The 2022 World Cup may be the most corrupt sporting event in history. Qatar was chosen as host in 2010 and since then the bribery scandal has resulted in most of the FIFA governing body being exited. Qatar has no business hosting a World Cup. In the 12 years since being chosen, the press have highlighted abuse of migrants who built all new stadiums at great danger to themselves. The tournament itself had to be moved from the summertime (north american summer) when most football leagues are on holiday to the winter time, solely to accommodate the weather in Qatar. Summer in Qatar would be well over 100 degrees fahrenheit. They build stadiums with air conditioning (climate concerns, anyone?) all over this tiny country, and still moved it to November-December when the weather should be closer to the 80s and 90s fahrenheit. They have banned serving beer, just two days before the tournament started – i can only imagine how major sponsor Anheuser-Busch feel about that.

Qatar has demonstrated intolerance of LGBTQ people and that seems to fly right in the face of FIFAs so-called commitment to fairness and social responsibility. FIFA never should have chosen Qatar.

Some of my friends have declared that they will go on strike and not watch the World Cup, over these principles.

I thought about it, but am not joining. As disturbing as the business side of this tournament seems to be, I love the game. I cannot bring myself to miss watching the matches, and I can’t blame the players and coaches of the teams who have been preparing for four years to be at the World Cup, the greatest sporting event in the world. I wish it was somewhere else – anywhere, really – but it’s not. The athletes from USA, England, Australia, France, Brazil, Argentina, Denmark, Tunisia….etc are ready to play. Some were injured before the tournament and are heartbroken (not relieved) at not being able to join.

I will watch. I will watch the beauty of the game, the flowing motion of the ball, the passion of the players representing their country, and the heartbreak that most will feel when they eventually lose.

It’s the World Cup. No way will I miss it.

Three years ago (2019) found us in Galapagos for a bucket list holiday (my wife’s bucket list). Three of our kids joined us, as the fourth was living in Korea at the time and couldn’t join. We promised him he would get to see Galapagos as it is amazing. So…here we are in 2022 and back on the islands.

It is a truly unique spot on this planet. Governed by national parkland across over 80% of the islands, the animals enjoy quite a life. There are few predators, and the animals have never learned to be afraid of humans, so visitors have the opportunity to meet the animals up close and personal. We went snorkling every day and were able to swim with sea lions, sea turtles, sharks and so many kinds of fish it was impossible to keep track. On land we spent time with tortoises, iguanas, and many many birds. The blue-footed booby is the most famous, of course.

As this was our second visit, I wasn’t sure how excited I would be. We rarely go to one place twice (other than Maine of course). Galapagos, however, was wonderful the second time – as good as the first – particularly since our son got to experience this amazing place.

We stayed in a beautiful hotel in the “highlands” of Santa Cruz. It is called Semillia Verde and run by an Englishman who married an Ecuadorian lady. He built the hotel and it’s beautiful and intimate, set on 15 acres of woodlands that are also home to 15+ tortoises. Each morning I would stroll the grounds and visit with the tortoises before our day’s tour.

Go there.

I’ve made it clear that I love it in Maine, haven’t I? It is peaceful, beautiful and almost everything I want. I recall most of the times I had to leave at the end of the summer season. It used to be after just a few weeks’ vacation up there. It was time to get back to work, and driving off the island at the end of one of those visits made me feel pain. A tear would come to my eye as I tried desperately to get a last look at the ocean and a last sniff at the sea air.

As I got older, I started spending longer time periods on the island. Leaving still hurt, even if it was at the end of a month, or two months in Maine. I knew that the drive “back to civilization” would be hard, but it got easier as I got farther from the island and re-entered civilization. Of course the opposite was always true – the drive up to Deer Isle just got prettier and prettier as I got closer and I could almost feel my blood pressure go down as I crossed the bridge and then the causeway from Little Deer Isle to Deer Isle. The windows always went down over that causeway and I’d get my first full inhale of the sea air. Boy that felt good. When I was working, that journey made feel renewed.

