Hazel pulled the window covering up and
down- up and down, from blackness to blinding light, as June dipped
her four year old fingers into her apple juice making sure to
saturate the pretzel she was holding. A ritual she's acquired from
the many flights she's taken in her short life.
This was Hazel's fifth airplane ride.
Pretty impressive for an 18 month old. But maybe not as impressive as
that window shade. She continued pulling it up and down, exposing for
a blinking moment the creamy white meringue of clouds below us,
whipped into stiff peaks.
I think a lot of people thought we were random when they found out that we were going to Maine. Of all the places to go and spend your money on, right? I mean it's cool, sure, but why not go to NYC, Disneyland, or Hawaii or something like that?
My parents had thrown the idea around of Maine and I latched onto it. I'm turning 30 soon and have been extra obsessed with checking off life goals this year and there were a couple big ones, one in particular, that needed to be checked off in the state of Maine. Besides, we like seeing new places and learning about the culture and people. Maine is no exception.
So away we went.
The first night we just survived and stayed in a hotel and waited for my parents to arrive.
But the next day was one that I will never forget.
We drove for three and a half hours north, across bridges and through small towns. We barely made it in time to catch the boat we needed to take!
As
the boat stared up and we began to glide across the small blue waves,
I felt all that anxiety drift away with the breeze. We all went to
the top of the boat and let the sun pour into us. The girls loved the
boat. Hazel excitedly pointed to all the buoys dotting the sea. We
learned that those were for all the lobster traps! There were
probably hundreds of them. I guess Maine gets its reputation for a
reason.
It
was about a 40 minute ride and then we were at the dock of the small
forested island. Isle de haut. A tall skinny man driving an old beat
up suburban was there to greet us, his black wiry hair sticking out
like feathers, somehow complimenting the green plaid shirt and work
boots he was wearing. His black dog Rosie was with him. This was our
ride to the lighthouse.
He
took us on a tour of the small town. The whole island has a
population of 45 people. There's one small road with a tiny library
made with a walls plastered with island rocks, a one room school
house that currently has a total of two students, a shack for a post
office and then a small general store. On the way we also stopped at
someone's house because Rosie the dog had gotten lose earlier and
chased their ducks and chickens and Matthew, our guide, driver, and
inn keeper, wanted to stop and make sure the duck was okay.
He
told us about how the lighthouse inn was built in 1907, as was the
house. They keep it as earth friendly as they can and are probably
the most eco friendly inn in this whole country. They recycle the
waste water into the garden. They generate the ocean water and
desalinate for use and drinking. They burn trash and use the ashes.
They use oil lamps at night and very minimal electricity that they
make themselves with a generator and solar panels.
We
drove down a gravel road that was only made for the inn. For decades
it used to be reachable only by the water. As we approached it it was
like magic. There was the small lighthouse and a ramp leading to it.
On the other side the inn. There were two old 1900 cars parked. A
couple small cottages for the workers with a deck lined with colorful
buoys. The shore line dropped down with ridges of rocks, behind us
tall skinny pines.
The
house was a white three story farm style home with the original wood
floors. There was a winding staircase that lead up to two different
levels. There were a couple wood stoves and old oil paintings around.
Our room was on the second floor with a window that opened up to the
shoreline. There were sheer white curtains shimming from the sea
breeze, giving peeks to the watery blue expanse below, the sunlight
whispering in and filling the room and pale blue walls with its song.
My
parents room was a richer red color, their window framing the
lighthouse outside. A wood stove stood armored and ready to assist at
the front of the entrance and cozy iron bed filed the center.
There is a chef who lives in a small room outside of the inn, she spends her days making gourmet meals for all the guests. Next to the kitchen and dining room there was a cozy living room with a large wood stove.
The
girls ran around and collected flowers, rocks, and sea shells.
Matthew took up up the light house. It's only a two story one but
it's still working today and uses a red light at night. But the cool
part is that the sailors have to be right in the right spot and then
they see the light turn white and that's how they know it's the safe
area.
We
walked up a small spiral stair case and then climbed up a little
ladder into the circular room surrounding the light. It was hot with
the sun rays coming in at all 360 degree angles. We got to wear the
keepers hat and learn how the light works.
The chef made us a snack of vegetarian sushi. Seriously can I get a chef in my house permanently? June and her daddy read some books and then we all ate our food.
Then we
went down a small rock trail that lead to some chairs that sit facing
the coast and where the sun was setting. It was a clear evening and
we saw the whole brilliant show. The sun was lazy and took its time,
making sure to wrap the whole ocean up with its colorful ribbons.
And you know I can't help myself around sunset light and I took a ton of photos.
For dinner we had a plate of fresh salmon
with sauce, some fancy noodles and colorful zucchini. All the food
they use is local and organic. Of course. They made the girls some
kid friendly noodles and Hazel actually ate the salmon. The whole
time the light grew dimmer and the only source we had to fill the
darkness was the oil lamps which were both romantic, soothing, but
also a little eerie.
After dessert it was bed time for the girls. My mom is so great and she brought a lighthouse bedtime story book for them. (she also brought a Maine coloring book and photocopied pages so they girls could color the same pages if they wanted. How does she even think of these things?)
Then all was calm in the house and the grown ups played a game of scrabble.
Then I
walked outside and the darkness presented a rare gift of stars
swimming in strands of the Milky Way, a deep yellow and half moon hanging crooked in the sky, its light smeared across the gentle
waves. And to the right, the light house, invisible except for every
four seconds when the red light would illuminate the tower, a
backdrop of falling stars. I've never seen anything like it.
As
if that wasn't enough, it got even more surreal. The moon grew
swollen and orange and it appeared the weight began to cause it to
slip, melting from the skillet of hand tossed light. The light it had
been casting on the ocean disappeared as it got lower, the moon
eventually touching the water itself, its color now a deep red. And
we watched as it slowly slowly continued its fall until the very last
tip of it disappeared. It was crazy! I've never seen that happen
before. I thought the moon was suppose to rise higher as the
night goes on, not go for a swim.
I didn't have a tripod and THAT was a real SHAME. But I took a few grainy and blurry photos because my photographer soul just had to try.
And I noticed something: The big dipper's handle ended right at the tip of the lighthouse, the two nightly guides joined together.
The
silence was a marvel. The best thing for my soul that lives so close
to a freeway back in Utah. Nothing but small waves. And the silent
light house.
I
think it's these moments that I take with me through all the noisy
days. I do love doing things and seeing people, I'm an extrovert at
large. But these small times I get of solitude and surrender revive
me in ways I didn't even know that I needed.
I
will never forget this day or let go of it.
