Last Wednesday, we took the Cranberry Cove ferry to Islesford, aka Little Cranberry Island. There were two other passengers on board so, of course, we got to know each other. They were an outdoorsy-looking, white-haired couple in their 60s. After they told us how to find a house to rent in Venice for my husband's upcoming sabbatical, they told us they were going skinny-dipping on one of the beaches at Great Cranberry Island.
Cars can travel at 15 mph on the island roads; many people prefer to bike or use golf carts. We went for a walk. We expected to find the post office. We'd visited it before; it was housed in a general store that sold good sandwiches and cookies. Alas, we discovered that both the post office and store are gone. But there are other attractions on the island.
Lots of lobstermen around on Islesford, with a variety of trap styles in different states of repair or decay.
More traps sprouting amid the wildflowers.
Miniature golf was set up on the big front lawn of a house.
It was a rather ramshackle affair, but with unmistakable enthusiasm and creativity.
For miniature golf, it was heavy on puns and light on water features.
The puns continued into the garden.
A pebbly public beach.
The Congregational Church.
If I ever get my own garden, I want one of these.
One of the beautiful old oceanfront houses on the island.
A distant view of Acadia's mountains.
The island is small but it has pretty much everything you need,
especially if you need to get rid of snakes.