Part XV - Installment Travelogue: Cruising With the Mothers, Maasdam - Bar Harbor

This is part 15 of the story (part 65 in the series), and is the second chapter to be posted within 24 hours—see part 14 if you missed it.

We’re heading out to the mall to do some exchanges (my mother failed to realize that her boy is still growing), and then to a friend’s house for dinner and some bubbly. See you tomorrow…Happy New Year!

The rest of the story:

Part 1 - A Crazy Idea

Part 2 - One Down

Part 3 - Come On, Ma

Part 4 - Two to Go

Part 5 - Formalities

Part 6 - A Grand Plan

Part 7 - I Meet HAL

Part 8 - Making Do

Part 9 - To the Ship

Part 10 - Picture This

Part 11 - Entry Denied

Part 12 - Going "UP"

Part 13 - Roll Call

Part 14 - Nightmare

It wasn’t a dream. It was real. A living nightmare…

Part 15 (65) - Bar Harbor

The pain in my head was absolutely excruciating. As the proud parent of more than two-dozen kidney stones, I thought I knew about pain—but this was a whole new ballgame. I had to get up and move, as though I might shake it off. I ran to the bathroom and took four ibuprofen tablets. In the mirror, I could see that my left eye was almost completely closed and it was watering profusely. My left nostril burned intensely and my nose was running like a river—but felt severely congested at the same time. I thought screaming might help, but I stifled the urge.

I threw on a bathrobe and grabbed a wad of tissue before tiptoeing out to the verandah to take stock of the situation. I glanced at the clock on the way out, and noted that it was 1:35 a.m. Outside, I sat in a chair and held my head firmly in my hands to keep it from coming apart. The pain seemed to radiate from the sinus between my eye socket and the bridge of my nose, and it enveloped the entire left side of my head—relentless, searing, stabbing. My mind seemed to be working all right, though it was slightly distracted. Motor skills seemed fine. I spoke aloud, and to my ear, I sounded stressed but otherwise normal. I ruled out stroke and aneurism, ignored some even more sinister possibilities, and decided that, given the nasal involvement, I had a bad sinus infection and associated headache. I just had to wait it out…

I sat, paced, put my head between my knees and otherwise distracted myself out on the verandah for a long time. Suddenly, the pain simply stopped. At first I couldn’t believe it, but when I became convinced, I snuck back in to the room. My nose felt normal, and it and my eye had stopped running. I collapsed on the bed and looked at the clock. It was 3:30, and I had been in another world for almost exactly two hours. Sleep came quickly.

I awoke to the sound of Kris’s voice. “Time to get up. I’m going to call the moms and make sure they’re up, too.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven. We’re supposed to have breakfast at eight.”

I was a little slow in coming to. “Open the curtains—where are we?” It felt as though the ship was still moving, though slowly.

Kris walked over to the curtains, drew them and headed back toward me.

“No…open the gauze curtain, too. I want to see where we are,” I said.

“The curtains are open. I’m going to take a shower,” she said.

I got out of bed and headed to the window. If you want a job done right, do it yourself… At the window, I fumbled for the curtain pull to open the gauze curtains, but felt only glass. In the distance, I heard the deep moan of the ship’s horn, and came to the realization that we were in thick fog. The illusion of looking through gauze curtains held as I stepped onto the verandah. Only then did the memory of the previous night’s experience come rushing back. As I stood there, I convinced myself that it couldn’t have been as bad as it seemed. Not possible…

You might think that it would be difficult to miss a 720-foot long ship, but with the fog thick enough to slice, even our floating city must have been invisible from ten feet away. I could not see the water below, but I assumed we must be entering—this sounds awkward—Bar Harbor harbor. The ship’s horn sounded every few seconds, and anyone hearing it would know something big was coming, visible or not.

Kris has a thing about showers. She likes them long and hot, and wonders why we can’t keep the paint in our bathroom from peeling off the wall in sheets. By the time I got my turn in the shower, the fog in the bathroom was as thick as it was outside. I usually try to go first and get out of the way, but I figured some time in a hot steamy environment would be good for my sinuses.

Kris was ready to roll by the time I started dressing. “The moms are up and ready,” she said. “Hurry up.”

“Why don’t you go on ahead?” I asked. “I want to go down and sign up for the writer’s seminar before it’s too late. I’ll meet you in the café.”

Kris departed, and I finished getting ready. The ship had stopped moving, and preparations for the tendering operation were underway. I had no idea how far from shore we were, but I could now just make out enough detail outside to determine that we were indeed still in the water…

Photo courtesy of Joe Fliegel

As I walked to the main desk, I noted how quiet the ship was. Very few people were out and about, and I felt somewhat smug that I would beat the rush to sign up for the seminar. It was scheduled for the card room, which limited attendance to about 75 people, in my estimation.

