Our week in Sorrento
In August, the Thames Balls (Michael and Cindy, Eli and Isaac) and Carroll Bluments (Theresa and Joel, Shayna and Hawk) spent a week at a house in Sorrento, Maine (view on the Internet as Our Favorite Place in Maine, via Yahoo, not Google). Theresa and Cindy kept a log of days, which is published here. After each entry find who wrote it.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
The beach at low tide is rocks covered with pop weed, gold-green and orange pelts swept as the outgoing tide left them, covering partially the black mussels whose shells crunch under our shoes. Theresa and I decided we shouldn’t walk on them because we are killing them. We want to come back and harvest and cook them. That would be an honorable death, not being stepped on.
Across the water, close enough to row to, is an island out of a dream. It looks pushed up out of the sea, raised on a bed of rocks that line its shore. It is treed shore to shore with tall sharp-pointed firs, regular in height and shape and growing dense as weeds. From here we can see no light between them, can’t see a landing where we could go inland at all. Yet its stark fierce beauty and proximity lure us.
I’m writing in the music room. Joel walked in, sighed heavily and meaningfully, picked up his guitar and took it to the living room, where he has been playing such beautiful music it wants to make me break my fingers in frustration that I can’t play like that.
Isaac asked me to come to talk with him earlier, and I did. We reclined on the blow-up bed and discussed the dramatic changes of fortune in Monopoly, how funny Tigy is with no stuffing in his head since Michael stuffed his head into his body back when Isaac was six.
Isaac found big leathery lengths of kelp on the beach and ran holding them over his head like a flag. Overhead seagulls circled and screamed as if expecting to be fed. Hawk down on the beach danced with another length of kelp. “Look, she’s doing a ribbon dance,” said Shayna.
We found live starfish among the rocks.
All afternoon, when we weren’t exploring or eating, the kids played Lord of the Rings Monopoly, loudly, happily.
(Cindy)
August 20
We found Hannaford’s after we found Shaw’s.
The children found starfish. “The only other time I saw a starfish was at Mystic Aquarium,” said Hawk gleefully.
Cindy and Theresa didn’t like walking on the seaweed and hearing the mussels crunch beneath their feet. Joel and Isaac tasted the rose hips that lined the shore road.
All the children played Monopoly (Lord of the Rings). Joel brought his recumbent bike. Shayna played electric piano for much of the evening after being eliminated from Monopoly.
The cottage is a delight. It smells of mildew (it’s near the sea) and everything here is freshly painted. There are some very good photos on the walls and beautiful pieces of pottery around. The layout is funky, and there is room for all.
(Theresa)
Sunday August 21, 2005
Rise late and lazy to fog and mist—magic—expected Arthur or Guinevere to appear from among the trees. The gulls sounded lonely and wishful—missing the sun. Explored the house some more and made note of dinghies and canoes. Decided to take the dinghy to the town dock, a short walk away. With a dinghy, a bit complicated. Someone found the boat wheels. Hawk crawled under the dinghy (held by Eli, Cindy, and Theresa) and adjusted the wheels. Laughing at ourselves, Eli, Hawk, Cindy, Theresa, and Isaac guided the dinghy down toward the dock. “Hey! We won’t be able to carry this onto the dock! We, somebody, will have to row it.” Back to the house as quick as she can Hawk fetched the oarlocks and oars. We “launched” the boat by picking it up and shoving it into the water. Of course all of us were wearing sneakers or other unsuitable footwear. Cindy volunteered to row the dinghy to the dock. First she put the oarlocks in and they wouldn’t stay. She sat in the front and tried to paddle. It didn’t work well, and I hollered to “turn around and go backwards.” She did that with more success. The oarlocks still kept coming out. I stood on the shore, admiring her calm. She began to make real progress and was soon at the dock.
The beach is covered in angular fist-sized stones, dark and shiny. The seaweed is yellow, brown, and dark green. Some is bright green. And cast up on the beach are ribbons of semi-transparent brown kelp. (Theresa’s drawing here.)
Isaac took a ribbon of kelp and smoothed it and rolled it and it looked like polished leather.
We went to Ellsworth and to the Big Chicken, an antique and book store that used to be a giant chicken coop. All sorts of great stuff. I bought Hawk a Beatles book with a poster in it. A visit to the LL Bean store was a bust. Gas is $2.80 and I got 30 mpg!
Dinner by Michael.
(Theresa)
Monday August 22, 2005
Yesterday in a light drizzle we heaved the dinghy out of the shed and onto the wheels, lifting and lowering till it sat right and could roll easily. Eli pulled on the ropes, and Theresa, Isaac, Hawk, and I steadied and guided it down the street, around the corner by the post office, down an easy slope, and into the water (near high tide).
