Today was laundry day.
With the weather as hot as it’s been—and the amount of sweating I’ve been doing while working outside—the supply of reasonably clean clothing was dwindling rapidly.
So it was time to head back to the laundromat in Princeton.
Of course, there’s an added benefit to laundry day: the Old School Family Restaurant is in the same shopping center.
It would be almost irresponsible not to have breakfast there.
So while the clothes were washing, I enjoyed another excellent breakfast. I’ve become quite fond of this little routine.
Wednesday is also the day the Talmage tax collector is available at the Women’s Auxiliary building in Waite, so I stopped there afterward to continue my quest to get a 911 address—and hopefully eventually a postal address—for Camp Hidey Ho.
I had thought this would be relatively simple. When the Waite General Store was still open, one of the owners told me that he was the local 911 coordinator and could get an address assigned.
It sounded pretty straightforward.
Apparently, it isn’t.
I ended up spending about an hour talking with Stephanie Chaffee, the tax collector, and her husband Gary, one of the Talmage selectmen whom I’d met last year.
The short version of the address discussion is that Gary isn’t really sure how to do it. He’s been told the town may need some new software, which apparently isn’t cheap, and they’re trying to figure out how the process works.
So the great Camp Hidey Ho address quest continues.
We also spent quite a while talking about Democrat Ridge Road and the neighboring property that was heavily logged last year.
I’d been curious about what was going to happen to that land now that the timbering was finished.
According to Gary, the logging company actually owns the property—something like 350 acres—and apparently there is some thought that they may eventually sell rather than replant it.
Hmm.
Another 350 acres next door to Camp Hidey Ho?
That could be fun.
Probably not going to happen, but it’s entertaining to think about.
Eventually I headed back to camp and did some work on the bog walkway. I was making trips back and forth between the cabin and the end of the driveway for tools when I did what I frequently do:
I saw something shiny.
Suddenly I had another project.
This one wasn’t on my list for this year, but it seemed too useful to ignore.
The aluminum boat I’ve used to get to camp is still stored over at the neighbor’s property. Last year, when Trudy was here, we noticed what might be a perfect place to keep it right here at Camp Hidey Ho.
On the west side of the peninsula is a large section of exposed bedrock—or “ledge,” as they call it here in Maine—about ten feet offshore.
It’s roughly 30 feet long and runs parallel to the shoreline, creating what amounts to a natural breakwater.
The water between the ledge and shore is protected from most of the waves coming across the lake.
It looks like a nearly perfect little harbor for the boat.
The problem is getting out to the ledge.
Fortunately, I had exactly the wrong tool for the job—which, naturally, meant I used it.
My Little Giant ladder has a metal scaffold platform that normally spans between sections of the ladder. It had been very useful while I was staining the cabin.
Today, it became a bridge.
I laid it between the peninsula and the ledge and was able to walk across.
There was one major obstacle waiting for me: a large fallen tree, thoroughly waterlogged, lying right through the area where I want to keep the boat.
So I spent several hours cutting it apart and wrestling the pieces out of the water.
Eventually, I won.
I now have a nice open, protected area where I should be able to keep the boat. The next step is to bring it over from the neighbor’s property and figure out some sort of mooring system that will hold it securely without allowing the aluminum hull to bang against the rocks.
Another project.
But this one should be fun.
Since it was yet another hot day and I was already working right beside the lake, I decided it would be foolish not to take advantage of the situation.
So I went for another swim—sans clothing once again.
I’m beginning to think this may become the official Camp Hidey Ho swimming uniform.
I also discovered that the lake bottom on this side of the peninsula is completely different. The east side has lots of rounded, irregular rocks that can make walking into the water a little treacherous.
The west side is softer and somewhat muddy, but actually much easier on the feet.
So now I have two swimming beaches.
Not bad.
But the real highlight actually happened last night.
The Perseid meteor shower was at its peak, although clouds were forecast to move in overnight.
I figured my best chance was to go outside early, so at about 8:45 I settled in to watch the sky.
There was still some light in the west, along with thin clouds overhead, but enough clear patches remained to see plenty of stars.
And then the meteors started.
I sat there for somewhere between an hour and fifteen minutes and an hour and a half.
I saw 14 shooting stars.
Some were small and disappeared almost immediately.
Others were spectacular.
Numbers eight and nine were two of the brightest, longest-lasting shooting stars I can remember seeing.
They were so impressive that I actually found myself cheering and clapping.
There wasn’t another human being anywhere around to hear me.
Didn’t matter.
They deserved applause.
After number nine, I decided I’d stay until I reached ten.
Then I reached ten and thought, Well, eight and nine were really good. Maybe another one like that is coming.
So I stayed.
Number eleven was okay.
Number twelve was another really good one.
Well, obviously I couldn’t leave immediately after a good one.
There might be another.
Then came number thirteen.
I certainly wasn’t going to stop at thirteen.
That would be unlucky.
So I waited.
Finally, number fourteen streaked across the sky. It wasn’t the best of the night and it wasn’t the worst—a perfectly respectable, medium-sized shooting star.
Fourteen seemed like a good number.
I called it a night.
Sitting alone beside a lake in the Maine woods, under a dark sky with virtually no light pollution, watching 14 meteors streak overhead…
That’s a pretty good way to end a day at Camp Hidey Ho.