Maine-stay in Vacationland!
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Rain is to be expected in Portland, right? Grey, mist, rain, that's all you hear about. But lobstah Portland? They get the rain too?! Apparently. I spent a week in Maine and all I saw was rain. Seriously. Even when it stopped raining, it was still somehow raining.
The week kicked-off with Helkin's wedding in Bath. I flew in to Portland, spend a predictably rainy evening in a Motel 6, ran into town to pick up the car, then drove north. Through the rain. I checked in to the Hampton Inn to meet my roommate for the evening, a friend of Helkin's from Yale, then rushed down to jump on the bus that would take us to Phippsburg.
The chapel in Phippsburg was idyllic in that New England way - white steeple peaking out over the tree line. The rain stop long enough for a Joanna serenade and Helkin and Jamie to take their nuptials. Then it was back to the Maine Maritime Museum in Bath and six hours of an open bar. You knew it was going to be trouble when you were greeted with a dark and stormy. Beverages were imbibed, dancing was had, and some began to find themselves on the floor. All signs of a good reception.
The next morning was rough. A run seemed to be the best possible option, and I ventured out into that rain to sweat out the alcohol as best I could. After breakfast and a nice conversation, it was time to hit the road. I wished the bride and groom my best, then got moving north.
The wedding was perfectly planned for peak foliage, and I have no doubt that it would have been incredible to see had I been able to look out my window. Unfortunately the patter of the rain clouded my windows.
Up Route 1, then down to the famous Pemaquid Lighthouse. Check out the Maine quarter the next time you get a handful of change, flip it over, that's the lighthouse. It was incredible. The wind was blowing the rain in every direction when I stepped out of the car. Perfect lighthouse weather!
I ventured down the well worn rocks. Water crashed against the shore. I could feel the sharp stabs of rain the wind blew into my face. Moss on the rocks at the water's edge kept everything slicker than was safe. I stood there. Alone. It felt like standing on the edge of the world.
I walked back up to the lighthouse. Two Mainers were there. Older, yet ageless. They regaled me with stories of past storms and lobster hauls. The storm outside had me captivated though. I stepped back outside, down the other side of rocks, and watched the ocean crash all around me.
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Back in the car and further with the slog, I headed north through all the charming towns that had their charm washed away with the rain. I finally came to the town of Camden, just as the rain was beginning to part. I had no idea the secrets and beauty Camden would soon unleash. A waterfall rushed through the middle of town to meet yachts anchored peacefully in the harbor. Across town, the Camden Amphitheater gave expansive views of the white steepled town.
The elixir of decent weather didn't stop there. The next town up was Belfast, which greeted me with the sunset. The sleepy downtown gently sloped towards the ocean. At the waterfront was a brewery that was closed, a common refrain for the trip. Back in the car, the direction set to east, I drove into the settling dusk and headed for Acadia. The dome of Cadillac Mountain loomed in the distance as I set up camp and laid down for the evening.
I woke up the next morning at dawn with sunlight in the distance. Perfect day for a hike up the tallest mountain on the eastern seaboard: Cadillac Mountain. Thinking the worst of the storms were gone, I ignored basic tenets 1, 2, and 3 of boy scouting. In sum, be prepared.
The start of the hike was beautiful, though halfway up I started to noticed clouds gathering. The wind picked up considerably. More clouds as I gained altitude, and suddenly they were blowing by me. At the peak, winds rushed by from all angles. It was a cold, yet still dry, wind. I had longsleeves, but nothing to prepare for the dropping temperatures. A quick walk around the summit and I wanted back. About 20 minutes down, a few drops of rain began pelting me. Adrenaline coursed through me as I looked around me only to see the fog of a cloud. Turn back? Stay still? Go on? No lightning and the rain was light. I kept on, a hurried, yet calm pace. Back to the tree line, over the boulders, and finally, exhaustedly, in camp.
