Water. A compound unique in all the Universe. Beautiful in any of its natural states. Humans crave the stuff. We drink it, bathe in it, swim in it, float on it, boat on it, ski and snowshoe on it. We want to live next to it. It makes up well more than half of every individual's mass.
"That's a lot of money, John." Susan was telling me something I already knew. "It is. But I don't want to walk up to the South Rim, look over, and say 'I've been there.' I want to go down into it. And when will we ever get the chance to do this again?" I replied.
Southwest Maine offers paddlers all kinds of lakes and ponds in which to wet a line, with outstanding warmwater fisheries for both smallmouth and largemouth bass. The two species often live in the same lake (or pond, or river).
Of all the things you can do with a fly rod, few match the excitement of casting to and hooking a large tarpon in shallow water. Fighting one is another matter, and bringing one to hand is a significantly more difficult proposition.
The Intracoastal Waterway Runs through the north part of Mosquito Lagoon. When this channel was being dug, the diggers hit patches of limestone rock, which had to be blasted. This rock rubble was piled up with the rest of the dredge spoil, now a string of spoil islands west of the ICW channel.
We’ve been home for a while from our nearly three-month-long journey. This post shares some random thoughts, a quick summation, and some of my favorite images from the trip. Random thoughts first. With apologies to the more-is-better crowd, as a society, we need to use less electricity.
The next morning found us in the van, leaving Massachusetts, heading to East Hampton, Connecticut. Bill and Heather Embacher, old friends from Alaska, live there. The last time I saw them, they were childless. Now they have a beautiful nine-year old daughter. It had certainly been too long.
New Hampshire Highway 112, more commonly called the Kancamagus Highway, offers motorists one of the most scenic roads in New England. In the fall, when the leaves are changing color, it's particularly breath-taking.
After being with us in Lovell almost two weeks, Maryann had to leave on Sunday. Susan wondered what she'd do during the coming week. I suggested she go back to Winthrop with Maryann. She could visit friends and visit Boston. I'd meet her near the end of the week.
“I Suck at Fly Fishing." It's a sentence on a bumper sticker gifted to me by a friend. I didn't know how much it applied to me this day, but I certainly sucked at following directions. Bob Duport had emailed them to me, along with a map. I went to the wrong place, and now I was more than 30 minutes late for our rendezvous.
Ralph moved us to the Pond House, still in Lovell, Maine. The previous cabin (the one with the squirrels) had been nice. This place was a major upgrade, though! All wood paneling and ceilings, fireplaces, comfortable leather furniture, pond views out of enormous windows, nicer than our home, certainly nicer than the van.
We settled in, then began checking our surroundings. The cabin was a 60-second walk from Kezar Lake, one of Maine's premier fisheries. Numerous other ponds were nearby. We had access to kayaks, and canoes, and a johnboat. The surrounding area had farm stands, and hikes, and restaurants, and best of all, we had an entire month here.