Meeting on the mountain

Climb every mountain!

Imagine having this for view while enjoying your morning coffee

Some where out there lies Ichabod Ricker. 

It is not easy to walk alone in the country without musing upon something.  ~ Charles Dickens

BROWNFIELD - Terry Blake's homestead sits on the side of a ben that puts Waltons' Mountain to shame.

John Boy and the rest of the Walton clan from Virginia would feel right at home at a landscape that would make any tired soul bow to nature. An outdoors photographer might be tempted to pay good money to turn his camera loose on this place.

We took a long drive through winding roads that are sprinkled with amazing views of lush green mountains and pristine lakes to visit the quiet New England town of Brownfield - population of about 1,300.

The Blake Reunion was being held at Terry's home, which is located in Maine's version of the Swiss Alps, and with free food and drink on the menu, well, it was worth the hour-long ride through Casco, Mechanic Falls, Poland, Naples, Bridgton and Denmark on a bright and warm August day.

Long rides through the backroads of Maine are simply delightful. I not only find the drive restful, but the sharp turns and bone-jarring bumps make me feel like I am competing in the Baja 500. And with the entire family on board, there was good conversation and music during our trip through central Maine.

There are no TVs or portable DVD players to kill time in our family vehicle. The cell phone is off and technology takes a backseat to our journey through the Pine Tree State.

I will never understand why some parents install a TV screen in a van. Is it just another way to ignore their children? I would rather hear what is on my son's mind. And I am afraid I am going to miss something on our short journeys.

We drove up the long rode to Terry's ranch when we were stopped by a pair of dogs that wouldn't budge. It was interesting standoff for a few moments.

Those Blakes are good people. They are from Terri's mother's side of the family. And it was certainly kind of Terri to open his home to all of us.

As we roamed around Terry Blake's vast property, which includes about 400 acres of open meadows nestled in between large, rolling hills, we caught a glimpse of his three majestic horses. These are well-fed and kept animals. Watching them prance around makes anyone appreciate their beauty.

Anthony and I went out on the back porch to enjoy the view when Anthony noticed a lone tombstone sitting in the middle of a manicured meadow about 150 yards away. 

Imagine having an entire meadow all to yourself for all of eternity. 

My son spotted the lone grave. Anthony's discovery sparked insatiable curiosity. We were compelled to inquire about the gravesite' occupant. Terry was happy to reveal that Ichabod Ricker has been resting in peace since his death in the 1880s.

Well, we had our fill of good food and rich conversation before we said our goodbyes.

I enjoy sitting around and chewing the fat with relatives. No texting, chatting online or emails - just face-to-face conversation with real, live people.

Look, reunions are a great way to stay in touch and trade old memories with relatives, but they also remind us of  loved ones who can no longer attend these get-togethers for the living.

I am sure old Ichabod Ricker would agree, although he is not saying much these days.

Tidal wave of changes

Popham Beach's landscape has taken a beating thanks to the Morse River, punishing winter storms and global warming.

The beach's nemsis: Erosion

"Just as the wave cannot exist for itself, but is ever a part of the heaving surface of the ocean, so must I never live my life for itself, but always in the experience which is going on around me."                                                                                             -  Albert Schweitzer

PHIPPSBURG, Maine - There has been several tense moments when I was bushwhacked by Popham Beach's shifting landscape, rough surf and dangerous undertow and riptide.

Right now, this spectacular shoreline has taken a beating thanks to punishing winter storms and the meandering Morse River, putting beachgoers at risk during high tide. If you don't respect Popham's overpowering surf, then you might find yourself in harm's way.

According to a friendly officer on beach patrol, a woman was recently swept out to sea in July, and a helicopter was summoned from Cape Cod to rescue her. But she was lucky: The tide swept her back to shore.

We usually visit Popham twice during the summer to take on this beach's battering waves and visit its two historic forts, Popham and Baldwin. There is also a small island that is accessible when the tide recedes. It is a challenging and precarious climb to the top, but the view of the entire beach is simply awesome. But one slip on the backside of this island means a 30-foot plunge into turbulent waters and certain peril. Waves are constantly slapping the island, and I believe it would be impossible to survive the surf.

The wild waves are enticing to two surfer dudes like my son and me. We prefer low tide and a mile walk to the water that is usually shrouded in a morning fog. We trudge through the soft and sinking sand and eventually disappear into the mist. The water is usually cold, not like the tepid waters at Old Orchard Beach.

For the next couple of hours, Anthony and I are swept away by powerful waves. We notice hundreds of small fish darting around our legs, but we quickly figure out what is driving the tiny creatures toward the shallow water. Large stripers, which are feeding on the smaller creatures, make their presence known when they dive out the water. It is spectacular sight to see these big fish launching themselves in the air.

There are two instances where I found myself in a dangerous predicament at Popham. Anthony was just six when I stopped paying attention to the rising tide. We had a boogie board with us. I rushed back to shore, but the water was already waste high for my 6-foot-3 frame and over Anthony's head. 

We were in trouble. 

I told Anthony to climb on top of the board and I dragged both of us to safety despite a riptide and undertow that almost caused me to go dead in the water. When he was a toddler, I carried him off the island when the tied started coming in, making it an arduous trek back to the beach.

That is the danger with Popham Beach. The tides can sneak in and trap you from behind as the water fills the deep gullies chiseled out by storms and the Morse River.

Those treacherous moments with my son occurred a decade ago when the landscape was easy to navigate as a swimmer. Today, Popham's shoreline has changed dramatically thanks to the Morse River, which has cut closer to the shoreline over the years, wiping out defensive dunes and threatening the new bathhouse installed next to the beach. Coastal storms and global warming also chewed up Popham, but the Morse River has rerouted itself away from the spectacular beach, preventing further erosion, which is great news for beach lovers.

But whatever treacherous changes have taken place at Popham, Anthony and I will always return to visit and traverse the beach's hacked-up landscape to take a crack at Popham's uncompromising waves.