Cambria: Ivy and Eagles

We took a later ferry than usual to get to the island. We arrived around 1pm on Saturday and headed to the boat to check on a nagging leak in the aft cabin. One of the portholes had leaked and I thought I had fixed it with a light bead of caulking, but it hadn’t rained during the back half of that trip. This would be the first test of my initial try at stopping the leak.

It didn’t work, so re-bedding the portholes became added to the “IT’S ALWAYS SOMETHING” list.

On to the cabin and we started in on the ivy. The ivy that my grandmother had planted nearly 50 years ago. Mom had already tackled part of the job and we pitched in and helped peel the ivy from the tree and shuttle the debris. Oh what fun. We re-staked some peonies and mercifully a heavy shower chased us indoors.

A light happy hour, improvised appetizers, and Jodi’s dinner rounded out the first part of the evening. Then Jodi and I headed over to watch colors.

I could write a whole blog on the colors ceremony. It started in the late 50’s or early 60’s at Roche and growing up I recall watching it as a kid. Later, in the 70’s, I used to do the colors, with the 2 highlights being the last segment on NBC’s show on the bicentennial in ’76 (a full day of filming resulted in something like 20 seconds of air time) and in his book on Roche Harbor the former owner of the harbor credited a buddy and myself as being a part of the first colors crew to march off the dock into the water. That act has become quite a tradition over the years.

Devin was taking his place as part of the colors crew and that’s what we came to watch. The whole crew did themselves proud.

Later Dev joined us for a beer in the bar then later still he and I had a nice chat on the deck of the cabin. Nice evening.

The following morning started out with farm fresh eggs and yet more ivy removal. This time we attacked the back of the guest cabin. Like a slow growing alien life form, the ivy had been attacking the back of the guest cabin for years. It was firmly attached and difficult to get to. A few hours of sweat later and it was cleared. Cool.

While we were clearing the ivy we kept on hearing the high pitched sound of Bald Eagles. The sound isn’t all that regal, and don’t know if ‘bleat’, ‘squeal’ or ‘trill’ is the best way to describe it, but it was loud and sustained. Turned out there was a dead deer on the beach and the Eagles, now scavengers, were having quite a meal. In between work sessions we shot some pictures of the action.