I normally stick to all things Frances on this blog, but when I asked Mark if I should include our sail to Mt. Desert Rock, he replied, "Of course! It's our triumph!" So here's our triumph.
My dad, affectionately known as "Sir" of late, got a bee in his bonnet to sail to Mt. Desert Rock. Mt. Desert Rock is, shockingly, a rock off the coast of Mt. Desert Island. So Mark and I signed on, once again abandoning Frances to Mimi's care so we could go sailing. The three of us headed out at about 7:30 a.m. Around 11 a.m., we arrived at Mt. Desert Rock, like so:
"Inhospitable" sums it up well. The surf was so rough, you wouldn't land there unless getting on shore was more important to you than ever sailing your boat again. And even from a great distance, the place reeked of dead fish. Maybe because of all the seals hanging around? I had fun imagining what a bachelor lighthouse keeper would say to a potential wife to lure her in. Something like "It's only bone-chillingly cold nine months of the year! And you'll never have to weed or worry about pesky trick-or-treaters."
So, why a triumph? Well, Sir didn't fall off the boat, despite challenging seas. Mark wasn't too seasick and I wasn't seasick for long. We didn't see the whales we were hoping for, but now we can say we've seen Mt. Desert Rock. Jealous, aren't you?
Is that not where we went with Mel and Cathy that year when Mel's hand got so chewed up??
ReplyDeleteI believe that was Outer Long Island and, as I remember, it was quite beautiful once you got on it. Mt. Desert Rock is literally just a rock. That aren't any pretty parts you can't see in the photo. What you see is what you get, with Mt. Desert Rock.
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