Looking at a picture of the Eagle Harbor lighthouse hanging on my wall, I remember walking the rocks in front of George's house over toward Raley's dock. There is/was a great cover of lilac bushes to hide in. I can not recall who I was with, but I know I wasn't alone. The walks would always be with the idea we would have enough guts to make it to the dock, over the dock, through the hotel front yard and around to the lighthouse.
These ideas always festered during the mail pick up at 1:00., while standing in line outside the door. The plan would be to take the mail home, tell Mom your going to the beach, hang out near the merri-go-round for a bit, wander to the beach, kick some rocks, and slowly slide over to the rocks. If the water was to high you'd have to go back up to the road and walk to the bushes, head down, kickin' rocks, not in any hurry, just like you were blending into the landscape. Just before making the break for the lilac bushes, doin' the old heads up...looking to see if anybody could see you...and dive...right in to the cover of the green.
I seem to remember there was a pack of cigs hidden there somewhere. As I recall, the matches left from the last use were usually to damp to use. Anyway, sometimes I'd be the first one there, sometimes the other person would be there waiting for me. If one of us had been thinking, we would remember to bring matches that were dry. We'd light up, puff like chimneys and practice our smoke rings. We'd hatch the day's plan for the lighthouse.
Putting out the butts, and making sure the remainder were hidden from view, the adventure would begin. One would take the lead...inching every so carefully, so not to be seen. The rocks would be sharp under our blackend bare feet as we traversed the path to our destiny. Quiet, without a word, the one in front would turn, with that look of I can't go on, we're to close, we're gonna get caught, turn tail and run!
Back at the lilac bush, fresh butts aglo, the conversation came around to what makes the leader back off...someone was walking down the road...a boat went by, the wind blew, a black fly landed on my arm. Sometimes we would make it out to the dock...sometimes we would venture past the dock....never did we dare go in front of the hotel. Even when we'd swim out to the rocks, we always approached them from the other side of the hotel. That was a piece of land that was sacred...
A few years ago...very late in the year...I parked the car close to Been's. Hat, jacket, scarf, and mittened hands, I lit a butt I had bummed from someone at the Inn, and began my adventure...each step flooding my mind with memories. I snuck quietly along, then I'd laugh out loud, thinking how child like I was, shrug my shoulders and continue. I made the loop, past the dock, over the sacred ground, through the bushes to the lighthouse, grumbling because the travel wasn't easy. I did the circle tour of the lighthouse and back down to the car.
Satisfied, I had accomplished some great adventure or life long dream, I turned on some EH music in the car and took the long ride back to reality.
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