I approached the main desk, and the lone attendant seemed glad to finally have some company. “Good morning. I’d like to sign up for the writing workshop, please.”

“Certainly. One moment, please, sir.” The woman shuffled through a pile and produced a stack of notebook paper, stapled together in the upper left hand corner. She flipped through several pages before laying the stack on the counter. She handed me a pen and said, “Please write your name and cabin number in the next open space.”

I followed her instructions before flipping back through the pages. “Did all of these people sign up for the same seminar?”

“Yes sir.”

My name appeared near the bottom of page six, meaning at least 300 people had beaten me to it. I let out a deep sigh, and thanked the woman.

I went to the Lido Café after making a lap around the promenade. The view in very direction was the same—fog, fog and more fog. The extended forecast for the week had predicted some rain today, followed by a week of beautiful late-summer conditions, so I remained optimistic.

With a pastry and two cups of coffee, I circled the Lido so many times looking for Kris and the mothers that I got dizzy. I gave up and sat alone for the three minutes it took to finish my breakfast.

I found Kris and the moms in our cabin a few minutes later.

“We’re ready. Let’s go,” said Kris.

“Our tour doesn’t leave until 10:45,” I said. “We have almost two hours.”

“I know, but we can walk around town and do some shopping.”

“How many stores do you think will be open at 9 a.m. on a Sunday?” I asked, trying to inject some reason into the discussion.

“Enough to keep us busy,” answered Kris.

I obviously wasn’t going to prevail, so I hastily packed my day bag with the camera, umbrella and a supply of ibuprofen. We made our way forward and down to the tender loading platform, and waited only a few minutes to board. The ship completely disappeared from view seconds after we cast off, and the tender proceeded with the engines barely above idle speed. The tender’s operator didn’t even bother looking out the window—he navigated strictly by instruments and radar. I could see the little blips on the radar screen, and we were evidently passing through some very crowded waters. A crewmember stationed outside would periodically call out instructions that I couldn’t understand.

In about ten minutes, we arrived at the dock and disembarked. Although Kris and I had spent a week in Bar Harbor many years ago, the fog prevented me from getting my bearings and I was completely disoriented. It was not until we passed through the dockside building and out onto the streets of the town that I knew where we were.

Much to my surprise, almost every shop was already open for business—here I was, the sophisticated and experienced cruiser, proven wrong yet again. Kris and the moms immediately went into shopping mode, crawling through each shop at a snail’s pace. I tend to size up a shop quickly—all I have to do is step in the door, sniff the air and make a quick visual scan to decide if the place is of any interest. I waited patiently outside as the others examined the first two shops in minute detail.

As Kris emerged from the second shop, I caught her attention briefly. “Remember the antique store that had the amazing Maxfield Parrish prints?” I asked. I have collected the artist’s work since literally pulling a piece out of the trash at my great-grandmother’s house 32 years ago.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “Do you think you can find it?”

“I remember exactly where it was,” I said. “I’m going to check it out. I’ll just meet you all right in front of the dock building at about 10:30.”

“Have fun.”

Continued next post...

...Continued from previous post

Relieved to be on the move, I walked briskly up the hill toward the center of town before turning left down a little residential side street. The antique shop was still there, occupying the first floor of a small Victorian house. As luck would have it, the shop was closed. I peered into the windows, but did not see anything distinctive. Actually, I was relieved. Last time we were here, the shop had a print that was a big as a refrigerator and as expensive as a car—so stunning that I might not have been able to resist this time around.

I headed back in the general direction of the dock, walking slowly now to pass the time and stopping only to buy some decongestant tablets. The wet streets were actually crowded with people, a few of whom were beginning to look familiar. A family stood at the curb eating ice cream, the perfect breakfast on a cool, damp Sunday morning. I did run in to the ubiquitous Susan from the roll call party, and we exchanged greetings and observations about the trip so far. Susan reported that she’d been dancing to Beau Soleil until three in the morning in the Crow’s Nest, but I refrained from telling her about what I’d been doing during the same period.

I arrived at the dock building just as a steady rain started to fall, and sought refuge on the wide covered porch. Our bus was parked out front, and the guide stood under an umbrella holding a sign that read “Jordon Pond.” The minutes ticked by, and waves of people marked the arrival of each new tender. A few people were already returning for a ride back to the ship, apparently giving up on the prospect for a day on “dry” land.

I spotted Kris and the mothers strolling down the hill, laden with bags and talking up a storm. I timed my departure from the covered porch so that I met up with them at the corner by the bus.

“Looks like you managed to find something to buy,” I observed.

“And you didn’t,” said Kris.

“Just as well,” I said. “Ready?”

“We’d like to use a restroom,” said Pat. “Is there one over there?” she asked, pointing to the dockside building.

“I’m sure there’s one on the bus,” I said.

