Mr. Taylahh Part Two

My previous post described this local fella Beck and I found when we first arrived in the Bar Harbor, ME area almost 6 months ago. 

To save you from reading the previous post,  Mr. Taylahh and wife live on the outskirts of Bar Harbor, about 3 miles or so into the foothills of Cadillac Mountain on Mt. Dessert Island.  It takes about 10 minutes or so on that dirt road they live on but we have found the trip well worth it every time.  The Taylahhs do and sell about whatever to make a buck or two.  We buy their eggs, err, their chicken's eggs and you never know what to expect.. in a typical dozen you'll find a few smalls, a jumbo, white, brown, and green in color.  Yes green! 

We (I) also buy the little neck clams he digs 'bout every day.

Well this morning at about 8am I saw a car pull up outside the RV.  Bigger than live it was Mr. Taylahh.  The past few times to his place for clams, no luck, the state has the one and only local little neck flat closed due to, well, whatever.  The state lifted the ban on that area this morning (a flat off an island ~ 15 miles from here) and Mr. Taylahh went out clammin.  On the way back to his place, he remembered me talking about the RV Park we are in - it was on his way so he stopped and bagged up a couple pounds for me. 
 

You could have knocked us over with a feather when I saw him climb out of his truck still in his yellow slicker and thigh high rubber boots.  Beck took a few pictures from inside the trailer - as you can see, it was rainin' out.
 

The thing about Mr. Taylahh is that he is a very expressive talker - Italian like, and always has something to say.  He said "like yah bumpah stickah - didn't notice it beforah".  I Picked the magnetic bumper sticker up at my barber's place.  Haircut for $8.00 anyone?  Only in Maine, add a couple bucks for a tip - $10.00.  Now Stacey (the barber) is another story but as I said - another story.

Back to Mr. Taylahh... he remembered me always buying 2 pounds at a time and so bagged that up for me.   I guess it was the first time I ever had clams on the half shell for breakfast but am here to tell ya...until you've had little necks just an hour out of the cool muddy flats of Frenchman's Bay, you haven't had little necks. 

Actually I didn't eat them all, going to bake clams casino for lunch.  But I had to try a few, 3, 4 as fresh as they were.  I guess the only way I can describe it, that is, the one word that expresses the taste is SWEET.  I know, non clam eaters are scratching their head - raw clams - yucch - SWEET?   That and briny and juicy and all that reminds you of the sea.

One of the most popular websites dedicated to RV'ing is http://www.rv.net/ .  In those forums the question comes up quite often... "why is it that some full time RV'ers chose to stay in one area for 3,4,5 months, or an entire season - instead of a day or two and then moving on to somewhere else?".  Nothing wrong with moving every few days, nothing at all!  But this part of my post is dedicated to another of the reasons Becky and I prefer to stay put for months at a time.  Given time in one area, you get to know the locals and discover places that remain completely undiscovered by those that don't let a bit of grass grow under their feet.  Richard, yes, after 5-1/2 months, Mr. Taylor introduced himself by first name while delivering little neck clams to my door.  When I opened the door he was all smiles "recognized your truck and thought I'd bring ya some little necks - OK if ya don't have money right now".   So fellow RV'ers, add that visit I had this morning  to the many other reasons you've read on the net why some of us prefer to hang out for a while here'n'there.

And finally, to answer the question "has the season changed the landscape up in Maine yet?  Yes... the show is just beginning in this neck of the woods.

These are the view we have from our dining room table, work table, work bench, computer table, office desk in our trailer.

Well... that's about it.  In a few short weeks we will be heading South and West, ultimately to Lake Elsinore, CA for most of the winter with stops in NY, NJ, TN, AL, TX and NM to visit friends and family along the way.

Mistaah Taylaah

That's him in the shed facing the camera, Mistah Taylaaah (OK OK... Mister Taylor).  You might very well ask who in the hell is this Mistah Taylaaah.  Well, if you were to look up the definition of a "Mainer" in the dictionary - you could very well see his picture. 

He and Mrs. Taylaah live on the outskirts of Bah Harbah, about a mile or two into the wooden countryside.  Becky and I first discovered them on our first way home from Acadia National Park.  Coming out of the park you will  see a series of hand painted signs along the highway...."Clam"....."Mussels"....."Lobstah"...."Fresh Eggs".  And finally the "Turn Here" sign pointing the way down a washboard, dusty, windy, hilly road that disappears into the woods.  It really only takes three or four minutes on that road but it is a series of bumps the whole way.  Every couple hundred yards you'll see a sign, I'm sure meant to give you encouragement to continue...."clam ---->".  CLAM.... I'll jump ahead for a second before I forget.  About our third time there I mentioned to Mistah Taylah that he should add a "S" to his CLAM signs, ya know, plural CLAMS?  His only response was..."Why waste the paint!".  Point taken for sure.

