Coming home to the ranch from the Harbor, my old Jetta and I landed fourth in line at the Southport bridge. It was a delightfully wonderful evening as many are this time of year and our brief pause at the Golden Gate felt quite relaxing. I could see around and through the trees to the north that a dandy sunset was in process.

This will be the last of my Windjammer Days columns for this year. But, I figured since I shared an aerial from the early ’80s, then a photo from 2017, it might be nice to finish up with a view from this year’s event.

Double clutching is a technique I was taught when I first began to drive trucks. So many vehicles nowadays have automatic transmissions; there is no need for an understanding of the double clutch.

There is an old saying, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” It seems that is a statement I may have heard from my grandmother of Irish ancestors when referring to the “Lightning Glider” sled I had versus the “Lightning Glider” sled I desired! I was a sledding maniac as a kid. Problem was, I crashed a lot. My grandmother recommended restraint, but I preferred something sleeker and faster. I settled for the bird in hand, despite design flaws and patchwork repairs. And, multiple hidden ice patches and formidable tree obstacles along the way.

Lonny Sisson (may he rest in peace but not far from croquet and golf) landed in Maine early in life. When he started a family, producing income became a paramount concern.

The recent annual graduation celebrations remind us of the same events we experienced with our own daughters, Megan and Morgan. We recall with fondness the festivities at school and then later at colleges in Baltimore and Vermont when friends and family from near and far (mostly far) came together to support and give thanks for successfully completing educations and, in some cases, life-changing experiences.

It’s weird sometimes what bubbles up in the wake of tragedy. The “Beach Cove” fire, as awful as it was, caused me to recall my times at “The Lakeview Motel” where I spent a couple years, off and on, as a handy person who would do, or try, almost anything. I mowed, I raked, I washed, I carpentered, painted, washed dishes, tended bar and unloaded luggage from early tour busloads of folks from New Jersey and Pennsylvania. My time at the motel would have been late ’70s, early ’80s.

We record all sorts of events on our “Around Boothbay Harbor” calendar. Big squares for each calendar date allow for a good pile of information. Among those items of record, we record birthdays, anniversaries, deaths, oil change appointments, significant events, doctor appointments, storms, bloomings, bird sightings and much more.

Some weeks things fall out of my head more easily. This past week has been complicated by some losses of old friends. It’s difficult enough for me to come up with weekly adventures, but this time around I just had to throw in the towel and punt. So, as a fall back, I have dredged up a favorite image from the past. I hope it will be OK. It’s an image from a long time ago.

Elbridge Giles and I bonded over dynamite. Not your average coffee table conversation, but an interesting journey, nonetheless.

Let me take this opportunity to introduce our local versions of Google and what used to be the telephone book. If these two ladies don’t know where you can be found, you can’t be. Unless, of course, you have moved into the region within the last 24 hours. In that case Jenny, pictured on the left, or Ashley will have been alerted to your arrival before the last piece of furniture has left the moving van. In other words, these two are the eyes and ears of the peninsula. And both are leaving the post office. Breaks my heart.

Looking out across the open bay this time of year emphasizes some of the luxuries of our coastal community. Lots of unoccupied space, which for me, appeals to my appreciation for calm. In a world full with all sorts of distractions the simplicity of this view helps me be grateful for the gifts we have been given by the coast of Maine. Sort of whittles down to basics without much fluff. A boat, a church and lots of water. The same as it’s always been, at least during our brief stay. This is a view for the ages. A hundred years ago it very well could have been the same.

Whenever you see a Boothbay town crew pickup with plow attached, heading around Ocean Point in April, when it is 50F and sunny, you can be pretty certain that it’s not for accumulating snow. However, it is entirely probable that there has been a seaweed invasion somewhere along Shore Road, most notably in the vicinity of Ocean Point Inn where portable traffic barriers have been assembled to help deflect ocean waters laden with all varieties of waterborne adventures. A generous helping of seaweed is often freely dispersed across the road mixed with sea gravel, sand and maybe even chunks of flotsam. Other areas along the shore also receive gifts, depending upon, in some part, the direction from which a storm has come. The stretch of road from the Ocean Point Chapel along Shore Road toward the remains of “Three Trees” also is often the recipient of much ocean delivery service.

Funny how people end up doing what they do. Growing up in a small Pennsylvania coal town, I never imagined being a teacher or a photographer. The thought never crossed my mind. Too focused on the day to day I guess. “Down the road” and “in the future” never occurred to me. Going to college wasn’t really something I felt sure of.

Sometimes things can be a blessing in disguise in addition to being a pain in the wazoo!

One of the biggest challenges for me, over the years, is managing the huge volume of images I have produced since the late ’60s. I am not a highly organized unit, so when a call comes in for a photo made long ago I can feel my central nervous system beginning to set sail. It’s one of my biggest nightmares. But, sometimes, being forced to circumnavigate my storage bins provides an opportunity to revisit good memories and fun times. Such is the case with today’s adventure.

Frequently during my years in the vicinity of boatyards, alumni of Lance Lee’s Apprenticeshop have emerged from the sawdust. On my present Ernestina-Morrissey photography project at Boothbay Harbor’s Bristol Marine there have been a handful of Apprenticeshop grads. It doesn’t take long after the mention of the Apprenticeshop to recognize the craft and talent of those who learned boatbuilding with Lance. They are a very skilled bunch.

When I stopped by to visit Richard Macdonald, one of the first things he mentioned was the cedar shingles I had applied to a side of his house close to the gallery section of his studio. “They’ve lasted a long time,” Richard said. “Probably due to their shaded location.” I took that as a backhanded compliment as I was not a particularly highly skilled carpenter at the time!

When I stopped by to visit Richard Macdonald, one of the first things he mentioned was the cedar shingles I had applied to a side of his house close to the gallery section of his studio. “They’ve lasted a long time,” Richard said. “Probably due to their shaded location.” I took that as a backhanded compliment as I was not a particularly highly skilled carpenter at the time!

Every year, about this time, old friends begin to show up in the neighborhood. It has always been quite remarkable to me that this happens. We have kept track on the calendar of returning critters. I know, we really should find better ways to spend our time, but it is amazing to see how precisely they return from year to year. When we see certain birds show up at the feeders, sure enough, the previous year’s calendar notes visual contact within a week, sometimes within days. This often happens without regard to what the weather is or has been. They just magically appear and we magically enjoy.

Edie McDaniel Climo started coming to Maine at a very early age to visit with her grandparents in Boothbay Harbor. As a child she would often “hang out” at their store “Angels Unawares” which was located in the parking lot of Captain Fish boat tours, across Commercial Street from where “Ebb Tide” once was. When I first landed here there was still a chimney standing in that location until it was hit by lightning and eventually disassembled.