Yeagle and his lady friend recently took an adventure together so Brian sent over an update…

“It just so happened that the time Ann and I planned to travel east through New England for ten days coincided with hurricane Irene beginning its path over land. Determined yet patient we waited out the storm one day not to get caught driving through the worst of it. We basically followed the storm northeast staying six hours behind the epicenter. Only once was our route blocked by a flooded roadway although we saw many on and off ramps along the highway that were submerged, luckily they weren’t the ones we needed. Some time was given to cities along the coast such as Mystic, Connecticut, Boston, Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and Portland, Maine. Boston exudes a vitality that now makes Pittsburgh feel more lethargic than before, sorry home, sorry me. I miss what exists in most east coast locales, a harmony pervading the melting pot. There are those who move apace, the slow and steady, ones who wend here and there, the static, yet all these ostensibly contentious tempos are consonant in exchange as living out each’s apt position. Our destination in Maine matched Boston’s composure yet no longer the expeditious sort. Tides travel the coast with regularity and patience and so live the denizens of this liminal land by sea.  Our arrival following hard upon that of Irene’s Acadia was virtually free of tourist traffic. We were able to camp twenty feet from the shore in Acadia where no overnight stays are permitted each night there. Only once was anything mentioned of our trespass. We happened upon a park custodian early the first morning completing his rounds emptying trash and cleaning the rest rooms nearby. All he delivered  was a friendly admonishment that we were hazarding wrath of the park ranger if found. His advice was appreciated but all other camp options would leave us even more conspicuous and if successful one night why not two? I think mostly by luck our recalcitrant motion to remain in that spot worked out beautifully without any further interference from the custodian or ranger. Along with park visitors the storm also cleared out the precipitation that has been so constant this season. Each morning Ann and I shared oats and coffee off the camp stove on my favorite coastal environment; Solid rock extends from the tree line to the water’s edge in a series of fissured flats, crags, and piled boulders ranging from Mini Cooper to a dump truck in size. At only a few areas where comparatively diminutive stones are smoothed by the throw and drag of the waves cobble beaches exist, seemingly the most invitinglength of local coastline. At low tide masses of oceanic verdure lay in a slick carpet deterring human passage but providing temporary refuge for crabs and other sea life temporarily having lost watery protection. We traversed much coastline taking in the smells, sounds, vistas and finding settings for photography, naps, reading and scavenging for artifacts to bring home or simply point out to each other. There was melancholy in our turning away from the craggy coast of Acadia and all the wonderful percepts it affords one in dialogue with its parts, we are both eager for reunion.” — Brian Yeagle