|View of the bays and the Atlantic Ocean from atop Caterpillar Hill|
Several winding roads later, we arrived at Donnie and Gina's home. Gina is working today and we've learned that Gleason's wife Barbara is not feeling well (though I think she's faking it). There will be seven of us to go clamming.
|I'll be apprenticing with Donnie, master clammer|
As I've mentioned in earlier posts from Maine, Donnie is a lobsterman by trade. It's all he's ever done an he is quite good at it and well known in these parts. His Stonington home reflects his love of coastal Maine and his interest in lobstering. On his property, old lobster traps are stacked seven foot high while lengths of old tied rope and lobster marking buoys are piled in great heaps. I was fascinated by all this stuff.
|Errol gives a good look at the traps that Donnie has available for sale.|
But low time was near and it was time to move on to clamming. Errol and Lori in their truck and Wayne and I in our car, followed Donnie, Gleason and Tim down winding roads and switchbacks into the most difficult places to reach the "secret clamming spot" Donnie would share with us. We were deep into coastal Maine when the asphalt ended and the road narrowed to one lane with just enough space for a pick-up truck to maneuver without scraping the roadside tree limbs. I expected to see a moose or a bear, but didn't.
|This is not where we clammed.|
|Errol leads Lori, Wayne and me through the grass and into the mud|
|A scene likely to never be witnessed again: Wayne in tall rubber boots.|
|Left to right: Gleason, Tim, Errol and Donnie.|
|One of my first digs.|
There's just simply no way to not get muddy when one is clamming so I didn't attempt to stay clean though I did secretly hope that I wouldn't find myself flat on my rear or my face in the icky stuff. I brought my rubber palmed gloves and that proved to be a really good thing. Even with them, I'd be cleaning the black mud from around my fingernails for the next two days.
|Some of my first clams.|
|Lori in flip-flops watching to see if I can stand after being squatted so long.|
|One touch to my shoulder and I would have been flat on my back in the pool of muddy water.|
|Errol has a full hod of clams|
|Tim (L) and his dad, Gleason|
|A brief rest resulted in a mud smudge on the seat of my pants. |
Can't sweat the small stuff though.
|Notice that the old woman (myself) does not wimp out for long.|
|A full hod and I'm finished!|
(In more ways than one)
Leaving the area where we clammed, we passed more picturesque low-tide scenery. We're headed back to Donnie and Gina's where we'll steam the clams and have them for suppah (that's supper for all us " non-Mainers").
Donnie and Gina have a grand porch that's like an outside living room, complete with a huge table for eating, a grill for cooking and a hammock at one end. There's also a mounted deer and a moose -- the later of which comes with a great story that can only be told by Donnie. It is hilarious -- and yes, he killed the dear. It was his first.
|Donnie and Gina's porch. |
The moose is currently being used as a hanging rack.
|A dirt-filled clam shell.|
|Clams, clam broth and melted butter. |
Real clammers drink wine straight from the bottle, right Wayne?
The ride home was especially nice as we had our second Bald Eagle sighting in the past few days. Naturally, we didn't get a picture but it was a real beauty!
Another fun-filled experience with simply fabulous people here in Maine. We'll certainly never forget these days (unless we become even more senile)... Special "thank you" to all who went to your "workplace" on your only day off. Wayne and I look forward to the remainder of our time here but can never imagine how we'll ever repay so many for so much they've done to enhance our Maine experience.