This was the point where I finally had enough of the rain. It just wasn't fun anymore. So I paid extra for an extended hot shower (5 minutes), then crawled into my tent and took a long nap.
I woke up with the sun in my eyes. Sun! I tore open the tent. Sun!!! My mood immediately lightened. I put on my muddy hiking boots, grabbed a late lunch at the Jordan Pond House, then crushed a killer run around Eagle Lake.
Evenings were spent as they often were while camping: fire, sandwich from the bodega, and beer in hand. Morning brought the most incredible sunrise of my life. The storm clouds lingered in the distance, just enough to really give the sun something to reflect off of. Soft pinks turned into bright golds with the blue of the ocean holding it in its palms. The promise of another day - what an inspiration!
I explored the weather-beaten rocks of Otter Cliffs, then experience the power of Thunder Hole. Next the sands of Sand Beach and the intricate erosion patterns the ocean had carved into the beach. Finally a hike up the side of the Beehill, a cliff carved by glaciers with a path that seemed to run at about an 85 degree angle. Like the Precipice Trail, it was one foot/hand in front of the other. The two were rated as the most strenuous hikes in the National Park System. Definite sense of accomplishment at the top.
That evening, I jumped in a sea kayak for the first time of my life. Awesome. My cousin Jason put me in touch with a tour group in Bar Harbor, and they took us for a tour around Bar Island at sunset. There was a certain freedom to it - the freedom of the ocean, the freedom of solitude. Seals poked their head out at us as schooners sailed by. Clouds gathered in the distance and we set ourselves up for the show: one of those amazing sunsets that explode on top of you. Breathtaking.
Sadly, it was time to depart from Acadia and find a proper bed/shower. Back in the car, this time headed north to Bangor, with a stop at the highly recommendable Atlantic Brewing Company for lunch.
Bangor can largely be skipped by the causal tourist. I unfortunately learned this a touch too late. PBS may be interested in a visit when they're filming their next crystal meth documentary. Everyone there seemed to be tweaking. And when I say "everyone", I don't mean it in a cute way like the kid in high school who always said "I totally failed that test" and actually got a B-. I'm talking everyone in this town was tweaking. I walked around enough to catch the general vibe, then made a quick run on Orono and the University of Maine with its massively spread-out campus.
On to Augusta and the State House! I got there just in time to see it close, which seemed to sum up the general state of the state. I actually had about 15 minutes to wander around and was impressed with what I saw. The outdoor deck/patio was a particularly nice touch. After a walk through the very tiny town of Augusta and it's rain filled streets (yup, started raining again), it was direction Portland with a quick stop in the town of Hallowell and the brewery The Liberal Cup. Excellent spot, one of my favorites - if not for all the danged driving I could have enjoyed several Liberal Cups.
Portland, you dreary old doll, greeted me with her usual grey and rain. I had hoped to camp, but instead was sick of dealing with the rain and rocks as pillows, so checked in to the super-sketchy Motel 6. I'm not sure what crystal meth smells like, but I wouldn't be surprised if that's the smell that was in my room.
One last day in the amazing city of Portland. Really, I cannot say enough about the city. Very livable with a chain of parks running around and through it. Residentially, the houses were large, multi-family homes in a Brooklyn sense, but with just enough space between them to allow for a yard.
They day started with an art crawl through the West End, then down Market Street into the historic areas. Brewery after brewery was visited - by this point I had thankfully given up the car. Gritty's, then Shipyard with their extensive tasting room. Buzzing hard but not deterred, Rising Tide was next. LGBT night in this giant warehouse. Dinner at the Thirsty Pig with their home-made sausages and friendly staff. Finally one last beer at Novare Res and their hidden back-alley cellar. The vibe was everything you'd want in a city. The people seemed so open and friendly - everyone seemed to somehow be connected to everyone else. Very livable.
With a hangover and about 3 hours of sleep, the vacation sadly ended. It was time to find a real bed, a nice hot shower, and dry clothes. There's something about New England that gets me though. It gets me every time. I love it up there.
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