Today we checked out the Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse. It’s one of dozens of lighthouses that are found along the rockbound Maine coastline — each of which has it distinctive combination of light color and lighting sequence, so experienced mariners who are at sea at night can both steer clear of the rocks and determine exactly where they are, even in the darkest hours.
At the lighthouse, you can follow a path and a steep set of wooden stairs that take you down to sea level, where intrepid tourists (like me) can climb out onto the rocky coastline to position themselves for the best photographic vantage point that will allow them to snap a seaside shot of the iconic white lighthouse. It’s comical to see people of all ages scrambling out onto the rocks — with no guard rails or identified path — and of course many of the visitors were taking selfies, apparently oblivious to the risk they might slip as they were positioning themselves and go plunging into the ocean below. Fortunately, no one was injured while we were there.
I appreciate the fact that the Coast Guard, which operates the lighthouse and its grounds, has left the coastline in its natural state and trusts visitors to fend for themselves. It was fun to let the inner mountain goat out for a rocky adventure.
It’s a picture-perfect day in Maine, with cool temperatures, bright blue skies and sunshine, and just enough breeze to send Old Glory flapping on the flagpole. I took a morning walk along the rim of the harbor, where there are working wharves and docks aplenty. For a landlubber like me, docks extending far out into the water, over the rocky shoreline and seaweed, are a source of beauty and fascination.
You don’t see docks like this in Columbus.
It’s a beautiful, clear morning at the Bass Harbor Ferry Terminal on Mount Desert Island. Photographs are nice, but they can’t fully capture the totally sensory feel of this place — the cries of the gulls and other birds skimming low across the water, the salty tang of the air and its coolness against your skin, and the feel of wet grass underfoot. It’s a good place to sit on a front porch and read on a calm Sunday morning.
Mere words cannot adequately capture how good it feels to be home after a long week on the road.
On this dank Friday morning in lower Manhattan, I endured the raindrops for a few blocks for a brief morning walk. When I’m on the road I like to check out the environs and see if there is anything interesting. This morning, my goal was Fearless Girl — the sculpture positioned directly opposite the iconic charging bull down by Wall Street.
“Fearless” is a good description of the young girl, but “defiant” or “resolute” might be even better. She stands fists on hips and legs firmly anchored, chin raised and ponytail fluttering in the breeze, but her face is very placid, without a trace of emotion except, perhaps, a slight smile. Fearless Girl is ready for anything.
Fearless Girl apparently has become something of a tourist attraction — although nobody else was around on this rainy Friday morning — but some people question what message is intended by her placement across from a bull ready to charge. The naysayers wonder is the juxtaposition is supposed to convey that women oppose rising stock values, or that Wall Street is anti-woman, or some other quasi-political/economic message. I don’t know about the intended message, but I did like the portrayal of a girl calmly facing down a dangerous bull that seems to be made wary of by her very presence and determination. It makes for a very cool picture.
It seems like forever, but it’s only been a day and a half, give or take, since I slept in a bed. But now, with my brain quickly moving into the “nimble as concrete” mode, it’s time to rectify that. The view looking from my hotel room is fine, but right now I’d just as soon look at the inside of my eyelids.
Amazingly, there were no delays, cancellations, of other issues that wrecked my carefully calibrated, four-city overnight jaunt across the U.S.A. I landed in NYC on time and am now enjoying a cup of coffee and a distant view of the Statue Of Liberty. My eyes feel like they were rolled around in wet sand, but I’m otherwise not the worse for wear.