Out of Bounds
On the Road - Travel Blog
Out of Bounds
On the Road - Travel Blog
By MELISSA BURNSED
Columnist Melissa Burnsed and husband Mike are on a summer road trip to Maine and places beyond. She will share their journey as we follow along as they visit relatives, do the tourist things and even, gasp!...relax.
Starting with the first day, each entry will be posted with the latest one first.
Day 6 and 7 -Wow, did we have an interesting outing on Monday. What started out as just a simple morning of playing tourist by driving up the Maine coastline, turned into a close encounter with a presidential candidate.
When my husband was crafting our trip plans he never dreamed that this would be the week when John McCain and his traveling entourage visited former President George Bush at his Walker’s Point compound, in Kennebunkport.
Apparently every Republican in the state of Maine decided to try and catch a glimpse of Senator McCain as his "Straight Talk Express" parade passed through the town of Kennebunk. They weren’t the only people lining the streets. Dozens of war protesters held up homemade signs and chanted as the national press photographers jockeyed for the best shot.
My chauffeur husband was very irked when the state troopers directing traffic suddenly halted the line just as we came to a major intersection on the coast road. But being the "professional journalist" that I am, the opportunity to snap a few pictures was too good to resist.
Just as the blue bus zipped by, we noticed the distinctive gray haired senator sitting in the back passenger seat of the Chevy Suburban that was in the long line of vehicles. So somehow I got the prized shot that all the photogs were looking for.
While that had to be the most interesting moment of the day, we also truly enjoyed our drive along
the seacoast.
We started our day with a visit to one of the most photographed lighthouses in the country. Nubble Lighthouse in York attracts thousands each year to see the still working beacon that has kept sentinel watch over the southern Maine harbor for more than a century.
The rocky awe inspiring coastline is desolate for long stretches. Then you come upon homes both magnificent mansions and tumble down seaside shacks, most built atop the rocky bluffs that rim the coastline. Some of the earliest homes are from the seventeenth and eighteenth century.
Despite it be being the middle of summer, we still felt a nip in the sea breeze blowing off the Atlantic Ocean as we drove northward. We stopped in the tourist town of Ogunquit to peruse the strip of souvenir shops.
We had reached Kennebunk by lunchtime and the smells from the roadside clam shacks drew us
in. Fried clams compete with lobsters, for the most favorite food up here and any resident of Maine will be glad to tell you which clam shack does them best, in their opinion.
If you aren’t into clams and have somehow had your fill of lobsters, (I can’t imagine that anyone could ever do that,) then the next best thing is a fish box. They come filled with tender, juicy chucks of lightly battered haddock that is fried golden brown. Also included is homemade cole slaw, sliced dill pickles and a mound of crinkle cut French fries. We washed it all down with fresh squeezed lemonade. It just doesn’t get any better.
On our seventh day in the great north brought another brush with celebrity, and this one was a real animal. After spending the day at the beach, we loaded back up and headed inland to the White Mountains in New Hampshire.
The mountains loomed in the distance as we started our ascent. By the time we reached destination at the Wildcat Mountain Ski Resort, the air had thinned and the temperatures had dropped.
In the summer tourists can ride the glass enclosed lifts to the top of the mountain. The views are spectacular and animal life abounds along the ski runs.
Just as we neared the summit a large bull moose came into view at the edge of a stream and began chewing on the vegetation. Moose are the iconic symbol of Maine, but few see them in the wild despite signs everywhere that warn of moose crossings areas. The camera came out and I got my second picture of a celebrity, sorta.
Thrilled with our good fortune we grabbed a late lunch and headed back down the winding mountain roads. Near sunset, just as we swung around a sharp curve a mother moose and her two calves strolled across the road right in front of us.
The past two days have given us priceless pictures for the photo album and added to an already memorable trip.
Day 5 - What a satisfying day Sunday was. Day Five brought the long awaited lobster bake. The scrumptious seafood extravaganza lived up to its’ reputation. All my husbands relatives gathered to feast on the mounds of lobster.
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It was a day long event typical of Sunday dinners across America, where the women fuss around in the kitchen, while the men stand around and watch the smoke and steam come off the cooking pit.
The whole morning and early afternoon were spent preparing the pit and getting the coals to the right temperature. Then a bed of seaweed was carefully laid over the hot embers.
Next came the food, potatoes on the bottom, followed by corn on the cob, steamer clams, mussels and finally the centerpiece, lobsters fresh from the ocean. More seaweed on top and a sturdy canvas tarp to cover the whole thing.
The unique salty tinged smell that was emitting from the slow cooking food, had everyone hovering around waiting for the feasting to begin.
