Re: [Paddlewise] Old trip report - part 2

> From:          "Sisler, Clyde" <Clyde.Sisler_at_wang.com>
> To:            "'paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net'" <paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net>
> Subject:       [Paddlewise] Old trip report - part 2
> Date:          Wed, 25 Mar 1998 10:40:47 -0500

This might be the first chapter of a book. We could call it "Shallow 
Trouble". Maybe Tom Robbins would volunteer to write it. Anyway, a 
great story.



> So here I am, standing beside a truck with no keys, 5 o'clock on a
> Friday afternoon, in a sparsely settled area, miles from a telephone,
> hundreds of miles from home by myself in the fog.  That'll put a damper
> on a vacation.  :-(
> 
> I went up to a house and knocked on the door (something I really hate
> doing).  A young woman (with a nose ring) answered the door and offered
> to call a friend of hers named Toby with a tow truck and invited me into
> the house.  I was still pretty wet so just stayed on the porch.  When
> she came back she said the Toby was out making a delivery in Ellsworth
> but would be back in an hour or so.  I thanked her profusely and headed
> back to the truck to wait.
> 
> Half an hour later a (part time) lobsterman pulls up to the ramp.  I
> offered him a few bucks to take me back out to look for the PFD.  He
> hemmed and hawed for a couple of minutes and then agrees but then takes
> off without me????  He spent half an hour or so hugging the shoreline
> looking for a PFD that was out on an island????  Needless to say he
> didn't find it.
> 
> Another lady from the same house came by with a cup of tea and offered
> to give me a ride.  I declined, indicating I better hang around for
> Toby.  An hour later, no Toby and it's now dark so I start the 10-15
> mile walk back to the camp ground.  I still have my farmer john on and a
> heavy fleece shirt/jacket and I've put my wallet and checkbook in the
> shirt pockets.
> 
> I head off down this dirt road with trees on both sides and it is pitch
> black and I can barely see the outline of the road.  I start sweating
> and take the shirt off and toss it over my arm.  A few minutes later I
> check the pockets to make sure my wallet and checkbook are still there
> and they aren't. :-(
> 
> I don't really know how far I've come and I can barely see the road but
> what choice do I have?  I start back, bending over to touch every dark
> spot I think I see on the road.  (I grabbed my foot once).  Fortunately
> I found them both after 5 minutes.  I hit a main road and caught a
> couple of rides from a local lobsterman and an (apparently) drunken
> oriental guy.
> 
> This next morning I hook up with Toby and he takes me to a garage where
> they manage to pick the ignition lock.  All they really do is get the
> car out of lock so you can start it.  The guy told me, whatever you do,
> when you turn the car off, don't turn it all the way to lock or you'll
> be back in the same situation.
> 
> It was pouring down rain off and on so I decided to go over to Bar
> Harbor, a favorite tourist town for the day.
> 
> The next day I go over to Southwest Harbor for a looksee, except I can't
> looksee because of all the fog.  I decide to put in anyway (I had a 2nd
> PFD in the truck) with the thought that I'll just putt around and look
> at the sailboats that must be out there somewhere.  How much trouble can
> I get into anyway?  I paddle around for a while and become hopelessly
> disoriented.  Never thought to look at the compass.  Eventually I banged
> into the Coast Guard station which was directly across from my put in so
> I decided to just hug the coast and go 'somewhere'.
> 
> After paddling for an hour or so I hit what I finally figured out is
> Sommes Sound, supposedly the only fjord on the East Coast.  The fog
> starts to lift some and a bald eagle flys directly overhead and lands in
> a tree about 50 feet up the side of a cliff.   Cool!  That's only the
> 2nd time I've seen a bald eagle.  We watch each other for 5 minutes or
> so and then I take off.
> 
> The fog keeps lifting and I get down to the end of Sommes Sound and turn
> around to head back and had my breath taken away.  Absolutely
