From The Road: Roads Less Traveled...and More So

August 29th

The plan for this "Trip of a Lifetime" was to travel on smaller, slower and more populated and/or scenic routes. This has worked out well, giving me glimpses of the character of places, and allowing a comfortable speed (thus conserving at least some gas). There are also more opportunities to note flora, fauna, interesting signs (on a rock and mineral store: "Can you tell the sex of a trilobite?"), and roadside stands selling local produce along the way. Even so, many times things went by too fast, so I regret that I can't share with you the whole, complex, and interesting experience.

Detouring onto a super highway does occasionally have its benefits, however. When entering a new state, it is worthwhile to do so on an interstate, and stop at the Welcome Center. Here you will find brochures with information on places to see, events, and lodging coupons. The folks behind the desk are also great sources of information, and nice, besides.

On one such highway, entering New Hampshire from Maine, I was struck by how lulling the dark forest was along the road. Verges were clothed in the greens of various ferns (they of the complex nomenclature and ancient and idiosyncratic reproductive habits). Among them were constellations of white daisies, the ethereal lace of cleavers flowers, and now and again the yellow or orange of hawkweed, and the pink-tinged valerian. Elder flowers were in bloom here and there, and I chuckled to remember the summer 30+ years ago when I dragged my children out on a Euell Gibbons-inspired foraging expedition to pick elderberries. We clambered through brush and over stone walls, and brought home enough berries to make a batch of barely drinkable wine, 23 jars of jelly, and six cases of moderate to severe poison ivy. Gathering elderberries, needless to say, is now a family joke.

Peachy and I stopped in New Hampshire for a few days to pick up mail, clean and rearrange the van, visit with my brother and his family, and on Sunday, attend The North Wilmot Church (ecumenical, open only in the summer). Then we departed for the Green Mountain State, Vermont.

In one of Peachy's file boxes is a collection of quotations that have spoken to me at one time or another. Every once in a while I will share one with you, so, from a United Church of Christ service,

"Release in us enough light for another day, enough joy to smile in the morning and laugh in the evening, enough love to turn from our own preoccupations so we may tend to others' needs, enough praise that a rainbow of songs will follow each tear."

One of the blessings of this trip is that I am no longer bound by many old habits and ways of looking at things. I can more easily "--turn from (my) own preoccupations--". This is liberating, and, hopefully, productive. Shalom

From The Road: Lobster Yachts to Licence Plates

August 27th, Kickapoo, IL

Scenery as we continued East along the Maine coast was wonderful and different. (Wiscasset proclaimed itself, "The Prettiest Town in Maine", and it just might be.)There were fantastical creatures fashioned from odd bits of old farm machinery and all manner of gleaming copper weather vanes for the tourists, and what seemed to me to be an oxymoronic offer, "Lobster Yacht for Sale".

In a tidy red shack outside Ellsworth a young woman sold "pickled wrinkles". It would have taken a stronger soul than I to resist. They turned out to be speckled sea snails in salt water/vinegar brine, not much on taste, but considerably chewy. Never let it be said that I confined my regional food in Maine to effete lobster!

Machias was a treat, with more good food (including lobster - I'm not a total dufus), more wild roses, artwork galore, a comfy bed looking out on the ocean, great walks, talks about times gone by, and killer card games.

I was impressed with the generosity of the First Congregational Church in Machias, where more than a hundred paper grocery bags sat on tables in the basement waiting to be filled with food and handed out later in the week to the needy in the city.

Acadia National Park was nine parts wonderful, and one part soggy. After setting up camp (including putting up the screened room up for the first time), I took the free shuttle service to explore while Peachy rested. There are beaches (warning - cold water!), cliffs where peregrines nest, rocky cliffs with surf pounding away, a wildflower garden, carriage roads, and mighty Cadillac Mountain. The ranger-led walks were fun and educational (I learned a new term: "glacial erratic", a boulder unlike other rocks in the area, which was dumped by a glacier.) A serendipitous extra was a free beading workshop taught by a Native American.

In nearby Bar Harbor there were crowds of "people from away",as my Machias friend termed visitors, wonderful flowers, and an ice cream parlor on every block. Just off the main square is a beautiful old Episcopal church with Tiffany stained glass windows where I attended an evening Taize service. Here was also a coin laundry where clean and dry laundry happened.

The last two stops in Maine included a great seafood lunch overlooking the harbor in Kennebunk, a tour of that charming town (largely obscured by fog), and then a couple of days in nearby Arundel on a family-owned organic farm. Here were handmade houses (one of straw bales), a magnificent food garden, wonderful home-grown food, a veritable Taj Mahal of a hand-tiled shower, and Gus, the ultimate frisbie dog.

Water was present everywhere in Maine, the tremendous and always changing ocean, lakes (many with water lily adornments), tidal flats, and farm ponds of varied size and health. Surely there were aquifers and springs also, even if not so apparent. Yet even here there are stacks of packaged plastic bottles of water in the stores and by the gas pumps. Why? The taste of the tap water as I traveled around did change, and some tasted better than others, but they were all potable, I have yet to plagued by gastric distress, and the thought of all that unnecessary plastic is troublesome, to me, anyway.

Many people collect things; my vice is copying down interesting license plates. How would you interpret these two recent additions? BLD ONE (affirmation or confession?)

ONSET (of what? good or bad?)

From here we really and truly do head West! Shalom

From The Road: August (in) Ohio

Toledo, Ohio
August 16

Madison, Connecticut is a beautiful and historic city, and the day after the exciting U.C.C. synod in Hartford, I was treated to Sunday worship in the light-filled and friendly First Congregational UCC Church there, a driving tour which included an old stone fort, and a walk on the Town Beach, "Sean's Big Swimming Place". The sun shone, the breeze whispered, and it looked like a perfect place to spend most of the summer.

