May 21: Return from the island

smooth crossing
a white butterfly
four miles out to sea

October 28: Ferry ride

It’s amazing—

the human capacity

for staring out to sea.

July 19: On the lake

line-up of boat trailers

boats moving through

the mountain's shadow

Posted with Blogsy

June 3: Mount Desert Rock

Lightkeeper's house--

on calm seas

imagining the storm surge.

Posted with Blogsy

March 6: Boatyard

quiet forest of masts

over the winter boatyard

first-quarter moon

Posted with Blogsy

January 7: On the bay

We went fishing today on Florida Bay, heading out from Islamorada and ending up in a channel just off Flamingo in the Everglades. The morning began with fog and chop, but within a few hours the water was smooth and clear, enabling us to see how shallow it was. The flats teemed with birds, from sandpipers and egrets to pelicans and the deliciously hot pink Roseate Spoonbills.

 

Tropical mirage:

fishing in a glassy sea,

pink birds flying past.

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

July 30: On the boat

Monhegan ferry--

everyone stands to watch seals

which stare back at us.

Posted with Blogsy

May 20: Off island

The hour-long ferry ride home from Monhegan, especially on a day of dazzling sunlight and calm seas, offers an almost dream-like transition from the isolated island--for me, a repository of years of wonderful memories and experiences with dear friends and thousands of birds--and the reality of my ordinary life. I'm tired, sunburned, lulled by the rhythm of the boat through the waves. I often nap. The laughing gulls raucous calls as we approach Port Clyde harbor seem somehow an appropriate awakening. And then I'm in my car, Red Sox game on the radio, heading up the St. George peninsula, already thinking ahead to a mundane errand I need to run on the way back home.

All that deep water
between here and there. It seems
days past, not mere hours.

View of Fish Beach, Monhegan, as the ferry leaves harbor 

August 25: Boat in a Storm

The sky is looking glowery and the wind's picking up. A storm's on the way, and I'm not talking about Hurricane Irene (although that storm is also apparently on its way). And with this weather report, we're about to blithely board a boat to North Haven to enjoy dinner at Nebo Lodge. The boat captain brushed off inquiries about possibly canceling the trip due to weather, so we're ready for an adventure. I just hope that after our big meal on the island, our ride back isn't more adventurous than our stomachs can handle...

"Oh God, thy sea is so great and my boat is so small." --Breton fishermen's prayer

We're small things at sea.
May the wind sing us to sleep
rocked in boat's cradle.

Update: The ride out with Equinox Island Transit was a little wet, but the sky cleared beautifully as we reached North Haven. After an excellent meal, we sped back to Rockland almost in time to miss the thunderstorm. Very dramatic to see from the water Owls Head Light and the Breakwater Light shining in the mist as lightning flashed around us and thunder rumbled overhead. And then, of course, the torrential rain, as if the spray from the boat ride hadn't made us wet enough. Truly exhilarating.