The fog was so thick we could not see the islands, neither Dram nor Preble. I couldn’t get the oars to stay in the oarlocks till I had moved and reversed them several different times and by then had drifted nearly to Bar Harbor.
On the way home the rain turned to soaking and drenched us thoroughly.
(Cindy)
Monday August 22, 2005
Dinner by Joel.
Mailed credit card checks. Went to Acadia and checked it out. Interesting. In 1947 a fire burned out of control for 11 days and destroyed many of the summer “cottages” (30-room mansions in some cases). The park is mostly privately donated land.
Went into Bar Harbor and had an excellent lunch in good company. I enjoyed the children, too. My lunch was beets and mango with goat cheese. At first I thought it was too little, but it was very filling. Then Joel went looking for the Thirsty Whale, the Belching Whale, the Wailing Whale, etc., where there was an open mic.
The weather today was beautiful, strong sun, soft breezes, and autumn throwing kisses.
The children have added the card game Spit to their indoor entertainment.
Joel and Cindy are playing guitar together, and it evokes porches and easy resting and being loved.
There is Acadia Monopoly! (Theresa sketch of mountains and islands in the sea.)
(Theresa)
Tuesday August 23, 2005
Monday morning the sun was out but the fog lingered. The harbor was in whiteout—sun illuminating the fog—blinding white. I could see nothing past the shore. Sorrento could have been a tiny village in a white cloud. On Sunday the fog was so thick we could not see the islands, and then when it thinned a bit Monday morning it left the heaviest fog low on the water, so that the islands appeared to be floating on clouds.
This morning we made sand witches and were out before 9 a.m., rolling canoes to the boat ramp. At sea, I rode in the center of a canoe paddled and piloted by Michael and Eli, which made me feel like Queen of the Nile. The island looked ridiculously close, and sure enough, we were there before we knew it. Around the point we tied up at a pebble beach on Preble and hiked inland on a path that petered out. As we followed fearless Michael through the trees, I became aware that the ground I was standing on was giving under my weight. The trees, moss, all things growing, have grown up on and filled in between rocks. When you step on stuff growing on the spaces between rocks, its gives.
After the path gave up, going was difficult because the trees—mostly evergreens bare of green beneath the canopy—were so densely packed. Moss under foot, delicate greens and grays—astonishing vegetable creatures abounded. I felt guilty for stepping on them and grateful that nature so unspoiled is so close at hand.
We lunched on a big flat rock, half in and half out of the shade, so as to accommodate those of us who were hot and those of us who were cold. We had to move the canoes several times to keep them out of the tide as it came in.
In the afternoon, Theresa, Joel, Michael, and I left the children alone and took off to visit the cemetery Michael found on the map.
Footpaths crisscross the interior of the peninsula that Sorrento sits on. We followed one off the road and up a slight rise and over a meadow of golden knee-high grass. It wound under a crab apple tree and passed a stand of ripe blackberries. We saw a black and yellow spider in its web and a dead mole, no bigger than a crab apple.
After the path entered the woods and headed north, we decided to backtrack to get to Doanne’s (Hill) Cemetery. The cemetery was on a little rise and held maybe 30 graves, all fairly new, which disappointed Michael (and me). But it was a lovely setting. Most graves were of people who died in 2000, 1991, etc., several in their 80s. One 83-year-old’s headstone was engraved with a quote from his 12-year-old self counting the months, weeks, and days “till we get to Sorrento.” Another grave held a big shallow bowl full of rocks and shells.
Woods backed up to the groomed cemetery, and as our eyes rested from the glare, we could see among the trees and bramble more headstones. We walked around a wire fence and entered through a sagging wire gate. All headstones were from the 18th and 19th century. Michael noted: no iconography and wondered why. The only ornamentation was the one headstone capped with an open book. In one corner were grave-like depressions, but no markers.
J and T headed back, while M and I walked around to the shore road, looking for the lobster factory. We saw it beyond a cove dammed with a weir. Big trucks labeled Sorrento Lobster Something and big windowless building open on both ends. The buildings covered large cement pools full of lobsters tended by men in waist-high boots. We asked one if we could buy lobsters and he said no, they had to stop selling to individuals because there was too much paperwork involved. We were disappointed, mildly—how could anyone be really disappointed on such a lovely day in a lovely place? — that we would not be heading home with arms full of wriggly blue crustaceans.
