due east

We just arrived home from our annual family trip to Maine. This year, because our usual rental house was unavailable, we decided to try somewhere new: Eastport. The town of Eastport is pretty remote—about as far east as you can go and not far from the New Brunswick border. It took us 9 hours to get there from Burlington.

If you're looking to get away from it all, this is the place to do it. The last hour and a half of our drive took us through a great pine forest on route 9. Nothing but woods and road for miles and miles. It was breathtaking and terrifying at the same time. Before we even arrived at our rental house, our phones switched into Atlantic time zone and started picking up the Canadian phone carrier, so we had to turn them off or else be charged international roaming fees. No cell service for a week. I was plenty okay with that.

The house we rented for a song was situated right on Passamaquoddy Bay (a smaller bay in the Bay of Fundy) overlooking Deer Island, New Brunswick across the way. The tides in the Bay of Fundy are some of the biggest and most intense in the world. When the tide was out, it went out far far far, leaving us with tons of muddy tidal flats to explore and find crabs. When the tide was in, it came in up up up, all the way up to the edge of the lawn leading to the house.

The tides factor in very much to what you can see or do in the area, a fact that is both interesting and irritating at the same time.

One day, we took a ferry boat over to Deer Island. We were hoping to catch a glimpse of Old Sow, the largest naturally occurring whirlpool in the Western Hemisphere. We caught the ferry at low tide, which meant we had to walk down a long beach to where the ferry was docked in the wet sand. It took us forever to even find the ferry, since it was not well-marked and the boat was just pulling away as we arrived. But the fine gentleman running the ferry saw us and had the captain come back to pick us up. We hopped on the boat, paid the gent our $3 and enjoyed a lovely semi-private boat ride across the bay. There were only 4 other people on the boat besides us.

About a half hour later, we docked on another wet beach, this time on Canadian soil. Before we could get off the boat, two border guards jumped on and approached us to do the usual border crossing questionnaire and presenting of passports. Colin wanted to ask for a stamp, but figured they probably didn't carry them! It was one of the most bizarre border crossings I've ever done. But also pretty cool. As we headed toward the beach, the ferry gent warned us: "When you get on the ferry to come home,  make sure you see me on the boat. Otherwise it's the wrong boat and you'll end up on Campobello Island!"

We didn't see Old Sow. The best time to see it is right before high tide as all of the tidal waters converge and bubble and swirl into a magnificent funnel. But we did see plenty of wild-life, making it some of the best $3 ever spent. Turns out, going at low-ish tide was a boon, because as the tides started to come in and the waters of Old Sow began to churn, the porpoises and seals gathered in large numbers, presumably to find their lunch. We sat by a small lighthouse overlooking the bay and Moose Island on the US side, as the porpoises danced and played right before our eyes. An eagle soared above us out and over the water. And even the cormorants had their fair share of fishies for lunch.

The Deer Island ferry ride was my favorite part of the weeklong trip, which included two more excursions to Canada—Campobello Island, where we saw more eagles and whales and picked a ton of wild blackberries on a hike, and St. Andrews by Sea, which you can get to easily by car. We explored the small town of Eastport, enjoyed some pretty delicious (albeit very rich) seafood and went hiking at Shackford Head State Park, where at the overlooks we could see many working fish farms in Cobscook Bay and also where we were attacked by stinging red fire ants (not a highlight of the trip, but a good story I guess).

We even visited a mustard museum at Raye's Mustard, the only stone ground mustard factory left in the US. Why mustard in Eastport? Sardines! There used to be over 20 sardine plants in Eastport alone, and all of the factories packed the sardines in Raye's Mustard. Now that the American sardine industry is no more (the last plant closed a couple of years ago), Raye's has entered into the specialty foods market and they make some pretty amazing mustards there. Being mustard people, we bought 4 large jars and probably would've been happy for more.

