Rangeley, Maine

I first visited Rangeley, Maine in 1970 at the suggestion of a friend, whose description of large lakes and 3,500 foot mountains reminded me of the Adirondaks where I had gone to camp for many years.  Rangeley is in the northwestern corner of Maine, 50 miles from New Hampshire and 75 miles from Canada, a bit too far for spontaneous travel and gentrification.  So a 1945 picture post card of Main Street looks much the same as today’s Main Street, but with modern automobiles.For me, time stops when I arrive at Rangeley, and memories are vivid. Robin and I have been here together at least seven times since 1987 - alone and together with family and friends.  We always stay at North Camps, a group of twelve very rustic cabins and a main lodge, which have been owned by the Gibson family since the early fifties.  In 1970, Gibby ran the place; and then Sonny (his son, of course) took over in the eighties. Now Gibby’s grandsons, Glen and Fran, are running the place under their father’s careful supervision.

The cabins are nestled among birch and pine trees along 300 feet of shoreline on the north side of Rangeley Lake, which is 12 miles long and 5 miles wide. 

There are the usual amenities - a modest beach, docks, motor boats, canoes, and kayaks and a 40-year old sunfish.  Especially attractive is the centrally located dirt tennis court, which measures differently in length to the serving line from the net on one side from the other and has retaining fences about three steps too close to the serving line - all making for an extra challenge while playing.

This is where my sons learned to play chess and to water ski, where we got lost on the Appalachian Trail looking for Piazza Rock, and where my friend Steve Schwartz and I had ferociously competitive tennis matches.  (I always made sure to win our very last match on Saturday as new people were arriving and stopped to watch the competition.)

Rangeley Lake is connected to five other large lakes, making for a wonderful week-long canoe trip if you are so inclined.  Hiking trails are everywhere, and the vistas are extraordinary.  Saddleback Mountain, at the east end of the lake, has been developed as a family ski resort.  The guests at North Camps are self-selecting and repeaters.  We reinforce each others’ decision in coming to Rangeley by relating our similar experiences and shared memories.

“So what do you do at Rangeley?,” someone might ask.  “It is a very busy time,“ I answer, because there are so many old bases to touch while exploring the new.

• first swim in the lake
• schmooze with Sonny
• Red Onion restaurant for pizza

• shop for food at the IGA
• decision whether to run the Mingo Loop (6.3 miles)
• see your first moose
• ice cream at the Pine Tree Frosty

• visit the Chamber of Commerce to find out the weekly doings
• twin lobster night in the town of Oquossoc
• see what is new at the Alpine Shop
• visit Small’s Falls
• more ice cream at the Gingerbread House
• select hikes for the week

• canoe the Androscoggin River

This year for the first time we learned about a wonderful book, We Took To The Woods, by Louise Dickinson Rich, an autobiographical account of a young woman from the suburbs of Boston who fell in love with a Maine woodsman, whom she met on a summer vacation.  She tells how they married and lived together in the woods, not far from Rangeley. The book was first published in 1942, and is skillfully written.  Each chapter answers a question which might have been asked by an urban friend.  “Don’t you ever get bored?”  “How do you make a living?”  “ Why don’t you write a book?”

This was our newest Rangeley discovery; can’t wait for the next visit.

Too Many Beeps

Is it the refrigerator? Door left ajar.

Is it the alarm system? Low battery.

Is it the washing machine? Laundry ready.

Is it the timer? Dinner ready.

Is it the smoke detector? Need a new battery.

Is it the alarm?  Time to wake up.

Is it the car alarm? Someone out there.

Is it my computer? New email.

Is it my cell phone? New text?

Is it my imagination?????

Parking Lot Dilemma

Robin and I went to the Avalon Theater to see the “The Dark Knight Rises,” and we parked in the lot behind the local branch of the DC Library between McKinley and Patterson Streets.  The lot is narrow with perpendicular parking, a lane for cars and a fire lane which is often lined with parked cars.

