High Water

Ernest whispered in my ear, "It's a good day to die!"  I stared at the wounded Cape Buffalo we had tracked to the banks of the flooded Grumeti River, deep in the Serengeti.  The buff lowered his head and lunged at us, ten paces and one short life away.  It was a bad day to be out of ammunition.

That's what my mind conjured up as I saw this sunset over the Segura River, which was in flood.  We were lucky here, with minor inconvenience; debris and gravel left on the roadways.  Further southwest was not so lucky with much damage and about ten people lost.  This scene was shot as Shan and I cycled back from the beach at Guardamar del Segura, where the trio had their first dips in the Med.  Water was balmy, and probably warmer than that in our pool.

Backing up to our last days in Maine

Saturday before take-off, I went down to Portsmouth, NH to meed Dylan, Kristin and Helena for a farewell day.  Is, unfortunately, was in the middle of a pastel painting which had to be finished before we took off, so couldn't accompany.  Had a good walk around the waterfront in the beginning throes of the Fish and Lobster Festival; helped Helena traverse quite a few curbs (apparently her latest "thing") and then had a good lunch at a place whose name I never knew, but would like to remember.

So then, on Monday I called Westbrook Taxi for a cab to pick us up at 1245, as we needed to be at the bus station at 1:00 PM.  "No problem" says the dispatcher, "we'll be there at a quarter to one."  So after two more calls, and being driven past twice by the blind cab driver at around 1:10 pm, we get in the cab and the guy tells me it's not his fault-the dispatcher gave him the call at 12:54.  I didn't care and told him to get us to the station; which he did, giving us under five minutes to wrestle four bags and a huge bicycle case to the bus.  This is the second time that Westbrook Taxi has done this to me, and they won't get a third chance.  To all you taxi-needers in Westbrook:  WESTBROOK TAXI IS NOT A FIRM I WOULD RECOMMEND IF YOU WANT TO GET ANYWHERE ON TIME.
Our next pleasant surprise was that the Virgin Atlantic plane we were to take to London was going to be about two hours behind schedule as they had to change planes before they flew our way from London.  Cool!  I don't want to fly on questionable aircraft.  Well, we get into London two hours late, but still might make it to Gatwick and our connecting flight if everything goes well.  It didn't.  The National Express bus was ten minutes late and got us to Gatwick five minutes after check-in time.  So we shell out 50 Sterling apiece and cool our heels for five hours and finally get on a plane to Alicante, arriving at 9:20 pm, tired and bedraggled.  Good ole Les Harris was there to pick us up and drag us home-bless his soul!
48 hours later, we are starting to recover, and will be able to show the Augusta trio around the area.

Three more Locsins in Alicante

After a marathon day of picking up loose ends such as getting new health cards, registering for Spanish language classes, visiting two banks, setting up doctor appointments and such, we took the train to Murcia del Carmen to meet Shannon, John and Jordan.  They had landed this morning in Madrid and were met by our good friend Celia who took them across the city after getting them discounted train tickets and put them on the train headed our way.  They were as "knackered" as we were, having spent 28 hours in transit.  We did over 26, but that is another story or rant, to be done later.

So, we dragged them onto another train (to Callosa) where we loaded their substantial baggage and drove to Algorfa.  They crashed, I changed four bike tires and set up a bike for Shan, then we went out for dinner at the hotel up on La Finca hill, as it's called.
Thank you, Celia, for guiding them through the pitfalls of traversing Madrid while in a sleep-deprived stupor.  We are all in your debt!

Flagstaff Lake Trip

Nick and I canoed in to the camp that Shannon and I built back in the late 80s.  It was a memorable trip, made even more so when I read the scratchings on my old coffee pot and realized that it was with me on my first trip there in 1981, 31 years ago!  The place is still as beautiful as it was back then.  You might notice the wind-power turbines on distant ridges, but then you'd excuse them if you really want your world to stay clean and green.  This is a shot just after sunrise, taken from on top of the cliff on "our" island.  I wish the lake had stayed that calm, but it was not to be.  The wind picked up from the West, and that caused the rollers to form; adding about an hour and a half to the trip out.  Intermittent rain and constant spray from the waves kept us pretty damp.