Well anyways, this last trip out to buy some CLAM and Eggs, we were with some good friends and former neighbors from Padre Island, Jack and Linda.  Linda is the photographer by the way.  She was taken by the chicken coup there and the whole experience of meeting Mistah Taylah.  By the way.... I have no frikkin idea what his first name is and it doesn't matter, he and his lovely wife will always be Mr. and Mrs. Taylaah to me. 

You can't help but get into a conversation with him, with him doing most of the talkin' and the more he talks the more you grow to respect him, his property, and his lifestyle.  I mean the first time there I innocently asked him where he gets the little neck clams - I wasn't looking for specifics but he took it so and after a bit of deliberation he told me - specifically.  He's one hard working Mainer - during the wintah, probably among other things he hasn't discussed yet,  he is paid to plow snow from that washboard road - about two, three miles of it.  He plows a dozen or so driveways as well.  They do have neighbors on that road be they few and far between.  He also sells, delivers and stacks the firewood he cut and quartered earlier the year before.  He goes "clammin'" year round but only goes out once a day during the wintah.

The rest of the year this guy goes clammin' twice a day depending on low tides, runs a string of lobstah pots and collects and cleans mussels about every clammin' trip.  They sell lobstah, mussels, soft shell (spitter) clams, little neck clams and eggs from their shed pictured above.  He also provides clams to a couple of restaurants on the Island.  He is always doing something, falling trees, cutting, and quartering, stacking, clammin', running his lobstah pot string, delivery wood or clams or plowing driveways on that washboard road he lives on.  In short he is one hell of a worker and although I never got into a political discussion with him - I have a very vivid ideaah just how he feels 'bout things.

Becky and I are really taken with him and although they are out of the way and perhaps  a bit more expensive than a dozen places closer and far easier to get to, we prefer to buy that stuff from him.  In a recent email to Linda, Becky mentioned that we need to visit the Taylaah's to get some eggs.  In her reply, Linda reminded  Becky what Mr. Taylaah said the last time we were there with her.... "Too Dry...The Chickens Ain't Layin' Worth A Shit This Summaah".

Well, should you find yourself on Mount Desert Island and in need of any of that stuff, just watch for the signs, or ask directions to The Taylaahs.

While visiting, we had a few picnics with Jack and Linda.  Our first picnic was at a roadside rest area, on Fish Cove which is where I do my clammin'.  After dropping everyone off at the rest area, I went up the road a few miles to "Tracey's Lobster Pound" and bought us each a Lobstaah Roll.   Tracy is another Mainer and  subject of another post but that's a different story.   Another picnic we had was at one of Acadia's Parks... smoked trout, aseago cheese, a baguette of bread, some of Becky's homemade bread and butter pickles and some local brew.. Bar Harbor Ale (not a bad micro brew).

Our last meal with Jack and Linda was a Lobstaah Boil right here at the trailer - well, outside of it as you can see.

This boil included 7 "pounder new shells", 3 pounds of mussels, 3 pounds of little necks corn and potatoes.

Jack and Linda got a kick out of the quantity of food in that roasting pan but it pales in comparison to the meals that Linda serves up.  And Becky HATES it when I include pictures of her in this blog but what the hell, I haven't been in trouble in quite a while so here's one of her!

As for left overs... I created a new, one of it's kind, original dish which I am calling "Lobstah Boil Leftover Cakes".  The leftovers from this boil only yielded enough for four cakes but they tasted like a fried lobstah boil!

Try as I may, I simply cannot seem to lose any weight up here in Maine - I guess I don't need to make an appointment with a dietitian to figure that out do I?  In addition to the walking I do daily, I think I need to add one more form of exercise to my routine - pushing myself away from the dinner table!

The Fran & Davie Reunion

In the mid 1930's Francis (Franny) Sacchetti and Doris (Davie) Papa were married.  Some 65 years later their extended family counts some 34 folks.  So this was the first reunion of their entire clan.  And we were all there with only five exceptions - Al, Aron, Adam, Michelle and Gracie. 

