I know that this will seem less like an update on my life than a recollection of a now-distant memory, but ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my trip to Maine.
I arrived late enough on Thursday evening that I elected to sleep in the airport. This had been the plan all along, but when I arrived I realized that the Bangor, Maine airport in more on par with a Mansfield, OH Lahm Airport than a Dallas-Fort Worth airport. In my mind, I figured sleeping under a bench would be easy and anonymous, as it was when I was once stranded in Kansas City on a return from a previous Fall Fling. However, I was one of two people in the airport when cleaning operations shut down around 2 am. To complicate matters, there was a hotel attached to the airport, so I felt like a bum sleeping in a corner rather than springing for a room. But I'm cheap and get over small embarrassments very quickly, so this is where I laid until the 5 am boarding crowd woke me up. You may see through the arm of the chair the bright blue of my newly acquired sleeping bag. I broke it out halfway through the night and slept soundly, wondering why I hadn't jumped into it from the beginning.
The kind people at Central Maine Harley Davidson were kind enough to supply me with my transportation for the day.
You'll see a more complete shot of the bike soon, but I pulled off the road to photo the complete package: Me, Maine, motorcycle and fall colors.
Years ago I starting making plans for a documentary that would chronicle my road trip tracing the perimeter of America (it was to have been called "From Sea to Shining Sea"). At that time I discovered a bird sanctuary in Ellsworth that I planned to stop at. I was delighted to see that much of what I planned to visit for the documentary could be seen on this trip. So in a sense, I have begun to complete that vision (although I accidentally deleted all video footage that I took on the trip. Whoops.).
The name of the naturalist now eludes me (the perils of posting months later), but it was neat the way the trails from her home--which was the center of the bird sanctuary--led from the busy street into a hushed wood. Spaced throughout the trails were quotes taken from her journal. I thought this one particularly apropos.
Every guidebook or travel site will tell you to stop at the Trenton Bridge Lobster Pound. I did. It was okay.
However, this assessment is probably due more to a realization I discovered halfway through this lobster: I'm not all that crazy about seafood.
I camped in Acadia National Park on Mount Desert Island. It was far more toursity than I expected. One of the guys at the dealership said I'd probably run into more "leaf peepers" at this time of year. I thought the term was funny...and sadly filed myself within its ranks. I rode the whole day and saw beautiful sites which included a fjord (Somes Sound meets the requirements).
Both coastal vistas...
...and lighthouses were plentiful.
The next morning I took the motorcycle back to exchange it for a car for the longer portion of the drive. As I was leaving the park I was entranced by the affect of the light filtering through the colorful canopy and the mist on the road. It was beautiful.
At the airport I retrieved my mint-green mount and took to the coastal highway. Just prior to the trip I purchased new albums by Mumford and Sons, the Avett Brothers and Delta Rae. Delta Rae was by far the most-listened to on the trip. Their music is just so powerful.
With a glorious soundtrack blaring and the windows open wide, I discovered idyllic streams...
...backwoods cemeteries (found completely by accident, and perhaps the most secluded spot of the trip)...
...and even caught a beautiful Monarch butterfly. Since I had one in my collection already (and had no way to take it home) I let it go.
This funky little place near the north-eastern tip of Maine had awesome blueberry pastries.
The blueberry fields provided some beautiful color.
I spent the next few nights in Herring Cove Provincial Park, just across the border in Canada. One of the most spiritual, profoundly moving moments of the trip was watching the sun rise. I was able to see the sky lighten, the colors change, and then view the sun break the rim of the earth as it emerged from the ocean and rose into the sky. It was beautiful and I reflected on the wonder and power of light, and thanked God for that time with him.
I had the cove all to myself, since the park was closed...
...and spent all day Sunday in this little deck, perched above the beach, reading Scripture and journaling.
Before taking my perch, I walked the beach. It was the warmest it had been all weekend, so I took my shoes off the enjoy the stroll. Only the sand quickly disappeared and tiny pebbles took their place. They were agonizing to walk on. Thankful, Chuck Dorka prepared me for this moment: using flotsam and jetsam I created a swamp walker out of washed up boards and rope.
It occurred to me that this must have been how coastal people developed the flip flop.
Herring Cove is just across the bridge from Lubec, Maine, a quaint little fishing village.
Quoddy Head Lighthouse was the coolest such structure I encountered.
It also brought me to the far-easternmost point on the trip. Here my toes touch the water that separates me from Europe. I have a similar picture on a similarly stoney beach in Laide, Scotland.
I added a stone to the tiny stack of rocks on this outcropping, to mark my travels to the far east of our nation.
The town of Perry is halfway between the North Pole and the Equator.
These last few pictures show my final day of travel: back from Calais to the airport. This is what I look like after several days without showering.
So I revived a sacred rite, "The All-Under Club" and plunged into this chilling river to clean up a bit. It was actually quite refreshing. Sadly, the footage of this daring feat has now been lost.
There it is. A great trip all around. Hope you enjoyed the update.
