Watching The Queen Mary II from Schoodic Point

By Annette P. King

HappyNews Citizen Journalist

At 5:10 a.am., we stop the car and look out to a coral and salmon streak bordering the expansive horizon there on Schoodic Point. Although daybreak will not be for another hour, already dozens of cars are filling the parking lot. A few elders seen walking along the road are zipped in parkers, while younger people in shorts, T-shirts and an occasional sweater, stand about and talk. All came to see the Queen Mary II due to sail by the point and dock in Frenchman Bay on the Bar Harbor side, at 7 a.am.

The chilly morning keeps us inside the car. Coffee-mugs are plentiful for the crowd is early, and they sip leisurely while strolling looking for the best places to view the Queen. She will emerge from somewhere out there in the darkness covering everything in sight. The air has a pre-morning briskness, but daybreak promises clear visibility.

The ship makes its first appearance from the darkest division in the direction of Halifax, Canada. It is miles away from us at 5:35 am. Its lights strung the length of every level of the 2,600-passenger cruse ship give the illusion of one solid yellow block moving forward so slowly, we question if it moves at all.

By 6 a.m., the horizon to our left a mass of hazy pink layers sends a glow high as the blue arch above our heads. A few crashing waves hit the ledge below the parking lot. The Queen Mary II enclosed in a fog- like-fringe continues to creep toward the mountain. She is straight ahead of us, and a gray morning light encloses the ship first.

There is a sense of peace, a world consisting of ledge, sky, light and people wishing like myself, to get a glimpse of luxury. It is easy to imagine the couple that sits on folding chairs eating breakfast off a white cloth close by are feeling the same. The photographers put up tripods and wait to capture the largest ship in the world on film passing Schoodic Point.

Now 6:15 and daylight covers the ship. We can see it quite well with binoculars. The light is strong enough for outlining my notebook. The ship turns in full broadside pointing directly toward Schoodic. Morning breaks, spreading its gray light on everything in sight. The yellow lights outlining the ship have disappeared. More lobster boats gather hovering about, pewrhap boat-owners who brought the family out for a closer view. The pink-sky to the west brightly outlines the entire fringe of the sea's black surface. Using binoculars, the Queen Mary looks strikingly beautiful.

Easily seen now and standing out in distinction is the ship's name painted in blue lettering, and all the windows and hundreds of canopies. What a lovely picture, like a postcard. How vast the ocean is measuring it by the largest liner ever built, so far out it could be a toy in a tub. Actually, the Queen appears to be no more than 3 inches long but in reality she is the size of four football fields.

Fifteen minutes left before arrival time, a combination of shadows and the bright sunlight surrounds the ship showing off its majesty as if in the center of some large stage. The thick mist and the haze lifts and I take a last look through the binoculars, The ship has grown huge, there are stacks of windows black edged. What looks like a smokestack painted in red someone close by said, is the ship's whistle. Highlighted in total sun now, the cruse- liner sparkles brightly. Its enormity is wild to behold.

For a moment, the sun flashes on all the windows facing Schoodic Point, it looks like lighting struck, then quickly the windows turn blank as before.

The Queen finishes its wide arch and in our first row spots, she expands further before our eyes. The lobster boats moving across the Bay are no bigger than gulls in comparison. The ship in slow motion moves toward its mooring in Frenchman Bay. The blue ocean unusually calm except for small waves breaking over the rocks, adds to a perfect morning for the arrival of this great ship.

It is 7 a.am. and the majestic Queen Mary II ship is right on time! The sun turns now and shins in our faces. In awe, we leave for breakfast at the Galley on Rte 1, dreaming of luxuries only imaginable—while the low morning sun of late September, blinds my sight a moment or two longer.

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