(Cindy)
Tuesday August 23
Tuesday morning sunny and cool, clear. Isaac’s birthday. We wanted an early start, and I set the girls to wrapping presents for him. Cindy made sandwiches and packed them up while I harassed the kids to get ready—a few chores and dressing. Michael headed the canoe-to-the-sea department. We successfully launched both canoes. Paddling for me was easy, Joel doing most of the work. We round the point of the nearest island, looking into the water one could see the rocks below, clear, green and wavering. The water was flecked with little feathery beings—algae? Red tide? Seaweed? The shore was rocky and full of pebbles. We dragged the canoes above high tide (after some discussion about where high tide line is). We headed into the woods to bushwhack. The woods were beautiful: the sunlight making brilliant gold spears and the shadows soft and emerald green. The diversity of moss astounded me, every shade of green I’ve ever seen from grey green to almost translucent emerald—and all the tiny textures! I would have loved to sit and soak it up. However, because there was no path, I wasn’t brave enough to get separated from the others.
So we hiked through the brush and down to the beach, where the kids played in the water as the tide came in. We ate pbj sandwiches. Some people wanted to go right back to Sorrento and some—Mike, Shayna, Hawk and Eli—wanted to paddle around the island.
Cindy, Joel, Isaac, and I came back to the house. Cindy and I looked at the guided kayak tours and decided on one out of Bar Harbor. I made a reservation for tomorrow for the “sunset” tour. We’ll go eat lobster, see the reversing falls, go to Bar Harbor for the town, get back in time for dinner at he Thirsty Whale. Joel wants to play there. It doesn’t start till 9:30, so we’ll sleep in tomorrow a.m. in prep for a long day tomorrow.
(Theresa)
Wednesday August 24
Cool and sunny with light mist. Cindy made blueberry muffins and pancakes for breakfast. We cleaned up and got everyone organized to go, and off we went. The tidal falls were not falls at all, but the tide rushing over rocks between islands. Perhaps if one just sat for a few hours, it would be impressive. However, the “restaurant” was not open and the lunch was $25 a plate. So we decided to eat at Ruth and Wimpy lobster place. We arrived and there was a beautiful old Pontiac in red and white. The place was a collection of collections—bottle caps, signs, and model cars. The food was fair—the shrimp was good—I guess I was expecting just boiled shrimp—but it was breaded. It smelled good. They boiled the lobsters over an open fire in big cans. It was beginning to rain in spatters. We parked (found some spaces near the place for kayaking) and went to the tour office. We were a bit early and were told by the young man who was our guide that he would decide at 3:30 whether the weather was safe. We moseyed and window-shopped. And returned to the office, only to be told the trip was cancelled. I was really disappointed, although Joel and Isaac were glad—Joel relieved, Isaac ecstatic.
We quickly made a plan B, which was to go to Jasper Beach—even though it’s a long way from Bar Harbor. The ride seemed to last for weeks, and we saw many sights we wished we could stop and examine—The Bucksport Mall, Blueberry World, The Natural Museum (which looked like the yard at Farnam Road). The girls amused themselves looking for the best redneck yard.
After about 40 minutes of travel we saw a sign that said 29 miles. Joel laughed and hissed at the same time. We kept driving, though. We’d reached the point of no return.
The area is beautiful and very rural. We wound our way through Machias. Cindy was in front of us, driving. I saw her begin several times to turn left, but…not it. Suddenly—there it was: a sign to Jasper Beach. And it was worth it.
The beach is hills of pebbles and stones, all rounded, most in subtle shades of purple browns/red browns and deep greens. My footsteps echoed down into the piles of stones like tiny drum messages to the earth spirits below.
The sea was calm, and it’s the first time here I’ve heard the surf (very small and regular, but real surf.)
[Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
-- inserted by Cindy: from Dover Beach]
The color of the water was deep forest green. I would have loved to have spent more time. It was dusk, growing dark, and the mosquitoes were mean.
Everyone collected their favorite rocks. Shayna got one that looks like a painting of Preble Island. Hawk has one that is a beautiful milky blue/grey. Joel picked up a really nice granite one with lots of colors. Mike seemed to be called by the grey and black speckled ones that look like eggs. I liked the striped ones. We only stayed about 20 minutes, and then drove home in the dark and rain. All of us played the initial game, and the ride home seemed much shorter.
Hot dogs for the kids, salad for the grownups. I’m glad we went to Jasper Beach. The colors and forms will be with me forever.
