"Offseason in Truro," Cape Cod, January 2011

Left behind, originally uploaded by DC Products.

As a vacation destination, Cape Cod gets its share of visitors from Memorial Day through Labor Day. But it's a different scene in the middle of winter. Cottages are boarded up, stores are closed for the season, roads are empty and the restaurants that are open are more than happy to see you.

Sometimes you just have to get away, and with a friend housesitting in the woods on the outer Cape this month, my wife and I were more than happy to visit her on a cold January weekend. The signs in front of these North Truro cottages said "See you in May!" and the beach was empty, the waves lapping at the steps that lead down to the water and the wind leaving the sand flat and undisturbed.

Made in Maine, May '08: Streaking past Portland

Streaking past Portland

I want to marry a lighthouse keeper
And keep him company.
I want to marry a lighthouse keeper
And live by the side of the sea.
I'll polish his lamp by the light of day
So ships at night can find their way.
I want to marry a lighthouse keeper
Won't that be okay!
We'll take walks along the moonlight bay
Maybe find a treasure too.
I'd love living in a lighthouse,
HOW 'BOUT YOU?
The dream of living in a lighthouse baby, every single day.
The dream of living in a lighthouse,
the white one by the bay.
So if you want to make my dreams come true,
You'll be a lighthouse keeper too.
We could live in a lighthouse
The white one by the bay, hey hey.
Won't that be okay.
Yada tada ta ta ta.

"I Wanna Marry a Lighthouse Keeper," by Erika Eigen

So maybe the shining sun got to me on a bright day on Cape Elizabeth. The following, though, isn't mine ...

Made in Maine, May '08: Perched on the rocks at Portland Head

Perched on the rocks at Portland Head

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
and on its outer point, some miles away,
the lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
in the white tip and tremor of the face.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,
with strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

No one alone: from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean's verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night o'er taken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return
Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn
They wave their silent welcome and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,
on his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink
And when returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same,
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosum clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace:
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of love,
it does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
but hails the mariner with words of love.

"Sail on!" it says: "sail on, ye stately ships!
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse.
Be yours to bring man neared unto man.

-- The Lighthouse
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Made in Maine, May '80: On the point at Pemaquid

Vantage point

I must've shot this lighthouse more than any other, with every camera I've ever owned, beginning with my first -- a Kodak disk point-and-shoot. It may be 500 miles from where I grew up, but I have to have photographed it more than Twin Lights or Sandy Hook, only minutes from home. But those, I'd visit on a whim, not always with a camera, and I always knew I could go back at any time to shoot them. At Pemaquid, I always start from behind the light, walking from the parking lot toward the tower, then make my way down to the rocks and around the point, covering it from every angle. It's a tradition, a ritual, one I expect to continue on future visits.

Made in Maine, May '08: Churning sea at Pemaquid Point

Churning sea at Pemaquid Point

The weather during our trip was amazing. When we left Bar Harbor on this morning, it looked like this. During the three-hour drive, we passed through some intermittent as well as steady rain. When we arrived at Pemaquid, we had blue skies and wispy clouds above a surging ocean.

After leaving Pemaquid, it began raining again, but stopped shortly after we arrived at my uncle's house an hour later (with a stop at Round Top for ice cream).

Then we had clear skies again, for the most part.

Made in Maine, May '08: Boardwalk in the woods

Boardwalk in the Maine woods

Most of the western side of Jordan Pond is a delicate ecosystem, so boards have been laid for hikers. Casey and I stepped aside onto a rock at one point because three sullen teens were gaining on us -- one had her iPod blaring in order to keep out the annoying sounds of the calm forest -- and let them pass. Their parents soon followed, apologizing.

"I promised them ice cream at the end," their father said.

"We're following you, too!" I replied.