October 7 - “Let’s play”

Our first stop yesterday was yet another journey back in time. Fort Stanwix was a revolutionary war bastion that held off a siege by the British, helping in the long run to bringing victory to the colonists. The national park system has completely restored the fort and all of its battlements. We were able to go inside the rooms and even try out whatever artifacts we might run across. I managed to throw on a cape and triangle hat and act out penning a letter - with a quill pen, of course. We noticed that it (the fort, not the quill) was built in the same pattern as the ones we saw in Florida. Come to find out, the design was created by a French architect in the 1600’s. It worked, so everyone adapted it. Well, it worked until airplanes came along that could just drop bombs inside it.

 

Chris had a bit of a spell in the visitors center, so I took over the driving for the day. Next stop was a National Park commemorating the movement to get women’s rights in America. The actual site was an old Methodist chapel where many of the organizational meetings were held. We didn’t stay all that long. We needed to get going to check out the true high point of this whole trip.

 

To start with, we drove through a national wilderness area. Way up on top of some power poles were nests of some bald eagles. We even saw an eagle in one of them with her mate standing guard nearby. But that wasn’t it.

 

What could possibly be better than thousands of red dead and yellow dead leaf trees and a pair of bald eagles in their nest? The Strong National Museum of Play. It was nothing short of brilliant. My favorite part, and the allure of the place in the first place, was the wing with toys that have been selected to be in the Toy Hall of Fame. Classics like Jenga and Twister and the Magic Eight Ball and Etch-a-sketch and so many more. They have toys on display from all eras of history. It was great fun looking for the favorites from our own past. They also have huge sections of interactive play areas. A life-sized duplication of none other than Sesame Street for you to walk through and play in. Massive replicas of scenes from kids’ books that children are free to play in. Climbing areas and tube slides that rival the best you’ve ever seen at a McDonald’s – to play in (sensing a theme yet?). They even had a full-blown lending library of kids’ books. A room full of video games. Another with pinball games. Just about any game you can remember is there. Amazing place. If you are ever anywhere near Rochester, New York, go. Period. Doesn’t matter how old you are, but here’s a warning. If you have kids with you, they might never want to leave.

 

Colossians 3:16 says, “Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.”

 

Father, thank you for the chance to see those eagles. Beautiful. And we did enjoy that toy place. Great fun. Amen.

 

October 6 - “Walkin’ in the rain”

It didn’t take us long to get to our first stop. Well, after we finally hauled all our luggage down the stairs … in the rain (I was definitely sore the rest of the day). And after we finally tracked down the proper parking garage.

 

See, our next National Park was not but 15 or 20 minutes away. In Lowell, Massachusetts, we went to what was once a huge textile manufacturing company and the site of some of the earliest labor union strikes to hit the U.S.  They had the old mill still set up and actually running. Well, at least they turned several of the machines on when they had a tourist present. It was extremely loud.  Wouldn’t take long to have your hearing affected if you worked in there every day. The machines did still produce cloth, though. You could buy it for making stuff on your own, or just go home with a ready-made kitchen towel, like we did.

 

As we walked back to the car … in the rain … what building should we pass but the New England Quilt Museum. Yes, of course we went in. I told Chris I knew of at least a dozen friends and family who would all have my head if we hadn’t gone in. It wasn’t very big, as far as displays go. And we were expecting a lot of really old quilts. Nope. The modern stuff they had was mostly machine-generated and just weird. Chris did get a thimble for her collection, though.

 

Leaving that place meant pointing the car in the direction of New York and heading that way. To avoid toll roads, one of our standing Siri requests, we were sent on a Scenic trail through some beautiful mountains. And as we rounded one particularly sharp hairpin curve, we were face to face with a most impressive cloud bank in the mountains. It was massive, and we were just above it. And as luck would have it, there was a pull out, so we took a lot of pictures (as if I had to say that. I am married to Chris, after all).

 

On the last little leg of this part of our journey, I took Chris to Paris again. Paris, New York, this time. Tiny little farming community. Very cute.

 

Micah 7:18 says, “Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy.”

 

Father, thank you for that incredible view of the cloud bank we were on top of. You are amazing. Amen.

October 5 - “Lighthouse Witchery”

We had a relaxing breakfast at  the hotel before embarking in the next leg of our journey, affectionately entitled, “Lighthouse Witchery.”  We spent some time perusing our maps and sketching out a general path toward Texas, with a few stops along the way.

First among those would be a lighthouse. Portland Head Light is probably the most famous one in the area, and we missed it last time we came through here (that would be, in case you have forgotten, on our 25th wedding anniversary trip when we were sent here by our children). It was … a lighthouse. Nothing spectacular. Just extremely touristified.