After a great al fresco luncheon Peachy and I set off North, heading for Duxbury, Massachusetts, another historic town, established by many of the Pilgrims who had survived the first disastrous winter in Plymouth. Duxbury has many beautiful old homes, shaded by huge old trees, and edged by more riotous gardens. This was a family visit, and included lots of laughs, card games, a wonderful early-morning walk on the wide beach (low tide), fabulous early peas, lobster, decadent desserts, and clean laundry. Isn't family wonderful?

From Duxbury we headed into the labyrinth of Cambridge, MA, and a visit with more family.As brother-in-law Frank has observed, "There are six routes to our house, all equally inconvenient." The effort was worth it, however, with more good conversations, laughs (my family does that well), more great food (they do that well, also), another load of laundry, and some books for the road. Now, on to Maine.

Maince was a delight, from the warm welcomes, to the seacoast scenery, to the odd quirky bits along the way.

Gorham, the first stop, is a university town, with laid back charm and a strong sense of community. My hosts trotted me around to meet lots of interesting friends and explore the city of Portland, which is reinventing itself as a vibrant place. Here I was treated to brown eggs still warm from the nest, huge salads with "everything"in them, and introduced to "The Intentional Community Directory", which I have ordered. I attended the Unitarian Universalist service in Portland, where I met more kindly and interesting folks, paid a visit to the large and impressive Good Will store, and then we were off to Spruce Head.

Spruce Head is real Maine, with the smell of salt breezes, seaweed, and wild roses combined. Another warm welcome, a community dinner with local specialties and a meeting with a Barred Owl, with the softest head feathers you have ever felt ( although I suggest you inquire as to the appropriateness of petting any owl you encounter). This particular one was the "pet" of a gentleman who rescues hurt owls, and who entertained and educated us on the subject. Spruce Head is a small community where lobster boats are part of the scenery, people live with one eye on the tide table, and everyone knows each other.

The following day we set off for Rockland, the Farnsworth Museum, and the Center for the Puffin Project. Many famous artists have spent summers in Maine, interpreting the special light here, and the Farnsworth has paintings by the Wyeth family, Wnnslow Homer, Childe Hassan, and Hopper, as well as works by Louise Nevelson (who grew up here), Andy Warhol, and more. The Puffin Project was delightful, and the efforts to re-establish colonies of Puffins on several small islands off the coast has been very successful. They are really cute little guys, and some of them live to be more than 30 years old.

There were many signs warning of "Moose Crossings" in Maine, but nary a live one did I see. There were, however, sculptures of them everywhere, my favorite being a life-sized wooden behemoth chained to a telephone pole. Some other interesting bits: a small old Cape Cod-style house with 11 seagulls lined up absolutely symmetrically along the peak of the roof, a sign by the road, "Ellen Mae, Welding", and, a parking lot with 22 red tractors lined up facing the road.

Coming up: First we go "Down East", and then "Westward, Ho!" Shalom

From The Road: The New England Tour Continued

Lexington, KY
August 9,2007

Whew, it is time to admit that I am a wimp. This past week has been both hot and wet (mostly humid, but there was a shower on Tuesday that caught me off guard - and with the "moon roof" open. whoops), and it has been hard to sleep. Anyone who knows me will tell you that without sleep, I am not good for much.

This morning however, I am writing in the comfort of an air-conditioned motel room, and after a cool sleep, a warm shower, and even a supply of clean clothes (I picked a motel which advertised a "guest laundry"). I am able to function once again. It seems a good time to report on a "typical day", although every day is unique, and so far, many of the days have been spent with family or friends, and aren't relevant to the story. Here, therefore, is a report of one day in the state of Maine - about which you will undoubtedly hear more later.

Awakening with the sun streaming through the screened windows of the upper bunk, I don my trusty muu muu, trek to the bath house, then fire up the Coleman stove, make coffee, and sit, reveling in the new day while meditating. Then it is time for a shower, real clothes, and breakfast, this morning oatmeal/wheat germ pancakes with home made blackberry sauce. The dishes done, and Peachy repacked, we head out for new adventures.

Today we drive an hour and a half, pause for gas and a stretch, and then drive on for another hour. (Those pancakes last well!) In a shaded corner of a supermarket parking lot, we pull in for a lunch break, and after buying Rye Crisp, cheese, biodegradable dish detergent (I have been washing the dishes with shampoo), and clothesline, I eat sitting in Peachy's side door. Lunch is tomatoes and plums bought yesterday at a roadside stand, Rye Crisp, cheese, and water.

Another two hours of driving, and we arrive at a great little campground, discovered in Woodall's Campground Directory given me by my brother, and worth its weight in gold. The place is not crowded, there is beautiful grass throughout, and each site is surrounded by a curving belt of wild flowers and bushes. Very cozy. Walking about I find nice bathrooms with country music piped in, and a sign by the bank of the nearby river, "Alligators live here, don't go near the edge". Another sign by the office advertises cooked lobsters for $10 each.

No lobster for dinner, but brown rice and braised greens from Peachy's garden, another tomato, more plums, and a cup of herb tea. After some reading, washing of dishes, another visit to the pine-paneled bath house, and arranging the upper bunk, it is time for lights out.

Noted in Passing: Bumper sticker, "Maine Black Fly Breeders Association: We breed 'em, You feed 'em" Sign in front of hardware store< "Your in-laws could show up any moment. We rent tents!"

Next up, More New England. Shalom!