Another early start this morning.
I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I might as well get the show on the road.
It was another wonderfully cool morning—59 degrees inside the cabin.
The lake has cooled off considerably, too. The surface temperature was down to 74 degrees this morning after topping 80 just last week.
My original plan was to head over to Neighbor Joe’s camp first thing and cut up the tree that had fallen across his driveway, then head down to Machias for the Wild Blueberry Festival.
There was just one problem.
My chainsaw wasn’t really cutting anymore.
It had reached the point where instead of producing sawdust, it was producing smoke. The chain was so dull that it was basically burning its way through the wood.
No problem, I thought.
I have two spare chains.
Except I don’t.
The two chains I brought are apparently for my pole saw.
So much for clearing Joe’s driveway this morning.
Fortunately, there’s a Stihl dealer near Machias, which happened to be exactly where I was headed anyway.
I stopped there first and picked up two new chains.
Back in business.
Then it was on to the Machias Wild Blueberry Festival.
I have to admit, I was expecting a little more…
blueberry.
There were plenty of booths, crafts, vendors, and people, and it was certainly a nice festival. But for something called the Wild Blueberry Festival, I expected to be surrounded by blueberry pies, blueberry muffins, blueberry everything.
I didn’t see a single blueberry pie.
There was one booth selling something called “blueberry balls.” I’m still not entirely sure what those were. They looked something like round muffins.
Still, it was a beautiful day and a nice festival to wander around.
I did manage to do a little shopping.
One pottery vendor had something I’d never seen before called a couch bowl. It looks a little like an oversized teacup, with a handle on the side that you can slip your fingers through while holding the bowl in your lap.
Basically, it’s a bowl specifically designed for eating while sitting in front of the television.
Clearly, someone understands me.
So I bought one.
I also picked up an interesting plate and a mug that I liked.
And vanilla fudge.
Naturally.
The woman working the fudge booth may have had the most miserable disposition of anyone I’ve encountered in quite some time.
It was a gorgeous day—sunny, upper 70s, virtually perfect—and she was sitting underneath a tent complaining about how unbearably hot it was.
She also moved at approximately the speed of a tortoise.
I felt a little sorry for her. When you can find something to complain about on a day like today, you’re really putting some effort into it.
Another vendor was called Trudy’s Bath & Body.
Well, obviously I couldn’t walk past that without buying something for Trudy.
So Trudy will be getting some body cream from Trudy’s.
After the festival, I stopped at a place Trudy had found online that sells prepared foods. By sheer luck, Saturday is half-price day for some of their premade meals.
I picked up a Caprese wrap for $3 and a Mediterranean orzo salad for another $3.
Six dollars for lunch and another meal?
I’ll take it.
I also made a quick pharmacy stop because I’ve somehow managed to pick up poison ivy.
And not just one nice, convenient patch of poison ivy.
New itchy spots seem to be appearing in completely unrelated places all over my body.
Hopefully the medication I picked up will calm things down before I scratch myself to pieces.
From there, I headed down to Lubec Brewing Company.
Trudy had seen that the brewery was closing. The owners have been trying to sell the business for about a year without success, and with one of them having health problems, they’ve finally decided to shut it down.
This was their last weekend, so I thought I’d stop in, have a beer, and wish them well.
That’s where I met Carl.
Carl lives across the border on Campobello Island and works as a carpenter.
Within a remarkably short period of time, I knew quite a bit about Carl.
I learned about his years working on fishing boats, his more than 20 years as a carpenter, how much money he earns every week, how much he takes home after taxes, where his wife works, and quite a few other details about his life.
Carl is not a man who leaves you with a lot of unanswered questions.
Eventually, the conversation moved into his theories about politics and the powerful people he believes secretly control the United States, Canada, Britain, Russia, China, and pretty much everything else.
At one point he stopped and asked me:
“You probably think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
I told him I didn’t know enough about what he was describing to know whether any of it was true.
A little later, I went to the bar for a second beer.
Carl walked up beside me.
The bartender looked at him and said:
“Oh, Crazy Carl.”
Well.
Apparently Carl has a reputation.
The brewery also had some live Celtic music, which was excellent, and I ended up having a really enjoyable afternoon there.
I’m glad I got a chance to visit one last time before they close.
After a quick Walmart stop, I headed back to Camp Hidey Ho.
By then, a shower was long overdue.
I filled up the solar shower—the black camping bag that heats water in the sun—hung it from a tree, and had a surprisingly nice warm shower.
Feeling considerably more civilized, I followed that with a swim in the lake.
Even though the surface temperature had dropped to 74 degrees, the overall lake temperature hasn’t changed much.
Once I got in, it was still perfectly comfortable.
And, as has become the pattern this year, I had the entire lake to myself.
I still haven’t seen another person out here.
Tomorrow it’s back to work.
First, I’ll put one of those new chains to use and clear the fallen tree from Joe’s driveway. Then I want to hit the bog walkway hard with the Dingo.
I was actually encouraged when I got home today and saw the section where I’d spread dirt yesterday. It had dried considerably and looked much better than it did when I left it.
So maybe this crazy idea is going to work after all.
Tomorrow we’ll find out how much farther I can push a 4,400-pound Dingo into a Maine peat bog without regretting it.
Talk to you tomorrow.