The clerk at the museum quietly suggested that we go about five miles away to a set of double lighthouses that are kind of off the beaten track. Their claim to fame? Other than being, well, lighthouses built within spitting’ distance of each other … they are next door to the “best seafood place in New England.”  How could we resist? The lighthouses were ... lighthouses. The place to eat was called The Lobster Shack. People were lined up outside the door in the cold waiting for the doors to open. We joined them. Glad we did. We actually found the Northeastern equivalent of Shrimp n Stuff. Dinners were served on paper plates. About the only difference was they also served lobsters (still in paper trays). And they had clam cakes instead of crab cakes. I tried the shrimp plate. Yep. Comparable. That’s high praise. Chris stuck with her go-to, clam chowder. And when we left, the line was longer than when we arrived. We would go back for sure.

From there we bounced over to Cape Neddick to see the Nubble lighthouse. Had to go see that one for romantic reasons. See, that’s the one we remember most from our aforementioned special 25th anniversary trip when our kids sent us to Maine, “so Mom can see some lighthouses.” 

After that one, it was goodbye to Maine and back into New Hampshire. Well, we have to backtrack somewhere to get back to Texas. We found a hotel about ten miles from the next National Park, in Lowell, Massachusetts.

Now, you might be wondering why the word “witchery” in the title. Well, our original plan was to go into Salem, Massachusetts, to check out a few things. The witches must have been against us being there, though. Guess they have had their share of Christians for the season. we'll save that one for a specialized Boston trip in the future.

We received a real treat presented to us at our hotel. We accumulated enough loyalty points to use them toward the room. And what a room it was. They called it the “king bed-Executive.”  The desk clerk fell all over herself trying to help us out. The room was really nice. But there was a problem. “Those special rooms” (her words) are on the second floor. And (insert long pause here) the hotel has no elevator. But wait!  She called out to a passing employee, “we are here to help you and this fine young man will be happy to carry your luggage up.”  He was certainly willing and able, so we got established fairly quickly. Great surprise. Oh, and speaking of hotel room surprises, guess what we found on the bed?  Two towels were squished and twisted to form some kind of shape, and rose petals had been spaced out upon them.  Unexpected. We kind of felt like we were on a cruise ship.  

Matthew‬ ‭6:14 says, “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.”

Father, thank you for the memories dredged up when we went lighthouse hunting again after so many years. I love seeing Chris’ eyes light up eyes she sees one. Amen.

October 4 - “Thunder Hole”

34 degrees outside when I woke up. And we had the AC going in the hotel room. It was a bit chilly. Then we got out to the car. Ice all over the windows. Had to run the defroster overtime.

 

We still braved the nearby National Park. Acadia, it was called. And we had an entry permit to go on the highest road in Maine, as long as we arrived between 8:30 and 9:00 a.m.  We pulled up to the ranger station at 8:57. Just in time. Hey. All that ice we had to deal with slowed us down.

 

The view from the summit was amazing. Very cold. But amazing. We did a little hiking and a lot of picture-taking. What can I say? Chris was with me. the picture lady.  After the mountain peak we headed down to sea level to see and hear a place they call Thunder Hole. Now before I go any further, I must confess that somebody who happened to be driving at the time may or may not have taken a wrong turn and put us a couple of miles in the wrong direction. I can’t imagine how that could have happened. That driver is usually so good. We’ll just have to pull … his … privileges.

 

Back to the adventure. Thunder Hole is a natural rock formation on the coast where the waves come crashing in. It is a cave of sorts, so when the vast volume of water is forced in, hits the back of the cave and roars out, the sound is a lot like thunder. Hence the name. It really was loud, by the way. And I was duly impressed.

 

Our next stop was the park visitor center. That’s usually where we go first, but that timed entry through us off. Chris got her stamp, though, so we could unceremoniously declare the trip a success.

 

Not that the trip was complete as of yet. Our final stop was a lighthouse. Imagine that. Chris was really excited to see it. Good thing, too. That excitement tided her over when we had to literally wait in line in our car for someone to leave the site so we could park. The lighthouse was pretty plain and simple. No one was allowed inside, though, because it was an operating lighthouse, and the keeper lived there. No visitor center. No gift shop. It did have one of those stinky park bathrooms, though, and there was a long line for them, too. Before we left we took a hike down to the rocky shore where we could see the lighthouse from the perspective of a ship, albeit a ship about to crash into the shore and sink. Good hike. Lots of steps up and down.

 

Chris took over driving for the long trip south to our next destination. I think we have reached the part where lighthouses become the star. Well, lighthouses and that one flagship grocery store Chris wants to go to. I’m pretty sure it specializes in vegetables. Long and Lean Beans in particular. At least that’s the name of it: LL Bean.

 

As we got further south, we went international. We drove around in Belfast when we accidentally got off the road we needed. Cute little town. Even had a Curling Club. Not how we expected to spend that five minutes, though. Bonus!