Now I am retired. (boy it has taken my quite some time to get use to that word). I can spend as much time as I want up in Maine. This year (2022) I was there from May till mid-October. I helped my son with his kayaking business (www.ospreysecho.com) and I hiked with the dogs, read books, kayaked in the islands, worked in the garden, and participated in meetings over zoom. When I finally drove off the island, it still felt bittersweet, but not as painful.

I think about why that may be. Partly it’s because I now see value in being around more people, being able to do more things like play tennis, socialize and work. Every once in a while I need a dose of this off island, I guess. Mostly, however, I don’t regret leaving because now I know I can go back any time I want. Leaving isn’t as traumatic as it used to be – knowing that I wouldn’t be back until the following year/summer. It makes me more relaxed about leaving.

But I still miss it.

One of the benefits of living in Stonington Maine is the availability of lobsters, right off the boat. All my life I have enjoyed fresh lobster either from one of our local fisherman friends or from the docks of the Stonington Coop. We pay a fraction of what most people pay in restaurants and the process of cooking and preparing them has become a rite of passage with my family.

Dad taught me how to properly eat a lobster. You need to be outside of course, because eating lobster is messy. Showers should be scheduled for after dinner, because you will no doubt be covered in smelly lobster by the time you are done. I prefer to crack open the claws first, then the tail and the body. You have to get all the meat out of the body, the legs, the fins, everything. Dad used to eat the tamale (liver) on potato chips. I don’t often do that, but some people do.

The key is proper preparation. I don’t ever eat a lobster in a restaurant. I cook them outside, over the fire pit, in a contraption assembled for the purpose. Sea water is crucial – we get a bucket of seawater (and seaweed) and bring it to a boil over the fire pit. Then we drop the bugs (the locals tend to call them bugs) into the sea water, cover with seaweed and cook for about 15 minutes until they are red.

I know we are spoiled living here, but it is a true indulgence. Fresh Maine lobster right off the boat in Stonington, Maine is wonderful. I try to treat all of our visitors to the whole process. 🙂

As it turns out – and I mean this is just dumb luck – we live in a spot that is characterized as the “best sea kayaking on the east coast” by online forums. Stonington is a little fishing village, and it’s surrounded by over 60 islands. This archipelago is “to die for” if you are a kayaker.

For over 20 years, the most popular place to go kayaking on Deer Isle was Old Quarry Ocean Adventures. Old Quarry offered guided tours, rentals, camping, sailing and was an incredibly popular spot. Their customers came year after year. I met some people who had camped there 12 years in a row. It was located right on Webb’s Cove, across from where we live, so when my son Will decided to work there, it seemed like a great idea. He could drive there from our house in 5 minutes or kayak across the cove to get there in about 10 minutes. Will worked there for several summers, got his kayak guiding license and was eventually promoted to head of waterfront operations. The guide license process is no picnic in the state of Maine – you need to pass written and oral examinations that inspect your knowledge of kayaking, safety procedures, navigation, wildlife (he had to learn about over 40 birds). It was a feather in his cap to get the license at age 22.

And then it ended. The owner of Old Quarry decided that after over 20 years of it, he’d had enough and put the place up for sale. It was an agonizing summer – we hoped that the local heritage trust would buy it and keep it open for customers. Eventually a wealthy person from New Jersey bought the property and the island lost an important small business. They closed in early July of 2019 and for the rest of the summer, people grew frustrated – there are not many places to launch a kayak, other than the town ramp. It became a real issue for the town, and the town ramp became a real shit show – everyone wanted to put in from there. Two companies decided to operate from that town ramp, renting and conducting tours. During the pandemic, going to Maine and going out kayaking became a popular activity.

Will finished the summer of 2020 working as a guide in Bar Harbor. Acadia is beautiful and has some amazing hiking…but the kayaking is nowhere near as beautiful and interesting as in Stonington. Will finished the summer – taking customers on the same route day after day, around the one island that is close in. Then he said – “I want to start my own business, here in Stonington.”

