More Exploring

On this day, we got out as soon as we could at high tide. In fact, the tide was still coming in when we launched our kayaks. The tide here is a 12-foot tide, so we would be stuck in mud and sand if we didn't go out at high tide. Of course this gives us about a four-hour window (two hours before high tide and two hours after), unless we want to get stuck out there with no waterway back. So on this day we were out for about two and a half hours exploring the nearby islands and peninsulas. This bay has very little motorized boat use, so it's usually just us kayakers and canoeists. The water can get choppy on a windy day, but it can also be as placid as a lake. On this trip, a few exciting things happened. Bob, for some reason, never wants to stay close to me (no jokes here, friends and family members), and because of the ridiculous life vests we are wearing, and the fact that the kayak could tip over, it's difficult for me to look behind me (and that's usually where he is). I can never hear him paddling because he's usually that far behind (Bob likes to rest and observe nature; I, on the other hand, always have a goal and that pretty much sums us up, and our relationship. Hahaha!)

So, while I'm heading one way around the island, Bob (behind me) heads the other way, though I don't know it. This next part will not be a surprise to anyone who knows me. So I turn my entire kayak around so I can wait for him, and there is no "him." At first, I think he's further behind and I just can't see him, but as I scan the water, I don't see a living thing, or kayak. I'm calm for about five minutes. He has a life jacket on, even if he had a heart attack, I'd see his body floating in the water. And--the kayak would be floating, even if he fell out of it. Now, I'm sweating and, of course, while I'm going around the island, he is going around the island--you get the picture of the dog chasing its tail. I'm not ready to jump out and swim underwater to look for his body quite yet, and I finally catch up to him. He's observing four short-billed dowitchers (shorebirds) resting at the end of the rocks that jut out to the sea. Actually, they are beautiful, and they let him get pretty close. Unfortunately, on these trips, Bob doesn't bring his good camera, so here is a picture from the Internet of what they  look like.

Because we were pretty far out by this time and we realized that as far away as we were from the cottage that's how long it would take us to get back and my arms and back were getting pretty tired. As we started back, a huge thundercloud was forming almost directly over our heads. So our paddling suddenly became much more efficient. As we passed the summer cottages along the way, people waved--it is part of the Maine experience, I guess, because all drivers coming from the opposite direction on the road into the cottage also wave, even if the license plate is an Arizona one.

Yesterday was a day of rest for me (well, I stayed home and cleaned the cottage floors, bathroom, kitchen, refrigerator), while Bob did the clothes at the laundromat and bought some supplies at the grocery store (next door to the laundromat). We are cooking dinner at a friend's house in Waterville, Maine. She cooked the last time and I'm dying to see the renovations that are now done (they were ready to get started in 2009 when we were there last). When Bob came home, we put everything away and had a hot links dinner. Although we went to bed early, we were both awakened by an amazing lightning storm. The sky lit up and it was almost constant. Not only were we watching streaks of lightening, but the light show was like nothing I had seen before. The thunder crackled like it was across the street and the moon was full, so the water was lit constantly. Mother Nature (besides scaring me--I'm afraid of lightning and have been since I was a child) certainly provided us with a wonderful light show. It poured as well and by the time it was over, we were lulled back to sleep by the "rhythm of the pouring rain."

picture credit: cmc56789 on Google

Today, we woke early (lawn mowing day for the owner) and drove into Ellsworth. Ellsworth is the nearest city of any size and depending on traffic (which is very light on Rte. 1) it can take about 45 minutes to an hour. Our plan was to find a fire pit for upcoming company and a frying pan big enough for the meal Bob was making at the McCowans on Wednesday night. My plan was to eat at a restaurant. We did some shopping at the cute little shops and bought a few things at the farmer's market which was held in the lot next to the organic market, and decided that since it was past noon, we were hungry. It seems that wherever we may roam, there's always an Irish pub. 

Finn's  was the name of this one. Very cute. Great waitress, Tess. Great menu--hard to decide what to order.

Most of the time, Irish pubs serve good bar food and a bunch of good Irish dishes. This one had that and more. We started out with Irish nachos (a take on Mexican nachos, but with potato chips freshly fried, thickly cut, covered with corned beef hash, tomatoes, jalapenos, sour cream). YUM! I ordered the roasted veggie sandwich and Bob had bangers and mash. My sandwich was perfect: roasted eggplant, zucchini, red onions, garlic, with marinated artichokes and feta cheese in a crispy, crusty Italian sub roll. Bob's banger was delicious. Bob had a local IPA and I had a Harp.

