I arrived home from Maine yesterday via one car ride, two buses, and one subway ride that clocked in over 12 hrs. And I’m not complaining one bit, because Maine is worth that and more.
Why are more people not talking about Maine? Yes, it is known as “Vacationland,” so I guess I’m not the only one to discover the beauty of the state, but I still feel like people should be raving about it more… Admittedly, I never gave Maine much thought till my family decided to spend this last week of August there. But now I’m gonna have to agree with that other Maine state slogan: “The Way Life Should Be.”
Maine requires a photo to be taken about every five minutes. It’s like living in a calendar of serene nature shots. And so understandably, I have altogether too many photos to share.
Above, one of many conversations planning the most scenic route to Maine. (Highway 1, running along the coast, is where it’s at.) Once in Maine, the conversation was devoted to planning the perfect day full of activities. I was perfectly content to be like baby— tune out the planning, and hop in the car.
The next morning, our caravan of cars forged ahead. Some of us sampled the infamous “Red’s” lobster roll and some stretched our legs with a walk around town. Though the “street urchin” look is a very cute on Lochy, sadly, he doesn’t always look like this. He was very diligent about holding on to the rail during our walk across the bridge. Turns out it wasn’t so clean.
Further along, we stopped again to enjoy the scenery by the river. The fellow we asked to take our picture turned out to be a very friendly traveling Swiss man, just beginning his three month solo journey around the US.
We ended up talking for such a long time (above: dad discusses the Swiss Army) that we invited him to stay in our rental home for the night. Unfortunately, he said he wanted to keep traveling north—and maybe we look a bit intimidating. Well, at least overwhelming.
We got into our respective cars and started driving away when we realized he was following us. Had he changed his mind about our offer? Nope, but he wanted to give us his Swiss Army knife! Because apparently the Swiss really do carry around Swiss Army knives. I assume he has a whole trunk full of ’em as he wouldn’t give away his only knife.
And that is how we became the proud owners of a Swiss Army Knife from a Swiss man.
After two days of travel we finally arrived at the small coastal town of Stonington, Maine.
Our rental home was right on the sea and just about every room had ocean views. Beginning around 4 a.m., you could see the lights of the lobster boats heading out to sea.
The view from our kitchen window—it makes washing dishes much more enjoyable.
The house was once owned by a prominent sea captain and the walls were covered with black and white photos of his austere family. It was large and spooky, with old fashioned decorum: Half was stuck in the seventies with orange flowered wall paper and linoleum and half hailed from the twenties with quaint vanities and rose painted lamps.
That house definitely had some history, which made sleeping in a room by myself a dreadful proposition. Of course, triplets are not used to sleeping in their own room. As the only triplet on the Maine trip, I shared the bunk-bed room with my five-year-old cousin. And he protected me from all the souls lost at sea for the whole week. Children are good at things like that.