Covid Vaccination: our ticket out

Can you believe that today is the one-year anniversary of the global pandemic? 

So much has changed in a year, thanks to vaccines! 

On this day last year, my family was in Costa Rica celebrating my husband’s recovery from a health crisis. Although the hole in his heart was repaired as a child, Henry has remained immune compromised, and in 2019, he needed two more heart surgeries. In early March of 2020, his cardiologists declared the surgeries a success so our family foolishly flew abroad. 

When we left for vacation, there was no COVID in Maine and only one case in Costa Rica. In our isolated cabin with more birds than people on the mountain trails, we felt safe enough until WHO declared a global pandemic. Our March 18th flight home was a terrifying chorus of coughing passengers on packed planes. I have not traveled farther than 30 minutes from home since then. 

To protect Henry and other vulnerable people in our community, we have been living under strict quarantine for nearly a year. We get all our groceries curbside and restaurant food takeout. We only enter buildings for medical appointments, although my husband has a lot of those. I learned how to cut hair. 

Our singer-songwriter daughter had to cancel her live concerts and move back home, but we haven’t seen our son since last summer nor our octogenarian parents in over a year. 

Selfie from a solo walk last summer at the Eastern Prom in Portland, Maine.

Congratulations in Japanese to Henry's remote Bowdoin students.

We’re fortunate to have work we can do remotely. Henry exercises alone at dawn on remote trails, and I meet a masked friend for a walk once a month. Since high risk people aren’t prioritized in Maine, Henry won’t be eligible for the vaccine until April. Our extreme social isolation has a high psychological cost paid in tears and sleepless nights. Too many people have died. 

Only vaccination will save our family and yours from this pandemic nightmare. We are so lucky that our country will have enough vaccine by May for every American. I have been following the medical research closely, and scientists agree that the vaccines are safe and effective. Vaccines have already defeated polio and small pox. For herd immunity, at least 70% of us need to be vaccinated to protect the community and to return to life as we remember it. 

Celebrating Passover, Easter, and Hanami with my family in New York in 2019.

When I heard that my age group would be eligible next month, I scheduled my first dental cleaning in a year, and then I called my recently vaccinated parents. My writers’ group is planning an outdoor masked gathering for two weeks after vaccinations. I’m counting the months until I can safely fly to the Dominican Republic to research my novel about Jewish refugees during World War II. 

While I wait, I’ve been learning Spanish remotely. I can’t wait for the day when we will only talk about la pandemia in the past tense and the COVID vaccine will be as routine as the flu shot. After vaccination, where do you want to travel?

This post was sponsored by Do Our Part in support of vaccinations in Maine.

Staycation reading: Olive, Again by Elizabeth Strout

I usually try to match my vacation reading to the destination so being stuck at home this year was well timed. Twelve years ago, I'd devoured Olive Kitteridge by my part-time neighbor, Elizabeth Strout. Her eponymous protagonist was deeply flawed: judgemental, abrasive, and brutally honest. Olive was prejudiced toward rich and attractive urbanites and quick to blame the Jews, but she was also willing to put hate aside to help anyone in need and felt remorse for her mistakes. Olive was deliciously human and larger than life. How often is a retired middle school teacher the protagonist of a Pulitzer Prize winning novel?

Nine years ago at a small event for library volunteers, Liz Strout mentioned a few more Olive stories, a tenacious character who continued to haunt her as much as her fans. Olive, Again was finally published last fall, but I didn't want to read about home while traveling in Latin America. Due to the pandemic, we decided to rent a house on the water this summer, only ten miles from home. My son and his girlfriend joined us from Boston after Covid tests. Midcoast Maine was the perfect spot to read these stories, and made me appreciate our quaint hometown all the more. Crosby is a fictionalized blend of Brunswick and Harpswell. I know the bookshop keeper, have dined at the Dolphin, and often drive out to the point. 

Olive, Again brought me home to my staycation. Like its predecessor, the stories featuring Olive as the central character are stronger than the ones in which she only plays a cameo. They link together to form a chronological novel. Of the thirteen stories, only three were disappointing: "The Walk" was as trite as a Hallmark greeting card, and "The End of the Civil War Days" as edgy as an elderly relative cracking a sexually explicit joke. "Exiles" was a follow up to The Burgess Boys, not my favorite of her novels. However, the other ten stories were stunning: original, emotionally resonant, and perfectly crafted. "Arrested" picks up where Olive Kitteridge left off: what happened between Olive and Republican Jack? "Labor" is classic Olive with childbirth disasters. "Light" might be the best story I've ever read about supporting a loved one with terminal illness. "Friend" connects Olive to a character from an earlier novel and gives us a satisfying ending.