Before getting on with this, I would like to grant my infamous "favorite" status to my favorite Brother Tom and his amazing wife Debbie - my favorite Sister-in-law.  It was obvious on all fronts that they expended incredible efforts to make this weekend one that no one in the family will ever forget.  Love ya guys!

Here's a few of the gals (Angie, Sammy... I mean Sandra, and Haylee) under the tent Tom & Deb erected on the beach before we all got there.  That Saturday was a hot one on the Jersey shore and that tent provided very welcome shade.

 

The two youngest guys, Ian and Ethan, spent most of the time at the reunion on the beach or in the water.  What's happening here is that I suckered Ian and Ethan OFF of the chair at the table - as soon as they realized what happened, they decided to crush my legs.  By the way, Ian is eating what I consider the single best tasting Italian Hoagie I have ever eaten.

As for the rest of us..(good luck)... Tom, Debbie, Ben, Jena, David, Tricia, Sheila, Sam, Francis, Lisa, Brian, Jacob, Ian, Lynnie, Dave Steven, Karen, Erik, Richard, me, Becky, Cari, Jeff, Haylee, Mackenzie, Nick, Ethan, Sammy and Angela. All accounted for, some thirty-four spread from coast to coast, and here and there in between. Well, try as you may, it was an impossible to catch all of us in one picture - at least I got all the names... err .... I think!

We gathered at Tom and Debbie's shore home in Margate City, NJ - just down the beach from Atlantic City and I am envious of their neighbors - not a single complaint was issued to the Margate Sheriff's Office for the raucous laughter that prevailed from early to late.  Laughter except for the dead silence during the meals.  Actually it was a none stop eating festival so I use the work "meals" simply as  reference points.  Here for example is one of many "between meal" gathering at the dining room table.  Snacking?  That puts it mildly!

Everyone brought something including a string of wine bottles that the kids arranged as dominoes on the table.  Nostalgic tastes from "The 24 Evelyn Park and Pittsfield" days,  a dozen favorite recipe, and a couple of full blown catered meals from local folks.  One meal was a hundred or so of the best little Italian Grinders I have ever eaten along with turkey, ham and veggie grinders for one lunch period.   Of course there were appetizer trays - and I mean the plural literally.  Again ... there was non stop eating so the lunch could be described in analogy as one of the waves that hadn't crashed ashore quite yet.  A catered supper time meal included a refreshing "change of pace" Paella (OK, I can't spell it... Pie - A - Ahhh) with a few sides including some really tasty roasted potatoes.  There were also chocolates, cookies, sconces, and half dozen different other pastries all mounded on trays.  God!  I almost forgot the Pasta, Meat Balls, Sausages, and Bracolli that Tom and Debbie made.  The kids use the letters OMG all the time.  I will also - Oh My God!  Desserts were being eaten all the time along with gallons of Italian Ice.  I don't eat desserts" but I know others did because at one point I could hear my Brother Tom yelling (to no avail I might add) .. "I thought dessert was suppose to be eaten AFTER the meal".  So I don't know... if there were a single word theme to describe the get together it would have been Mange!

Many of us hadn't seen each other in years and some of the new arrival and little people had never met at all.  There was that part of the gathering as well - all the kids clicked and at formal sit down meals you could see them all huddled together.  For the most part the kids were missing in action somewhere on the beach.

The house was only a few hundred feet from the beach so they kids beat many paths between.  All the kids managed to find new or old friends right at their age to be with.  Many of the folks had to bunk up at local hotels, I mean Margate (the name of the beach house) had at least five bedrooms but there just wasn't enough floor space for everyone.  I think it was Sunday morning I came down stairs - there was the young adult crowd, crashed on every couch, nook and cranny there was.

Let your imagination picture the bodies strewn everywhere - the picture I took with my camera didn't.  I suck at photography.

I suspect that judging by the empty bottles in the kitchen, they had exhausted their designated drivers and opted to, literally and figuratively, fall where they may - no car keys in sight.

I don't know if Tom & Debbie had other "events" planned or not - if so, the food got in the way. But Debbie was successful in organizing a seashell painting contest. Come to think of it - a winner was never named.  I think they were all winners!

 
We are a "huggy" family and the reunion was a great place to grab a hug here and a hug there  here a hug, there a hug, everywhere a hug hug (sorry - I entertain myself very easily) . It was really good for the little people to experience, and a bit later in life, pass the huggies thing on to their kids.  I don't know if I can express this last thought... Being with family is just about the most relaxing, peaceful place a person could be, and that's because I happen to have one fabulous family.  And even though time simply didn't allow a whole lot of one on one time, just seeing everyone milling around was a very satisfying experience. 
 