 

We saw several more wild turkeys but still no mooses. Chris’ best friend Google Siri sent us on a wild goose chase to avoid tolls. Avoid them we did, and we also saw some great back country.

 

Finally, we arrived at our stop for the night. The clerk recommended we eat at Sea Dog Brewing Co., so that’s where we went. The building was right on the river in a basement level room. Fascinating ambiance and history of the building. I had fish and chips. Chris had clam chowder. Pretty good stuff.

 

Back at the hotel, or the maze as we like to call it (the building is three buildings tied together, and we are in the back building), we finally had time to get out clothes washed. Now we are good to go until we get back home. The road south begins today.

 

1 Samuel 2:2 says, “There is no one holy like the Lord; there is no one besides you; there is no Rock like our God.”

 

Father, thank you for the bitter cold yesterday. It made us appreciate our Island tropical weather even more. Amen.

October 3 - “Go ‘Merca”

Topic of discussion on our way to the easternmost point in the U.S.: why are there so many American flags displayed along the roads in the small towns of New Hampshire and Maine? Is it because they are so close to Canada that the flag will let you know if you made a wrong turn on your way to New Brunswick?  Or is it just … ‘Merca? Wse were led to lean to the second option after seeing a “Wake up America” sign just outside of Franklin, Maine.

 

We passed the Wild Blueberry Heritage Center. Everything was painted purple. Buildings. Fence. Propane tanks. The most impressive things, however, were the massive actual blueberries that giants dropped and didn’t bother to pick up. They were as big as our car! 

 

Here’s another patriotic statement we saw. Have you ever been driving along and see one of those multi-part billboard messages? You know, the kind that begins on one billboard, then continues on the next and the next. This one actually had the pledge of allegiance spread out on little signs, with one phrase of the pledge on each, that went on for about a mile. Impressive.

 

When I scrambled to put my phone down and grab the camera for a picture, I accidentally put my phone on talk and transcribe mode. Check out what it heard as I read the pledge put loud:

“Taylor public oh we’re gonna punch who is the stands awesome one nation under God under God real in justice”

 

Oh well. After all we were “Down East” at the time, whatever that means. Actually, we think it refers to the area of Maine known as Acadian or anythijg east of the town of Ellsworth. They consider themselves different from the rest of Maine. Kind of like Texans … or Galvestonians.

 

We found our first lighthouse. It’s called Quoddy Point, and there is a granite marker that looks like a headstone on the property. And that headstone marks the site of the easternmost point of the United States. Pretty significant accomplishment for us. We’ve been to the farthest south in Key West. We’ve been to Alaska, as far north as we care to go. And in April we head to Hawaii, so that will cover the farthest west. This site was kind of underwhelming, though.  Not many people were there, either because it was so remote or maybe because it was so cold.  The visitor center on site was closed as well.  We did find a gift shop a few miles down the road.  Very sweet young girl working there.  All she could talk about was her travels with her grandfather. Keep those up, young lady.  Grandpa needs ‘em. 

 

But we weren’t satisfied to simply be at the farthest east the U. S. has to offer. We wanted to go where the time zone changed yet again, but that meant leaving the country. Coincidentally, we were able to pick up the road to Franklin D. Roosevelt’s summer home in Canada called Campobello. It is an international park, so Chris was even able to get her book stamped.

 

The entry into Canada was easy. We showed our passports and answered the nice lady’s questions. She waved us through. We were able to tour the house, which is now a museum. We also saw the famous Bay of Fundy. That’s the place where the tides are outrageously exaggerated. We got there pretty close to the low tide mark, so nothing looked really earth-shattering. The house visit was interesting, though.

 

Now, our exit from Canada back into the states was a bit more interesting. Our entry guard was a strictly by the book guy. When he got to his question about fruit, I knew we were about to be boarded. I told him we had bananas and apples and oranges in the ice chest. Boom. I had to get out of the car and haul it out.  Actually, he lifted it out for me. Guess I looked frail. But I had to dig out the oranges. Come to find out, bananas are ok. Apples are ok. But you can’t bring oranges into the states, even if you bought them here in the first place. They can catch a horrible Canadian disease and pollute every orange tree in the U.S. before we would be able to eat them all. Can’t have that. I had to dig out the bag and turn it over. He did ask if we wanted the bag back. No diseases can infect the bag, of course. That’s silly. We let him keep it. And speaking of silly, he didn’t even flinch at Chris’ medicine we had in there. Syringes and all. Thank you for that.