(Theresa)
Thursday August 25
Michael found info about a sandy beach on a fresh water lake near a mountain hike, all a few miles away. We packed sandwiches and drove over, via route 183, turn left at the Public Lands sign, drive down a gravel road, on and on and on, ending in a parking lot with several other cars. Hike half mile on worn path through thick woods, finally opening to a clearing spotted with smaller trees and patches of brown gold grasses, opening like heaven’s gate into a vista of sandy beach, placid blue lake, humps of green mountains, and vast blue sky. A bright swath of yellow green water grass edged one side of the lake. We felt like the first people to step into Eden. Then we noticed the pop tents tucked under the trees and thought, and spoke, what a wonderful place to camp!
Eli and Isaac threw off their shirts and dove into the water. Hawk and Shayna took a little more time, but were soon frolicking. Michael set off immediately to claim the body of water with his breaststroke. In no time he disappeared. I longed to be one with the beauty but the chill held me back. At Isaac’s urging I dove in. It wasn’t horrible, but it was cold. I lasted long enough to get tangled in two games of Marco Polo then retreated to the beach where Theresa and Joel shivered in their fleece. We watched the kids turn blue and watched for Michael reappear out of the blue.
Back at the house, Theresa and I got the bright idea of trying to find another kayak tour—the tour company that cancelled on us left us with the impression that all tours for the week were filled, but they had called only their sister tour, and maybe we over-reacted. Let’s see. The first we called had room for us eight at 2 p.m. Friday, out of Bar Harbor. Thrilled, we booked.
Later that afternoon the kids explored the complex landscape of low tide and found an archipelago with a feature they named Crabskerban, a shallow area where they could imprison crabs. They found tiny baby crabs and minute starfish, pink and delicate critters that fit on a fingertip.
Shayna has been doodling and noodling the piano, and “Let It Be” is taking shape under her hands and in our ears. Hawk brought out her sax and after a few test bleeps and blats, music came forth, the sax singing “When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”
(Cindy)
Friday, August 26
10:15 a.m.
On a shaded bench by WWII memorial. From here I can watch Isaac sift and sort through pop weed, looking for crabs. When he catches them he puts them in a red bucket. He is wearing an orange shirt.
Ocean Street, in fact this entire little town, is perfumed with rosa rugosa and evergreen. On some dying trees there is a light green moss that drapes and hangs like miniature Spanish moss.
Directly across the bay from where I sit are Bar Harbor and the swells of two big mountains. Cadillac is one, maybe.
Isaac said he caught the perfect crab—no flaws on shell, no dents or imperfections. It was perfectly smooth. It glinted in the sun. The claws were not dulled from over-use. Here are our sketches (in the book), only slightly smaller than life size (nickel size). I tried to hold it while Isaac sketched but it was so wiggly, I couldn’t stand it, and it pinched me! A tiny sharp little pinch, enough of a surprise I dropped it in the grass.
….
I woke early and walked around the beach roads, down on the rocks, and around. I tried to drink in all the beauty with every sense and not to be too sad to be leaving so soon a place I had so quickly come to love. I became eager to check out the “Sorrento Sea glass Jewelry Studio Always Open,” advertised in a hand-painted sign at the edge of one of the yards of one of the big houses that overlook Frenchman’s Bay. Perhaps I’d find a bit of Sorrento to take home. But being somewhat shy, and knowing of Joel’s interest in jewelry and Michael’s love of the novel, I decided to enlist them in checking out the wares.
I was successful. Before lunch, they went with me to the studio. It was in a shed, and as we peeked in the door a young woman came out of the house and welcomed us, flipped a switch that turned on lights and started a small fountain. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets were arranged on broad ledges the length and breadth of the narrow building and hung from twine stretched between the walls. Some of it was quite lovely and ingenious, some mundane. I was drawn to bright green sea glass earrings but wouldn’t let myself buy them unless I waited and found myself wanting them enough to come back.
After lunch we headed back to Bar Harbor and kayaking. I for one was nearly bursting with excitement. Our guide was Kayla. She had us put on skirts and board a bus for a short ride to the launch. I was fortunate to get paired with Shayna. As it turned out we had the optimum ratio of muscle to mass, and once we got our sea arms were able to zip and zoom around everyone else. Michael paired with Isaac, Joel with Hawk, and Eli with Theresa. Kayla led us and two couples out around the Porcupines, three islands across from Bar Harbor, named for the way the pointed firs make them look like porcupines—like out own dear Preble and Dram! At one point we rounded the edge of an island and encountered another kayak tour. The leader said, “We come in peace!” and Isaac said, “We don’t!” The other group paddled away before we could ram and board them and abscond with their booty.
(Cindy)
August 27, Saturday.
