Any number of kind ol' friends asked when then they heard that I was retiring what I was going to do with myself.  "You're so young” They clearly were just being kind but the illusion was easier to keep that way.  I certainly didn't see myself as being too old for anything.  With the proper physical therapy my foot and knee and shoulder and weight would all come around and I would feel just like I was a kid again.  But I'm not going to delude myself.  Nope, I'm going to be honest with myself in all things starting now.  Truth be told, my image of myself may have been a shade  bit mile off.

 We are at Aroostook State Park in northern Maine.  Beyond this point they don’t name places.  They just have them numbered.  It is up there.  The population is measured in sq. miles per person. The locals take to conversation like they haven’t had anybody to talk to in years.  The guys I talked to were like me, middle aged, mature, old guys.  Well, they seemed old to my eyes.  Stan appeared at LEAST as old as I.  This baker from Presque isle kayaked ashore and hung around to give me the benefit of his experience on fishing this lake.  This is the lake in which over that past two days I caught a bunch  a little nothing.  Stan goes on about how he is no fly fisherman but he and his brother, or brother-in-law or father-in-law (maybe it was all the same guy, huh?) catch fish here all the time.  Big, 14 inch brown trout.  Stan, who "in one day caught 5 brownies in 'bout 2 minutes in that thaya cove right ov'a thaya", is my new best friend.  I tell Stan about all the bluefish I'm always catching in Cape Cod Bay every time  some of the time once in a while.  Meanwhile, the only action on the lake is the mosquitoes sitting on my fly causing it to sink.  They have to sit on my fly for the rest because they are so glutted with my blood they can't hold themselves up in the air any more. 

 Stan lets me know that he is still too young to think about retiring.  Hell, I think, he has to be about my age and I have been thinking about retiring for about 5 years.  Then it dawns on me.  MY GOD, he thinks he is way younger than me.  Can't he see what great shape I’m in   good shape I'm in getting into shape I wish I were in?  And he didn't say anything about me being too young to retire like all my friends do.  So I work into the conversation how I took EARLY retirement and how I haven't caught many fish because of all the hiking and biking and such young and strenuous things I have been doing.  Stan keeps to the subject and tells me about how he and his brother caught a pail of rainbows using that royal coachman.  "Beat the hell outta thet fly in 'bout 15 minutes". 

 Stan and I catch a beautiful sunset over Echo Lake.  And that was all we caught. 

Today Nancy and I are at Fundy National Park, New Brunswick.  Buddy and I are going for a hike.  We start down the trail and this middle aged, mature, old guy starts out behind us.  In a few paces he is on our heels, so I let him pass.  He’s pretty frisky for an old guy, I think to myself.  "I keep a pretty brisk pace", he announces as part of his greeting.  Like, what kind of pace does he think I will keep?  I have been hiking for years months weeks now and I'm in great shape getting into good shape finally getting off my duff.  I'll show him a pace.

Well, after Buddy tripped him up a few times I managed to catch up and we got to talking.  Richard the maintenance supervisor lives in Moncton, New Brunswick and has done a lot of hiking.  Really nice guy.  So we talk and walk and exchange views about how everything is getting really built up and busy and how he is going to have to start thinking about retirement one of these days.  With just a touch of condescension he says,”Is this pace too fast for you?”  (Hmmm.  He thinks I'm OLDER than he.)

 "Nope!  This is perfect.  I've been doing a lot of hiking some hiking a little hiking this week so I feel great good OK challenged."  As we head up a cliff mountain hill, I start huffing and puffing so hard I think I'm going to blow this little, old Canuk right over the cliff.  Then, by the grace of God, he stops to catch his breath.  "Must be getting old", he suggests. 

 "Naw, this is a really challenging trail", I announce authoritatively.  "It's rated 'difficult' in the trail guide."  One thing for sure, it was not going to be any sign of getting old and certainly not being older than Richard.  "Besides, I would like could use need a break too."

 It turns out that Richard 'the younger' is getting picked up by his wife at the bottom.  I get to declare my intention, with just a touch of condescension, to hike back up.  "So I'm the older guy, huh?", I think, feeling just a bit quite superior. 

 Well, two hours later Buddy and I are into the trek back up to the campground.  I'm really starting to drag my butt and the mosquitoes are now faster than me.  This is annoying the hell out of Buddy who HATES bugs.  I try to raise Nancy on the walkie-talkie to beg for a ride home.  No luck.  Pride is gone.  Energy is gone.  I want my camper and a cold beer.

 Finally, eight miles and six hours later I slog into camp.  I search for the sense of accomplishment at having pushed myself physically this day.  Truth be told, it just felt a lot more like I was getting old. 

 But tomorrow I want to go see these waterfalls I read about.  They are just a little further than I went today and I conquered  barely survived that distance today.  Didn't I?