As we were leaving the lot, but just before we reached the Patterson Street sidewalk, an older (meaning older than I am) Virginia driver and his wife tried to enter the parking area and drove across the sidewalk.  The fire lane was blocked  by a parked car, so there was no room for two cars to pass. When I motioned to him to back up so that we could leave, he refused to budge and shook his head with a vehement “no.”  

WHAT WOULD YOU  HAVE DONE?

1. Back up and allow him to enter the lot?
2. Shake your head with a vehement “no” and refuse to move?
3. Make a show of writing down his license plate and indicating that you are calling the police?
4. Get out of the car, lock the doors and walk away?
5. Another non-violent option?

The Perfect BLT

On a 100 degree day in Washington what better way to say “summer” than to make a BLT with fresh, hand picked ingredients.  Our Rock Creek garden is finally producing the  heirloom tomatoes we carefully selected in the spring.  I picked up some thick cut, maple wood smoked bacon at the supermarket, and Robin secured a bunch of fresh romaine lettuce.

All we needed was the delivery system. We decided to abandon our traditional Arnold white bread, which had been specifically chosen for its blandness so as not to distract from the flavors of the key ingredients.  A seeded Jewish rye bread from Newark, New Jersey caught our eye, and we ventured into new territory.

The sandwich bread was toasted, slathered with Hellman’s and completed with our bacon, lettuce and tomatoes.  The rye bread added an exciting density and flavor to our other components.

Happy Summer!

Summer Sailing in the Caribbean

I have spent very little time in the Caribbean - a few business trips here and there but never a vacation.  So when my racquetball buddy, Joe, asked me in January if I wanted to join him the first week in July on a friend’s 42 foot catamaran based in Martinique, I jumped at the chance.

Would the waters really be the aquamarine blue color one sees in magazine advertisements? Would the trade winds from the East be constant?  Would I spend more time trying to keep afloat while snorkeling than seeing beautifully colored fish swimming between the rocks and coral?

Joe’s friend had purchased his Lagoon 420 three years ago, making a down payment of a portion of the purchase price with the remainder financed under an agreement to allow the boat to be chartered for five years.  Under the deal, the owner is allowed two weeks of “owner’s time” in July - usually too early for the hurricane season in this part of the Caribbean.

We all met in early June at the owner’s home to agree on a list of provisions for the trip, which would be supplied by the charter company, Sparkling Charters.  Since it was a French company, Sparkling Charters gave us a three page list of wine, beer, and      hors d’oeurves before we got to mundane things like cereal, peanut butter and spaghetti. 

We flew from Baltimore to Miami and then on to Fort de France, the capital of Martinique.  A forty-five minute cab ride took us to Le Marin, a small coastal town to the East where Sparkling and other charterers had their boats in slips at a large marina.  It was quite a sight to see so many million dollar sailboats in one place.  Preparations for departure are lengthy.  We had to check that our provisions were correct, confirm the various boating equipment and other items placed on board by Sparkling Charters, and finally check in with customs using an antiquated system previously on paper and now on a very slow computer.

Once under way, daily rhythms begin to change in so many ways.  The movement of the boat is very different from walking on land, so very quickly one becomes conscious of balance and  hand holds. The wind, or lack thereof, is very important, and the options for choosing shade or sun are limited on a boat.  Changes in sky are noticed immediately.  Are the clouds building to the East?  How long before it will rain?   How different it is for us at home where rolling seas are not an issue; winds are not a concern; air conditioning is available; and rain gear is an option if we choose to go outside in threatening weather.

On a clear day one can see St. Lucia from Martinique, a distance of about twenty miles. However, on both of our passages to and from St. Lucia it was hazy, so that after an hour, we thought we were in the open ocean.  Heading south from Martinique the wind was at our back and the sea was relatively calm with waves of 2-3 feet.  On the return trip it was quite different with the wind heading into us and rough seas.

