Shoals recap, part un

Bliss and Rogue are at the screen door, Bliss sitting on her haunches as she examines something upward that I can’t see, looking like a small friar.

I’m outside and on my laptop on a beautiful day; I have Fantastic Day (Haircut 100 or maybe just Nick Heyward) in my head. I figured out how to close the screen door so it latches, so Rogue won’t get out again. But I also dosed her with Frontline today and put a new dusty rose harness on her in preparation for when I bring her out with me.

But my purpose is to write about Shoals, so here we begin.

The seven-hour drive on my own was no problem, and the path itself was beautiful. I arrived at Creek Farm in Portsmouth just after 7 p.m. —Oh, here she goes, Rogue, trying to get the door open, sly little thing— and met director Willy, his son, and the ‘coastal coordinator,’ Pam. Pam was awesome, so nice and really easy to talk to. She showed me downtown Portsmouth, which is an adorable place, filled with clothing and arts-and-crafts shops and loads of restaurants (and nary a Pottery Barn among them). Ithaca Commons, take note. This is what you should be. We got back to Creek Farm around 10:30, and I settled in to my section of the house.

Creek Farm was built in the late 1800s and is about 5,000 square feet, I think I heard someone say. I don’t know the style, but you’ve seen the photos at my Flickr site. It’s really beautiful, but needs a lot of renovation (I’d start with the bathrooms and the 1970s flocked wallpaper), and it’s very spare. AND WARM. I brought my own fan along, and don’t know how I would’ve made it through the night without it. It was really warm and humid that night. Or at least, the house had trapped the heat. It’s broken up into several apartments now, and its main purpose is to be a place where island staff can stay on their days off. There were two other people there while I was there, in other parts of the house. That was kinda weird.

Around 8:30 a.m. or so I went with Willy and his son, Owen, to get breakfast, then we skipped like a stone over the waves to Appledore Island on Willy’s ‘e-pod’ (some kind of wee boaty thing).

I asked if there were whales around, and Willy said I should go on the whale watch later that day. Well, when we pulled up to the dock, there were people getting onto this other boat. Willy determined that it was the whale watch and sent me off. I grabbed a bag with some snacks and my water and camera, ascertained that there was a toilet on board (I feel stupid saying “head” when I’m a total landlubber), and off I went. I discovered that two Cornell alumni were on the thing, people I had met at a Plantations luncheon last year. They were there taking nature photography classes with a man I misunderstood them to say was John Reis’ nature photographer. So when I tried to find out from him whether he knew Chris K, he was very confused.

No no, he was his own nature photographer, John Greene, look him up, yo. He became one of the highlights of my trip—so easy to talk to, always happy to see me. (Calm down; he’s like 60.) I plied his brain, trying to determine if I could ever do what he does. With a partner who is all businessyheaded, maybe.

“Did you get seasick?” you're wondering. (You are!) I was fine till I went to the head. Back on deck I sat down, thinking that would help. Nuh-uh. Finally my brain told me to go stand in the back with John again, for my legs would absorb and adjust to the swaying and rocking that way. “Oh no, don’t go below deck,” John affirmed later. So on this four-hour cruise, I peed only once. Can you believe it! No! I know you can’t!

Also on this four-hour cruise, no whales. Not till almost the very end, at least, when the island was in sight again. I and I alone spotted a minke whale for a second and a half. It was already really cool to be out on the ocean, but that definitely made the trip worth it.