clock was against us. We entered Connecticut with a glut of other vacationers and commuters leaving early for the weekend. I-84 was delayed for miles, and we decided to gas up and look for a work around. 

Despite the displeasure of our navigation app, we found ourselves making pretty good time through some lovely New England towns. We rolled past village greens, stone walls, churches, one room schoolhouses, and town halls. Eventually, there was nowhere else to go but back on the highway, and although we didn't avoid all the slowdowns, we missed a few of them. 

It was 7:45, twelve and a half hours after our departure when we finally made it to the hotel. Emily and Josh had beat us by an hour or so, but there we were: tired to be sure, but so much closer to Maine.