Schoodic: a sight for sore, tired, weary eyes

Last weekend we went to Sandi's family's camp for the first time this summer.  It is our family's favorite destination.  We got there Friday night with a plan to leave Saturday after supper (Sandi had not slept in her own bed all week) unless the gravitational force of lake life life got the better of us and made us stay through Sunday.

It was unbelievably such a sigh of relief to be sitting on the porch gazing at the lake.  It has been a long and arduous year in many ways.  Schoodic felt like the big reward. Maya did the happy dance we all wanted to do.

 

 

Friday night found us having supper on the porch, followed by a sunset kayak paddle and a raucous game of football.

 

 

 

 

Saturday morning dawned spectacular and promised to be one of those perfect Schoodic days.  We discussed if we would be leaving that night or staying another.  Taking the firm stance that I would need to all but be dragged from there, I was all for the longer stay.  (Plus, can we be honest for a minute about how much work goes into getting to camp for the weekend?  You might as well stay two nights.)

I'm not sure I had ever seen a prettier morning on the lake.

 

Maya was ready to show us her swimming moves.

First the tuck and dive.

Followed by underwater submergence (the hallmark of which is sizable splash.)

Some good arm over arm...

And ta-da!  (That is actually what she said.)  A swimmer is born.

Oh, and P.S. a diver as well.

Tia came to camp for the day and became quickly involved in some sort of plan the girls had with the dock and a shovel.

 

And our nephew Brevan decided to take all the girls on a boat ride.  

Schoodic is like a benchmark of sorts.  With nearly a year passing between visits, I can't help but marvel at the difference a year can make.  Changes that I might not otherwise notice, in myself and in the kids are highlighted against this backdrop.  As I sat with my feet in the sand I noticed how much more calm and contented I was this year from last.  No longer an engine at idle waiting to be put into gear, I actually could just stop and turn the key to off and relish all that was happening in the moment. All of the kids are more independent in the water, which is huge bonus, and they are so much fun to play with!  There is less fighting and bickering and more general enjoyment.  I watched our neighbors try to please a 9 month old who didn't like the sand or the water and I was very grateful to not be at that stage of parenting.

 

We are planning to go back this weekend.  Here's kids burning through your food supply with all the swimming, cajoling them to reapply sunscreen and trying to comb out swimmers hair.  Here's to  morning runs followed immediately by a jump in the lake, reading a book with my feet up, lots of family fun and wine at sunset.  Here's to a summer of fun at the lake! 

fishergirl

Yesterday, I woke Ella up just after six so she could go to work. 

 As of about a month ago, Ella has a student lobstering license in the state of Maine.  A Maine child is eligible at age 8 if they have someone to sponsor them.  That means she has 10 tags to put on lobster traps that she can fish.  Her grandfather set the traps for her in the reach just off from their house and yesterday was the first day she got to haul them. 

It was a VERY foggy morning.  We literally couldn't even see the Carver's house and we were mere feet from the shoreline.

Uncle Mark, Sandi's dad's brother, decided to come with us which made it all great fun.  I daresay Maya got some of her comedic tendencies from him.  He had us in stitches almost the whole time.  The kids don't exactly know what to do with his dry humor and they don't always know when he is joking.  Like when he pretends to get bitten by a lobster and cries out in pain, hopping wildly from one foot to the other and they just stare uncertainly at him.

 

Uncle Mark's truck in a would be William Wegman photo shoot:

 

 

 

The bridge from Jonesport to Beals Island in what the downeasters call a "fog mall" or a "fog mull"- I'm not entirely sure of the spelling but it means fog so thick that you can hardly see your hands in front of you. 

 

Each fisherman's buoy has its own distinct color pattern.  These are Dwight's beauties.

 Lobstering 101:
1. You "gaff" the buoy with this long hooked pole called a gaff.  (And all the nearby seaweed.)

 2. Place the rope in the hauler and let the hydraulics pull the trap up.

 3.  Get excited as you watch your trap surface.

 4.  Pull the trap up onto the side of the boat.   See if you can catch a glimpse of how many lobsters are in there!

 5.  Start counting your lobsters!  You have to measure to make sure that they are big enough to keep and you can't keep any of the reproducing females.  Throw away lots of cool stuff that found its way into your trap.

Check out this giant piece of kelp!

 

 

Make sure to throw back the baby lobsters so you can catch them again in a few years.

 

 6. Band the lobsters so they don't bite you or each other.

 7. Anxiously await hauling your next trap.

8. After you clean out your trap set a new pocket with bait before pushing the trap back into the ocean.  (Handling bait is a stinky job and Ella did a great job.)

Grampy showing Ella the difference between hard shell and soft shell (or shedder) lobster. 

Ella's first catch!

 

 9. Go back to the co-op and sell your lobster!  Ella made $41 for about 45 minutes worth of work. This is a major pay raise from the dollar at a time she makes at home for chores. That is, of course, because her grandfather absorbed all the expense.

There just aren't enough thank yous to express my humble appreciation for the family we have.  Words are grossly inadequate.  But since there is no room here for interpretive dance, suffice it to say: thank you Gram and Gramp for giving the girls the moon and your hearts. Thanks you, always, thank you.