Will knows a lot about kayaking. Starting and running a small business is a bit more complicated, though and he asked for help. We needed to put together a business plan, build a pro forma P&L, source capital for boats (guess where 😇) and developing a marketing plan. The good news – Will has a family full of expertise to tap into. He created his “Board of Directors” and began the plan. Firstly he needed a name for the company. Mom had named our house Osprey’s Echo, so it was pretty straightforward to call the new company Osprey’s Echo Sea Kayaking. We filed paperwork to make it Osprey’s Echo Sea Kayaking LLC in Augusta, Maine. ta-dah!

Next – we needed a place to conduct business, and launch kayak tours. He asked us for permission to operate from our property and with a little trepidation we agreed. We made a beautiful wood-chip lined path through the woods to a clearing where he could launch tours. We were in no position to rent kayaks, but could conduct tours,

Big Sis happens to be a professional in Marketing, as head of Social Media for the ski company Alterra (ikon pass, anyone?). Other big sis is a banker, living in London and with very useful expertise when it comes to managing a P&L. Big brother is at medial school, so not bringing that expertise to bear, but has been a great help in a number of other areas – contributed swag (sweatshirts for the whole Board), a way cool laser-cut-out-of-sheet metal company sign (check it out) below. His buddy even designed our company logo.

Mom and Dad help wherever needed, of course – hauling boats, answering phones, booking customers, greeting customers, washing gear, you name it. I added the title Chairman, Ospreys Echo Sea Kayaking LLC on my LinkedIn profile (self-proclaimed of course), and you wouldn’t believe how many messages I received, congratulating me on my new position.

It turns out that Will is very good at this. He pays attention to detail when it comes to the business, and he’s excellent with customers on the water. He studies the history and culture of the island and is prepared to share stories with visitors, who love it. He’s been to pretty much every island out there (and there are over 60) and can plan a different route every day – so much better than up in Bar Harbor.

This is year 2 of the business. We got lucky and procured a piece of land nearby that while tidal, is convenient for launch at any time. Low tide just means a longer carry of the boats. As year 2 comes to a close, it looks like he will have doubled his revenue and # of customers from year 1, even without a second guide. Even better, we have over 100 Tripadvisor ratings and another 50+ google ratings, ALL of which are 5* and very flattering.

Bottom line – we are helping fill a bit of the gap left by Old Quarry, have created a viable business that people seem to value, and it’s fun!

We shall see where he takes it next.

When my Dad got sick we moved him off the island so we could get him better health care. It’s (probably) okay to get stitched up here at the Island Medical Center, but for Alzheimer’s?….

It was a very traumatic decision, but we sold the house that Mom and Dad had been living in for the last 14 years, year-round in Stonington. It was their dream house, set on a cliff, over-looking the water at the end of Oceanville Road. My wife and I talked about keeping it, but decided that the money we could get for the house would set Mom and Dad up for their remaining years. It turned out only to be two more years for Dad, mercifully, but Mom lasted for another 17 years after him.

My wife Dale and I started coming up to the island again as summer people, renting places, like my parents did before they built their own house. One day, Dale had one of her better ideas…”why don’t we look for some land? They are not making more land on the water; if we can find some, we can always decide later if we want to build on it. If not, at least it will be a good investment.”

Ron Gross has been a family friend for many many years. He was born on Deer Isle and runs Ron’s Service Station at the end of Oceanville Road, and sold Dad his truck. He always shook his head when Dad came steaming around the corner on his bike, just barely holding on to his balance. Ron – like many people on the island – had many skills. One day he got his real estate license, so we told him that if he ever found some land for us we’d like to see it. Of course he eventually called us.

We drove down a long dirt road with Mom in the back seat with Dale. I was in the front with Ron. As we meandered down this road, referred to affectionately and officially as Fire Lane 16, Mom thought she recognized it. “Is this where the Myers’ live?” she asked. “As a matter of fact, it is, ” returned Ron. He had forgotten that Mom and Dad were friends with the Myers. Dad and Stan Myers had worked at the Island Heritage Trust as volunteer board members for some years. Dad was now gone, but when we drove to the end of the road, almost a mile long, Stan and Peg Myers were surprised and quite pleased to see Harriet Steinharter again. They had a nice chat, and to make a long story a little less long, Stan decided to see the 1/2 of his 30 acres that were for sale, to us. He reasoned that it would be nice to have neighbors he could trust, and he figured that since I was Mom’s oldest son, he could probably trust us. We bought 15 acres of woodlands, with a beautiful open spot on top of a hill overlooking the cove, that was just crying out for a house.

