Lobster Pot Fetch

As Meredith mentioned in our last post, last Saturday Cape Elizabeth played host to the annual Beach to Beacon 10k race from Crescent Beach to the Portland Head Light, and for a small town, they sure know how to put on a big race. There were 5,000 contestants, including a number of professional runners (averaging less than a 5-minute mile over a 6.2 mile course) and even cooler, a few handicapped racers who completed the entire distance in wheelchairs. In a sport that already captivates me with participants' commitment, these racers bring chills to your spine as you watch them power through every inch of the course. I'm sure that Meredith joins me in saying congratulations to all of the participants, professional and amateur, able and handicapped.

Of the thousands of visitors to the area during the weekend of the Beach to Beacon, Meredith and I were lucky to have three of our own. Meredith's mother, step father, and their chunky golden retriever, Mason, dropped by on their way up to Boothbay Harbor to have some good times and great food. A few lobster and some fun walks on the CELT trails later, they were on their way to the Spruce Point Inn in Boothbay, and what kind of family would we be if we didn't take full advantage of their resort vacation?

On Sunday, Meredith and I popped up to Boothbay to enjoy a change of scenery, some beautiful hiking trails, and an unexpected dip in the ocean. The Spruce Point Inn is placed perfectly on a point that juts into the ocean, and years of little underbrush growth and a thick fertile base of decomposed needles from the evergreens give the trails around the Inn a beautiful, open, soft hiking experience that can hardly be described. Orvis and his buddy Mason had a great walk in the woods, followed by an interesting swim off of the rocky coast. While playing fetch in the water, Orvis missed the stick we had thrown, and instead, zoned in on a lobster pot buoy. After dragging the buoy about twenty feet, Orvis had reached the full extent of the rope, and was finding that the lobster pot was proving a little too much for him. Somewhat unfortunately, Orvis' mother and father were both hunting retrievers, and that same natural instinct to retrieve is in his blood too. After five minutes of swimming in place Orvis was starting to lose his breath and strength, and we realized that something had to be done. Input Michael's first swim in Maine. Attempting to be the hero, I skinned-up in all my bronzed body-builder glory, and swan-dove into the frigid depths, swimming in Michael Phelps-esque style to rescue my good friend. In all actuality, I took off my shirt, used my muffin-top to stay afloat, screamed like a 3 year-old fighting waves at the beach, and at the sight of me doggie paddling out to Orvis, he promptly let go of the buoy to come play with dad in the water. Still, I can now claim to have swam in the Maine ocean, and completely shamed by my courage, Meredith's step father joined me for a quick-dip, before we both realized that we were born and raised North Carolinian, and thus, should keep to the pleasantly warm waters of the coast of North Carolina for our sans-wetsuit recreational swims.

Still, the sights and experiences of Boothbay and the Spruce Point Inn were perfect in their own way, Meredith's parents were, like always, overly accommodating, and Meredith and I were able to place another tally mark in the "Wicked Fun" category of our Maineiac to-do list. Breathe easy guys.