Last night I dreamed I went back to the jewelry studio. Nearly all of the jewelry was gone. All that was left was the mundane stuff made of gray rocks. I found a bin were a bunch was thrown and began looking through it for the green earrings I wanted. I kept thinking I had found them, then seeing that one, it was something else I didn’t like. When I woke I realized I had to go back. Michael went with me after breakfast and I bought a little piece of Sorrento to take home.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
The beach at low tide is rocks covered with pop weed, gold-green and orange pelts swept as the outgoing tide left them, covering partially the black mussels whose shells crunch under our shoes. Theresa and I decided we shouldn’t walk on them because we are killing them. We want to come back and harvest and cook them. That would be an honorable death, not being stepped on.
Across the water, close enough to row to, is an island out of a dream. It looks pushed up out of the sea, raised on a bed of rocks that line its shore. It is treed shore to shore with tall sharp-pointed firs, regular in height and shape and growing dense as weeds. From here we can see no light between them, can’t see a landing where we could go inland at all. Yet its stark fierce beauty and proximity lure us.
I’m writing in the music room. Joel walked in, sighed heavily and meaningfully, picked up his guitar and took it to the living room, where he has been playing such beautiful music it wants to make me break my fingers in frustration that I can’t play like that.
Isaac asked me to come to talk with him earlier, and I did. We reclined on the blow-up bed and discussed the dramatic changes of fortune in Monopoly, how funny Tigy is with no stuffing in his head since Michael stuffed his head into his body back when Isaac was six.
Isaac found big leathery lengths of kelp on the beach and ran holding them over his head like a flag. Overhead seagulls circled and screamed as if expecting to be fed. Hawk down on the beach danced with another length of kelp. “Look, she’s doing a ribbon dance,” said Shayna.
We found live starfish among the rocks.
All afternoon, when we weren’t exploring or eating, the kids played Lord of the Rings Monopoly, loudly, happily.
(Cindy)
August 20
We found Hannaford’s after we found Shaw’s.
The children found starfish. “The only other time I saw a starfish was at Mystic Aquarium,” said Hawk gleefully.
Cindy and Theresa didn’t like walking on the seaweed and hearing the mussels crunch beneath their feet. Joel and Isaac tasted the rose hips that lined the shore road.
All the children played Monopoly (Lord of the Rings). Joel brought his recumbent bike. Shayna played electric piano for much of the evening after being eliminated from Monopoly.
The cottage is a delight. It smells of mildew (it’s near the sea) and everything here is freshly painted. There are some very good photos on the walls and beautiful pieces of pottery around. The layout is funky, and there is room for all.
(Theresa)
Sunday August 21, 2005
Rise late and lazy to fog and mist—magic—expected Arthur or Guinevere to appear from among the trees. The gulls sounded lonely and wishful—missing the sun. Explored the house some more and made note of dinghies and canoes. Decided to take the dinghy to the town dock, a short walk away. With a dinghy, a bit complicated. Someone found the boat wheels. Hawk crawled under the dinghy (held by Eli, Cindy, and Theresa) and adjusted the wheels. Laughing at ourselves, Eli, Hawk, Cindy, Theresa, and Isaac guided the dinghy down toward the dock. “Hey! We won’t be able to carry this onto the dock! We, somebody, will have to row it.” Back to the house as quick as she can Hawk fetched the oarlocks and oars. We “launched” the boat by picking it up and shoving it into the water. Of course all of us were wearing sneakers or other unsuitable footwear. Cindy volunteered to row the dinghy to the dock. First she put the oarlocks in and they wouldn’t stay. She sat in the front and tried to paddle. It didn’t work well, and I hollered to “turn around and go backwards.” She did that with more success. The oarlocks still kept coming out. I stood on the shore, admiring her calm. She began to make real progress and was soon at the dock.
The beach is covered in angular fist-sized stones, dark and shiny. The seaweed is yellow, brown, and dark green. Some is bright green. And cast up on the beach are ribbons of semi-transparent brown kelp. (Theresa’s drawing here.)
Isaac took a ribbon of kelp and smoothed it and rolled it and it looked like polished leather.
We went to Ellsworth and to the Big Chicken, an antique and book store that used to be a giant chicken coop. All sorts of great stuff. I bought Hawk a Beatles book with a poster in it. A visit to the LL Bean store was a bust. Gas is $2.80 and I got 30 mpg!
Dinner by Michael.
(Theresa)
Monday August 22, 2005
Yesterday in a light drizzle we heaved the dinghy out of the shed and onto the wheels, lifting and lowering till it sat right and could roll easily. Eli pulled on the ropes, and Theresa, Isaac, Hawk, and I steadied and guided it down the street, around the corner by the post office, down an easy slope, and into the water (near high tide).