It was a couple of years later that we of course decided we should build our house on this incredible piece of land. You see, the 30 acres that Stan Myers had owned was a long, thin peninsula, with water on both sides (as peninsulas are known to have). It stuck out in the middle of Webb’s Cove, a beautiful little cove less than a mile from Stonington Harbor. We fussed over who and how to hire an architect and a builder and decided to hire local. We have and still prefer to hire locals to do work for us and so we hired a very nice young man by the name of Peter Freidell. Peter lived on the island with his wife and kids and so did his dad. He professed to be able to be an architect and builder in one. Working together with my wife they designed the house we wanted. It needed to be big enough so our kids would be comfortable, but able to fit in the envelope according to Island Heritage Trust rules that governed the property. And so it began….

Building a house is an extraordinary project. I was working full time and also traveling a bit so most of the management of the project fell to Dale. She is detail-oriented and indefatigable when it comes to getting what she wants. This served us well, as I was happy to defer to her on most of the details, weighing in on the most important ones…like the configuration of the deck :-). I was planning to spend more time on that deck than in the house and wanted it big and comfortable and with views of the water. The railing needed to hold a beer, of course…but never mind all that.

Peter Friedell started off well and was building the house of our dreams. He communicated well and seemed to be delivering on his promise. One day he called and asked for a payment in advance for some materials. It was $10,000 so not inconsequential, but it didn’t seem outrageous to advance him some money in the midst of this project. That was the last time we ever heard from Peter Freidell.

He stopped answering calls, texts, emails. We were in Connecticut, so managing this from 8 hours (by car) away was a real challenge but this was crazy. He just fucking disappeared, “ghosted” us as people now say. We eventually learned that he used our $10,000 to buy supplies for another project he was trying to do at the same time as ours, building or repairing a church a few miles away, in Deer Isle. Well, he never finished the church either. He absconded (cool word) with my $10K and left us with the house half finished. I had never felt so betrayed and violated.

In one of our luckiest developments, young Lucas Avis was Friedell’s foreman constructing the house and doing most of the real work. Luke offered to finish the house for us. Thank goodness for him. It took a while but he got the job done, done well, and even built us a beer pong table with help from my sons, which they were tickled about. That beer pong table is still up and able outside by the fire pit and can be seen from google earth.

We got our house and we love it. We needed to repair some things and we can complain about a few things that didn’t get done 100% right the first time, but it got done and we’ve been in it for over 10 years now. Peter Friedell’s reputation on this island is that he’s the guy who “fucked over a lot of people” according to a carpenter who came to see us today and will be fixing some of those imperfections. Every once in a while someone comes over who has history on the island and when they hear that ours was the Peter Friedell project that didn’t get finished they say – “oh, so you are THAT house.”

Every once in a while I have an interaction that makes me shake my head or smile, or both, and remind myself that I am indeed Down East (and will always be from away).

*For those new to the idea, “down east” isn’t just Maine, it’s “real Maine.” Sorry to all my good friends in Ogunquit, Kennebunk, and the rest of southern Maine. It’s wonderful there and I might even end up living there some day, but when you come all the way up to what’s called Down East, you realize you are in “real Maine.” It is remote, unspoiled, beautiful, and charming, in its own way.

So as for charming…

They paved the main road this year. I don’t know the last time they paved it – route 15, or Stonington Road, take your pick. I honestly don’t remember when they last did so, but it’s beautiful now – you can drive without fear of ruining an axle or ride your bike without fear of flipping over…at least until this winter, when the potholes will surely return.

