"Dennis, I have cancer and have just a few months left." This stunning statement came from my best friend George whom I've know for about 40 years. It was just a couple of weeks ago. We both love the outdoors and have had many backing experiences. We discovered the Maine Island Trail just two years ago and have had three trip to date.

In his final months, George said didn't want to travel the world or do something dramatic. "I just want to hang with my family and friends", but he did say that he wanted to see Stonington again. I got to work right away on our trip with my wife’s blessings.

I looked at the calendar to find us a date and summer solstice; the longest day of the year was an easy choice. We would do three days this time, giving us two nights, and the full "middle day" where we'd wake up and get to sleep again on the same island. Hell’s Half Acre was selected over last year’s awesome Russ Island campsite.

Following plenty of planning, as goes along with trips like this, we departed in my stuffed airplane for the Stonington airport. The weather proved unpredictable as is usual for this area during this time of year. Wide spread fog forced an instruments landing to Rockland with 300 foot ceilings at about 10:00am. Absolute minimums. The forecast was promising a lifting of the fog around noon. We waited patently but it just never happened. By 2:30pm, we decided that we could fly on instruments up to Bar Harbor and look for breaks in the clouds at Stonington, or perhaps a lifting of the fog in that general area. I really wanted to give this expedition our best shot before giving up and heading home. This trip was too important and we just can't turn around now.

We landed at Bar Harbor after overflying Stonington which was totally socked in for miles. After waiting an hour, we went back to overflew Stonington again hoping for a change. No change except that the fog was spreading as it does in the late afternoon. George was naturally very disappointed but we agreed we could at least spend the night in Bar Harbor and hope for a lifting in the morning. Not very promising but better than giving up. This was not the trip we had planned.

After our second and rather somber landing at Bar Harbor, George started to unpack the plane. I told him to just rest for a minute and dashed into the airport office. With a mischievous smile on my face, I returned to the plane. George recognized my expression and asked "OK, what are you up to?" "George, I've rented us a car. Stonington only an hour away. Let's go."

We had scored the last available car at the airport, a Lincoln Towncar, which swallowed all of our gear with room to spare. By the time we got to Old Quarry Campground, where we were renting our yaks, it was nearly sunset. We could make the paddle to Hells Half Acre but it was going to be dark soon and we still had to pack up our yaks. Captain Bill, of Old Quarry, simply said "I'll bring you out." Within minutes, Bill, George, and I, with the help with Buddy, a guide who operates out of Old Quarry, had loaded all our gear and both yaks onto the Nigh Duck and were off. The smile on George's face as we motored out was simply priceless. Capt Bill knew about George’s condition and enjoyed playing a pivotal role in today’s final outcome. All smiles aboard. Stubborn perseverance prevailed and we were indeed going to have our dinner and set up camp before the final days light was gone. We were psyched.

The arrival on Hells Half Acre was frankly, embarrassing. We, our gear, and kayaks were "delivered" to the island. Not our typical arrival but we accepted our circumstances and had to laugh at ourselves. Captain Bill gave a final wave and was off to the mainland. The quiet of the island and the realization that our plans were back on track began to settle in. Simple bliss. A scrumptious dinner, some fine wine, and the last remnants of light providing magical views were now our reality. The day's stressful effect fell away by the minute. The weather, still foggy, was decent enough to sleep out under the ... fog. It was great to wake up in the middle of the night and realize where we were. We had the full “middle” day ahead of us.

Our early rise on the foggy morning was delightful. Fresh ground coffee and breakfast charged us up. We set out to explore this magical area all day by kayak. Multiple Bald Eagle sightings including one drama that played out in front of us. A bald eagle persistently attacked a family of baby ducks on the water. The mother bravely tried to defend as the babies hid under water but eventually each had to rise to the surface. The eagle eventually brought a meal home to its fledging. It was rather sat to watch, but riveting. We resisted defending the ducks. Mom and her remaining 5 babies gathered and continued their day. We wondered why the eagle wasn’t going after fish, certainly a better meal. Must be the water is too cold for good fishing.