The fog was so thick we could not see the islands, neither Dram nor Preble. I couldn’t get the oars to stay in the oarlocks till I had moved and reversed them several different times and by then had drifted nearly to Bar Harbor.
On the way home the rain turned to soaking and drenched us thoroughly.
(Cindy)
Monday August 22, 2005
Dinner by Joel.
Mailed credit card checks. Went to Acadia and checked it out. Interesting. In 1947 a fire burned out of control for 11 days and destroyed many of the summer “cottages” (30-room mansions in some cases). The park is mostly privately donated land.
Went into Bar Harbor and had an excellent lunch in good company. I enjoyed the children, too. My lunch was beets and mango with goat cheese. At first I thought it was too little, but it was very filling. Then Joel went looking for the Thirsty Whale, the Belching Whale, the Wailing Whale, etc., where there was an open mic.
The weather today was beautiful, strong sun, soft breezes, and autumn throwing kisses.
The children have added the card game Spit to their indoor entertainment.
Joel and Cindy are playing guitar together, and it evokes porches and easy resting and being loved.
There is Acadia Monopoly! (Theresa sketch of mountains and islands in the sea.)
(Theresa)
Tuesday August 23, 2005
Monday morning the sun was out but the fog lingered. The harbor was in whiteout—sun illuminating the fog—blinding white. I could see nothing past the shore. Sorrento could have been a tiny village in a white cloud. On Sunday the fog was so thick we could not see the islands, and then when it thinned a bit Monday morning it left the heaviest fog low on the water, so that the islands appeared to be floating on clouds.
This morning we made sand witches and were out before 9 a.m., rolling canoes to the boat ramp. At sea, I rode in the center of a canoe paddled and piloted by Michael and Eli, which made me feel like Queen of the Nile. The island looked ridiculously close, and sure enough, we were there before we knew it. Around the point we tied up at a pebble beach on Preble and hiked inland on a path that petered out. As we followed fearless Michael through the trees, I became aware that the ground I was standing on was giving under my weight. The trees, moss, all things growing, have grown up on and filled in between rocks. When you step on stuff growing on the spaces between rocks, its gives.
After the path gave up, going was difficult because the trees—mostly evergreens bare of green beneath the canopy—were so densely packed. Moss under foot, delicate greens and grays—astonishing vegetable creatures abounded. I felt guilty for stepping on them and grateful that nature so unspoiled is so close at hand.
We lunched on a big flat rock, half in and half out of the shade, so as to accommodate those of us who were hot and those of us who were cold. We had to move the canoes several times to keep them out of the tide as it came in.
In the afternoon, Theresa, Joel, Michael, and I left the children alone and took off to visit the cemetery Michael found on the map.
Footpaths crisscross the interior of the peninsula that Sorrento sits on. We followed one off the road and up a slight rise and over a meadow of golden knee-high grass. It wound under a crab apple tree and passed a stand of ripe blackberries. We saw a black and yellow spider in its web and a dead mole, no bigger than a crab apple.
After the path entered the woods and headed north, we decided to backtrack to get to Doanne’s (Hill) Cemetery. The cemetery was on a little rise and held maybe 30 graves, all fairly new, which disappointed Michael (and me). But it was a lovely setting. Most graves were of people who died in 2000, 1991, etc., several in their 80s. One 83-year-old’s headstone was engraved with a quote from his 12-year-old self counting the months, weeks, and days “till we get to Sorrento.” Another grave held a big shallow bowl full of rocks and shells.
Woods backed up to the groomed cemetery, and as our eyes rested from the glare, we could see among the trees and bramble more headstones. We walked around a wire fence and entered through a sagging wire gate. All headstones were from the 18th and 19th century. Michael noted: no iconography and wondered why. The only ornamentation was the one headstone capped with an open book. In one corner were grave-like depressions, but no markers.
J and T headed back, while M and I walked around to the shore road, looking for the lobster factory. We saw it beyond a cove dammed with a weir. Big trucks labeled Sorrento Lobster Something and big windowless building open on both ends. The buildings covered large cement pools full of lobsters tended by men in waist-high boots. We asked one if we could buy lobsters and he said no, they had to stop selling to individuals because there was too much paperwork involved. We were disappointed, mildly—how could anyone be really disappointed on such a lovely day in a lovely place? — that we would not be heading home with arms full of wriggly blue crustaceans.