While in St. Lucia, we selected a different harbor each night.  Rodney Bay was a broad crescent with Pigeon Island at one end and hotels and sand beaches at the other.  The inner (protected) portion of the harbor was filled with luxurious sailboats and was bordered on one side by expensive private homes.   Marigot Bay was a deep sliver, a perfect “hurricane hole” with beautifully designed homes on the hillsides and one of the home bases for another large charter company, Moorings.  Our final harbor was at the town of Soufriere, also the home of Gros Piton and Petit Piton, two very impressive volcanic mountains at the south end of the Bay.

At our various stops, we hiked, snorkeled, visited botanical gardens, swam in warm sulfur springs, and tasted the some of the best local rum.  The weather was very pleasant - around 85 degrees and usually with a good breeze.  Evening were cooler and it rained for an hour or so every night around 2:00 a.m.

As with every adventure, things can happen.  Our dingy motor was very uncertain and finally stopped operating at the very end of the trip.  Two days before returning to Martinique, the main halyard snapped as we were raising the mainsail.  Our refrigerators were very unpredictable when it came to making ice, creating great anxiety as to whether would would have our rum and coke at cocktail time.

I am beginning to think that we should block out some Caribbean sailing time for July 2013.

K Street Reverie

For most of my professional career, K street was the principal location of my offices - 20th between L and M; 19th and K; 1825 K St., 19th and Pennsylvania,  22nd and New Hampshire, 15th and M and finally McPherson Square.  (In the middle years,  there was a 10-year exile to the Flour Mill in Georgetown.)  My memories of K Street are strong - walking East into the sun in the early morning, trudging through snow drifts after leaving the METRO to get to my office in the winter and running into friends and acquaintances during lunch.

It has been three years since I retired, and now I find myself purposely choosing the K Street offices of my doctors rather than their more convenient locations in Friendship Heights. This morning as I walked to and from my most recent medical appointment, I noted the following changes on K Street.  

.  At least two-thirds of the pedestrians were holding smart phones and most of them had ear buds in place.  

.  Less casual attire appears to be the custom - more dresses/skirts than pants and more ties and jackets than open collars and khaki pants.

.  More restaurants offering  burgers and small plates (at the same price of large plates five years ago).

.  There are now almost as many CVS stores as banks.

.  My favorite mens room at the Mayflower Hotel  has retained its old world elegance even though the lobby has undergone an unpleasant modern renovation.

When is my next appointment for a stress test?

Tempting Thai Food

Robin and I had a 6:00 p.m. screening at the Silverdocs Festival held at the AFI theater in Silver Spring.  We had read good reports of a tiny Thai restaurant across the street (8650 Colesville Road), Kao Thai, so of course we seized  on the opportunity after the film was over.

Kao Thai was very busy at 7:45 p.m. on a Friday night. With seating for only twenty-two customers, the place was filled with people from the Discovery Channel, a young family with two small children and filmgoers like ourselves. The servers were efficient; the  food kept coming out from the small kitchen; and the tables turned over and over. 

Having eaten  at most of the Thai restaurants in the metropolitan area, we thought that Kao Thai ranks very near the top.  All of our food had fresh and complex tastes, not being overwhelmed by one strong ingredient.  Each fork-full asked for another, and Robin even refused to share her main course with me after offering me a small initial taste.

We began with a shared green papaya salad ( Som Tum). Shredded papaya was combined with tomato, green pepper and peanuts in a chili lime juice sauce with a dash of Thai fish sauce and sugar. Buried in the salad were slivers of very hot Thai peppers.

Robin’s main course was Dragon Noodles, Kao Thai’s take-off on the traditional drunken noodle dish.  Lo mein noodles were stir fried with string beans, tomato, green pepper in a garlic chili sauce along with several shrimp to make a supremely delicious combination.

My main was Pad Prik Khing, a Thai classic, which I was perfectly willing to share with Robin notwithstanding its incredible layered texture of tastes.  I chose chicken as my “meat,” which was combined with string beans, tomato and kaffir lime in a roasted chili sauce.

Since Robin and I have decided to go “on the wagon” for a couple of weeks, we drank only water with our meal, which came to $30.  Quite a dinner - can’t wait to go back with some friends.