After some indoor cleanup scrubbing the tub and sink (that brown stain from the water will come off with enough white vinegar and elbow grease) France and I determined that we could leave the house at 10; she to whack weeds on the north trail, and I to use the push mower from the Donkey House to tame the grass on the path from the cove to the lighthouse; if we put a sign up saying that we were around and would be back at 2. It’s a beautiful day and it’s Friday but we didn’t expect anyone before the afternoon, if at all.
When I got to the cove there was a sailboat tied up to a buoy with a dingy in back and I waved to someone aboard. They didn’t seem to be readying to come ashore so I tried to radio France that we may have guests. No response. With earplugs and the roar of that machine, I wasn’t surprised, so I set out mowing myself. At some point I couldn’t see the dingy of the sailboat any more and I realized there was a couple tying up on the beach.
They were a lovely pair from Alberta. I stopped what I was doing and we made our way to the top and I showed them the museum and gift shop, which they took their time perusing. They were thrilled with the tour of the Light and found a beautiful rainbow inside on the stair. I tried to capture it later but my flash obliterated it.
The couple headed off on the north trail and I went back to the cove to finish mowing. France appeared as I was finishing and was frustrated with the whacker. When it’s tired it won’t start up no matter what you do. We sat out on the deck at the boathouse in the sun for a while and almost fell asleep.
After a snack (PB&J has turned into our lunchtime favorite) we decided someone should hang out for visitors. I happily volunteered; France wanted to get back to clearing the north trail. I needed to see all of the north end of the island which I’d been curious about since we’d arrived. We did go part way the day we arrived but were daunted by nesting gulls. I’m sure guests could entertain themselves until I got back.
We headed off together. Supposedly the trail looped around and went into a marsh where there is a kind of a boardwalk. France wanted pictures of the irises there to send to her mother. I was determined and did indeed explore the whole thing. In my opinion it’s the jewel of the island! The trail itself goes all the way to the north end where there is a little protected area that was full of Eider ducks with their young. The sight of me on the bluff made them take off.
You’ve all read Jonathan Livingston Seagull. He doesn’t even have a close relative living on this island. If I had to give a name to the clan out here it would be more like Terror of the Skies. You don’t want to mess with a nesting gull and there are plenty out on the north trail. I caught a nice photo of one in flight, but two seconds later it was screeching straight at me, Kamikaze style with a wide open beak and blood lust in its eyes. No time for a photo of that bird. I probably would have thrown the camera at it. I let out a screech of my own and started flapping my arms like I was about to take off myself, and it backed off, cussing in gull as it went. Glad I had on my dad’s old safari hat, for what it was worth. While I stood taking a photo of the cove from the north trail, a gull about two feet away flew up from the brush. It was time I left them to hatch their young.
No matter how brown the water is, a hot shower felt so good. Someone’s gotta hang out and greet the visitors…
Obviously, those gulls are not the citified critters we’re used to, who come looking for handouts anytime you sit down on the seawall!