Last Saturday about twenty or so of us Portlanders migrated north to an island in Harpswell called Bailey Island. Darcy was born and raised there, and her parents were gracious enough to let us invade their house, drink beer and eat lobster. It was great to get out of town for a day, and on the overcast but scenic drive over, Darcy explains that she would like to beat her skinny dipping record- most times skinny dipped in one summer. I had never taken that plunge, partially because I'd never had the chance, partially because I'm modest.
Well, a little liquid courage goes a long way. We'd been drinking, eating, playing croquet, earning weird nicknames from Darcy's nephew (you can call me, Slippery Pete.) Although it was unclear whose idea it was to head over to Land's End, which is iterally the beach at the end of the main road on the island, I took the lead once we got there. I'd say it was somewhere around 70 degrees that night, and normally, in daylight, I really only like to swim when it's almost eighty. Hot. But I took off my Chucks, my socks, my jeans, my shirt and finally my underwear until I was down to my birthday suit and ran into the water. Five of the twenty people I was with also went in, while everyone else, including one of my old boyfriends, stood on the beach with their beers and watched us get nekkid. The water was cold, but like a good Mainer should, I sucked it up until my body adjusted and it was fine.
It would've been the perfect first skinny dipping experience, with friends, under the moonlight... if the police hadn't shown up with their industrial strength FLASH LIGHTS, pointed them on us AND LINGERED.
Here is a pitcture I found on Google Maps of Land's End:
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