Alone

 It was the end of a perfect day in the north Maine woods.  There had been dirt roads traveled, brooks explored, and fish caught.  I am on a solo trip up north trying to refresh the mind and soul.

 The best part of the trip was the fact that I have not seen or spoken to another human being for over three days.  No one on the lake, no one on the brooks, not even a hiker on the trails.  I am 50 miles into the woods truly alone.

Now I sit on a secluded beach with my tent set up just feet from the water’s edge and a campfire roaring.

The sun has set, and the sky is fading and with it another day will pass into memory. Memories I won’t soon forget! 

Its solitude I run to, being alone with just my thoughts without the noise of society. For three days I haven’t even heard my own voice. 

 For years I didn’t recognize the real source of my yearning. It was always a “fishing trip”, or a “camping trip”.  The real source of my longing remained elusive to me.

 To be engulfed in an isolation that surrounds me..... as I sit alone or with Lisa by my side, that is my ultimate desire and reward.  This trip I am alone, completely alone.

The sound of the waves lapping rhythmically onto the beach and the crackling of the fire are all I have to keep me company as darkness sets in.  I am totally alone, yet far from lonely.

I love you! Good night,  I whisper into the darkness to my love who is 200 miles away.  

I will see you soon!

Find Your Culvert !

 We slowly glide along the water making barely a ripple.  My paddle quietly dips into the water and gently propels us along.  As a boy my dad taught me the proper way to paddle a canoe.  None of this switching sides stuff in order to go in a straight line.  A properly places “J” stroke of the paddle with the appropriate end of stroke pressure left or right will ensure you can keep a canoe straight and never have to switch sides.   There wasn’t any of this banging the sides or splashing your paddle either. How can you sneak up on wildlife making a ton of noise?  My father would say.  

 So gracefully and silently my paddle dips into the water and steadily glides us along our journey for the day.  We are exploring the stream that runs by our campsite.  While studying Google Earth before our trip I notices a set of rapids a few miles up the stream that looks like it might be good trout fishing.  Since it was a sunny day (so far) and didn’t appear there was any chance of a storm, we decided to put the canoe in and strike off. 

Like many streams that enter big lakes our trek for the day was wide and slow moving as we began our trip.  It twisted and wound its way through beautiful flatlands filled with tall grass and wild flowers. 

Lisa was sitting up front enjoying the sun and catching an occasional yellow perch, but mostly relaxing.  We don’t always talk much on our expeditions, I guess after close to 40 years of being together we don’t need to.  There is the occasional “hey look at that” or “isn’t that pretty “but the need for major conversation has long since passed and the simple enjoyment of being together in a beautiful place serves to satisfy the soul.

As we rounded a bend in the stream a low rushing sound began to resonate from the far shore.  Sounds like a stream I thought to myself.   As we got closer the sound grew louder.  My mind immediately races to what fabulous possibilities it could be.  Was it a waterfall on a small brook? Was it a series of riffles from a brook leading into the lake?  I wasn’t sure but I knew the closer I got the better it sounded.

“Sounds Like a waterfall” I said “yes that’s what I was thinking” Lisa replied.  I bet over our lifetime Lisa and I have seen 50 to 75 waterfalls. We have hiked into, driven into and canoed into waterfalls from Maine to Alabama.  We both love waterfalls.  As we got closer we could see the location of the noise and sure enough it was a small stream rushing into the larger brook we were in. The stream was not much wider than our canoe.  We tried to go up the little stream but only made it about 100 feet before the alders became too think for the canoe to navigate so we backed out.  “Let’s see if we can put the canoe on the bank so we can get out and explore.” Which was met with an eager “ok” from the front of the canoe. 

The bank was VERY steep with many old stumps and logs laying close to the bank in the water. There was also allot of brush growing off the bank and hanging over the water so we had very few “slots” that we could get the canoe into so we could get out.  After a few failed attempts to reach the bank I saw a spot I felt we could make it through.  By this time there was a small level of frustration building in both of us as failed attempt after failed attempt had stalled our efforts. 

As I guided the canoe through the reeds  and brush towards the bank it finally arrived on shore and Lisa was able to get out and secure the canoe so I could climb out. 

Since we could not go ashore where we wanted to this new found landing required us to climb over a small knoll to get to whatever wonder awaited us.  We quickly rigged our fishing rods so we could fish if it was possible.  “Sounds like a pretty good waterfall to me.”  I said, “You ready” I questioned as Lisa was securing her rod for travel.  “Yup, you first” she said “Sure, you just want me to get all the spiders and spider webs cleared for you!” I shot back.  Lisa just smiled!

The bank was steep and the brush was thick so the going was not easy but the waterfall sound kept us pushing on.  It grew louder as we reached the top of the hill.  “Boy that sounds great I hope there are trout at the base of it!” I huffed in a somewhat muffled and strained voice from climbing the steep bank.  From the top we still couldn’t see the waterfall so we started down the other side.   

It wasn’t much further before reality came into view!  A reality that 30 years ago would have left me angry and disappointed!

It was an old culvert off an abandoned dirt road!  My imagined waterfall with beautiful flowing water that cascaded over rocks glistening with moss had turned into a steel culver with water flowing through it off from an old dirt road! Bummer!   We both laughed as we stood there faced with the lack luster payoff for all of our effort to get there! 

“Oh well” Lisa said, “now we know!”  We turned and started our way back to the canoe joking about the great natural wonder we had discovered deep in the Maine woods!

