Catching Up

[Above photo:  One of the windjammers out of Camden or Rockland. My friend, Neil, with whom I sailed for a number of years in California, took his wife on one of the week-long cruises and enjoyed it thoroughly.  What it must have been like to see Portland or Boston harbors filled with these ships!]

26 August 2023

I didn’t realize how neglectful of writing and posting this blog I’ve become. There are several reasons, none of much interest to others, I’d guess. It’s Maine summer, despite so much rain and cold, and like those desert frogs who emerge once a year from their tiny mud caves into the annual downpour in order to party and breed feverishly for 24 hours, we in Maine work summer for all it’s worth.  I’ve been back and forth to the Island on many trips, as well as enjoying my time in Portland. And I’ve been writing a lot—1500-2000 word episodes from my life. I have about 15 so far and plan to add the same again this year and put it together for publication. Ari has agreed to do a line drawing for each chapter. It likely won’t go anywhere but might be interesting to family and friends.

The last Island sortie was for about 2 weeks and included a 5 day visit from my medical school roommate and his wife—perennials—and a 5 day visit extending my sister’s brief stay there. Her daughter, Deirdre, with whom she lives in Bethesda, was able to stay only 7 days and Nan asked if she could stay with me for another 4 or 5. It was a remarkable time for me, as I obtained some of her personal family history that rather dramatically changed how I feel about her. While she didn’t complain about it, her tales of being sent off to France at 19yo with no French and no one to greet her said volumes about our parents, unfortunately. Uncle George, with whom she was to stay in Geneva—-How to get there from La Havre in 1948 at that age if you don’t speak the language, don’t know the currency, and are not worldly-wise is not clear to me—just happened to be in Italy for 6 weeks of holiday with his wife and kids. But she managed.  In our family, like in those I’d see when working, thinking multi-generationally is necessary to summon empathy for parents, grandparents, etc. when they behave badly.

Harold and Connie slip into the island naturally each year, swimming in water so cold I avoid it. We did have a little adventure, kayaking to Butter Island and hiking up the hill to see Tom Cabot’s engraved granite bench. We also saw in the distance fingers of cotton wool surrounding and obscuring nearby islands so we hustled down and set out. Of course, none of us had a GPS, a phone, a compass, or matches.  Connie had a watch, which helps to determine your location when dead reckoning in the fog.

Beach Island was faintly visible as we embarked from Butter, then invisible, then visible again. It was about 2 nautical miles between the islands which in fog is far enough that a bit of wind, current, and course deviation could put one on a track to miss your destination completely. It shook me, and as we pulled into our harbor I vowed to keep a kit in a dry bag containing some of the supplies required for survival if I should be caught out again. It was yet another reminder of how fickle the weather can be here—-clear one moment, thick fog the next. Also, of how impulsively thoughtless of consequences I can be.

I  had the chance to spend time with a great niece who I have always liked and admired. They continue to confirm my earlier impressions. And I had a number of good solo local kayak trips in fairly rough weather; my new boat is fast, very stable in the waves, and the moveable skeg allows for great tracking up, down, or across the wind.

On my next to last day, I took Tern, our 19foot Seaway, on a visit to North Haven Island. A friend’s son just bought a house in Pulpit Harbor and Lindsey wanted me to visit. It was a clear shot—about 30 minutes at 18 knots—in calm water. Pulling into Pulpit, I saw a number of lovely boats, large and small. I generally am only interested in the sailboats and I get why they often have been given feminine names. They can be so appealing to view, whether at rest or in motion.

One, in particular, intrigued me. It was, at most, 20 feet long, clearly a skillfully constructed home-build. “Periwinkle” was painted on her flank. She was rigged as a yawl with no jib. Both the mainsail and the mizzen were on rotating masts, so they could be easily reefed from the cockpit by one person. I later chanced upon the owner/builder and peppered him with questions. A very clever rig and an inexpensive boat to build and maintain. “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolutely nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats”. [Water Rat to Mole in Wind In the Willows.

After meeting Lindsey’s son and his Swiss girlfriend, Alex, who were working remotely for the day, I took Lindsey, his brother Eric, and Alex’s parents visiting from Zermatt on a circumnavigation of the island. It is large and the shore is generally uninhabited. There are numerous ledges to avoid and the Fox Island Thorofare would be especially treacherous at night or in the fog. We stopped in the town of North Haven and had lunch, then continued around to Pulpit where I bid them adieu and returned to Beach. I reflected on how incredibly privileged I was to be able to do that and how much I enjoyed each of the day’s characters.

I read The Summer Book by Tove Jansson at Ari’s suggestion. Truly a plotless experience, it was intriguing and effective, outlining the relationship of a grandmother and her granddaughter on a small island in the Gulf of Finland. By having no plot, I was always engaged and each encounter was a surprise.

Along a similar line, I just saw the Italian film “Amanda” which I found fascinating. It had a very random quality as it followed a rather lost 25yo in her pursuit of friendship and meaning;. She was abrasive and outspoken but underneath quite fragile.  It was a first film for the director and I thought it was terrific in many ways. It presumes that the audience is intelligent and doesn’t need an abundance of clues to get what is transpiring, unlike many made-for-big-bucks American films whose unfolding is so predictable. 

I’m somewhat less intrigued these days by the news. The GOP politicians are generally frightened to stand up to the thug-in-chief of their party and most of them are willing to support him for president even if he is convicted on one or more of his numerous indictments. How crazy it is to be discussing this nonsense. Let the legal system do its duty with this weaponizer, presumed innocent until proven guilty, and his henchmen/henchwomen.  If he’s caught repeatedly on camera with his hand in the cookie jar, it is a stretch for me to presume his innocence, however.