“We want a real restroom,” said Kris.

“Here—take your tickets, and I’ll wait on the bus,” I said. “Hurry up. You have eight minutes.”

As I boarded the bus, the guide handed me a map of Acadia National Park. I sat and studied it while I waited. A young couple with a tiny baby sat in the seat opposite mine, and they were apparently traveling with an elderly woman who was sitting alone in front of them. The woman, who I imagined was the baby’s great-grandmother, was tiny and frail looking, but the wisdom in her eyes was unmistakable. She smiled at the baby’s sounds.

Kris and Pat climbed aboard the bus a couple of minutes later.

“Success?” I asked.

“No, the line was too long. We’ll just wait,” said Kris.

I didn’t bother to ask the obvious question. Instead, I looked out the window at people walking through the rain…

Thanks for not keeping us waiting a week for this chapter. Good to know that you survived the night.

Thank you, thank you, thank you - TWO chapters today! I rescind your "Grinch" award nomination.

I hope your eye/nose problem is fully cured by now and you and yours enjoy a happy, healthy, prosperous 2006.:)

Whew... What a relief!

Was that really "just" a sinus headache?

At any rate, I'm glad to hear that you cured yourself and were able to continue enjoying your cruise. As always, keep up the good work!

Chester, Hoping to hear that it was just a sinus headache but something tells me there could be more info. I would love to see part XVI as a New Years Day Treat. Thanks so much

Your story is wonderful and like all the others, I can't wait for the next chapter.

I also hope your malady was a sinus headache that you recovered from quickly but somehow I think there is more to hear about your condition.

Krazy Kruisers, I survive to this day – no matter what happens, remember that…

jjones, I’ll take you up on the offer for the new year. I’ve already framed the Grinch award – can I keep it?

Host Doug – 1) I agree. 2) No. 3) Who said that? 4) I will try.

Lisa and sail7seas, something tells me you’re right. I’d love to finish XVI today, and I’m trying.

Happy New Year to all,

chesterh

Of course you can keep the award if you want it.:D

I'm trying to get your book - is Amazon the only source?

Sorry Bar Harbor was misty/foggy - it was that way when I went, also, couldn't see a thing from Cadillac Mountain, but I loved it anyway - one of my favorite ports. Hope the rest of the trip had better weather for you all. Still anxious about your sinus condition - I know what those are like and sympathize completely. Hope you're all better now.

Chester,

1. And relief is good, even if temporary.

2. Thought not.

3. You implied it. And I never said the cure was permanent or the enjoyment indefinite.

4. You can do it :) .

I really like this numbered-reply thing; cuts down on those pesky "quotes" :) !

Doug

I really like this numbered-reply thing; cuts down on those pesky "quotes" :) !Doug

Yeah, but it really gives the old scroll bar a workout :eek:

Looking forward to XVI, to find out if it was just a doozy of a sinus headache or something more.:)

jjones, great - I cherish the award. The information you seek is on my homepage. Hope you can get back to Bar Harbor some day - it should definitely be seen without fog.

TidePrideGA, may I suggest a mouse with a scroll wheel if you don't already have one? Marvelous invention - makes scrolling fun again...

Janice, it looks like I'll get through XVI without any new developments on that front. After that, though...

All the best,

chesterh

I finally got my Amazon order processed, the book should arrive next week. Reading is my biggest vice, so I look forward to receiving it. I hope to see a new chapter on the board soon.

Hi C...

I have been "lurking" all over the message boards in the last year or so, but completely missed seeing your postings. (Been reading the postings for European River Boat cruises, my new favorite vacation.) For some reason you came to mind when I got thinking about our cruises with "X" so I did a search of your name and found to my amazement you are so addicted you are now completing a travelogue for your 4th cruise. Congratulations! The bad news for me is I'm addicted to reading your great travelogues and since finding them a few nights ago I've been reading till 1AM trying to catch up. I'm really anxious to hear about the diagnosis for your eye.....please don't let us hang much longer. Until your new postings I had never heard of "A Prairie Home Companion with Garrison Keillor". Tonight I got out the TV schedule and there on PBS was a show for their 30th anniversary broadcast. Watched and really enjoyed the show. Can't wait to hear more about their entertainment on the cruise. Keep the installments coming, please.

A fan from THE CRUISE that started it all,

Lobster Lover

jjones, thanks - I'll keep my fingers crossed...

Lobsterlover! It's been ages. Haven't seen you since Belize, perhaps. I caught the first half of the 30th anniversary show the other night - hope to catch the rest some day. Sorry to keep you up so late, but you must be caught up by now and you'll have to endure the torture caused by my "laziness," like everyone else. You might have gathered that THE CRUISE is now in print - an interesting experience in itself, and one that I'll write about some day. Anyway, good to see you again.

All the best,

chesterh