Mom & Dad (Fran & Davie) I know you were there with us.  We are thinking of you and couldn't love you more.

The Schoodic Penninsula

The picture below has nothing to do with this post.  It is here for the web address needed to insert the picture into another post - but that's a whole other deal so forget about it!  Pretty isn't it?  Actually it does have a bearing on this post - it is an "extension" for our Sprint Air card.  The air card is plugged into the USB extension cable and is atop the mast inside a plastic storage bag. The extra 10' elevation did the trick.  We are parked at the bottom of a slope down to Frenchman's bay - the RV park rises from water's edge up perhaps 50' to Hwy 3.  Before concocting this "aerial", trying to do anything on the Internet was near impossible.  Now we have reasonable Internet service... and away I go!

We returned to The Schoodic Peninsula for another picnic.  I described the peninsula in a previous post so I won't go there here.  I love the English language - love to slaughter it as I do and there is absolutely nothing anyone can do about it!  On the far shore is what looks like a white house - not The White House, just a white house. 

Well actually, now that I see the picture in the post, I can hardly see the stupid house at all.  I don't know how many times I have apologized for my very poor visuals.  Come to think of it..now that we have decent band with  to work with, maybe I can increase the quality on the camera.

If you're been to Maine, seen many coastal pictures, or have heard those that have, you'll know that much of the coast line is cliffy (I also like to make word up.. works for me!).  Here on the Schoodic Peninsula there's a six mile loop road much of which is lower elevation. 

Becky caught me sticking my toes in the water.. down there by that tallest boulder of granite.  Just after snapping that picture, a wave, funneled onto shore drenched me.  Felt pretty damn good - it was a sweltering 85 degrees that day.

We've been in Maine for 3 months already and are beginning to make plans to depart around the middle of October.  Going to the South and West to meet up with some friends of ours that are RV'ing their way down to Dallas from Montana.  From there we plan to RVathan to the left coast and up through Oregon and Washington.  I am sure we will discuss headed up the Alaskan Highway next Spring / Summer.   In any case... later!

Thinking of Uncle Henry - Again and Still

You'd have to go back through my posts to get a full flavor of Uncle Henry.  I won't try to summarize why he was always "the character" in the family.  This little, and rarely true gag was inspired by "Hank".  It occured in 1982 more or less....

Becky and I had been going together for a few years.  We were both living in California at the time and Becky had never met my folks, nor any of my family - all back in Massachusetts.  We decided that year to fly to the East Coast, rent a car, and drive the coast from Rhode Island, up to Southern Maine, then inland and South a bit to my home town, Pittsfield, MA.

It was a great trip, Becky met my folks, my Brothers and my Sister, a couple Cousins, Aunts... generally, a good sampling of the Sacchettis'.  While in Pittsfield on a drive to one of my Aunt's home we were stopped at a redlight. 

"See that gas station and the phone booth on the corner over there?  Back about 30 years ago, late at night, my Uncle "Peanuts" was making a call from that booth when a long black cadillac limosene intentionally ran him, and the booth over.  The lady that lives in that house saw the whole thing.  Peanuts ran a newspaper and cigar store on North Street downtown and everyone, including the police, knew it was nothing more than a front for a Mafia Bookie operation.  Peanuts treated the police right - and they didn't bother him... he was just "small peanuts" to them."

Becky's mouth was wide open and judging by her repeated "Ohh my God" comments, she had swallowed it hook, line, and well, you know.  And that was all there was to it.  Years, decades passed and nothing more was said of it.  Nothing more until another visit back home for a Sacchetti family picnic.  With more than 100 of us gathered, there were all sorts of stories flying around the pavilion and Becky decided to join in - she told the story I had told her years and years ago.  I had completely forgotten having made it up.  Well... when she found out that it was a fabrication she called me names I am too much a gentleman to repeat in print.

I guess it was a year of so ago, we were sitting at home and she brought it up - "remember when you told me your Uncle........".   We laughed like fools.  Truth be known, Peanuts was a real character, not an Uncle, but just as good - a good friend of the family.  And Peanuts (the only name I know for him) did own a newspaper and cigar store up on North Street.  So that's the only truth of it - the rest is blamed on that  Uncle Henry Gene in me!

Having said that, further recollections do seem to bear the bookie part of the story out.  I definately do remember my Grandma giving me a brown paper bag to deliver to Uncle Peanuts at his store, and a whole dollar when I got back - I did this quite often!

