Closed for the Season?

A couple of weeks ago was my favorite day of the year here on Deer Isle: The day after Labor Day. This is the first Day-after-Labor-Day that I have been here since I moved away in 1992, and it was just as wonderful as I remembered. Why has it become my favorite? Because that's the time the year 'rounders "take back the island." The summer traffic drops precipitously and suddenly there are social invitations from people who have been so busy working or entertaining visitors or both that you haven't seen or heard from them in months. You can actually make it through the Burnt Cove Market without stumbling over crates of food waiting to be shelved or addled looking summer people looking for their favorite city food. And the weather? Oh my. Cool, clear and crisp. Think colored leaves, apples and cider.

(One Friday morning just before Labor Day, the Burnt Cove Market was strangely quiet and I whipped through my shopping list. The cashier said "Farmers' Market Day" -- that's where everyone was, getting their croissants from Tinderhearth, their Mason jar of 44 coffee, and their organic meats and cheeses. Not to be found at Burnt Cove, for sure.)

What I hadn't remembered, at least with such a sense of finality, was how fast things closed down for the season, or maybe for good. Just a few days later, I headed off to Blue Hill with the goal of trying out Seas the Day, a breakfast and lunch place across from Tradewinds I had heard good things about. Seas the Day had the unfortunate bad luck of opening the same summer as the new turn-about construction in their front yard that halted traffic for sometimes as much as a half-hour, and as if that wasn't bad enough, a Dunkin' Donuts opened right next door. (Dunkin' Donuts in Blue Hill??? That in itself seemed an abomination.)

Well, poor Seas the Day. Here's what I was greeted with:

That sign in front of the ramp/door says: "Closed Thank You," and outside the picture frame on the left is a "For Sale" sign. Only open a couple of months, and the round-about just got finished so traffic is moving just fine. I guess they couldn't take the reduction in the summer traffic.

Drew and I went to the Bagaduce Lunch for a fish sandwich and the sign in the window said they were closing on Saturday September 7th. (Did you know that the Bagaduce won the James Beard Award as an American Classic?) Madeline's on Deer Isle closes for the season on September 29.

Then my friend Christine invited me to a fancy tea at the lovely Pentagoet in Castine -- but the day of it, she called and said it was cancelled -- we were the only ones to sign up!

Sigh.

And in the Island AdVantages last week, there was an article that THREE businesses in Deer Isle village will be closing after this season: Neva Beck of the The Periwinkle is retiring (47 years in business);The Lester Gallery; and (maybe) Harbor Ice Cream. Since there are only about six business IN Deer Isle village, these closings will certainly have an impact.

Even the summer people who have stayed past Labor Day mostly seem to be leaving in September or in early October.

But then, I have been getting notices from the Opera House about the Winter AtlMovie Series. They are trying to get 90 folks to sign up at $45 each to make the series a "go." We'd do it, but will only be here for two of the seven scheduled films (we are heading south in early November). I heard they were within 15 of the goal. We've been to two movies there in the last week, first-run films and well attended. I see a notice for an eight week swing and waltz lessons in Blue Hill. Colloquy Downeast has ardent fans. And the Ukulele School is gearing up. I just heard about an active crafts group that meets Tuesday mornings in Brooklin. Book groups florish.

And summer people ask "What do you do here in the winter?"  Stick around past Labor Day to find out.

Strong Beer for Strong Men ... and Women

A few weeks ago, I noticed a classified ad in the Island Advantages that was sure to capture Drew's interest: a beer tasting at a fledgeling brewery in Sedgwick. We had no idea where we were headed, but typed the address into our trusty GPS and set off. Imagine our surprise when we ended up directly across from the stop sign at the end of the Mines Road (Route 15 from Blue Hill, where you take a left towards Deer Isle): set back from the road is a chicken and duck pen, then a modest raised ranch house. In the last week, a rather swank sign has popped up:

Al and Mia Strong moved to Maine from New Jersey, largely drawn and inspired by the growing micro brewery activity here. The Strongs are starting what they call a nanobrewery, in their basement garage.

