Slowly, very slowly, I’m recovering from vacation. (As the years pass, it seems the recovery process takes longer than it used to.)

Part of my problem is that I forget I’m getting older. My 57-year-old body reminds me, however, each and every time I press the envelope (the edges of which seem to be getting closer all the time!).

Last week I packed my Jeep with a couple of kayaks and a couple of bikes, picked up my brother Dan at Bangor International Airport and we headed to Milbridge to visit with our parents, Russ and Marie, and spend a week generally just kicking back and letting the world pass us by.

Right! Did I say kick back?

Dan, 53, has run marathons and other long-distance races up until last year. He hasn’t gotten the memo yet about throttling back a tad after reaching age 50-plus. He had to run in the Milbridge Days road race the day after landing. He’d rented a bicycle and was going to get his money’s worth out of it too before he headed back to Chicago so he rode the bike to the race.

I long ago drew the line at running – been there, did that, won’t do it again. But the lure of my bicycle is still there, even though it’s been more than a year since I last rode (a knee problem, age related). So late one afternoon early in the week I hopped aboard it in what I’ll call “The Great Quest for the Old Rum Runner’s Road.”

It was a spur of the moment thing. We didn’t take food (dinner was in an hour or so), water, a phone, a map, spare change (I did have a tire repair kit and a few bike tools…). We’d be right back, we told our parents.

Our initial foray took us a short way up the Wyman Road and then onto an overgrown, slimy, muddy road and into a wetland. We fed flying insects a healthy meal and I managed to take a header over the handlebars, but our quest was in vain. We emerged from the woods and headed a little farther up the main road.

There we headed into the woods again on another dirt road. This one was more promising and a lot less slimy, but the deeper into the woods we got and the lower the sun set, the more I wondered whether we would ever see civilization again.

Bear, moose and deer frequent this old road that rum runners used to escape from revenuers during Prohibition, I was told. In recent years there hasn’t much of a call for it.

As the sun got closer to the horizon I began to question my common sense. About that time, however, we came across a small dump, then a larger one and, lo and behold, an older gentleman and his old Dodge pickup.

Mud-covered and sweaty I slowed to a stop and asked him to avoid the obvious answer (you’re in the dump) and let us know where we might be. Turns out we were just off the Pigeon Hill Road – a little less than 10 miles (by paved road via Route 1) from our starting point. Rather than head back into the woods, we chose the pavement.

By the time I rolled into our driveway I was ready to sell my soul for a new bike seat. I think sitting on the seat post would have been more comfortable… I was through with bike riding for a few days. In the meantime, I walked with a Texas attitude and sat with respect.

I was a bit more successful on the water. One day Dan got the idea in his head of paddling from Cherryfield down the Narraguagus River to Milbridge, then on home. Actually, it turned out to be a good idea.

We timed our departure for high tide and had Dad drop us off so we wouldn’t have to retrieve my car. It happened that two other paddlers, John Schlegel and Jim Letourneau, both of Milbridge, who had arrived on the incoming tide, were near our launch site. So we hooked up and headed south for an enjoyable ride. Letourneau has a home on the river and since he was nursing a couple of broken ribs, he left the three of us to continue.

As we passed under the Route 1A bridge and headed to sea, Schlegel invited us to stop at his home on Fickett Point for a lunch break. A small, protected sandy beach next door provided an ideal landing spot. Schlegel and his wife, Leelee, have a beautiful home overlooking Narraguagus Bay and were more than happy to share it with us while we munched our sandwiches.

Another day Dan and I crossed the bay from Baldwin Head to Trafton Island, went to seaward around it and then on to Tommy Island to look for flotsam and jetsam. The search turned up an Eider duck decoy and some trashed lobster buoys – decoration for the fence next to our parents’ garage.

The stop cost me my Gerber knife, however. When I got back into my kayak I was getting my spray skirt re-arranged and knocked the knife off – kerplunk – into 10 or more feet of water. Not good, but I figured I’d paddle back out next morning at low tide and pick it up.

It wasn’t to be!

When I returned it was evident that even with gentle rollers washing the steep, small-stone beach there was no hope. Small stones were rattling in the wash. Nevertheless, I got out, pulled my boat up on the beach above the waves and searched. Next thing I knew a wave came up and slapped the stern of my plastic boat and set it in motion backward toward the water!

I was about 15 feet away at the time and took off on a run into the water because the boat was not stopping! I was up to mid-torso before I caught it. Visions of spending days marooned on the island flashed through my mind. Another second would have spelled definite embarrassment.

From now on I’ll carry a net bag (say a bait bag?) that I’ll use to fill with rocks and clip to my bow line when I go ashore. That’ll stop the boat if it begins a slide.

As for the knife, it’s a gonner. But the next one I have will be tethered to my life jacket just like everything else I carry on it. I think I’ll get one of those “zingers” I have on my fly fishing vest to tether small tools. That way I’ll be able to use the knife and hopefully not lose it.

I wound up my time away from work on Sunday with fellow paddler Dave Morrill of Orrington. He called looking to hit the water somewhere. About 40 minutes later I was in his door yard getting the once-over from his two llamas. We hit the road, tossed a coin and wound up in East Sullivan. Our course took us south past Treasure Island to Calf Island then southeasterly to Stave Island for a short rest and stretch. Then it was downwind to Jones Cove at West Gouldsboro. On the way we watched a few surf scoters bob around. As we rounded Hog Island we saw three eagles high on two pine trees.

An approaching storm front kept us on our toes and quickened our pace on the return leg around Hall Point. We got a little wet from some light rain, but the worst of it passed just to the east of us over Schoodic Mountain. We lucked out.

Ever wonder how much the sea kayak industry generates economically to the state each year?

The Department of Economics and Policy at the University of Maine recently released the results of a study of the industry done in conjunction with the Maine Association of Sea Kayak Guides and Instructors.

Their findings? The estimated total impact in Maine is $8.5 million.

Assistant Professor Todd Gabe and Tom Allen, associate scientist, analyzed surveys from nine of the state’s 22 sea kayak outfitters who are MASKGI members. The surveys were conducted online with the help of Maine Sea Grant in 2003.

The estimate includes the industry’s direct revenue, additional spending by customers and the new economic activity stimulated by that spending. Gabe and Allen calculated the latter figures with a standard computer model that estimates the ripple effects of direct sales within an economic sector, MASKGI’s press release said.

“The economic impact figure is a first step in estimating the impact of all sea kayaking activities in Maine. In the future, MASKGI plans to continue efforts to understand the industry’s impact by including non-guided trips, those led by other outfitters and related equipment purchases,” according to Paul Travis of Bangor, MASKGI president.

“We are trying to quantify the economic impact that the industry has on the coast of Maine,” says MASKGI founder and vice-president Dave Mention who worked with Gabe to develop the survey. “You can consider it to be just a kiosk on a dock or to be an integral part of Maine’s coastal tourism economy. Our best guess right now is that the industry is comparable to the schooner trade, but we don’t have the total numbers. This survey is just a first step,” he said in a press release.

The survey concludes that total employment in the industry is about 416 people with an annual payroll of $1.3 million. It also showed that about one quarter of sea kayak outfitter customers are from Maine. Most of the remainder came from other states, and about five percent come from other countries. A typical outfitter has been in business for 10 years, had revenues of about $205,000 and served 2,473 customers in 2003.

For more information about MASKGI contact Paul Travis, president, 478-8193 or e-mail him at ptravis@adelphia.net

Jeff Strout can be reached at 990-8202 or by e-mail at jstrout@bangordailynews.net.