Escape!

Decided to take Tuesday off...well, because who, honestly, really wants to work?  I had put together a couple Saturdays working in a row and a Sunday mixed in here and there for good measure and I decided, "Heck, Matt, you deserve a day off."  So a day off was what I took.  And on my day off I snuck away to probably my favorite hideaway around, a little spot on the beach near Popham beach..  I know I've mentioned Morse Mountain on here before but I have no idea when and if it was just in pictures or whathaveyou, but there's this something about the spot that relaxes me.  Whenever I eave I just feel better.  Maybe it has a little to do with the low-key drive (though this time Barney pulled my ass over on 209 for my passed due inspection sticker.  But Phippsburg's finest let me off as he felt it was "probably just an oversight on [my] part."  A seven month "oversight."  He said that with a straight face, too.  Guy deserved a commendation for that fine bit of police work..), maybe a little to do with the couple mile walk in, but I'm sure most of it is due the view.  You can't beat the view..

I think of it as my decompression spot.  I tend to think a lot about random ass shit (in case you hadn't noticed that..) and sometime my brain fills up and I need to find a way to clear my dome piece of all that gobbledygook.  A lot of times I have a book or two and something to write in or on and I just sit, walk, whatever and relax for however long I have.  This particular time I brought both a reading book and a notebook but I also brought an old friend who had never been before.  So while we didn't talk a ton I didn't think either were needed (I felt that lazily dozing for most of the morning was slightly less rude than engaging in an obvious inner monologue..).

Quick pause here...I don't know how many people have "spots" that they just feel comfortable at and like to go and do nothing...but I think bringing someone new into these spots is a little pressure packed.  It wasn't so much I'm nervous people will get there and not enjoy it, or find something odd about it or anything like that, just now it's not entirely a "me" spot.  Ya, Liam and I go a lot, but we're practically married (Rachel, lucky Question 1 didn't pass...heh, heh..) and we both go there for much of the same reasons so we're on the same page.  Basically, I go there to get away from people, not to bring other people along.  A little bit of escapism is needed every now and again.  So a new face was a change.  I didn't find it to be terribly traumatic...so that was just swell.  I guess they passed the test.  All in all it was a fine day, though I think this was certainly an exception. 

To continue...some days it's only an hour (or I only want it to be an hour because it's balls cold out..) spent on the shore but Tuesday was an all day affair, complete with clear blue skies.  The weather was phenomenal.  Not a cloud in the sky.

And no one was there.  Well, not no one; I'll be honest: two other people showed up from about noon:15 to 1pm.  Other than that, however, no one else was on the beach.  And I had never seen the tide as high as it was when we rounded the bend towards my favorite rock just after 10am.  Couldn't walk on the sand; had to get all climber-style over the rocks.  Pretty neat, in my opinion.  I took a visual picture, not a digital one.  I find visual pictures last longer.

This is also the only beach environment I like to sit on rocks rather than in the sand.  It has great sand, but for whatever reason I fit best on the rocks.  Odd, I know.  Maybe because I don't think of it as sitting at the beach.  It's sitting, at the beach.

As the tide went out Ida's remnants were present up and down the sand.  Driftwood, ropes, shells, and all manners of debris were strewn about and the afternoon sun made for a fine time to walk up and down the beach and see all of the junk.  And we were in for quite a treat:

Yep.  A lobster claw.  Not so neat, you say...?

Ya, that's my hand.  This sucker spanned from my elbow to my bracelet..


Fackin' huge.  I waved it at the two other folks on the beach and all one of them could say is "No fucking way."  So I let him take a picture of it, of course.  They were impressed.  Later in the day I happened to swing by the Fletcher residence, as I still had the junior Fletcher's sleeping bag from our Tennessee trip in June and I was tired of looking at it, and showed the senior Fletcher while we were catching up by my whip.  He said, "No fucking way."  Clearly impressed he proceeded to grab it and run across the street and try to scare his neighbor with it.  The neighbor did not, however, say, "No fucking way."  But he was still impressed.  Even Skip, the old salt and former lobster trapper was about as impressed as he gets over anything other than a win on the gridiron.

His guesstimate (He said he had never actually seen a claw that big so I don't really know how he came up with this..) was this sumbitch was close to 15 pounds before its demise (Well, the claw's demise.  It's entire possible his big bastard lost his claw and is growing one back as you read this.  I haven't the slightest idea..).  "So, you're telling me a one-armed...lobster...killed your wife?"  "YOU FIND THAT MA..., er, LOBSTER!"  Pretty frackin' big, at any rate.

 So, this kind of made my day.  I've got it hanging out on my deck so it doesn't stink up the house while I attempt to figure out whether or not a well-cleaned lobster claw can be preserved like your run-of-the-mill seashell.  Only, of course, it's much cooler than a run-of-the-mill seashell.  Be impressed, NatureWoman.  Cheers.