Tiny and modest though it is, Strong Brewing has a real professional flair. The tiny garage cum brewery is tidy and spotless. I've been in a few, so I know.

Al and Mia have worked this past year or so to raise money to get the brewery going. According to Kickstarter, they raised $8,385 by April 16, 2013, and continued their fundraising efforts using a model called Community Supported Brewing, similar to the more familiar Community Supported Agriculture, where people buy shares in a farm's produce, to come later in the season. Same with CSB: you buy a share or half share that then entitles you to fill a 32 or 64 oz. growler a certain number of times (48 or 24 -- see the Strong Brewing website for details).

Drew has been waiting anxiously for the word from Strong Brewery that all was in place (they had recently gotten licensed by the State of Maine), the necessary plumbing needed completing, and the first big batches brewed and ready for dispensing. The word came last week: It was a "Go!" and Strong Brewery was hosting Open House tastings over the weekend. We visited Saturday when  music and food would add to the delights.

Red hot dogs! My father loved them, and the beer would have put him in seventh heaven.

Brewmaster Al mixed with the guests and talked about his favorite topics, Beer and Strong Brewery:

Mia was in the tap room, dispensing the day's four varieties:

And Drew finally got to take home his growlers of Strong Brewery beer:

Here's what Strong Brewery had on tap:

We tend to be dark beer fans, and the Soulpatch Porter was decidedly yummy. The Localmotive, with a bright, clear taste, was a very nice summery beer. The Blue Barren, a lovely pink with a light frothy head, was fruity without being sweet -- flavored with blueberries, of course. They are looking for help peeling peaches this weekend, so sounds like a peach beer is coming down the pike.

Strong Brewery is definitely a home-grown effort, similar to Tinderhearth and Millcreek, with a rustic appearance and appeal. All are putting out a quality product at a fair price, with no golden arches or big corporations backing them up. Let's support them, and buy local! And, btw, eat and drink fabulously.

Great scene, greater pizza!

First, you need to plan ahead.

Tinderhearth in Brooksville only makes their delish wood fired pizzas on Tuesday and Friday nights. You have to order early in the day, after they post the varieties they are making that night on their Facebook page. When you call to order, don't bother leaving a message, because they won't call back. Keep calling until you get a live person.

Then, ask what time slots are available for your pizza: they will tell you, to the minute, when yours should be done. Ours was 6:38pm.

Next, pack picnicking gear (silverware, paper plates, napkins/paper towels) and drinks and maybe a salad. We saw folks with beer and/or wine. And head on over. Depending where you live on the peninsula, it can be a bit of a drive. From our house in Sunset, it was a little over a half hour.

The cars parked along the road were the first sign (beyond the GPS lady's instructions) that we had arrived, in front of a rambling, unassuming farmhouse. We ventured in through an open door to a maelstrom of activity -- these photos actually seem much more serene than the actual event:

The sort of host guy in the gold sequined sun visor gave us the ETA of our pizza, told us to look for a place at a table out back, and let him know if we could not find a place to sit: "We'll make it work, bring out more tables," he said.

Just outside the back door were picnic tables, with more hidden further out in the orchard. Folks were already there (pizza making starts at 5pm, so many probably had come and gone), and the scene was down home, old hippies and the newer generations, and so pleasant.

Then the wait as fabulous looking pizzas came out one and two at a time from the same back door that we came through. It wasn't too long before ours arrived:
 

That's my hand reaching for one. It was HUGE, and I thought for sure we would have left-overs. But it was so good, and the crust so thin and crispy, that we ate all but one slice.

Rumor has it that sometimes there is entertainment on Fridays (a ukelele band?). On Tuesdays, there are movies in the barn just down the road at David's Folly. Talk about home-grown entertainment!

Mountain pose: Yoga at 1500 feet

I saw a photo in a recent Downeast magazine that I couldn't get out of my mind: a woman in the yoga half moon pose on top of Cadillac Mountain. Even though something in Downeast really can't be called undiscovered, I was so intrigued by the thought of yoga, outside, on top of a mountain, that Drew and I drove over last week to give it a try.

