Adrift in Maine
It’s surprisingly easy to feel like the main character when you’re in upstate Maine. The moment you arrive, the clouds part as if in welcome, revealing a bright, blue sky. Cows lazily grazing in the fields turn their heads to watch you pass, their curiosity almost palpable. In the distance, a deer leaps gracefully across the road, its presence fleeting yet enchanting. The locals wave with warm, familiar smiles, as though you’ve been part of their lives forever. That’s how it felt for me, anyway.
Hakim had booked us an Airbnb in New Portland, Maine, to celebrate our 4-year anniversary weekend. I had no idea what to expect, and the pictures on the listing barely hinted at the beauty of this place. It was the largest Airbnb we had ever stayed in, with rustic wooden walls and ceilings that gave it a cozy, inviting feel. There was a spacious patio, a grill, and a fire pit in the backyard. But the best part? The cabin stood just a few feet away from the stunning Gilman Pond.
On our first night overlooking the water, everything seemed to fall perfectly into place. The moon cast a shimmering glow over the pond, the stars twinkled approvingly at our romantic endeavors, and the air was as pure and refreshing as a first breath. And the temperatures? What a blessing it was to escape the smoldering heat that awaited us back in Boston! In Maine, it stayed a perfect 65-80 degrees the entire weekend. It was pure bliss.
We decided to start the first full day by kayaking on the pond. The water seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon in one direction, quite daunting actually, so we chose to explore the other way. I wish I could tell you it was a delightful experience, paddling on the pond with my lover. But in reality, it was a bit closer to that of nightmares. Let me explain.
The kayak I chose had a drainage hole at the tip of the stern (yes, I had to look that up). Unfortunately, the drainage hole wasn’t plugged. To make matters worse, the once still, glassy water had transformed into a choppy mess, with small waves slapping against the sides of the kayak. Paddling behind Hakim, I managed to keep my cool for the first 30-45 minutes. The dip and pull of my paddle felt almost soothing, despite the growing unease.
I was still afloat, but something instinctively told me not to lean back too far. Each time the stern dipped into the water, I felt a slight shift that started controlled fires in my mind. It was an uneasy feeling, like walking on a tightrope without a safety net. The kayak felt less and less stable, wobbling with each passing wave. Mind you, I knew nothing about the drainage hole at this point—I just didn’t feel secure. The water sloshing around my feet only added to my growing anxiety, as if the pond itself was conspiring against my fragile sense of calm.
But then, I caught a glimpse of Hakim’s face. His big eyes were shining brightly with joy, his head held high, and his arms moving in a practiced, rhythmic dance, slicing the paddle through the water with effortless grace. He was in his element, his laughter carried by the breeze as he reveled in the freedom of the open water. It was as if the pond itself recognized his joy, the waters parting just for him, guiding his kayak smoothly over the surface.
Watching him, I felt a surge of warmth and contentment. The worries about my own kayak faded into the background as I focused on Hakim’s radiant expression. He looked so carefree, so alive, that it was impossible not to share in his happiness. For a moment, I thought, "I could do this forever." The scene felt almost magical, like a perfect moment suspended in time.
But that serene moment shattered as the water inside my kayak claimed both my legs. The precarious balance I had maintained was gone in an instant. Panic surged through me as water continued to seep into the kayak, the once manageable waves now feeling like relentless foes. My heart raced, and the earlier feeling of security vanished, replaced by a desperate need to stay afloat.
At this point, Hakim had already attached his kayak to mine via rope because I couldn’t keep up with him. Our goal was to make it to the other side of the pond, where we had spotted a lone slide that beckoned to Hakim with its humble glow. The slide seemed almost magical, a tiny beacon of fun and adventure amidst the tranquility of the pond.
“Babe?” I said weakly, my voice trembling with unease, “something’s wrong.”
Hakim turned to look behind him, his carefree expression transforming into one of alarm as he saw my predicament. My kayak was filled with water up to my waist, the bow pointed skyward, and the stern fully submerged.
“Babe!” he shouted, more excited than afraid, “you weren’t going to tell me that you were sinking??”
All I could manage was a weak noise in reply, my voice lost in the overwhelming sense of panic. Instantly, Hakim shifted into superhero mode, paddling at what seemed like the speed of light toward the closest shore. His movements were a blur of determination and urgency, every stroke propelling us closer to land.
Meanwhile, I fumbled to retrieve my phone from my safety vest, gripping it tightly as I prepared to literally jump ship. The kayak wobbled precariously beneath me, and I knew I had no choice but to abandon it. My whole body was shaking ferociously, as if I had forgotten how to swim. With a deep breath, I plunged into the water, the cold shock momentarily paralyzing me.
I lightly held on to the overturned kayak, feeling its rough surface under my fingertips, as Hakim continued to paddle with all his might. The shore drew closer, the rocks and the beckoning slide coming into clearer view. Inch by inch, we made our way to safety, my heart pounding in sync with the splashes of Hakim's paddle. Finally, we reached the shore, mere inches away from the slide, and I let out a sigh of relief, my body trembling from the adrenaline and the cold.
“We made it,” I congratulated us, before we both erupted into laughter, the tension of the ordeal melting away.
Long story short, we never even got to use the slide. It was private property anyway. After a brief rest, Hakim found the drainage hole, cleared the kayak of water, and plugged it up. He insisted I use his kayak for the long trip back to the other side of the pond.
I have to say, the return journey was a lot more enjoyable. The waters conveniently found their stillness again. Hakim recited the words to his latest rap songs, his voice a soothing melody against the backdrop of nature. I sat back in silence, feeling the gentle tug of his kayak still attached to mine. My real-life superhero.
In that moment, I realized something profound. The main character never dies; she always gets saved. And here I was, the main character of my own story, rescued by the one person who made every adventure worthwhile. The clouds had cleared, the world seemed to align just for us, and the tranquility of the pond mirrored the peace I began to feel inside.
As we glided back to our starting point, I couldn't help but smile, knowing that no matter the challenges, I would always find my way through with Hakim by my side. After all, that’s what being the main character is all about—facing the odds, embracing the adventure, and finding your hero along the way.
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We saw a team of pigs that were actually pretty cute.
A bald eagle flew overhead as we finished our meditation on the shallow end of the town’s dam.
In that same time span, we came across a coyote carcass. Hakim tried to snag a tooth, but it was still tight and gross. Cannot make that up.
We saw the same deer twice (I’m convinced it was the same deer anyway).
Hakim was on his Top Chef type of time; he was on the grill all weekend. He made shish kebabs, pizzas, corn on the cob, and hot dogs.
The very last night, we got the fire pit going, made s'mores, and even cooked the burgers once the fire sizzled low enough.
We went biking and saw a crane that Hakim convinced himself was a “dino bird.”
Hakim drove the WHOLE time, 3 hours there and 3+ hours back. My real-life hero, FOR REAL.
