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Posted By:
Hal Brown
Date Posted:
Sep 8, 2004
Description:
And the marriage between the SeaRey and a Lake Buccaneer had started off great but now it seems the honeymoon was over. When they were courting, the Lake would slow fly along with the SeaRey or circle up ahead and let her catch-up but now that the relationship was sealed, such fussing was no longer warranted or wanted. We didn’t like holding them up anymore than they liked slow flying but the SeaRey pilot's 'flight plan' to follow to the other airplane was now a distant and fading set of wings on the horizon. So then, I and my sleeping co-pilot had to fly our little cement truck using the course line on the gps moving map and just plug along. No big deal but like I said, it wasn't making it fun for me.
Soon the Lake radioed back, 'Hey Bret there is this little lake over by the Kennebunkport TFR that looks wonderful. There's a little town on one end and some beaches and a bunch of little lake cottages nestled back in the trees', Steve was having a ball and when he gets like this everything thing he sees is described in Norman Rockwell type detail. They had spent the whole trip thus far zigzagging along our course line exploring lakes and neighborhoods and radioing back in great detail what sites they were taking in. This, while we were turding along in our pretty little dump truck and they still managing to stay at least ten miles ahead... bastards.
'I think we need to drop in there and do some looking around. You never know when we might find a good place to get a piece of pie'. I was in no mood for Steve's cheeriness or his course deviation but I was ready for a break so I agreed and woke up Alex. When we came up on the lake Steve and Robin had already beached the Lake Buccaneer were out walking around. Soon we were taxiing down a narrow inlet and were met with many waving hands and picture takers and friendly boaters. That always makes me feel better and Steve was right, this was nice place. Later we found out that this was Bow Lake.
On the beach, a cute little old lady appeared in a painters smock. She was glowing with excitement as she walked up to us with her camera. She introduced herself told us that in 1948 she had painted a picture of an old float plane that used to fly in here to bring fresh pies to a local diner. I didn't ask her directly but she acted like she had never seen a seaplane in here since then. She almost seemed teary-eyed as she snapped picture after picture. I think when she looked at us she saw a scene from her youth. I wish I had felt worthy of her attention. At the time, I just felt like a tired dumb kid with a heavy airplane. But that little community and her warm welcome was definitely refreshing... almost as refreshing as when I snuck a sleeping bag 2 chairs out of Streaker and into the Lake Buc. hehehe. Now, then I was smiling! Ok, I didn’t sneak anything. Steve welcomed the extra cargo… anything, I think to get me to stop whining.
We threaded through the buoys, cut off a sailboat on her leeward tack and took off in the cluttered and bumpy channel. Whether real or imagined, with chairs and sleeping bag gone from her cargo hold, Streaker did seem to have a little more spring in her step. The next stop would be lunch at Alton Bay on Lake Winnepaske in New Hampshire. It was about noon now and we were getting hungry.
Alton Bay was bustling with Labor Day weekend water sports. We talked about it as we circled because we really wanted to get some eats at the restaurant there but we all knew, there was no way to land there. We diverted to Laconia airport and resolved ourselves to walking down the highway for some fried chicken at the gas station. I love New Hampshire. It is so much like Tennessee. And another cool surprise was the guy walking up to us when we parked at some old hangers on the off side of the airport. He had a copy of Sport Pilot magazine in his hand and wanted to talk. I thought I had been paparazzied but that was just wishful thinking. He just wanted to talk about SeaReys. I had to point out that he was looking at the very SeaRey and Lake Buc that was featured in the article and that I myself was the author and that he was in fact looking at THE ‘Bret and Alex’. He said, “Oh wow, cool?” while I took the magazine out of his hand and thumbed-over to our picture. He tried to be impressed and then went right back to wanting to talk about how she flies and how much we like her. Its probably better that way, my ego would just go to afterburner with any hint of fame…anytime I get humbled it makes my wife happy, so at least I got that going for me.
All fat and greasy after our chicken dinner, we make a straight shot for the Androscoggin River. We got a jump on the Lake Buc. Last we saw Steve in Robin they were laying underneath pointing at something. I was in a better mood, but I still had no sympathy for the faster airplane.
The rest of the trip was good. Me and Streaker were still not fully in tune with each other but Alex was awake and excited about finding the island Steve and I had promised as a camping paradise. Now this “island” was as much an urban myth as it was a reality. I had encountered an island during my training at Twitchell’s a few months earlier that I thought would be a good camping spot and Steve and Robin had seen an island once in the same area on one of their excursions last year that stuck in their memory but none of us remembered exactly. Our conversations convinced us that we were talking about the same place but we didn’t know for sure if it was or even if in fact it was good for camping.
Date Taken:
Sep 8, 2004
Place Taken:
Owner:
File Name:
P1010013.jpg - Photo HTML
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Category:
21, Bret
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