Have you ever experienced a trip or a vacation that was beyond your wild expectations, in a good way? Were wonderful memories created that you revisit frequently? Is it hard to describe to someone how beautiful, how scenic, how epic, your adventure truly was? Do you ever wonder if you repeated the excursion, would it have the same impact as the first time, or would there be a lackluster effect with parts of the journey mundane?
Five years ago, Stacey and I embarked on a journey of leaf peeping to extreme parts of the Northeast, specifically Maine. Inspired in part by a blog, “Trout and Coffee,” created by Kyle Finn, his description of “chasing color,” traveling serpentine country roads through a constant shower of falling leaves, drinking coffee in the mornings overlooking rippling, stone-embedded streams alive with trout, and diving into platters of fresh seafood, created a monstrous desire to live this dream. We did it. To say the entire saga was overwhelming is a huge understatement. Unimaginable may be a better description.
The bug bit us again to see this country. Yes, the question remained if we would be disappointed. By this, I mean would it be a repeat of doing the same things, seeing the same sights, and tasting the same delights. All the while thinking, perhaps wondering, even saying, “yep, just as we remembered.” There was only one way to find out.
As before, we landed in Portland without a hitch even with a layover in Atlanta. I knew better than to wear shorts on the plane, and my reluctance was confirmed when we walked outside of the terminal. Though not frigid, 58 degrees at two o’clock in the afternoon grabbed my attention, especially after leaving upper 90s back home. We looked at each other with an increased sense of urgency to get started.
We changed the trip up just a bit from before and ventured south to Kennebunkport and Kennebunk for a few days. These quaint fishing villages are really one in the same, though the locals may beg to differ. The only difference I noticed was that on one side of the sign it read welcome to Kennebunkport, and the other side of the sign read welcome to Kennebunk. The aroma of steamed seafood, rich coffee, hot apple cider, and other treats penetrated our olfactory senses, making the temptation irresistible. I had been thinking of fresh seafood right off the boat all summer, so I dove in headfirst.
An offering of fresh oysters was first on the menu. I read no further. It mattered not if they were Glidden Points, Wiley Points, John’s River, Wawenauk, or Pemaquids, they were all unique in their own way. The signature cold-water crispness and varying levels of brininess created a culinary delight beyond description. Well, I should state, at least for me. Stacey won’t touch the things. No worries, that left them all for my enjoyment, and I did nothing but.
Down the menu in order was the best clam chowder I have ever tasted. Trust me, it wasn’t broth with a chunk or two of some foreign matter that we have all experienced. Thick and creamy, it resembled that of a gumbo with the abundance of clams. Though she shunned the oysters, Stacey kept reaching for my spoon. Alas, there was plenty, with more to choose from like the lobster rolls that followed. There are two offerings of lobster rolls. One is created with mayo and served chilled, the other is served warm, drizzled with melted butter. I had both. I did my best not to be gluttonous, but we were on vacation. The rest of the trip, I treated myself to routine orders of the chowder and rolls. Whole lobsters were to follow later in the trip and just know there are fewer in Maine now than before we arrived.
The three-hour drive to Bar Harbor passed quickly as we were captivated by foliage color becoming more vibrant the farther north we went. The foliage report showed we were in the “moderate” range, so anticipation was high as we got closer to the peak areas. We were greeted by a combination of aromas when we pulled into the West Street Hotel. An appealing campfire smoke drifted from the lobby carrying with it coffee, chocolate, and cider. I was in heaven. We buttoned our jackets, unloaded the car, and proceeded to the harbor. Lobster boats were rolling in, and captains made their deals with the local buyers as the crew unloaded the catch. I enjoyed listening to the bartering. Gulls and other shore birds circled the boats too, hoping for a morsel. This added to the experience. And to think, we had another week to go.
Every morning would find us riding to parts unknown, at least to us. A trip to Calais found us dining on a mammoth hamburger and a Reubin stoked with as much corned beef and sauerkraut as the bun would hold. All the locals were watching football and partaking in local pilsners and lagers. Since we could look across the river into Canada, and we had our passports, Stacey and I just looked at each other and said, “why not.”
The drive to St. Andrews, New Brunswick offered as much color as did Maine. One would not know you were in another country if not for the speed limit signs. I did a double take the first time I saw “100.” It took a second for it to register with me that were now in a kilometer zone. St. Andrews is a beautiful little town with a vast history. Old cannons were still in place as harbors were defended from attacks from foreign foes through a multitude of wars. It seems like everyone has been fighting for centuries. I suppose this will never change. We never saw a moose on our trip, though moose “crossing” signs were frequent. The day in Canada was worth the effort.
For the next week we dined, hiked, and observed. Many times, we would just sit on the side of a clear, running stream, or on top of a mountain and not speak a word for a few minutes. The wind was fierce at times, which added to the velocity of the falling leaves. There were so many trails off the beaten path, and it was difficult not to explore them all. Some of these trails were steep and they reminded my body to step it up a notch in training. I do have a few hunts coming up, and I should take this as an invitation to prepare.
The entire week was epic, and we were hit in the face of reality when we exited the terminal back home in Jackson. A sweltering 90 degree day slapped us in the face with intense humidity. I just looked at Stacey and said, “you want to get back on the plane and head back?”
So, comparing the two trips, five years apart. Was one better than the other? Emphatically, the answer is NO! Even though we ventured down the same roads as we did before, the offerings were just as appealing as the prior drives. The seafood was just as fresh as before and just as flavorful. People were friendly and very accommodating just as they were on our first journey. The foliage and temperatures cooperated on this exploration as they did before too. All in all, we were totally enthralled with the entire experiences just like we had never been there before.
Will we embark on a third trip to this unique country? I would say the odds are in favor of that. There are so many other wonderful places to travel to and it’s always fun planning these trips. I have always been intrigued with the upper peninsula of Michigan, though I’ve never been there. Perhaps this area is next on the bucket list. Who knows, I may even look for a ruffed grouse on our next trip. I’ve never seen one of those birds, but I sure would like to. I invite you to plan a trip for a fall foliage adventure. The country is stunning, the food is delicious, and the brisk temperatures are a welcome change from what we endure here. Give it a go, you’ll be glad you did.
Until next time enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it. jeff.north@northag.net