When I finished Olive, Again, I was so bereft that I immediately reread the last story in Olive Kitteridge, which my daughter had just finished herself. It was a joy to share Olive with my daughter, to sit side by side, reading on the deck, overlooking the mudflats. We may not be able to visit friends and extended family, but I'm grateful to have had this time close to home with my husband, our children, a dog, and dear old Olive. 

See you at low tide! 

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@Barrie Summy

Kayaking in Merepoint Bay, Maine

Maine is best seen from the water, but I've never been totally convinced about kayaks. I rowed intramural crew at college, spent a summer aboard a Zodiac photo-ID-ing dolphins in the Gulf of Mexico, and have enjoyed canoeing in Maine lakes. However, none of those boats were designed to roll upside down. An emergency "wet exit" sounds too much like a watery grave. As a writer/artist, I have an over-active imagination, but I'm also drawn to the beauty of the sea.

When my son asked for an inflatable double kayak for his birthday, I offered to join him on his inaugural launch. His Sea Eagle reminded me of a Zodiac (minus a motor): stable, comfortable, and surprisingly easy to steer. The open hull is self-bailing so doesn't require a spray skirt, and best of all, this boat was designed not to flip. Since it was near low tide, we left from our town's boat launch.

The hardest part was maneuvering around the moored boats between gusty wind and rocking swells. My arms ached until my son reminded me to pull from my core and brace with my legs. The best thing about a double kayak is easy conversation. Soon enough, my body relaxed into the rhythm of paddling.

A kayak can't be beat for birdwatching. We saw an osprey defend her nest from a hungry bald eagle. The pictured hero above is the speck flying by the tallest tree; I brought an old point-and-shoot instead of my DSLR camera on this salty voyage. Even my dry bag got a bit damp.

We paddled past lobster fishermen loading traps from floating docks onto their boats. June is the start of mainland lobster season in Maine, following the annual migration from deeper waters. During the winter and spring only outer island residents and fishermen with deep sea permits can set traps.

This sustainable fishery is well regulated in my state. Multi-colored buoys (lobster pots) distinguish lines of traps and are matched to a fisherman's boat (paired photos above). The marine patrol enforces strict catch rules to protect breeding females, small young lobsters, and big lobsters. To research my YA novel about a teen lobster fisherman, I went out lobstering with a pro, joined a marine patrolman on his rounds, and spent a week in a boat house on a remote island with a one-room schoolhouse.

Despite the high risks, I understand why fishermen choose to work at sea. The view from the bow was so gorgeous that all my worries melted away. I felt carefree and gloriously alive. Photos cannot capture the pungent scent of the ocean and the sparkle of the waves. My spirit animal must be a porpoise or an osprey, but not a thieving bald eagle!

Too soon it was time to come ashore. My son's Sea Eagle weighs about 42 pounds (much less than regular double kayaks) and only took a few minutes to semi deflate. It took my son about 15 minutes to assemble and to inflate the first time.

The oars snap in half to fit beside the folded boat and its foot pump in the back of my 2002 Subaru Outback with plenty of room to spare. There was no need for a roof rack, which is a big plus for a short woman with a bad back. The biggest pain was rinsing off the seawater and finding a place for it to dry out of the sun. A regular kayak is easier to maintain but harder to store/transport.

I'm sorely tempted to buy a second Sea Eagle as an anniversary gift for my husband and me. Our son will be taking his boat, packed in a surprisingly small duffle, to University of California, Berkeley in August. I will miss him and our wilderness adventures.

Note: I was not compensated or asked to post this kayak review. Top photo of me paddling is by my son; all other photos are by me and under copyright. Thanks to his grandparents for helping us buy this birthday boat (my son paid for part too.)

A Winter Walk at Wolfe's Neck Park

It was a glorious day for a winter walk with temperatures just above freezing. We drove to Wolfe's Neck Park in Freeport, one of our favorite places in Maine. The longest loop takes only an hour so my son decided to walk the ten miles home on his own.

Together we hiked the compacted trail with only microspikes, leaving our snowshoes in the car. 

Yesterday's ice storm left the trees glistening like cut glass. Streams gurgled with melting snow.

Evergreens dripped like rain. 

An ocean of ice reflected the bright sunlight, so deceptively warm.

Casco Bay was still mostly frozen, fractured by thaw and tides.

As the sun slipped behind a cloud, the blues intensified.

We climbed down the slick steps to the shore.

Where the ocean stretched to the horizon and beyond.

Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens Aglow is Lit

Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens Aglow brightens the long nights from mid November to New Year's Eve. 

Last night it was 15F at 7:00 pm on the warmest day of the week. I was amazed to see more people than on a spring day, but crowds dispersed over the extensive grounds. Be sure to reserve tickets online in advance.

