There is something so intriguing about being on the edge of the United States. The difference between the Atlantic coast of Florida and the Atlantic coast of Maine is vast and intriguing.
In Miami, near our satellite office, you can stand on the white sandy beach, with warm waves lapping at your toes, all while gazing out at the Atlantic Ocean that seems to go on to infinity. In Maine, the beaches are rocky, the water is cold, but it, too, looks to go on to infinity.
On both shores, as you stare off, giving it a think, you can’t help but commune with your rebellious pirate archetype. Suddenly your thoughts become eerie, ominous, and adventurist, like standing on the edge of danger; and, in some ways, you are. International waters, which are pretty much lawless, start 12 nautical miles offshore (that’s about 14 miles).
THE EDGE PART II
As I mentioned in last week’s blog husband Grady and I took a trip to Maine. With no agenda and no reservations, we were like college kids backpacking across the country, only with a car and a bit more money.
Having never been that far north, I didn’t know what to expect; but Maine did not disappoint. I was gob smacked.
We spent the first night in Portland, ME. This is a walkable, quaint town. We ate mussels and oysters at J’s with the locals, and the next morning had a lobster omelet at Becky’s Famous Diner. Both are a must if you ever get to Portland.
The next night we spent with family in Tennant’s Harbor before striking out on our own. I am amazed at the number of inlets, bays, and harbors in Maine. To put it in perspective, the general coastline of Maine is 228 miles but the tidal coastline, which measures all the inlets and bays, is 3,478 miles, the most of any state on the Atlantic Ocean and more than California.
Driving up Highway 1, we wove our way to Bar Harbor, a big tourist destination for cruise lines. There, we spent the night in a motel room before striking out again on our road trip north (or maybe east) to Campobello Island, Canada. It was nice to have a destination in mind but that is about all the island is good for. Besides FDR’s summer home, there is nothing; no grocery store, gas station, restaurant, and only a few places to stay. We lucked out and found a vacancy at “The Island Chalet”, a newly renovated group of cabins overlooking the bay that separates the USA from Canada.
In the evenings we bundle up to sit outside and watch the big sky sunsets. Then we’d jump back in the car and cross back into the good ole USA for dinner at the Water’s Edge Tavern in Lubec, ME. Either I was very hungry two nights in a row, or this is the best food I have ever eaten. I would almost go back to Lubec, a fishing town of maybe 1000 people, just for dinner. I had the fried Haddock and Grady had the duck that he literally picked up with his hands to finish chewing the bone, to the chef’s delight.
Back to Landlock
At the end of the week, we high tailed it back to the Portland airport for home. Unlike most vacations, I was not ready to come home. If I didn’t have my business and family in Little Rock, Maine is a place I might consider retiring. It’s like another world, so different from Florida’s coastline with its flashy cars, boats, and loud music. Living on the edge in Maine is slow paced. So much so, you’ll find half-worked jigsaw puzzles in many communal areas, even the airport, for having a sit with a stranger and wiling away the time. These Maine-iacs (No wonder I fit in) are understated, old-money or no-money, and considerate of your space.
Besides the good food (for a week I never saw one fast food chain) and slow lifestyle of Maine’s fishing villages, I loved the cleanliness. People of all socioeconomics take pride in their surroundings by keeping their streets and yards clean. Made me think of Jeff Foxworthy’s “you know you’re a redneck” bit, when he says, “you know you’re a redneck when you mow your front yard and find a car.”
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