Lunch on Steve's was vivid. The fog had lifted and bright blue sky delivered smiles to our faces. The water was like glass and the view from the beach looked like the Caribbean. My buddy George was simply ... in the zone. A beaming smile, and a sparkle in his eye. He was frequently shaking his head wondering how we had pulled this off. Summer Solstice. The longest day here off Stonington. He was deep in the moment. No better prescription than this very magical environment.

We paddled without purpose for the remainder of the afternoon drawn to whatever tugged on us. We were spooked by a large splash behind us. Seal. Lots of bird activity this year. It must be because it’s early in the season and their raising their young. It seem much quieter in August. Frequent stops in the middle of nowhere just to gaze and savor. And frequent “yeah baby”.

We eventually zig zagged our way toward home, through the split at Coombs Island and back to Hells Half Acre. George was so satisfied with our solstice day. His face was glowing. We wandered the island immersed in our euphoria, enjoying the constant movement of the tide, the twists in the driftwood, the variety of wild flowers, and the intense beauty that surrounded us. It's so penetrating.

Buddy, the guide, had arrived with a couple here on Hells Half Acre. After Buddy established their camp, George met up with him and they chatted. I had wondered off but as I returned toward them, they were marching toward me with purpose. As it turns out, Buddy had grown up in our home town in Bedford, Ma. Buddy had actually flown with me many, many years ago. We went to high school together. We just didn't recognize each other after so many years. Mind blowing. We hugged. Old friends re-aquainted. Just then Capt Bill's Nigh Duck was approaching. It was time to spring my surprise on George.

I had told George I had a surprise for him. At one point while paddling, I had asked George what Champagne was served at his recent birthday party. He told me what it was and that it was his favorite. I had selected a surprise bottle of Champagne for this trip and had blindly brought along the exact same bottle for this evening. My “luck” was the result of selecting the most expensive bottle in my local wine store. His birthday dinner featured lobster and champange ... his favorite meal. George had guessed that I brought champagne and was rather proud that he had guessed it. I was also responsible for dinner this night as George was the chef last night.

A passenger on the Nigh Duck was loading the dingy. She had a fair amount of gear aboard and was rowing toward us. I asked George "what would be the best food to go with our champagne." "Lobster of course." "Well George, I couldn't bring lobster with us, so I'm having it delivered, and hear it comes now." George laughed. I am quite the joker, only this time, it wasn't a joke. A lobster bake was coming to us. Capt Bill had arranged everything. It took a few minutes for George for this fact to sink in. His jaw just kept dropping. And Buddy was getting a kick out of watching this scene unfold.

Buddy and I helped Bridgit unload. Her first act was to spread out a nice round red-checkered table cloth with nachos and salsa close behind. A sea urchin and flower center piece appeared. Nice touch. Then a most awesome potato salad and corn on the cob. Mmmm good. Then two beautiful lobsters were pulled from the pot and presented by Bridgit with a tub of butter. Did I mention Champagne? As the sun was working its way to the horizon, we were feasting on our best outdoor meal we had ever experienced. George was savoring this meal of meals. We were deep in the moment and the butter with the late afternoon sun shining on our faces.

It was all so unreal and so satisfying. The smile on George's face was contagious. My best friend got what he deserved today. Nothing but the best of the best for the best.

A beautiful sunset for the longest day of the year was the proper end to this day of days. We were intoxicated by todays events, the weather, new and old friends, and yes, the champagne.

We slept out again this night on a ledge near the water. I was awakened by George to catch a colorful sunrise to the east and moonshine to the west. Beautiful and serene. Following more java and breakfast, we meandered around in our yaks exploring new areas to the east. A final lunch on Hells Half Acre to savor and review our trip come true before we packed. We pointed our yaks just west of north and paddled into the fog, encompassed by it and cherished it. Old Quarry eventually peered through the mist and we were back in the USA. We delivered a heartfelt thank you to Captain Bill who contributed so much to our adventure. And to Buddy, bearhugs.

During our journey home, George seemed to had a renew attitude. He was relaxed, at ease and comforted. He said that had not felt this good in a very long time. And his best friend was very pleased to see this. We are convinced that Stonington has magical healing powers and George is already talking about one more trip … soon.

What an amazing and magical adventure for Dennis & George. Simply a story of a beautiful friendship. Thank you for sharing. I really want to get up to this area for a yak trip soon!!!