Back at the house, we enjoyed our daily explorations to the beach and every night the boys built a bonfire on the beach, which most of the gals passed up in order to watch some guilty British pleasures on TV—Sherlock Holmes and Fawlty Towers. But on the last night, we let the kids stay up late and we all went down to the fire after dinner to make s'mores.

The next morning, we headed home. We were ready. I think if I didn't have a child and I really did want to get away from it all, I could have spent days and days there happily writing and painting. But with a 1 1/2 year old, by the end, we were all ready to get back to our routines—and civilization.

end-of-summers

When we were kids, I remember being on the road a lot. On the road to visit family. On the road to move. On the road to visit old places we once lived. Oftentimes, those road trips happened towards the end of summer. At this point though, my memories of those hours upon hours of riding in the car sort of blend together into one long road trip. On that road trip, Mummy points out the flowers growing on the side of the road. "End-of-summers" she used to call them. They were a soft periwinkle and waved to and fro in the breeze, still warm from the late summer sun. Tilting softy leaving a long shadow in start contrast on the gray pavement below—a still-life paradox that evoked joy and melancholy at the same time.

Only fitting, then, that to this day, my summers "end" in a road trip get-away. It's bittersweet. Only this year, we had two trips: one to Maine and one to Cape Cod.

Last weekend was Maine, Hannah, Brian, Isaac, Kevin, Emi, Sapphire, Colin and I hit the road on a Wednesday night and headed back to our old stomping grounds: Boothbay Harbor. We rented an old 1800s house on an inlet on Southport Island, just off of Boothbay. It was right near Hendricks Head beach where Mummy used to bring us girls as children. (Hendricks Head is where she brought us to see the jellyfish spawning at night and where we played "let's pretend" on Commercial Rock.) I haven't been back there since I was 7—over 20 years ago. Can you believe that not much has changed?

It was quite something to bring Colin to that place to experience with him some of those old memories—the handmade taffy machine in Boothbay Harbor, the sour apple flavored popcorn, the town trolley, to watch him jump off Commercial Rock into the seaweed beards below. We made new memories. Here's my favorite: the house where we stayed was called Watersong II. It was over 200 years old and still had a lot of the original plaster and wood work. It had character for sure! Hannah and Emi were convinced that there were ghosts in the attic. Any-who. The house sat perched on a slope leading down to a dock right on an inlet that led on one side to the little bay at Hendricks Head and on the other side towards Boothbay Harbor. There were two kayaks that we were welcome to use so long as we wore life jackets.

On the last day of our stay, Hannah and Brian had left early, but the rest of us decided to go to the little beach down the road from the house. Colin and I took the kayaks there. It was low tide and as we maneuvered toward the beach, through a maze of rocks and seaweed beards, we arrived at a place maybe 5 feet deep where the water was so clear and crisp and cold that you could see every living thing at the bottom. It was mostly rocks and mussel shells. But I spotted an empty sea urchin shell that was just gorgeous and pristine. I wanted it. But it was impossible to pick it up with the paddles and we decided to keep going and try for it on the way back.

We hung out at the beach for a while. The tide came in. By the time we got back to the place where I had seen the sea urchin, the water was so deep that we couldn't even touch bottom with the paddles. But we could still see the shell! All of a sudden, Colin did something that really surprised me. He handed me his phone, paddled up to one of the rocks, used to ledge to hoist himself out of the kayak and dove into the frigid water clothes and all. He did all of this before I even had time to react and resurfaced with the beautiful shell in hand.

"My hero!" I proclaimed. "But how on earth are you going to get back in the boat?" He managed though and we paddled back, me with the sea urchin nestled between my knees. My heart was throbbing with a new kind of admiration. The whole thing was just so romantic—like out of a cheesy rom-com. And now I have my beautiful shell to prove his most amazing manliness.

Still no sign of the End-of-Summers though. That didn't come till later...