The wind kept up, but clouds and rain dissipated, leaving a dramatic sky with a full range of blues spread from horizon to horizon.  This shot was taken as we were loading up after taking out at Meyer's Landing.  The lake looks peaceful, but don't be deceived-there were actually whitecaps out there.  I had told Bones that we would try to go to the other campsite that he and I had built in '82, and take some pictures of the remains, but the weather prevented that.  Towing two kayaks with a following sea and wind directly astern was very tricky and I didn't want to put us in a spot where we would have to take it all broadside.  Next year...






Yesterday we had great weather.  Lots of sunshine and mild breezes all day, and the fish were biting.Nick and I caught so many, I lost count.  All except two were released, and they became lunch.  Pickerel and Perch fried up in bacon fat and served with refried macaroni and cheese; washed down with Ballantine's Ale in honor of Milton Trott, our grandfather, who was the inspiration for all of my wilderness adventures, and who was quite fond of the brew.

Perfect day to cruise Casco Bay

Took a 3-hour cruise on one of the Casco Bay Lines' mailboats today, and visited five of the larger islands as it delivered mail, produce and passengers.  The weather was perfect, if a little hot while we were out of the Atlantic breeze.  Packed a lunch and had a great time basking in the sun as we sailed and docked in picturesque harbors.  Saw lots of dollars floating in harbors and sucking up fuel as they motored by.  I was a little envious until I considered the nine various boats I've owned, and remembered the adage that a boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money.  I think I'll stick with my kayak or ride in others' boats.

This actually happened before the trip to the County.  I just forgot to hit the "Publish" button

Trip to the Black Forest

Last Thursday I took off for the County (Aroostook, for the uninitiated) on Sahib, to go visit my woodlot and camp in the "Black Forest" before it's all thinned.  The logging operation has started and will last for a month or so.  I walked the lot with Bob the forester working with the Martin Forest Products crew and explained that my objective is to harvest with recreation and wildlife as secondary goals to forest health and income.  At first it was rather dismaying to see what I had wrought on what had seemed to me to be a "pristine" location, but upon reflection I realized that it was going to produce a better forest.  Bob cut me a slice off the butt of a spruce and determined that the plantation was about fifty years old, and that assuaged the guilt...the plantation was man-made and meant for harvest.

Above is a shot of the harvester as it undoes in ten seconds, what nature took fifty years to do.  I'm trying not to feel bad.

The trip was a lot of fun, despite the initial period of rain, which is an issue when you are on a motorcycle and sleeping in a tent.  Sahib did well despite the hot supper I fed him on the way up.  Trying to stay ahead of the weather and set up the tent dry; I pushed him to 75 mph (legal between Houlton and Bangor).  The manual cautioned about "...running the motorcycle at high speeds for long periods of time."  Well, they didn't specify how fast or for how long, but I have an idea.  When I stopped, I found him foaming at the mouth-frothy oil being blown out the air cleaner.  The rest of the trip was as mellow as the rest stop by the side of Madawaska Stream.  I enjoyed several great meals from Rita and Doug Anderson's kitchen and helped Doug with the new horse barn he is building.

Back in Westbrook, I hopped on another set of wheels and cycled out to see some motor-cross races with Bruce from Ernie's Cycle Shop.  One of the riders, Donnie, had worked at the shop when I did and was switching from downhill MTB racing to dirt racing.  That's Donnie leading here, on his way to a fourth place finish.

Is has flown off to L.A. to visit with her neice and new baby, and then is heading for a nephew's wedding in Virginia.  I am preparing for a trip to Flagstaff Lake with Nick.  More adventures to follow.  Cheers!