By the way (Mary and Doug Soule), guess what music was playing the entire time we were at Finn's---Mumford and Sons--yup, our waitress loves them and plays it over and over while she's working.

Note to self: every time you eat too much, you get nauseous and we have to go home. Stop it. Eat half of whatever you order and take the rest home. 

We went across the street and did some antiquing; Bob bought a model ship for himself and a church supper cookbook (there are signs every weekend along the road advertising church suppers here), and a blue Ball canning jar (I started collecting them when I picked turquoise/aqua as one of my new decorating colors in our home). We had come into town to go to Rooster Brother, a kitchen store that I loved in 2009, but couldn't afford anything. I wasn't feeling great, but remember, I'm that goal-oriented person, so, of course, I had to go. I was a bit disappointed--it was like a small Sur la Table which we have at home. I could afford anything this time but didn't see anything interesting. Figures.

Rooster Brother

There's a place in Maine called Reny's . It's kind of like our Big Lots, but no furniture is sold here and most of the stuff is seasonal. I am dying to make a driftwood wreath, so we went in and bought a string of small driftwood. I saw a wreath in Santa Fe a couple of years ago with driftwood angels on a grapevine wreath and have wanted to copy it--so now I can. We also bought two very inexpensive Adirondack chairs (turquoise) which i wish we could fit in the van and take home with us, but we can't. I've been wanting some comfortable chairs to sit in in the late afternoon by the water, so there are perfect. I started feeling better (shopping--aha! now I know something that is better than gingerale in soothing a nauseous stomach, and much more fun). There is a large TJ Maxx and I thought there might be some fun beachy things there--besides, the girl who never wears shorts (that would be me) needed more shorts since that's what she wears when she's kayaking now. As soon as we walked in, I saw a cheap fire pit--my cousin is enamored with fires at night, so I thought I would ask the cottage owner if it was allowed. Of course the cottage owner did not respond in time, but, since I could return the fire pit (still in the box) if I don't use it, I thought we'd take it back to the cottage and I could call the cottage owner. When we got back to the cottage, there was a fire pit exactly like the one we had just bought sitting on the lawn. However, I could tell by the tone of a subsequent email that the owner was afraid of fire damage to his lawn (which is very green) or the woods nearby. We will make sure that a fire is allowed by checking in at the town office. So far, at least lately, though, it hasn't really been that cool at night that by a fire is where I'd want to be. it usually cools off while we are sleeping (on the few days it's been over 80 degrees). So, I guess we will be returning the fire pit we bought. That's fine.

Lamoine Beach

 

Marlboro Beach (view of Cadillac Mountain)

picture credit: cmc56789 on Google

On our way back, we took a "road not taken" before. We'd often seen signs for Lamoine State Park  and we'd always say, "We should check this out sometime." Since it was pretty warm (which meant our closed up cottage would be pretty warm), we set out exploring yet another side road. The state park was small, but very pretty and if ever we should camp, this would make a nice stop (who am I kidding here--if we should ever camp, we'll bring the camp trailer--not a tent). We also saw a sign for a town beach. The picture above is Lamoine town beach. The "beach" is gravel rather than sand, but there are picnic tables and a sign saying "Swim at your own risk -- no lifeguards." After further exploring, we found an even nicer beach called Marlborough beach and that was very nice, secluded, and there were very few people there. 

Sand Beach is THE beach at Acadia National Park. We've been there before--it's a real sand beach surrounded by bluffs covered with pine trees. For us Easterners, it's a very incongruous sight, but I've seen similar beaches in northern California and Oregon. The problem is the parking is crazy. There's a small parking lot so most of the times people park on the side of the road leading to the admission gates. I love this beach when I'm there but getting there is a bit of a bother. This beach is also the infamous beach where I wave-jumped for over two hours, emerged with a very sore knee, and have had knee trouble ever since (2009).

On the way home, I mentioned to Bob that we had already been in Maine for three weeks and all I've had were lobster rolls. Within 15 minutes, he was screeching into this place--The Galley. This is owned by two teachers. The husband is a high school history teacher during the school months and a lobster fisherman and cook during the summer. His wife just retired from her position as Special Education director. They served up a boiled dinner (with French fries, though) of corn, a one-pound soft-shell lobster, a roll, and cole slaw. That was my dinner. Bob, my gourmand, ate chili out of the can--cold! I'll never understand him. By the way, my dinner was delicious. Happy Lobstah Day!