> spectacular.   Here is a channel of water about .25 mile wide by about 1 .5
> miles long with a sheer 100+ foot cliff on one side and a mountain on
> the other.  About .5 way up the sound is a 40-50 foot sailboat (sails
> down) motoring towards me.  The sun is out now and the whole scene is as
> beautiful as anything I've ever seen and I sat there a good 10 minutes,
> just taking it all in.  Unfortunately, no camera.
> 
> I came out of Sommes Sound and saw many great looking/big houses, maybe
> baby mansions.  I headed up to Northeast Harbor but the fog came in
> again and it occurred to me that God was looking down and just wanted me
> to have those few minutes with that tremendous view and I told him,
> thanks.
> 
> So I headed back towards Southwest Harbor and the sun came back out
> again.  Rather than follow the same route all the way back I made a
> crossing of about a mile or so and got to dodge power boats, sight
> seeing boats, etc.  There were also some great looking sailboats under
> sail out there too.
> 
> I got back to Southeast Harbor at dead low tide and drove the truck down
> the ramp.  Ya know how there are certain things you do automatically.
> Like put the truck in 1st gear, put the emergency brake on, open the
> door, start to step out, turn the ignition off, all in a series of fluid
> motions?  Yup!  I turned that sucker all the way on lock.  :-(
> 
> 4:30 Sunday afternoon at the very bottom of a boat ramp at dead low
> tide.  S**t!!!!  TOOOOOBBBBBYYYYY!!!!!!  I've still got his number in my
> pocket so I ask a couple of guys working on an old tug boat where I can
> find a phone.  They say the restaurant across the street.  I go over
> there but it's closed.  S**t!!!!  I peek at my truck at the bottom of
> the ramp and the water is right behind the rear tires.
> 
> I see a marine store down the road about .25 mile.  I jog down to it (I'm
> not a runner).  Closed.  S**t!!!!  I remember a corner store about .5
> mile up the road.  I jog up to it.  Closed.  S**t!!!!  But there's a
> phone outside.  And I have a quarter.  And I have Toby's phone number.
> And Toby answers the phone.  In a mild (ok, a lot of) panic, I tell him
> my predicament and he says he's in the middle of his Sunday afternoon
> case of beer but will come out anyway.  I jog (walk) back and Toby's
> already backing down the ramp.
> 
> He gets out of his truck with a beer in his hand (guess he was serious
> about that), puts his hand on my shoulder, looks down at the ground,
> shakes his head and says " I don't mean to laugh at you, but....
> AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!".
> 
> He backs down, hooks me up, starts to pull me up and something pops on
> his truck and hydrolic fluid is leaking all over the place.  I yell at
> him, he gets out and looks at it, shrugs his shoulders and gets back in
> and pulls me out of the Atlantic Ocean.  It seems tow trucks are not
> really designed to pull a car up a ramp at that angle.  I don't care,
> I'm outta da water.  Yeahhh!!!
> 
> Toby starts telling me about how he gets a call from a guy one night at
> the same ramp.  When he gets there, all he sees is a pair of headlight
> shining up out of the water.
> 
> The garage guy picked my lock again the next morning.  I thought it
> might be a good idea if I went home then.  Ion the way off of Mt Desert
> Island, I briefly considered visiting some coastal caves but decided to
> save them for next time.
> 
> There's a whole lot of lessons to be learned there.  I'm not sure of all
> of them yet but I'll certainly think about things a little more.  I came
> out of this very cheaply, in more ways than one.
> 
> Did I have a good time.  You bet!
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Clyde W. Sisler
> 
> Voice: (508) 858-6783
> Fax:   (508) 858-8631
> clyde.sisler_at_wang.com
> 
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Bradford R. Crain                             E-mail: brad_at_mth.pdx.edu
Dept. of Mathematics                          Phone: (503) 725-3127
Portland State Univ.                          FAX:   (503) 725-3661  
P.O. Box 751
Portland, Or. 97207
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