July 2024 - Maine

Camping, 2024 (Maine): "Roughing it"

Early last month, we got the RV out for a week-long trip through Maine, with the target destination of Campobello Island just over the border in New Brunswick.   It was the perfect time to travel, before the summer heat and crowds.

Sunny skies surrounded us as we drove along Vermont and New Hampshire backroads to the first day's destination of Conway NH.  After a little retail therapy at the outlets, we settled in at the RV park there.  

Of course, it seems that every trip has one or two bumps in the road....

Those sunny skies gave way to rain overnight.  It was warm and dry in the RV, but there's no huddling indoors when travelling with dogs.  So, while John slept in the next morning, I started out my day with a walk around and around the campground with Zoey and Roxy, who seemed to have forgotten what they were out there to do.  Two wet dogs, eight dirty paws, two soaked sneakers, and 2,000 steps (according to my Timex) later, they finally did their business and we headed back to the RV.   I looked forward to a nice hot cup of coffee, only to find that our little Keurig coffee maker (yah, we're roughing it) had bitten the dust, first spouting coffee all over the counter, and then refusing to work at all.  

I'll skip the rest of the details, but we finally got everything cleaned up, had breakfast, stopped at McDonald's for coffee, and were on the road for the day - with a detour through Augusta to pick up a replacement Keurig at Walmart.  

All that behind us, the rest of the week went smoothly, and we made our way up towards Lubec.

Better start on day 2: Dawn in Ellsworth Maine

Why Lubec?   For one, it's the eastern-most town in the United States.  

Bridge and border crossing from Lubec Maine to Campobello New Brunswick

More to the point, it's just across the narrow Lubec Channel which connects Maine to Campobello Island, New Brunswick - the summer vacation home of President Franklin Roosevelt.  Now Roosevelt Campobello International Park, it's where FDR woke up one morning at age 39, suddenly paralyzed from contracting polio.

We enjoyed a tour of the 34 room "cottage", and then drove around the rest of the island, with its light houses and scenic views of the Atlantic.

Back across the bridge in the U.S., we visited the West Quoddy Lighthouse, the easternmost point in the United States.

Easternmost point in the U.S: 44°48′54.4″N 66°57′1.7″W

The rest of our week was a relaxing meander back home, with stops in Belfast, Camden, and Freeport Maine.   But the most memorable aspect of the trip were the beautiful Maine sunrises.....

...sunsets....

...and ubiquitous lupines:

We're already planning a return next year, with more time way up there in Downeast Maine, and more exploration of the islands around New Brunswick.

* * * * *

When we bought our RV and took it out for our first trip in 2006, it had been twenty plus years since we had been to any campgrounds.  We were surprised then at how things had changed over the years – fewer tent sites and more mega-RVs.   

On this trip, I reflected on those earliest trips 40-50 years ago, when we packed tents, sleeping bags, coolers, camp stoves, lanterns, picnic baskets, and duffle bags into the trunk of our car.  I can’t quite believe how we actually washed our dishes in plastic tubs with water heated over the Coleman stove, and how we put up with rain and other weather conditions with just a thin nylon tent. 

Camping, 1983 (New Brunswick): no Keurig coffee maker!

For many folks, the thought of camping in an RV, with all the comforts of home, is still just too primitive to consider.  But for many in this world and throughout history, the simple shelter of a tent - let alone a vacation - would seem the ultimate in comfort and luxury.  

A dysfunctional coffee pot and a little wet weather while enjoying a tour of some of the scenic coast of Maine: truly a "First World Problem".   Who am I to complain?

June 2024 - Encounters with Vermont Flora and Fauna

It's a beautiful time of year here in Vermont.  We've been enjoying daytime temperatures in the 70's and relatively low humidity.  Nature is in full bloom for us to observe and experience --- and sometimes a little closer than we'd like.

In the 25 years that we've lived here full time, and the ten years before that as week-enders, I have only seen bears four times: the first one many years ago, crossing the highway comfortably far ahead of our car, and two more from a distance at separate times while I was walking in the fields at the top of our street. 

The fourth time was on a sunny afternoon just over a week ago.  I was in the house when my cell phone rang: it was John calling from our garage. His voice at the other end was a barely audible "Keep the dogs in the house - there's a bear in our yard!"    

"Smoky", as we dubbed him, had walked up our driveway.  Seeing John, he showed no interest but instead headed for our apple trees, where last year's dried-up leftovers were easy pickings from off the ground.  By now our dogs had seen him through the screen door - fortunately locked - and sounded the alarm, at which point Smoky ambled off, likely deciding to find a quieter dining spot somewhere down the road.

The very next day, John and I were out running separate errands in town.  I was the first one home but knew John was only a few minutes behind.  While unloading my groceries, my phone rang - again a call from John.  "I can't drive home, there's a tree blocking the road."  I looked out and saw him walking up the street, and the tree that had fallen just below our property line in the ten minutes since I had arrived home.  Timing is everything!

Tree across our road: John using his tractor to move the tree out of the way; John's truck (unable to get home) on the other side.  Two days later, another trunk from the same tree fell in the same spot, once again blocking John as he was heading into town.  Needless to say, we live on a dead-end road with only one way in and out.  

A few days later, and another encounter with nature.  John came home from a trip to Home Depot and was relating how he had witnessed the car in front of him hit a bear on I-89.  Fortunately, the bear bounced off and ran into the woods, and the driver of the car was safe (although the car's front grill didn't fare so well).  John was far enough behind and unscathed. 

While John was relating the tale, we heard a rhythmic knocking coming from our living room.  I thought it was perhaps the wagging tail of one of our dogs, but remembered that the dogs were outside at the time.   Nope, the noise was coming out of the wall - more specifically, from the chimney flue which is covered with a metal plate. The metal plate was shaking, and we realized that a bird had come down the chimney and was desperately trying to get out.  Butterfly net in hand (I won't go into detail as to why we have one - it has to do with bats, a story for another time), John lifted the plate. I stood at the ready outside of our front door, ready to open it, listening to the sounds from within of  flapping wings and John giving chase.  Fortunately, we don't have all of our screens up yet, so we opened a few windows and the poor frightened thing - a woodpecker - flew away.

Tap-tapping on the inside of the chimney flue against this plate.  The previous owners of our house had planned to put in a wood stove but never did.  Feather marks slightly visible to the left.  

Ah, but there are so many more benign encounters this time of year.  It always amazes me how the wildflowers know just when to show up, as if orchestrated and waiting for their queue from a conductor visible only to them.  

Early on, it includes the trilliums, forget-me-nots, cowslips, and others.  

Next it's the buttercups, and our little stand of Jack-in-the-pulpits.  

Daisies, poppies, and lupines are just starting, and will be in full bloom for a good part of June.  

There's always something new to see, but we are hopefully done with the unexpected near-misses for a while.