Retrospect: Pittsfield 1987-1990

Welcome to the third installment of the first-three-decades-of-my-life-in-chapters: Pittsfield, Maine. Maine's a pretty big state and Pittsfield is a small town kind of right in the middle. Read: land-locked. Read: not close to the beach at all. Read: what's a kid to do there? But at this point, we were used to living just about anywhere. And it turned out, Pittsfield was kind of rad in its own way. I was 7 years old when we arrived and 10 years old when we left. Here are some key points that I remember:

• We lived in the parsonage right by the big old church on Mason Street. I really liked the church in Pittsfield. It was old and beautiful and had wooden pews. Most of the parishioners were older and they liked to sing the good oldie hymns. We sang a lot in church. That's when we girls got better at singing. And I still love hymns.
  
• We had a huge garden out back. As soon as the cucumbers were big enough, I remember plucking them off the vine and eating them dipped in salt and vinegar. They were so good, still warm from the sun.
• Papa taught me to fish on the Sebasticook river. I caught a pickerel there once. There were lots of pickerel in that river. Bony and teethy, but tasty too! Eventually I got my own fishing pole. It was smoky blue and shiny. Papa’s was black I think.
• There was never a lot of money in those days, but I never felt lacking for things to do. On special occasions Papa would get us Hawaiian pizza for dinner with cream horns for dessert. And Moxie to drink. Moxie was the soda of choice in our house (if we ever did have soda in the house). It was Papa’s favorite, but we would sneak sips too. I always thought it tasted like a sweet rusty penny.
• My best friend was Kristi. We did everything together. I had another friend, Yuri, who lived next door. We both collected stickers and we would do sticker trades. I had a tan album with a baby dear on the front. It had sticky plastic sheets to protect the stickers.
• There was a department store downtown called Reny's. They sold Whatchamacallits for 25 cents each. I used to save up my paper route money and use it to buy toys at Reny's. My biggest and best purchases: a barbie Hawaiian beach hut and a purple Fashion Star Filly.

Retrospect: Boothbay Harbor 1985-1987

Yesterday, I started a rough catalog of my life in honor of my 30th birthday coming up. Here's the second chapter: Boothbay Harbor, Maine. I was 5 years old when we arrived and 7 when we left. For the first year, we lived in the bottom of a big old house right on Main Street in downtown Boothbay Harbor. Growing up by the ocean at that age was a dream.

• I started school in Boothbay—Mrs. Williams was my kindergarten teacher and I loved her.
• I made a Christmas ornament at school: it was a little stuffed pillow that said "Soe 1985." I still have it.
  
• I learned how to swim—in the ocean and at the YMCA
• I learned how to read—Mummy would put a big blanket out on the front lawn and I would read through the Primers that we had sounding out words like "mat," "cat," "hat" and "sat "The cat sat on the mat!"
• Boothbay Harbor was such a cool town and it was all within walking distance from our house. There was a bakery nearby called The Crunchy Snail. They made glazed claw donuts called "Lobster Claws." They were my favorite. There was a restaurant that looked like a giant boat. There was a salt water taffy shop where you could look in the window and watch them pulling taffy. They were all different colors: green, pink, orange and green.
  
• There was also a old-fashioned trolly that went around town. One day when my friend and I were hanging out at the house and Mummy wasn't looking, we decided to catch the trolly and take a ride around town. Only thing was it was summer and we weren't wearing any shoes. The trolly driver thought we were orphan runaways. So he called a policeman who took us to the diner for a meal and then when we told him that we had a home, he brought us there. My mother was so worried—especially when she saw the policeman. The policeman was just confused.
• The second year, we moved out of the house on Main Street and into a trailer out on a country road. We were all pretty depressed about it, but Mummy built a gigantic garden in the yard (although I'm pretty sure it turned to mud) and we had lots of room to play.
• That was the year my birthday fell on Easter and I got a bunny basket for a present.
  