The only problem is that when the pavers went past our little dirt road it really messed us up. Because Margaret Lane is just a half mile long dirt road, entry and exit to Rte 15 is now messy and difficult. Dirt has washed away from rain, and we kick up stones every time we try to enter the main road. It didn’t seem like the end of world, though, so we called Eaton Paving and asked their advice. Good old Terry came down within a few days and recommended a solution – he would dig out around the road and create us a new entryway, or apron from Margaret Lane to Rte 15. I thought that sounded okay and he promised an estimate shortly. The estimate arrived within the week and we simply agreed to it – this is Deer Isle, Maine, so trying to negotiate the price would be akin to saying ‘just forget it.’

And so it began.

They added us to their list of jobs to be done. I called in a couple of weeks and a friendly voice answered. “This is Karen.” I asked Karen when she thought Eaton Paving would be able to come do our small job here in Stonington. Karen said she had no idea, as the guys made that decision and they arrive and leave well before she does. She said it might be a “couple of weeks.” “Just to clarify, Karen, do you mean a couple of weeks till they can do the work, or a couple of weeks before you can tell me when they can do the work?”

I think we all know the answer I got.

I called back in a couple of weeks. Karen – ever friendly – had no more information then and said it might be “a couple of weeks.” I called a couple of weeks after that and Karen started making me feel bad for bothering her, she was so nice. Unfortunately though, she had no idea when Skip would choose to do our job. She claimed it was tacked up on the wall and she had put a little circle around it. The fourth time I called she reiterated about the circle (surely that would signal to Skip that we should be a priority?) and then admitted “well, I’m his wife, but we don’t talk about the business at home, and he comes in to the office real early and chooses which jobs they will do.”

I wasn’t annoyed – i am too experienced around here to get annoyed; it’s just the way things are.

A few days after that last call – it’s a couple of months now since I got the estimate – I was driving past Dean’s (photo above). Dean runs the local business that repairs engines, a pretty important business in this fishing town. He services my chainsaw (you can’t really live here without a chainsaw, ya know) and so he has gotten to know me at least a little bit. I couldn’t help but notice all the Eaton Paving trucks and equipment at Dean’s house (next door to his business). They were redoing his driveway, and it looked like a very nice job. Dean must be pleased, I thought. I also thought that maybe because he’s a well-known local he somehow got priority from Eaton Paving.

I stopped in at Dean’s soon after that, just to pick up my newly sharpened chains. Dean was there and said hi. I asked him in a friendly way, “Gee Dean, how did you get them to pave your driveway so quickly? I’ve been waiting a couple of months now.”

Dean looked at me and without smiling or smirking just said “well now it took about two years. I wouldn’t call that ‘quickly.’ They didn’t even call me, they just showed up one day with all their trucks and did the driveway.”

Here’s where I smile and shake my head yet again. “Okay, thanks Dean, that kinda resets my expectations a bit.”

Ayyup. Gotta love it up here.

I’ve decided to do a few entries about Maine. No idea what took me so long to think of this, or even whether they will be interesting to anyone but me, but heads up.

Translation – anyone who wasn’t born and raised here is “from away.”

The Queen of England died yesterday, 8 September 2022. She was 96 years old and had been Queen for 72 years. I read and watch the various reactions to her, her role and her passing with interest. Many find the role of the royal family of great value, but many do not, believing it to be anachronistic and irrelevant. The royals do not govern, and have little constitutional power. They also command great wealth, which always gets hackles up from some.

I am a bit philosophical about this. I have learned to value tradition. I think back to my time in college. I went to Dartmouth College, a school with many traditions. I grew to love this. I am now in my 60s and have four children. We have our own traditions. My wife makes a big deal out of Christmas and the holiday is filled with family traditions, even throwing “reindeer dust” around the yard so that Santa is sure to find us. We put the windows down in the car whenever we cross the causeway to Deer Isle, so we can smell the wonderful sea air.

I don’t know that I can explain why traditions are of value or why I value them…but I do. Maybe it is just a simple way to bind us together. Our family are bound in small ways by these traditions. I imagine the British people (and many others) are bound together by the traditions carried on through the royal family. That’s pretty cool, actually.