After Beach and a Shower, I’m Officially on Vacation
We’ve arrived, and are officially on vacation. As per my custom, I only really feel that I’m on vacation after I’ve spent a little time on the beach and taken a shower. Emerging at 6:53 pm with the sweet summer light reflecting off a distant rock jetty, yeah, now I’m on vacation. People walk down this short little street named Beach Street looking for a place to park. No luck. Only those of us who have rented houses for the week have such privileges.
The house here on Beach St has a wrap-around deck. The landlords live upstairs, and they’ve got a firepit and some wood too. The bedrooms are tiny, but hey, we’re here for the porch, for the view of the sea, and for the fried clams at Huots, just around the corner. We visited the neighborhood lobster pound, it’s called the Fishin’ Optician, he also sells eyeglasses with his native bugs.
Across the street, laughter drifts up punctuated by the tinkling of glasses. Out on the jetty in the bright end of the day sun, anglers still cast into the chop, hoping to score something for dinner. Now some of the neighbors have climbed onto the big rocks, holding their highballs, looking out, as everyone does, to the sea.
Tomorrow morning at 7:15 son-in-law Francisco and I will meet a charter captain named Guy in South Portland, and by 7:30 we will be heading out to find striped bass. The laws here are different than in the rest of New England, you can only keep the fish that are less than 28″ or more than 40″. I am fervently hoping to land something in the keepable range.
Maine is much different from the shore where I grew up, on Martha’s Vineyard. It has a much more egalitarian, everyman’s beach kind of feel. Like you don’t need to be priviledged or moneyed to enjoy a week here. I like that.