• That was also the year I took Hannah's bike and road it down the dirt road. As I was turning the corner, a car was coming in the other direction and it hit me! The bike went under the car and was crushed, but luckily, I just rolled onto the hood and didn't even get a bruise. The little old lady driving the car got quite the fright though.
• Oh yeah, here's another memory from the trailer. Hannah decided to have a "seance" in her bedroom. She made a bowl of eyeballs out of grapes or pearl onions or something. And another bowl of cold spaghetti was supposed to be guts. She made us put our hands in the bowl in the dark. When Papa found us, he was not happy. We were all grounded!
• Oh my gosh, there are a lot of memories from Boothbay, from the time we forgot Emi at the beach to the spawning jelly fish to playing with the sea cucumbers at the aquarium. All of the friends we had. All of the friends we left behind.
• Papa got a new preaching job in Pittsfield, Maine and so we left Boothbay in 1987.

Do I really have no photos of Boothbay? Mummy do you? I'll keep looking.

jellyfish

Have I told you about the jellyfish at Hendricks Head?

When my dad became a preacher in 1985, he was assigned to a small fledgling church on the coast of Maine. We were living in the small town of Pawlet, Vermont at the time. We packed up and left our little house for good and headed off to Boothbay Harbor. I was just five years old.

We spent two years in Boothbay. They were magical years, despite some of our less-than-magical living situation. We lived first in a house in town. We were on the first floor and our landlords lived on the second. They were fighting all the time. Sometimes the little girls would come downstairs and stay with us until the fighting was over. Sometimes their mom's boyfriend would throw things out the window. I had the chicken pox in that house, after we went to England to see Gaffa for the last time. I think I got it from the cousins. I remember laying on the itchy couch and just couldn't get comfortable. Gaffa died shortly after. 

Eventually we moved out and went to live in a rusty old trailer right outside of town. One of the bedrooms was an addition and through the seam in the floor, you could see the ground below. That was where Hannah performed a seance with spaghetti and grape eyeballs. We all got in trouble. That was also where I got hit by a car riding my bike. I wasn't hurt, but the old lady driving the car had a scare.

The garden filled up with mud every time it rained. Mummy couldn't bring herself to tell Granny about the trailer.

We found solace in nature. We took swimming lessons at the Y and became very good little fish. So Mummy would bring us to the beach on Southport Island and let us swim far off to the back of the jutting rock that became an island surrounded by water during high tide. There, where the beach dwellers looked like baby crabs in the distance, we swam admidst the bulging beards of seaweed that swelled with the moving water. 

We were spooked by signs of life down below and scrambled onto the rocks, being careful not to slip in the slimy seaweed pods. There were mussels and crabs hiding beneath the seaweed tendrils. We knew, because in low tide, when their mop tops were pale and dry in the sun, we'd walk out and flip them upside down to reveal the wet squirming bugs beneath. But somehow, covered in dark ocean water, the tendrils came to life and were something less than friendly. 

On top of the small island, we'd run along the worn dirt paths and play "Let's Pretend"—an imagination game we made up on that rock and haven't really played since. "Let's Pretend" belongs to the rock at Hendricks Head. 

The road that takes you to Hendricks Head goes right by the beach where we played on the rocks. During high tide, the water rises all the way to the road, and the only thing separating you from the sea is a stone wall. At certain times during the year, hundreds upon hundreds of jellyfish congregate there to spawn. Some are left behind in the sand when the water recedes, so you have to be very careful where you walk, lest your feet get stung!

One night, my mother brought us there to watch the jellyfish. Have you ever seen a sea of spawning jellyfish at night? They glow electric blue. And the beach is transformed into a galaxy of stars, like a mirror of the sky above. It's pure magic.

I don't know what made me think of the jellyfish today or Hendricks Head. But I did, and then I wanted to write it down, so I don't forget. Although, I can't imagine that I ever would. Those memories are so clear in my head—they're unforgettable.