 

We were finally allowed back into the country, citrus-less. Rather than head right to the hotel, Chris found yet another site that had a national park stamp. This one was at the point on a peninsula known for the waves crashing against the rocks. It was a pretty pretty place. The Atlantic Ocean is, in a word, cold. I guess the date might have something to do with that, but we sure wore our heavy winter jackets … proudly. And I do have to say that it made me kinda homesick seeing all that water. It didn’t help that after we checked into the hotel we had seafood. Chris had shrimp quesadillas. I had popcorn shrimp. My take? I miss Shrimp n Stuff.

 

The hotel was very helpful at check-in. I was given a goodie bag with a bottle of water, an energy bar, maps of the area, two chocolate cookies, and a Hershey bar actually personalized with my name. Very cool.

 

Matthew 7:24 says, “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.”

Father, please be with the couple from Florida we met in the line at the restaurant. Give them a safe journey and many happy memories. Amen.

October 2 - “Moose Hunt”

This hotel was another of those we were glad to be leaving. The room smelled funny. We had to carry our luggage because they only had two carts for a full hotel. It just looked like it had its glory days, but they happened long, long ago. But here’s the thing. It was literally the only thing available. All the hotels are full with people looking for dead red leaves on trees.

 

We met a couple from Kansas in the elevator.  They felt like they had come a long way until they heard where we were from.  They weren’t very pleased with the hotel, either. One of the most fun parts about a trip like this - for me, anyway - is meeting people from all over the world. We took a picture for some ladies from Germany and for a couple from England. Not to mention the folks we have met from all over the U.S. 

 

Our initial objective for the day?  Moose hunt!  We traveled two hours farther north to a national park up there. Supposedly, as the vivacious park Ranger told us, “People see moose there every day.”  Gotta love it when a person, especially a park Ranger assigned to an obscure outpost, is really enthusiastic about her job.

 

We followed her directions that led us down a dark and dreary, well-traveled road. No, really. It was dark.  And the sand mixed with gravel mixed with some pretty large stones made for a somewhat paved road.  Until it didn’t. The one lane road became what it was truly intended to be - a logging trail. It was over the river and through the woods for real. I was feeling more understanding toward poor Little Red Riding Hood. Chris was listening for banjo music again. Sadly, we saw no mooses. Not that I was surprised. You see, this just proves further that mooses are not real.

 

We did see some wildlife on the way back out and headed south. A beautiful mink run across the road right in front of us. Pitch black fur with a gorgeous long tail. I can see why they make great, warm coats. Chris looked it up, and they are found in that area. Of course they are. We just saw one. We also saw a horse. I know. Doesn’t sound so unusual. But this guy was pulling one of those Amish buggies behind him. We have been seeing warning signs to share the road with them. We did.

 

We split up the two-hour drive back into civilization. I went first, since I was already the designated National Park driver and mythical moose hunter. Chris took over when the Sleepies got the best of me. She drove to the St. Croix visitor center, which for some unknown reason, was temporarily closed. The site was open, though. Chris got her park stamp.  We did the little hike, and I stuck my fingers in the waters of whatever bay that was that touches the Atlantic Ocean. Then we made a quick Walmart run for some more cheese and peanut butter crackers (often our lunch on busy days).  And then we were off to our evening hotel stay in Bar Harbor, Maine.

 

And staying on the coast in Maine meant one thing. Food. Chris had her bowl of clam chowder. I had a lobster roll. We shared a crab cake. Best dinner yet.

 

Philippians 4:8 says, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

 

Father, thank you for the excitement that park Ranger exuded. It was refreshing. Amen.

October 1 - “Kancamagus”

Did I mention yesterday that it was cold?  Yep. I just checked. I said 45 degrees. A record for this trip, for sure. Winter in Galveston, right?  Scratch that “record” part. Pencil in 34 degrees. Brrrrr. And … we are headed farther north. Why not?

 

Well, now. Isn’t this interesting? On our way to the Kancamagus Highway (say that seven time very fast), we passed Woodstock again. Different Woodstock. Still not THAT Woodstock. Just “Woodstock… on tour.”

 

This Kancamagus Highway was the whole reason we came on the trip. And honestly, it didn’t disappoint. We saw more than one tree that was still full of red and orange leaves … not to mention a few pretty spectacular waterfalls (so, can we skip Niagara Falls now?) and the stream that went alongside. And several wild turkeys showed up. But no mooses. No such thing. I’ve been telling you all along. It’s a trick …

 

Once we left the “Kanc,” as the locals call the highway up there, we headed for our first-night-in-Maine stop. But to get there, we had to wind our way through Coon Dog Cemetery country again. We stopped in Sweden, Maine, at a roadside “pick yer own apples” fruit stand. We didn’t pick any, but we did get some hot apple cider. Good stuff. Oh, and yet again I have taken my beautiful bride to Paris.  No. Not that one. Maine has its own version.

 

Final stop for the day was Augusta. That’s Maine, not Georgia.

 

Father, your trees up here are sure doing their job producing pretty leaves in the fall. Amen.