Nature notes on Penobscot Bay

we’ve seen so many seals
harbor seals, more than gray

dozens of sunning seals
today I’m beginning to spot them unprompted
against the rocks
a lazy pace
or is that leisurely

nearly full moon
through a scrim

a bald eagle in flight
and a seal swimming
the next morning

a porpoise
after passing seals

weigh, haul away
where did those porpoises go?

an osprey flew over the water
before breakfast

this could be addictive

Take up a new activity means learning words that go with it

My week on a schooner enlarged my vocabulary.

For instance.

  1. A quarterboard proclaims the name of the ship at the bow.
  2. Quarterdeck, the little raised house behind the main mast, where the wheel is. The forecastle is the one at the other end, up by the bow.
  3. Dropping the hook, meaning anchor.
  4. Gaff, the more or less horizontal spar at the top of the mainsail and foresail. It makes those sheets irregular quadrilaterals in shape rather than triangular.
  5. Beam, the width. Crown, the roll of the deck for water to roll off. Sheer is the cut of the profile, usually voiced with aesthetic appreciation or disproval.
  6. Hatch, with the ladders down into the hold.
  7. Stern, the back, where we steer.
  8. Transom, the flat back of the boat , or, as you know now, at the stern.
  9. Yawl. It can be a kind of auxiliary sail, but in a schooner’s case, usually refers to the yawl boat riding at the stern when it’s not off somewhere on its own.
  10. Windward, meaning the direction the wind’s coming from, and leeward, the direction the wind’s headed. In a heavy wind, the windward side of the ship’s higher, while the leeward one dips toward the water. (When it’s really touching the water, the ship’s “running the rail,” meaning ripping along.)

I also like the term “running on one screw,” meaning propeller, except we didn’t have one.

We won’t even start talking tonnage, which seems to mean a lot for insiders.

It’s an all-you-can-eat lobster bake, that is, boil

It’s what many people expect when they come to Maine, but rarely like this.

the lobster feast, of course
I had two and a hot dog
and a watermelon slice
skipped the kabobs and corn-on-cob

the cream-colored tamale
quite tasty, delightful

the obscene excess of two lobsters
without formalities
just rip and crack
imbibe

memories of Chaz telling of arranging such feasts
who as a biker in Maine
ripped the tails off
and tossed the rest

my, how I still miss him