An annual event called the "Shark Scramble" involves a whole bunch of fishers from all over who go out for a day of shark fishing. The three largest are kept for a weigh-in and party, and prizes are awarded. The fins are sold to Japan and the meat is sold elsewhere and all proceeds go to the schools. I was talking to a group from one of the boats, and they let me take a photo of their sharks. This also turned out to be the boat that caught the largest ever, a 1082 pounder that this book was written about. Just about everybody on that whole dock said they had something to do with the landing of that monster. So I told the guys I had to get back to the boat, but they wouldn't let me go unless I took a whole pile of grilled lobster back to her. We ate some that night and Sally made a fabulous batch of lobster thermidore with the rest. I already miss Nova Scotia.
Today we're on a mooring ball in Northeast Harbor, just down the road from Bar Harbor, where we went yesterday. There's a free bus that takes people all over on Mount Desert Island. Bar Harbor was a bit much after Nova Scotia; I don't think we need to go there again. I have never seen so many beautiful boats packed into such a small area in my life. I dinghied all over the bay last night checking them out; I was in heaven.
Today we are off to East Belfast, where we will park "Adirondack" on a mooring while we go visit the boys and Sally's dad in East Middlebury and Indian Lake until Labor Day. I'm not sure just where I got this offer of a free mooring ball from this guy, but we are taking him up on it. Wes is going to stay behind and keep an eye on the boat. He says he doesn't like mountains. Capt. Jeff
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