Tag: Outdoors
Mark Island light
do Fresnel lenses ratings run
up (from lowest)
to top, five (for highest)
or the other way around?
Turn’s out 1 is the strongest
5, the least
what are the others really thinking
or observing under their cheerful banter?
The view from Shackford Head
Those are salmon pen farms, should you be interested.
And that’s the point, in Cobscook Bay.
Twin trunks beside a stream
Cedar in Whiting, Maine
Three eagles
Knock before entering the ‘head’
Working the toilet is an art … as for showers?
I’m getting the swing of it.
Last leg, motoring toward Camden
the cabbage with the corned beef last night
has done a number on me
we’re all in the same boat
for now
Shackford Head, our small but glorious state park
A state park right in our small city set upon Moose Island has some marvelous side trails. And to think, the site nearly became a stinky oil refinery. Hats off to citizen action!
Low tide, high tide
This Coast Guard cutter at the Breakwater demonstrates just how much our waters can change in five or six hours.
My first nights out on the water
sleeping with the ocean
a mere foot from my head
the ship at port / anchored creaks, lines grinding / groaning
I hear the neighbors either side
Intimately
have you read
a common topic so uncommon
elsewhere
“I’m dying to be a better reader”
like digging a hole
I like going to bed
or lying on a beach
back below, in my berth
I hear steady breathing a few feet away
only a thin wall separating our heads
her boyfriend’s in crab school
yep, they giggle
unlike the couple with Southern accents
from Florida
the knitting picked up again
I’m going to sleep
[I’m falling asleep]
and so is most of the rest
finally
how many times will I be up
in the middle of the night
the head’s up on deck
I’m glad it’s not raining
or heavily foggy
though we’re sleeping at sea
it’s calmer than a water bed
creaking and thumps
more likely my neighbors
than the interplay of planks and sea
yes, somebody’s bones
now, for that damned mosquito
or some scratching overhead
who just dropped what
on the deck above me?
a shutting door
with a latch
and shuffling
who’s securing the gear
in the dusk?
what a still, calm spot she’s chosen
for the night
3:30 am, a nearly full moon
scattering sound of steady traffic
the other side of Isle au Haut
(the south)
may simply be the water motion
there’s definitely surf other side,
slight breeze, 1 mph?
to the west
can barely see Polaris
light cloud cover
only one plane overhead
on the European flight way
and the flash of a fishing boat
light array
in the gap of Deer Isle
what’s all the noise around me tonight
besides a stray cough
or zipper
are we really that restless
I have no idea what the Patriots
or Sox
did over the weekend
though they’ve been spiraling downward
light snoring in my ear last night
I had the most erotic dream
of someone who in reality was almost well
This could become obsessive.
Full sail!
The evolution of the surviving coasting schooners from freight to a summer vacation platform where people could get a taste of what had previously been available only aboard the yachts of the rich is largely credited to Captain Frank Swift and his efforts from 1936 to create what he saw as a kind of dude ranch escape on the waters of Penobscot Bay.
In time, other owners joined in.
Notably, in 1973 Captain John Foss purchased the Louis R. French and removed her from the freight trade. He spent three years restoring the vessel to her original sailing condition and outfitting her hold for passengers. Oh, my, did he!
In 1986, he sold the schooner to his brother-in-law, who sailed and captained the French out of Rockland and then Camden until she was purchased from by Captain Garth Wells in 2003, who in turn sold to Captain Becky Wright and Nathan Sigouin. Maybe “passed her on” would be a more apt description.
Meanwhile, the already legendary Foss turned his attention to renovating the American Eagle, which he purchased in 1984. It’s now one of the few schooners that undertake longer voyages to places like Grand Manan Island near me or down to Gloucester on Cape Ann, Massachusetts, in addition to venturing offshore looking for whales.
At first, those names meant little to me. Now, however, I understand why they’re often uttered in reverential tones.
first, flapping fabric as wind kicks in
then a surge at my seat and flooring
like riding a stallion
muscular under the saddle