This is the first of hopefully several installments related to our recent trip to Maine. This one is an overview piece that I wrote after driving 800 miles over 13.5 hours. I apologize if it may be a bit rough in spots. More writing, pictures and video to come.
I just arrived in Roanoke after travelling exactly 800 miles between Portland, Maine and my house. With VT looming for my son on Saturday and school starting for me tomorrow, we had a very limited window of opportunity for our working trip.
My wife, son and his girlfriend had driven to Maine by various means to help some friends of ours, two teachers who worked with us back in the early 90's and eventually married, move to their new home. I rode shotgun in a wobbly U-Haul truck as my friend drove the whole way. My son and the girlfriend followed in our mini-van, and my wife and rest of the girls came later in the day with their two young girls (2 and 5). For the moving group, we left with the van on Saturday at 1:30pm after loading it the night before. We drove straight through to Scarborough (near Portland) and arrived around 4:30 in the morning (15 hours). We unpacked the huge solidly packed van after sleeping a couple of hours and finished that task by 6pm on Sunday. My wife and the family drove on Saturday afternoon and stopped for the evening in Scranton, PA. Then they finished the other 7 hours on Sunday.
Sunday evening, we visited some friends of theirs in South Portland and walked a most delightful and cool beach. Watching ships come in to the harbor and sail boats return to their berths. We all chatted back at the South Portland house, and for the first time in about my lifetime, I was able to converse with six adults who shared my political beliefs. Being from Southwest Virginia, I tend to always hold a minority viewpoint on politics. But in Maine, I fit in!
"Maine, the way it should be!"
On Monday, we slept in a bit then my family (son's girlfriend included) began a trek up the coast in search of Acadia National Park. We made the mistake of taking route 1 through Freeport (home of LL Bean and many more annoying tourist trap shops with many many annoying tourist-trap type people. We treated Freeport as I once treated Vegas...just drive baby, drive on by.
We hit the coast after passing many wild blueberry roadside stands and pushed northeast from Rockport. At Lincolnville, we stopped and contemplated the ferry. Sitting on a roadside bench, we watched the last ferry of the day head to Islesboro. Life really had slowed down for us at that point. We went on past Belfast and stopped at a rustic
motel called The Yardarm in Searsport. Searspoint at one time was home to 1/10 of the registered sea captains in the United States. Back in the mid-1800's Belfast and Searsport were the hub of the shipbuilding industry in our country.We spent the evening walking on a beach and through a fern glen on remote and uninhabited Sears Point.
We watched the sun disappear into the chilly fog. Then we headed out to a local restaurant beside the road for my first whole lobster. The food was great, and I realized that while it's ok, lobster is not my favorite food.
Tuesday, we began the day driving northeast again along coastal route 1. Passing the amazing new bridge over the Penobscot River near Bucksport sent chills. By 10:30, we were at Acadia National Park and on the loop road. It's an amazing drive, akin to Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park in Montana. We found a cliff near Thunder Cave and then climbed down to the surf. For some reason, we had that stretch of rock beach to ourselves and the summer hoards of tourists passed the spot by. We finished our quick tour by joining the pack in riding to the top of Cadillac Mountain, the highest point on the east coast. From there on that crystal clear day, you could see all the way around the world. We left Acadia on our blitztour and headed back to Portland after a quick pass through Bar Harbor. It's a place that probably was once cute before the hoards of mosquito-like tourists descended there. Leaving the Acadia area around 3:30, we arrived in Portland around 7:30.
After a few morning farewells and a quick jaunt to the nearby jetport gift shop for a couple of last minute early morning gifts, we headed home. That journey was unremarkable except for the stunning Hudson River Valley, the mountain ridge drive south of Scranton, and the billions of annoying trucks magically appearing on the INterstate at
the the Arcadia exit on I-81.
I shall always remember Maine.
I just arrived in Roanoke after travelling exactly 800 miles between Portland, Maine and my house. With VT looming for my son on Saturday and school starting for me tomorrow, we had a very limited window of opportunity for our working trip.
My wife, son and his girlfriend had driven to Maine by various means to help some friends of ours, two teachers who worked with us back in the early 90's and eventually married, move to their new home. I rode shotgun in a wobbly U-Haul truck as my friend drove the whole way. My son and the girlfriend followed in our mini-van, and my wife and rest of the girls came later in the day with their two young girls (2 and 5). For the moving group, we left with the van on Saturday at 1:30pm after loading it the night before. We drove straight through to Scarborough (near Portland) and arrived around 4:30 in the morning (15 hours). We unpacked the huge solidly packed van after sleeping a couple of hours and finished that task by 6pm on Sunday. My wife and the family drove on Saturday afternoon and stopped for the evening in Scranton, PA. Then they finished the other 7 hours on Sunday.
Sunday evening, we visited some friends of theirs in South Portland and walked a most delightful and cool beach. Watching ships come in to the harbor and sail boats return to their berths. We all chatted back at the South Portland house, and for the first time in about my lifetime, I was able to converse with six adults who shared my political beliefs. Being from Southwest Virginia, I tend to always hold a minority viewpoint on politics. But in Maine, I fit in!
"Maine, the way it should be!"
On Monday, we slept in a bit then my family (son's girlfriend included) began a trek up the coast in search of Acadia National Park. We made the mistake of taking route 1 through Freeport (home of LL Bean and many more annoying tourist trap shops with many many annoying tourist-trap type people. We treated Freeport as I once treated Vegas...just drive baby, drive on by.
We hit the coast after passing many wild blueberry roadside stands and pushed northeast from Rockport. At Lincolnville, we stopped and contemplated the ferry. Sitting on a roadside bench, we watched the last ferry of the day head to Islesboro. Life really had slowed down for us at that point. We went on past Belfast and stopped at a rustic
motel called The Yardarm in Searsport. Searspoint at one time was home to 1/10 of the registered sea captains in the United States. Back in the mid-1800's Belfast and Searsport were the hub of the shipbuilding industry in our country.We spent the evening walking on a beach and through a fern glen on remote and uninhabited Sears Point.
We watched the sun disappear into the chilly fog. Then we headed out to a local restaurant beside the road for my first whole lobster. The food was great, and I realized that while it's ok, lobster is not my favorite food.
Tuesday, we began the day driving northeast again along coastal route 1. Passing the amazing new bridge over the Penobscot River near Bucksport sent chills. By 10:30, we were at Acadia National Park and on the loop road. It's an amazing drive, akin to Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park in Montana. We found a cliff near Thunder Cave and then climbed down to the surf. For some reason, we had that stretch of rock beach to ourselves and the summer hoards of tourists passed the spot by. We finished our quick tour by joining the pack in riding to the top of Cadillac Mountain, the highest point on the east coast. From there on that crystal clear day, you could see all the way around the world. We left Acadia on our blitztour and headed back to Portland after a quick pass through Bar Harbor. It's a place that probably was once cute before the hoards of mosquito-like tourists descended there. Leaving the Acadia area around 3:30, we arrived in Portland around 7:30.
After a few morning farewells and a quick jaunt to the nearby jetport gift shop for a couple of last minute early morning gifts, we headed home. That journey was unremarkable except for the stunning Hudson River Valley, the mountain ridge drive south of Scranton, and the billions of annoying trucks magically appearing on the INterstate at
the the Arcadia exit on I-81.
I shall always remember Maine.
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