Yoga in the Park does yoga classes at one place or another every day in Acadia. See here for the summer schedule, but be sure to check to make sure any class you want to attend is actually going to happen. The home page has notices of cancelled classes. I emailed to make sure that the Sunday evening class was happening, since we had to drive at least an hour and a half to get there from Deer Isle. It was, and we headed out, with a picnic to enjoy beforehand.

Here's the site, the Blue Hill Overlook, just a short ways from the summit, an hour or so before class -- that bump on the horizon, right side, is Blue Hill:

Right on schedule, just before 6:30pm, our teacher Karen and about a dozen yoga folks showed up. A couple of people wandered by, asked if this was a class and could they join in, and they did. Karen said it was the biggest class she had had yet for this Sunday evening session.

Karen warned us that we would be dealing with wind, a hard and uneven rocky surface, curious people, children, dogs, and even a religious service nearby. She was correct. She started by talking us into a lovely extended mountain pose, the connection unmissable, and then a number of poses that went in and out of down dog, made ironic by two gorgeous canines nearby, doing their own playful doggy thing:

We were very fortunate with the day, because it had been cloudy, but cleared during the class, and the sun actually went down right after the class was over. The Blue Hill Overlook appears to be popular for sunset gazers, and there were plenty of souls beyond us willing to brave the cold wind.

We were so busy trying to follow Karen's clear instructions, and Drew was also taking pictures, that it was hard to truly enjoy what a spectacular experience this all was. It was wonderful. So much so that it is surprising that the whole mountain side was not filled with folks doing the yoga poses. We are going back: there are morning and evening classes on Sand Beach that I want to try, and the Blue Hill Overlook another time.

Peak experience!

A Scottish Tattoo: Not just a blue thistle on your bicep

When my 89 year old mother was visiting in July, I noticed a sign at the post office (the best place to discover interesting upcoming events) for a Scottish Tattoo at Fort Knox in Bucksport.

What is a Scottish Tattoo? It's not body art, though there does seem to be some tie in or confusion with skin decoration -- just Google "Scottish Tattoo" and see. Here's what Wikipedia has to say, under "Military Tattoo":

The original meaning of military tattoo was a military drum performance, but subsequently it came to mean army displays more generally.

The term dates from around 1600 during the Thirty Years' War in the Low Countries (Belgium and the Netherlands). The Dutch fortresses were garrisoned with mercenary troops that were under federal command since 1594. The Dutch States Army had become a federal army, consisting mostly of Scottish, English, German and Swiss mercenaries, but commanded by a Dutch officer corps. Drummers from the garrison were sent out into the towns at 21:30 hrs (9:30PM) each evening to inform the soldiers that it was time to return to barracks. The process was known as doe den tap toe (Dutch for "turn off the tap"), an instruction to innkeepers to stop serving beer and send the soldiers home for the night. The drummers continued to play until the curfew at 22:00 hrs (10:00PM). Tattoo, earlier tap-too and taptoo, are alterations of the Dutch words tap toe which have the same meaning.

Mom's recently deceased 94 year old husband was very proud of his Scot ancestry, and I knew she would enjoy it. So we packed up a picnic and headed over to Fort Knox, across the Penobscot opposite Bucksport. It was a beautiful evening, crisp and clear, and bagpipers in colorful kilts were scattered all over the place. We got a great place to sit inside the fort: when the marchers came in, they headed right for us, in the front row. First were a small fife and drum group of Civil War re-enactors just returned from the 150th anniversary of Gettysburg.

But next came the really colorful stuff: the bagpipers, with drums:

There were five groups in all, from Maine and New Brunswick. The outfits were so dramatic, fitting with the stirring music (but ya have to love bagpipes!):

 Even some of the audience dressed up in their Scots finery:

We left before the end because it was getting pretty chilly (note to self: dress warmer next time), but we were in for a treat when we got outside the walls of the fort. The groups who were already done or waiting to perform were milling about, and the setting sun cast a gorgeous light on the swirling kilts:

Even Bucksport looked pretty in the light:

Watch for the next Scottish Tattoo, at Fort Know, probably next summer. Best place to find out: the Fort Knox events page.
 

