Returning from Alaska, I got myself organized in Jersey for a few days, then motored to Maine, bicycle in tow, and spent the summer riding the hilly terrain of Boothbay Harbor and Southport. I never rode more than thirty miles in a day and was frequently riding 10 to 15, but I was surprised how difficult I found it. I thought I was fit from all my hiking in Alaska, but my body schooled me again. Every sport asks something different of your muscles and aerobic capacity. My most memorable ride of the summer was the one I shared with Laura. Two beautiful saddlebred youngsters whinnied when they saw us and galloped over to spend time with us.
I did some open water swimming, which was very tough when the water was chilly, and much more pleasant when the temps rose. Each day, with wind and tide, the water was different. No telling what you were facing until you jumped in. I worked my way up to around a quarter mile, maybe a half. Sharing the longest one with a friend (thanks, Eric!) made it much more fun. Oh, and I went on one three mile run. Has it ever been too long since I did that!
But wildlife was the story of the summer. We saw a whale in the Harbor between Tumbler and Burnt Islands. Big, like forty feet long. What a treat. One blow, and it sounded, and that was it. We saw a bald eagle right near the dock, sitting in a tree, and another time, he swooped down to the water and came up with a fish, harried by an osprey the whole way. The place seemed lousy with eagles. Each night at the Summer House, an eagle would do a fly by, from the yacht club, across the pool to the Sauduc’s dock, like a teenage tough cruising the neighborhood in a Corvette. Other birds graced us with their presence: black-crowned night herons on Landing Road, a black guillemot in West Harbor, goldfinches on the thistle feeder, hummingbirds on the porch. Black-throated green warblers by the Morgan’s house, hermit thrushes in the woods near Hendrick’s Head Beach and Rachel Carson’s house.
The biggest thrill of all was a baby seal Laura and I spotted while kayaking to Powderhorn Island. It appeared to be spyhopping, but as we edged closer, we saw its eyes were closed. It was napping. We were close enough to watch its eyes slowly open, and it looked at us, dazed, obviously not fully awake. Then it came to, and we could see it thinking, “Oh. There you are. You look different, but you must be Mom.” It swam right up to the red, seal-shaped double kayak. Every fiber of my being ached to touch it, but I did not. Its teeth were like little pegs in a smiling mouth. It started to make chuffing, sneezy noises, like a dog begging for a treat. It seemed to be trying to nurse off the boat. We worried that it might be sick. We said, “We have to get it to the beach! Amazingly, it followed us for a while before disappearing. in retrospect, we think it just had been left to sleep while its mom hunted, and that she surely returned for it. Oh, to be so close to such a beautiful wild animal, and to have it imprint on us!
The one negative of the summer is confirmation that my fear of sailing is still there and as strong as ever. I am perfectly happy to crew and have become truly expert at catching the mooring, but taking the tiller in any kind of iffy conditions, whether on a sunfish or the somewhat larger Mimiday, sends my heart rate flying, steals my voice, and sends me into a panic. It’s just not my thing. While I would love to be able to do a NOLS Sailing course in Greece with Kip, I don’t think it would be fair to the other sailors unless I were medicated!
After Labor Day, we loaded up the dog and the Hibiscuses and the hanging baskets and window boxes, and took everyone home to Bernardsville, where the temperature was 94 degrees. Three days later, it was 54 degrees. The plants were in shock, more so after the deer started eating them. The dog was in shock when I took him to the vet for a teeth cleaning. Kip was freezing when the house hit 64 degrees, and I managed to fall off my bike and hurt my hand and my arm, but not my head. The helmet saved me. Time for a new helmet and a new adventure.
Mississippi, Arkansas, and Louisiana, here we come!
