Summer Solstice: Karmic Payback

There's a reason we tolerate Maine winters.
Maine summers.

The solstice on Tuesday was absolute perfection. At 6 pm we thought, "How we can best take advantage of this?" We hopped in the car and headed to...

It's in Georgetown.
You go through Bath, where they build the wicked big ships, and take a right.
Go all the way to end.

You can enjoy the view.
And you can eat.

The lobster roll was just the way I like it - no mayo, toasted bun. The onion rings were the best I've had in a long time. Shatteringly crisp in a salt-and-pepper batter.
The fried clams were as fresh as possible, with big fat bellies. The tartar sauce was homemade.
Someone was eyeing our food jealously, hoping we might be distracted for a moment so he could swoop in.

No such luck.

As we were getting ready to leave, one of the lobsterman said,"If you stick around a little longer, one of the fishermen will be coming in with a big tuna haul. There'll be a big crowd coming down to the dock to see it."
(In Georgetown, a big crowd = 20 people.)
How could we possibly leave now?

We hung around a bit, enjoying the sunset, feeling the excitement build.

It wasn't too long before locals began to gather at the dock and  the fishing boat
arrived to quiet applause.

A round-cheeked young man standing next to me proudly stated the captain was his dad. I asked if it was unusual to catch so many large tuna at once.
He said that last year his father caught three the entire summer.
Today, the first day of summer, he was coming in with four.

That one on the left was about seven feet long and close to 1000 pounds.

See this long bowsprit?

This is where the captain stands and throws the harpoon at the tuna.
That's right. He throws it. With his bare hands.


That man deserves a clam dinner and a beer. Or two.

We were told that the sale of those tuna to Japanese buyers would keep the family financially secure for the coming year.
How's that for a happy ending?
We said our congratulations and headed out to our happy ending.

To The Gelato Fiasco in Brunswick, for a cone of straciatella and bacio.

I'd call this pretty much the perfect Maine evening.
Karmic payback for the long, harsh winter.
I'll take the trade-off.