Downeast brevity: A sign that is to the point

Today we are so used to going online for everything, with infinite choice, pictures, reviews, that it is hard to remember just a short time ago when things like ads for summer rentals appeared in the classifieds in the paper, just a few lines, no photos. Even more rudimentary is a sign beside the road. Here's one I noticed in Deer Isle just the other day:

Basic. To the point. But where was this illusive cottage? How special was it? My imagination ran wild.  Maybe it was that romantic little cottage from the 50's, overlooking Eggemoggin Reach and the bridge. I've always wanted to know just how to rent that one. So I inquired, at the garage:

Basic. To the point. Pure function. Many times I've used that pay phone that you care barely see to the left of the garage doors.

Where was this cottage, were there pictures, a website?

Basic again. No photos, some vague directions, and a phone number I could call for someone who did have pictures. $600 a week, on the water in Sunshine, a few weeks left at the end of September.

If you are interested, inquire at the garage. That's the best I can do.

We visit the Penobscot Narrows Observatory -- The Bridge

Anyone traveling by road to Deer Isle from southern Maine knows about The Bridge in Bucksport. The old bridge was impressive enough, the new one (opened in 2006) towers over the old and is sleek, 21st century in design. The tower that is closer in the photo (an older photo from the bridge website, the old bridge on the left has now been removed) also hosts an observatory at the top. A friend suggested that we visit and add the adventure to this blog, as "well worth it."

Okay. Well, I am a little wary of heights. Just driving across this new bridge was eerie enough. Imagine being in the passenger side of an RV (about twice as high up as a passenger car) with just a fragile looking railing between you and the abyss, the water 135 feet below. The new bridge doesn't even have bridge supports on the outside of the travel lanes, so it feels much less "solid" than the older version. Going up in the tower? I was leery, but game. We did it.

Here's the tower from below -- you access it through the Fort Knox park. There's a fee, but it differs by all kinds of factors like age and whether you are a Maine resident. Check here for what YOU would pay.

So we got in the elevator, suitably warned by the attendant that the windows would be floor to ceiling and about three feet in front of the elevator doors. She wasn't kidding. You step out of the elevator and one more step could take you over the edge if the glass disappeared.

There are three floors of observation decks. The first two contain the elevator shaft and staircase, so there isn't much floor space left. The top floor has 360 degree windows and an open space, but the whole thing probably isn't much more than an 10 x 12 room, and with all that glass? Yikes.

Years ago when I was going to N. Y. U. grad school, the World Trade Center was a regular stop for out-of-town guests. The observation floor was MUCH higher, with the same floor to ceiling windows, plus the whole thing was so high (1310 feet vs. 410 feet of the Penobscot Observatory) that it had a noticable sway. Yet I don't remember being bothered much by the heights there, even standing right up to the glass, with my toes on the edge. Perhaps it was because the space was much larger, or just because I was much younger. One guest I took (interestingly, from Bucksport) was quite freaked and plastered himself to the wall behind. He did not enjoy the view at all.

While the views from the Penobscot Observatory were wonderful and the facility itself a sleek design like the bridge, I found it quite rattling and uncomfortable. It even took awhile after getting down to feel settled again.

When I was gingerly trying to enjoy the view, I remembered how the old bridge was pretty notorious for suicide jumpers.

I just Googled "Penobscot Narrows Bridge suicides" and got pages of links. Apparently, suicides have continued, with at least four from the new bridge. There was even an article about whether suicide prevention fences should be installed on Maine bridges that seem to attract desperate people. Even though a fence would impair the bridge's sleek design, it would seem to be a kindness.

Howsoever, if heights do not bother you or you are willing to test your stomach, the bridge observatory would be worth a trip. Choose a nice day, take a lunch to chow down in the Fort's picnic area, and do a tour of Fort Knox at the same time. According to one of the hosts in the tower, "Now, that is spooky!"