Maine

I'm willing to bet that most people, especially my age, have had one or two summer vacations when they were growing up that stand out among all the others.  So much so, to me, that I really can't remember much of what the others were like.

My trip to Maine with my father's parents, Grandma and Pop Pop, and his Uncle Jake, was that vacation for me.  My grandparents had a house in the 'finger' region of the coast line.  If you looked on a map you could see four peninsulas jutting out into the Atlantic Ocean, twelve to fifteen mile long 'fingers' from above, or on a map.

Uncle Jake drove us from Edgewater, NJ, meandered through New York and the lower New England, before reaching the house in Five Islands, Me.  I recollect the trip took the better part of daylight, around eleven to twelve hours. Uncle Jake was far from a speedster, and he talked  about as slow as he drove.

The house was set on a hill overlooking the cove, one long block equivalent way.  What a view.  The house was originally built by a sea captain.  The rooms inside resembled cabins on a ship, with dark, wainscoted wood, with a large stone bouldered fireplace in the middle.  Large windows looked out to the cove from about as high as a crow's nest on a ship would be.

The week we were there was crowded with assorted day trips, and I remember the weather cooperated fully with our plans.  I don't recall a drop of rain the entire time.  We went to clam bakes (what's a trip to New England without one), boat rides, museums, and various eateries.  At one breakfast nook, I found my favorite breakfast, buckwheat pancakes and sausage.  I think I had them three or four days in a row!

The highlight of the trip was the boat ride to Monegan Island.  The island is about twelve miles off the coast, and at that distance, a boat can encounter some fairly large waves.  Uncle Jake and I opted to climb the ladder to the upper deck, for better view, and more sun.  All told, about twenty other people had the same idea.  My Uncle Jake was always amusing to me, and he kept my interest in whatever he was talking about.

I guess we were about two miles out when I started to notice a few people at a time were returning to the below deck, and the captain would yell into the intercom to the deckhand,"Billy, on the port." or "...stern, ..."  As the number of people dwindled down to just my uncle and I, I decided to go below myself to see what was keeping Billy so busy.

Almost everyone on the main deck had facial pallors between green and blue, sitting with buckets on their laps, to catch the rest of their rejected breakfasts that poor Billy was washing off the other parts of the boat.

A few of us, my grandparents, uncle, and myself never got seasick, this trip included.  I decided to go back to the upper deck to continue to enjoy the sun and 'swells'.  Swells are waves with long, gradual arcs, as opposed tall choppy ones.  They give a slight, weightless sensation at the top of the arc, and as the boat descends into the low point, or swale.  However, if you are prone to seasickness, this is the worst kind of wave.  The split second of weightlessness rebells the stomach.

Fortunately, once we got to the island, and walked around a bit, almost everyone's stomach distress turned to hunger, and the trip back was on a nearly dead calm sea.