Advection moves the winds east across the country and up from the south. Some fizzle out, others intensify. The Bigelow Ridge winds suck in the rains that push me farther south, through Rangeley, and onto Old Speck. From there, convergence of the prevailing winds blow me back over to the coast to catch up with weather goddesses old and new. Protected ocean bays wrap us in sunny robes, woo joo emanating from under our hoods.
I reconnect with N., now out of the mountains and having just scooted herself out from under the moving front. Along with her husband and daughter, we dance along the sun's rays, and shine, as the wind slows into a breeze. The ripped seams of my hiking shorts are sewn, kitchen design thoughts are tossed into the air, and we immerse ourselves in viewing the Scottish Highland Games, young lasses stepping in competition, Celtic harps strumming, bagpipe bands blaring, and fiddle music flailing. And the sun curls in on itself over the sea, diffracting, to bend and unfold cloud woo joo over our heads.
This is what we do. This is what we are. We lift our hearts to hold hands with the rays of light that sling kisses between earth and moon. We invoke the wind to cool the heat of our souls. We halo ourselves with dew drops and mist, and wash our hair in the summer rain.
Return to the Soul
with the Help of a Hiking Pole
Clipper Merchant Tea House
Originally located in Limerick, Maine, new owner and tea mistress Melinda Thomas has relocated The Clipper Merchant Tea House to the historic William Perry House in Bridgton, 37 minutes from Conway, NH and about an hour from Portland and the Maine coast.
Nested behind a formal herb garden, this tea house invites the visitor to relax for tea and scones in one of the cozy sitting rooms or in the outdoor gazebo.
The Sitting Rooms
G. and I sit at a small table for two near a bay window filled with vased flowers, flowing curtains and sunshine. Antique squirrel salt and pepper shakers sit behind napkins folded into roses, and clipper ships beam up from the placemats. Original antique floral wallpaper backdrops the delicate teacups and pots that layer the wall shelves which underline photos of Queen Elizabeth, clipper ship paintings, and sketches of fox hunting tea breaks.
Bookshelves cradle old books by British authors and one of poetry written by Melinda herself.
Our tea hostess pops out of the kitchen to offer the ladies period hats to wear for the occasion and personally recommend complementary teas to go with the courses of our Tower of London High Tea experience. The ribbon wrapping my lunch chapeau drapes along my long hair and down my back as we flip page after page in the Tea Registry.
The Tower of London journeys us through three different teas in response to the four courses of a traditional British High Tea. Starting with Lavender lemonade, we are then brought bowls of chilled berry soup, and our first pot of tea. Melinda has suggested the Jane Austen Tea, a Ceylon tea infused with mallow and rose flowers, and cherry, to go with our course #2: tea sandwiches of smoked salmon, turkey, cucumber, pear and blue cheese. In no rush, we savor each sandwich and slowly sip our tea until the pot is empty.
Our waitress brings our second pot of tea, and explains the tea timer for steeping a black tea, rather than green or white. We've chosen the Pirate's Bounty with it's buttery rum afterglow to accent course #3: scones with lemon curd and clotted cream.
Serenaded by a classical music soundtrack, time stills into hours of ritual and conversation as we hold the buttery tea on our tongues.
When ready, we ring a small bell to alert our waitress that we are ready to move into the next course. Melinda has recommended an Oolong tea, a combination of black and green teas for its digestive qualities. Once our tea has steeped, we fill our cups and enjoy our last course: a bevy of sweets consisting of chocolate finger delights, meringues, cream cups and fresh fruit.
But don't spoil the atmosphere with cell phone conversations. Melinda tells us that she only once so far had to ask someone to continue a call inside the stuffy imported bright red London Phone booth.
Before leaving, sated, we stopped to peruse other teas at the Aroma Bar where we could buy some offerings to bring home. We are also tempted by the British biscuits and treats that can also be purchased at the cash register.
Upon leaving, G. states, "I feel as if we blended into the atmosphere of the room as if actually sitting in a formal British Tea room. I had a concern that the experience might be too formal and stodgy, but the structure provided the freedom of non-agenda, and I was able to slow down and enjoy our conversation. From the delicate fragility of the fine china, I felt as if I was being led through a painting invited by the artist—a tea and food journey. I was surprised that over three hours had gone by without ever feeling rushed."
I couldn't agree more!
If arriving for "Elevenses" late morning, lighter fare of scones or sandwiches and tea can be ordered if the Tower of London feels like too much. Even though, traditionally, High Tea is ordered in the afternoon, Melinda is thrilled to offer the experience any time she is open.
"I want this to be a total British tea experience," says Melinda to her tea guests.
Using it Up Fully:The Story of Pete
Once I drop off G. at the airport in Manchester, I head back to the White Mountains for smaller hikes and writing sessions. My NH 52 with a View list offers perfect morning hikes, leaving plenty of daytime for writing. Today I get an early start up Pemigewasset Mountain in Franconia Notch, a 3 mile round trip with supposedly excellent open granite ledge views. Also known as Indian Head, the rock outcropping can be seen up to the left while driving up I 93 through the Notch.
About halfway up the trail, I hear Pete coming up behind me, and he stops to drink. We throw out common small talk. Then, we hike the rest of the trail together and tell our stories.
"I heard the voice three times. The first time, I almost died. The second time, it saved my life. And the third, it transformed my life," he tells me as we climb over small boulders and tree roots.
Then he retired early. Now, at 64, wiry and fit, he teaches rock climbing four days a week, part time, to both kids and adults, at a Y south of Boston.
"It started with hiking, backpacking, biking, then climbing, ice climbing, skiing, winter hiking and camping. The ice climbing is more addictive than cocaine," he says. "I can tell I'm slowing down, though. I started using hiking poles three years ago for my knees."
"I have a friend from California who told me climbing is a sport for the young and strong," I respond. "I'm not sure that's always the case."
"Well, recently I went for a check up with my doctor and he asked if I get any exercise. I told him that the week before, I had biked five days, hiked three, worked out three, and climbed two."
The doctor then told Pete that he didn't actually need a doctor, but a psychiatrist. Pete laughs as he tells me this.
"There are plenty of climbing opportunities. They don't always need to be the hard vertical planes," he goes on. "I don't know what is on the other side of life, but I sure don't want to die with a fresh body. I want to die having fully used my body up."
I like this perspective, and add it into my other "mantras" for life living.
Don't die with a fresh body—fully use it up!
We reach the granite ledge and check out the views. Pete needs to drive back to Massachusetts before lots of traffic crowds the highways, so he turns to head back down the trail. We agree that somewhere in the Whites we just may cross a trail together again someday....while using up our bodies fully! I stay to soak in the sight, have a snack, and feel my body being used up.