(Cindy)
Tuesday August 23
Tuesday morning sunny and cool, clear. Isaac’s birthday. We wanted an early start, and I set the girls to wrapping presents for him. Cindy made sandwiches and packed them up while I harassed the kids to get ready—a few chores and dressing. Michael headed the canoe-to-the-sea department. We successfully launched both canoes. Paddling for me was easy, Joel doing most of the work. We round the point of the nearest island, looking into the water one could see the rocks below, clear, green and wavering. The water was flecked with little feathery beings—algae? Red tide? Seaweed? The shore was rocky and full of pebbles. We dragged the canoes above high tide (after some discussion about where high tide line is). We headed into the woods to bushwhack. The woods were beautiful: the sunlight making brilliant gold spears and the shadows soft and emerald green. The diversity of moss astounded me, every shade of green I’ve ever seen from grey green to almost translucent emerald—and all the tiny textures! I would have loved to sit and soak it up. However, because there was no path, I wasn’t brave enough to get separated from the others.
So we hiked through the brush and down to the beach, where the kids played in the water as the tide came in. We ate pbj sandwiches. Some people wanted to go right back to Sorrento and some—Mike, Shayna, Hawk and Eli—wanted to paddle around the island.
Cindy, Joel, Isaac, and I came back to the house. Cindy and I looked at the guided kayak tours and decided on one out of Bar Harbor. I made a reservation for tomorrow for the “sunset” tour. We’ll go eat lobster, see the reversing falls, go to Bar Harbor for the town, get back in time for dinner at he Thirsty Whale. Joel wants to play there. It doesn’t start till 9:30, so we’ll sleep in tomorrow a.m. in prep for a long day tomorrow.
(Theresa)
Wednesday August 24
Cool and sunny with light mist. Cindy made blueberry muffins and pancakes for breakfast. We cleaned up and got everyone organized to go, and off we went. The tidal falls were not falls at all, but the tide rushing over rocks between islands. Perhaps if one just sat for a few hours, it would be impressive. However, the “restaurant” was not open and the lunch was $25 a plate. So we decided to eat at Ruth and Wimpy lobster place. We arrived and there was a beautiful old Pontiac in red and white. The place was a collection of collections—bottle caps, signs, and model cars. The food was fair—the shrimp was good—I guess I was expecting just boiled shrimp—but it was breaded. It smelled good. They boiled the lobsters over an open fire in big cans. It was beginning to rain in spatters. We parked (found some spaces near the place for kayaking) and went to the tour office. We were a bit early and were told by the young man who was our guide that he would decide at 3:30 whether the weather was safe. We moseyed and window-shopped. And returned to the office, only to be told the trip was cancelled. I was really disappointed, although Joel and Isaac were glad—Joel relieved, Isaac ecstatic.
We quickly made a plan B, which was to go to Jasper Beach—even though it’s a long way from Bar Harbor. The ride seemed to last for weeks, and we saw many sights we wished we could stop and examine—The Bucksport Mall, Blueberry World, The Natural Museum (which looked like the yard at Farnam Road). The girls amused themselves looking for the best redneck yard.
After about 40 minutes of travel we saw a sign that said 29 miles. Joel laughed and hissed at the same time. We kept driving, though. We’d reached the point of no return.
The area is beautiful and very rural. We wound our way through Machias. Cindy was in front of us, driving. I saw her begin several times to turn left, but…not it. Suddenly—there it was: a sign to Jasper Beach. And it was worth it.
The beach is hills of pebbles and stones, all rounded, most in subtle shades of purple browns/red browns and deep greens. My footsteps echoed down into the piles of stones like tiny drum messages to the earth spirits below.
The sea was calm, and it’s the first time here I’ve heard the surf (very small and regular, but real surf.)
[Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
-- inserted by Cindy: from Dover Beach]
The color of the water was deep forest green. I would have loved to have spent more time. It was dusk, growing dark, and the mosquitoes were mean.
Everyone collected their favorite rocks. Shayna got one that looks like a painting of Preble Island. Hawk has one that is a beautiful milky blue/grey. Joel picked up a really nice granite one with lots of colors. Mike seemed to be called by the grey and black speckled ones that look like eggs. I liked the striped ones. We only stayed about 20 minutes, and then drove home in the dark and rain. All of us played the initial game, and the ride home seemed much shorter.
Hot dogs for the kids, salad for the grownups. I’m glad we went to Jasper Beach. The colors and forms will be with me forever.
(Theresa)
Thursday August 25
Michael found info about a sandy beach on a fresh water lake near a mountain hike, all a few miles away. We packed sandwiches and drove over, via route 183, turn left at the Public Lands sign, drive down a gravel road, on and on and on, ending in a parking lot with several other cars. Hike half mile on worn path through thick woods, finally opening to a clearing spotted with smaller trees and patches of brown gold grasses, opening like heaven’s gate into a vista of sandy beach, placid blue lake, humps of green mountains, and vast blue sky. A bright swath of yellow green water grass edged one side of the lake. We felt like the first people to step into Eden. Then we noticed the pop tents tucked under the trees and thought, and spoke, what a wonderful place to camp!
