Sunday morning and we debated whether to catch the 8:30 a.m. ferry or wait for the 11 a.m. In hindsight (and at the time to be fair) the better option was to get the earlier boat, but we couldn't be bothered. This time Amy stayed in bed and I took Martin down to the beach.
Once I got tired of the dog splashing in the water, I went back to the house, then went and fetched the car from the restaurant. (Fetching the car means walking about 6 minutes down the lane and across the town field to the restaurant, then a 40 second drive back.) We loaded up our stuff and hauled it right back to the dock.
At the restaurant we discussed the reception a little more with Dan & Cynthia (tablecloths, if you must know), then waited for our food. We waited a little bit more. Then we started checking our watches in a mild but still ridiculous anxiety that people from the mainland get when they're on the island: MUST. NOT. MISS. THE. FERRY. Dan has told us before that a surprising number of guests at the reception will take the first boat back solely because of this anxiety.
As it turns out we were more ridiculous than most. The whole time we were chatting nervously about the schedule, looking out the window, the ferry driver himself was sitting right next to me, having his breakfast. We got our check and rushed out. He strolled over about 5 minutes later.
We made it back safe and sound, of course, and exactly 12 hours after we boarded, we walked back into our apartment in New York. Yes, 12 hours, but we stopped at Amy's dad's house for more than an hour, and the traffic in Southern Maine coming back from the July 4th weekend was unusually dense. Nothing much happened except we realized we hadn't taken any photos together, so we fixed that. So concludes our planning trip to Maine! (Want more? Here are some more photos.)