Only believe half of what comes out of my mouth (fingers).  That's easy, the hard part is knowing which half to believe!  Some or all of this little story is true - I've been making stuff up for so long now, not even I can tell you what is gospel.

Those Pesty Tourists

Becky and I have been here, Down East Maine Coastal area, for 2-1/2 months already.  Early on we found "Otter Point" on Mt Desert Island, aka Acadia National Park and have been back four times already - this is our official #1 most favorite picnic spot.

During the months of May and June we had  the coastline completely to ourselves.  We could look forever in either direction and see nothing but the sky, the trees, rocky cliffs, the surf, lobster boats and Frenchman's Bay.

But now, as you can plainly see in the picture above, "THE TOURISTS" have invaded the coastline.  Well, I guess it's not a plain to see as all that!  If you look in the far rocks you'll see a small bush on the very top, then an short downward incline.  Right at the bottom of that incline, you'll see a very small outcropping on the flat area.  That my friends is not an outcropping - it is a TOURIST invading our coastline!  No more than 300 feet away, plopped right down there as if she owned the place.  She is only one of a group of four invaders, the other three had the decency to remain out of sight.  OK OK so I am putting you on.  Point is, here on the Maine coast, even at the peak of "the season", it's really easy to find solitude.

Easy to stake out a length of shoreline if you don't include the local residents who are always ready to share your picnic with you.  You'll note the fog bank in the background.  This day it advanced in to cover the far hill and then retreat again out to sea.  Back and forth, probably three times in the time it took to eat a sandwich.

Maine.. try it, you'll like it!

Black Dikes

The tip of the Schoodic Peninsula is actually DOWN EAST from Bar Harbor, but the only way to get to it on land is by driving NORTH and EAST and then SOUTH.  Giving, or getting directions around here is enough to drive a sane man crazy and the Schoodic Peninsula is a good example of it. 

This is a typical scene on the Schoodic Peninsula which is blessed with at least five harbors - Winter Harbor, Birch Harbor, Prospect Harbor and although it doesn't have harbor in its name, Corea (pronounced like where the war was - the one that came between WWII and Viet Nam).  But that was only four (you win a prize of you picked up on that).  Actually, the picture of the water front building is what's left of Wonsquirt Harbor.  Pictured below is Birch Harbor.  You won't find many quaint tourist shops or attractions on the peninsula, just hard working folks.  Judging by the number of lobster boats in the harbors, lobster traps on the docks, and in front of folks homes, my guess is the Maine (if not only) industry is "lobstering".   The lack of tourist trappings only serves to make these towns all the more quaint - if quaint were a liquid, it would be oozing from every crack in the road.

The Schoodic Bay Acadia National Park is down (no kidding) on the southern most tip, and the scenic drive is absolutely breathtaking.  Most of the 10(?) mile loop along the coast is one way traffic and what a great idea that is.  I am more than sure if it were two way traffic, there would be countless "head on" accidents

Now then, if I were Red Foxx (for those of you that remember who he was), the title I gave to this post might have an entirely different meaning!  Black Dikes are actually

formations of lava rock. 

Through subsurface pressures, magma flowed into the cracks in the granite.  The pressure and temperature pushed the granite cracks wider and the molten magma made its way to the surface, cooled, solidified, and formed these streaks of black lava rock, some more than a mile wide.

I guess I have said it ad nausium.. but I have to say it again.   The Maine coastline is absolutely heart stoppingly beautiful, rugged, and largely (and thankfully) unspoiled by human intrusions.  The state posts small signs every so often, signs to the effect "leave no trace" and "do not remove any rocks or pebbles".  Becky and I love this state (hummm... bet I've said that once or twice as well) and our impression of it has to be a very popular one judging by its pristine, uncluttered geology.  "pristine, unaltered" I was redundant there I know, simply a case of moving fingers before engaging brain but it does serve to dredge up a old memory - of one of my favorite brothers.

David was only about seven (a guess) when he became very well known in our home town.  His teacher had given the class an assignment of some sort, one involving government, politics or the like.  Brother David decided he wanted to include a picture of the president (then Dwight D Eisenhower) - so he wrote the White House a letter which went something like this...

Dear Mr. President

 

My name is David Sacchetti and I am doing a class project.  Please send me an autographed picture, signed by you, with your name on it.

A few weeks later an autographed picture of Eisenhower appeared.  The story appeared in our local newspaper and like I said - at the tender age of seven, he became my famous brother.