Eli and Isaac threw off their shirts and dove into the water. Hawk and Shayna took a little more time, but were soon frolicking. Michael set off immediately to claim the body of water with his breaststroke. In no time he disappeared. I longed to be one with the beauty but the chill held me back. At Isaac’s urging I dove in. It wasn’t horrible, but it was cold. I lasted long enough to get tangled in two games of Marco Polo then retreated to the beach where Theresa and Joel shivered in their fleece. We watched the kids turn blue and watched for Michael reappear out of the blue.
Back at the house, Theresa and I got the bright idea of trying to find another kayak tour—the tour company that cancelled on us left us with the impression that all tours for the week were filled, but they had called only their sister tour, and maybe we over-reacted. Let’s see. The first we called had room for us eight at 2 p.m. Friday, out of Bar Harbor. Thrilled, we booked.
Later that afternoon the kids explored the complex landscape of low tide and found an archipelago with a feature they named Crabskerban, a shallow area where they could imprison crabs. They found tiny baby crabs and minute starfish, pink and delicate critters that fit on a fingertip.
Shayna has been doodling and noodling the piano, and “Let It Be” is taking shape under her hands and in our ears. Hawk brought out her sax and after a few test bleeps and blats, music came forth, the sax singing “When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”
(Cindy)
Friday, August 26
10:15 a.m.
On a shaded bench by WWII memorial. From here I can watch Isaac sift and sort through pop weed, looking for crabs. When he catches them he puts them in a red bucket. He is wearing an orange shirt.
Ocean Street, in fact this entire little town, is perfumed with rosa rugosa and evergreen. On some dying trees there is a light green moss that drapes and hangs like miniature Spanish moss.
Directly across the bay from where I sit are Bar Harbor and the swells of two big mountains. Cadillac is one, maybe.
Isaac said he caught the perfect crab—no flaws on shell, no dents or imperfections. It was perfectly smooth. It glinted in the sun. The claws were not dulled from over-use. Here are our sketches (in the book), only slightly smaller than life size (nickel size). I tried to hold it while Isaac sketched but it was so wiggly, I couldn’t stand it, and it pinched me! A tiny sharp little pinch, enough of a surprise I dropped it in the grass.
….
I woke early and walked around the beach roads, down on the rocks, and around. I tried to drink in all the beauty with every sense and not to be too sad to be leaving so soon a place I had so quickly come to love. I became eager to check out the “Sorrento Sea glass Jewelry Studio Always Open,” advertised in a hand-painted sign at the edge of one of the yards of one of the big houses that overlook Frenchman’s Bay. Perhaps I’d find a bit of Sorrento to take home. But being somewhat shy, and knowing of Joel’s interest in jewelry and Michael’s love of the novel, I decided to enlist them in checking out the wares.
I was successful. Before lunch, they went with me to the studio. It was in a shed, and as we peeked in the door a young woman came out of the house and welcomed us, flipped a switch that turned on lights and started a small fountain. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets were arranged on broad ledges the length and breadth of the narrow building and hung from twine stretched between the walls. Some of it was quite lovely and ingenious, some mundane. I was drawn to bright green sea glass earrings but wouldn’t let myself buy them unless I waited and found myself wanting them enough to come back.
After lunch we headed back to Bar Harbor and kayaking. I for one was nearly bursting with excitement. Our guide was Kayla. She had us put on skirts and board a bus for a short ride to the launch. I was fortunate to get paired with Shayna. As it turned out we had the optimum ratio of muscle to mass, and once we got our sea arms were able to zip and zoom around everyone else. Michael paired with Isaac, Joel with Hawk, and Eli with Theresa. Kayla led us and two couples out around the Porcupines, three islands across from Bar Harbor, named for the way the pointed firs make them look like porcupines—like out own dear Preble and Dram! At one point we rounded the edge of an island and encountered another kayak tour. The leader said, “We come in peace!” and Isaac said, “We don’t!” The other group paddled away before we could ram and board them and abscond with their booty.
(Cindy)
August 27, Saturday.
Last night I dreamed I went back to the jewelry studio. Nearly all of the jewelry was gone. All that was left was the mundane stuff made of gray rocks. I found a bin were a bunch was thrown and began looking through it for the green earrings I wanted. I kept thinking I had found them, then seeing that one, it was something else I didn’t like. When I woke I realized I had to go back. Michael went with me after breakfast and I bought a little piece of Sorrento to take home.
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