Light Show

Somehow, the moon and the sun look more beautiful to me over the ocean. I think it has to do with how the light plays on the water's surface. There is something magical about it. Today I took particular notice of the light and it's tricks. It was quite a show.

This morning when I arrived at the landing at 5 am it was still dark. All that shone ahead of my headlights driving down to the shore was a paper bag lantern with a candle still burning inside left over from a wedding party the night before. Truck headlights of other sternmen and captains lit up the parking lot as they, like myself, waited for their other halves to arrive. I recognized Cap's truck from the orange lights atop his cab. That's what I look for every morning. Luckily, no other fishermen has the same lights. It's Cap's trademark, just as each bell buoy has it's own unique light display to indicate which harbor it is guarding.

The sun was rising over the islands on our steam out. I watched the clouds on the horizon light afire with brilliant fuchsia

highlights. Next, the red orb broke the horizon. Then there was light. As the sun rose, a blinding golden pathway extended from its birthplace (in the east) to the boat where I stood, as if beckoning me to come closer. Gradually, it climbed higher and the path dissipated to dazzling diamonds playing on the water's surface. Cap put his sunglasses on so he could spot the buoys.

We steamed due south and the white buildings on shore picked up the sunlight, including my favorite landmarks: first New Harbor, then the cottages sprinkled on the hillside, and finally the famous Pemaquid Lighthouse. I watched buoys pass by us, their colors especially poignant in the rich morning radiance. Then there was a big splash in the distance! I pointed it out to Cap, in hopes that the fish would jump again. This time the shiny dorsal fin of a bluefin tuna reflected the sunlight.

I like this time of year, because it is still broad daylight when we return to the dock at the end of the day. Last winter we would fish until the very last rays of sunlight were cut off by the horizon. Cap would turn on the deck light so that I could see enough to organize and clean the boat. We did see some magnificent sunsets and moonrisings at the close of those cold, short days, but sometimes I was too tired to notice them. These days the light invigorates me and I am able to better appreciate it. I will indulge in the long summer days on the water while I still can.