Things don’t always end as we hope they will. There isn’t always a rainbow after a thunderstorm, sometimes there is a wet tent! There isn’t always a beautiful waterfall behind the sound of rushing water. Sometimes it’s just a culvert!

 For Lisa and I every adventure is a success. All struggles are worth the effort. Although you may not find your pot of gold or your beautiful waterfall. Instead you may end up with hail instead of a rainbow or a culvert instead of a waterfall. Life happens!  Embrace it!  You see for us every memory made is a treasure to be held tightly! Our trips success isn’t measured by the number of fish caught or sunny days. It's not about everything going perfectly with no challenges or failures. It’s about making memories together, and this one, like all the rest was a keeper!

I hope you take the time and put in the effort to find your culvert!

Little Warrior

 We had just finished hauling everything into the cabin and had

 begun putting things in its rightful place for the week.

When you pack for a week and you are moving into a small cabin “stuff” placement inside to ensure room enough to move around is vital!   We hadn’t been organizing long when we noticed him for the first time.  He was perched on the porch rail fixated intently on the feeder.  “look a little hummingbird” 

Lisa commented “yup” I replied with little to no interest.

We went about our business of settling into the camp without another thought of our tiny friend.

Each cabin was adorned with a feeder so hummingbirds were everywhere.   It was a cloudy day, even a little misty so once we finished unpacking, we decided to sit at the table, which was positioned in front of the main window, for a while and relax.  It was at that time we started to really notice our little friend.  He was not only still sitting on the rail, still facing the feeder directly but he was twitching his head left to right in a constant pattern.  It wasn’t long before another hummingbird flew in to try to feed at the feeder.  At that time our little warrior shot off the rail and intercepted the rival in mid-air chasing it away.  Within seconds our friend was back on his perch,  beak pointed skyward, aimed at the feeder.

“Well,” lisa said. “He’s not very friendly is he!”    “Nope” I muttered as I was busy studying the map planning our fishing trip for the next day and had little interest in the anti social behavior of a northern Maine Hummingbird.

Over the next 5 days, it became evident that this hummingbird was on a mission and had a purpose.  He would be on the rail before we got up in the morning and would be there all day.  Tirelessly chasing away any and all invaders who tried to feed at HIS feeder.   OVER and OVER again, dozens of times a day he would chase off would be raiders.  Never letting up, never taking a break!  He would feed when he wanted but most of his time was spent fighting off and chasing away other hummingbirds.  He never lost a battle! Truly strange behavior.  I have witnessed hummingbirds fighting at feeders before but never have I witnessed one stake a claim and tirelessly fend off rivals all day long !  “Rather greedy little bugger isn’t he” I said to Lisa one evening. “There is enough food there to feed 10 hummingbirds all summer and he wont share a drop.”

The more I watched my little friend the more calculated and rhythmic his actions became. After every air battle, he always landed back on the rail in almost the exact same spot, directly facing the feeder. 

He would puff up his feathers to make himself look twice as big as he was and then he would just sit there twitching his head back and forth scanning the sky waiting for the next invader to approach.  Same process, same spot, same puffing of feathers, same mid-air battles, over and over and over again. All day long!  He was ALWAYS the victor!  No hummingbird ever got near his stash. 

You will see two pictures below.  The top one was his ordinary position all day long. Beak pointed straight at the feeder which was less than 2 feet away and scanning the sky for invaders. 

The second photo is an example of the incredible dedication he had for his mission or was it greed?  Lisa nicknamed him David, after the biblical David who took on the giant and won. I called him Attila the Hun, to me our little friend acted more like the fierce ruler of the Hun’s clan from 1600 years ago. Our little guy was small but fierce and fearless for sure.  He even attacked a squirrel who attempted to reach the feeder one day and won!   

 In the second picture, It is late one evening.  The sun is long gone, it is a very cold and breezy evening even for Maine standards and yet there he is.  Never leaving his post, never giving up the fight until darkness drives him off to some safe perch for the night.  What manner of thought can drive such a 

small and pretty bird to act so obsessively?  He became a daily fixture of both entertainment and wonder for us as the days went on.

We watched him all week and the story was the same, day in and day out, from before the sun would rise, till way after the sun went down, he was at his post fighting off any who would dare touch his feeder.

Our trip ended on Sunday, June 2, which just happened to be our anniversary date.  35 years ago it was 

a rainy and stormy day. June 2, 2019, did not disappoint. The rain had moved in overnight and the only 

rain of our entire trip was now falling as we prepared to leave the paradise. Seemed fitting I thought to 

myself.  

As Lisa opened the curtain to let the light in to our little camp she exclaimed.  “look”!  There sitting on the rail was our warrior still puffed up, in his same spot aimed directly at the feeder, beak in the air. Just like he had been all week hundreds of times before.  Only today in the rain sitting next to him was a small female!  We watched as the two sat there both looking at the feeder.  Soon the female flew up to 

drink and our little warrior never flinched from his perch.  Another rival tried to feed at the same time as the female but our warrior would have none of that and like he had done hundreds of time over the week he dispatched him immediately and went back to his post on the rail.  When the female was done eating she went back to the rail and perched next to our little friend! 

Lisa and I smiled at each as it now all made sense! 

Just like our lives together over the past 35 years, the best things in life are worth fighting for! 

What are you fighting for? 

How much effort are you putting in?

Maybe there is a lesson to be learned from a small hummingbird in Northern Maine after all!