Mainers dress winter chic in long coats and high boots. In summer, roses adorn this veranda.

We wondered how long it took to hang over half a million LED lights. 

Evergreens twinkled like Christmas trees under a half moon, but there were no holiday decorations. Gardens Aglow is a nondenominational festival of lights; it felt spiritual but was not religious.

Storm buried lights made the snow glow like a phosphorescent sea.

An hour was barely enough time to see all the lights with a warm up break inside. There was hot cocoa, kettle corn, chili, and cocktails too. Next year we'll allow more time.

Afterwards my family drove ten minutes to McSeagull's for dinner on Boothbay Harbor. A hot Sailor's Cider warmed me up and the fish and chips were excellent. There was also gluten free pizza for my daughter, who declared, "Gardens Aglow was lit!" We agreed that it was a brilliant way to end the year.

Acadia National Park: Jordan Pond & the Bubbles

Care to join me for a virtual hike in Maine? On October 10th we set off for the Bubbles, a pair of conjoined mountains in Acadia National Park. The trailhead 14-spot parking lot is frequently full so we had to park at Jordan Pond, a couple of miles down the park road.

At the far end of the flat Jordan Pond trail, there is a choice between a steep trail up South Bubble or a more gradual trail (good for hiking poles) that winds through golden birch tree groves, which we chose both ways. Round trip, the moderately easy hike was three hours with many photo breaks. We didn't have time to include the North Bubble.

The bare granite summit of South Bubble is only 800 feet above sea level, but it offers fantastic views of Mt. Desert Island and its lakes to the north...

...and Jordan Pond plus the ocean islands to the south. The open summit would be a good picnic spot.

Another lunch option, if you're willing to wait an hour for a table, is Jordan Pond House overlooking the pond and the Bubbles. This in park restaurant is renowned for its oven warm popovers (American Yorkshire Pudding). My local lobster salad and crab cake and my husband's Shepherd's Pie were excellent. Afterwards we admired the wildflower meadows before our three hour drive home.

A less well known hike with good ocean views is Beech Mountain (previous post). We found both hikes in 50 Hikes in Coastal and Southern Maine by John Gibson, my favorite Maine guidebook, which also explains the geography of the terrain. I'd recommend a waterproof trail map and a compass too.

Acadia is most busy late June through Labor Day and for peak foliage in mid October. To save time, buy your park pass online and avoid the park road loop at midday. You can also take the park shuttle bus. Note that Jordan Pond House and some town businesses close off season. Despite the crowds, Acadia National Park is one of my favorite places in Maine.

Acadia National Park: Beech Mountain & Bar Harbor

Acadia National Park's seaside mountains attracts visitors from all over the world, but most tourists don't wander far from their cars. Beech Mountain (above photo) on the remote western corner of Mt. Desert Island is an excellent hike to avoid the crowds. At only 700 feet, it's more of hill than a mountain but still quite steep on the slick granite. Hiking boots are a good idea, but this trail is too rocky for hiking poles.

My husband and I woke early on Indigenous People Day (our town renamed Columbus Day) to hike before the afternoon rain. At sunrise, there was a cool fog bow over Bar Harbor. It's about a half hour drive from town to the trailhead (northwest corner of the parking lot).

On a clear day, the fire tower at Beech Mountain offers a panoramic view of Mt. Desert and the Cranberry Islands, but it was also quite lovely in the mist with peak foliage. Dense fog hid the sea.

Bright red maple trees and blueberry bushes still managed to flame through the misty evergreens.

The colors were all the more vibrant against the mist. 

From the open peak, the South Ridge Trail follows the granite ridge over lichen and descends gradually in switchbacks through a pine forest. The tall pines with dripping ferns, lichen and moss reminded me of the Pacific Northwest or Japan. There is such an interesting variety of terrain in Acadia, compared to other parts of Maine. Stopping frequently to take photos, the 3 mile loop took us about 2 1/2 hours. It was too wet to complete the Canada Cliff and Eagle Cliff loops near the base.

Since Acadia is nearly a three hour drive from home, we spent two nights at the Bar Harbor Inn, which has excellent views of the harbor and is close to the restaurants and shops in town. We met our son and his girlfriend, who hiked a more challenging trail in the rain, at Havana for a delicious dinner. I'd also recommend the Side Street Cafe for lunch or dinner in Bar Harbor, and you'll also want to browse in Sherman's Bookstore nearby. Luckily for us, the skies cleared on our last day. I'll share sunnier photos in my next Acadia post, later this month.

The foliage is also gorgeous back at home. This photo is from my regular bike ride, a seven mile loop from my house past farmlands and a tidal estuary. I love Maine in October!