A vat of hot melted butter was the only thing needed to complete the juicy meal. (Note there is a reason for lobster bibs. When eating this type of messy meal don’t wear your best clothes. No one wants to stop eating long enough to worry about a little butter dribbling down their chin.)
Day 3 and 4 - Day Three was a trip down memory lane for my husband and mother-in-law. After riding 1,300 miles to get here, the first thing we did was get back in the car and go for a four hour ride to Kittery Point, Maine. I have to say the scenery was worth the torture endured by our sore backsides.
Our reminiscing sightseeing tour took us to see the old homesteads of both the parents and grandparents, as well as the old high school. skating ponds and sledding hills.
We also saw the Portsmouth Navy Yard which has built and maintained the United States fleet since 1800, when John Adams was president. The massive sprawling facility dominates the Piscataquis River delta.
The scene was like something right out of a tourist magazine. Sailboats cut across the deep blue
water, while the fleet of lobster boats rocked gently against their moorings, as the tide rolled in.
The town has been settled since the sixteenth century and is full of old weathered clapboard houses that their owners lovingly maintain. In the heart of Kittery Point is Frisbee’s Store which claims to be the oldest family owned general store in America. It has a potbellied stove which customers and locals still gather around, on chilly winter days.
The area where we are staying is nestled in the foothills of the White Mountains and abounds with hundreds of small secluded lakes. There is heavy snowfall here and during the winter the lakes freeze over. Even on the hottest day in July, their waters are icy cold.
Of course since we are in the great state of Maine, we will be sampling the best lobsters in the world, fresh from the ocean. My mother-in-law beat me to the punch and consumed three
lobster rolls in one sitting.
For those of you who have never tasted this unique New England favorite, a lobster roll is a split top bun similar to a hot dog bun but not really, stuffed with a combination of succulent chunks of lobster meat, celery and mayonnaise. A lettuce leaf is optional, but true connoisseurs of the concoction say don’t mess up a good thing with roughage.
Our hosts are planning a good old-fashioned Maine lobster bake for Sunday, which has us foaming at the mouth just hearing about it. Check back for the yummy details.
Shopping was central on own agenda on Day Four. There are a multitude of outlet stores in Kittery, along with dozens of local shops that sell everything New England. Lighthouses in every shape and style abound on most store shelves. Stuffed toy lobsters, bears and moose are also top sellers.
All those other stores pale in comparison to the mega hunting and fishing store called the Kittery Trading Post. It is famous throughout Maine for the vast array of sporting goods housed within it’s rustic sprawling walls.
They also have a huge variety of merchandise for souvenir loving-tourists. From t-shirts to refrigerator magnets, the Trading Post has got it covered. If you have kids or hunters in your family, it is worth the trip just to see their collection of animals that have been preserved by taxidermy. They are incredibly lifelike.
My husband fell so in love with the place that he had to practically be dragged out the door. He was so captivated by the store’s gun collection and in his words, "their awesome prices," that we will be driving home with a brand new Remington shotgun in the trunk.
(Let’s hope the navigator doesn’t give him any causes for justifiable homicide.)
Day 2 - North Florida, the eagle has landed…Or in this case, with apologies to NASA, I have arrived alive in the great state of Maine. My husband and I managed to drive 1,300 miles in two days without killing each other, barely that is.
There were moments when our survival was in serious doubt. Like when the person reading the carefully detailed directions (that would be me) mistakenly told the other person driving the car (that would be him) to exit on the westbound ramp, when in actuality the directions said eastbound. After a nerve jarring half hour scenic tour of the suburbs of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, we eventually got back on the right highway.
However after that LITTLE BOO BOO, the navigational duties were removed from my chore list and I was relegated to looking for gas station signs that advertised CHEAP prices. CHEAP being a metaphor for under $4.15 a gallon.
On the subject of CHEAP gas, that ties into the two highlights of Day One. It was actually cause for celebration when we found gas for $3.85 a gallon in Florence, South Carolina. Apparently we weren’t the only eagle eyed travelers who spotted that interstate billboard. The line for the CHEAP gas was astounding.
While we were waiting our turn to hand over a gob of money for twenty gallons, the second highlight appeared in of all places a retention pond on the side of the road.
It was a sight to behold. A mother pig and her brood piglets were frolicking on the muddy banks of the pond which was swollen from recent rains. We only noticed them because three small little boys jumped out of the minivan lined up in front of us. Their dad was with them as they began to walk around and stretch their legs.
Okay now don’t get ahead of me, wait for it. That’s right every single mother reading this already knows what happened next and is saying, "WHY DID HE LET THEM OUT OF THE VAN??"
Those boys saw the little piglets and faster than you can say OH NO, they were down the bank and in the mud, with their dad screaming "STOP, COME BACK HERE," to no avail. The look on his face was priceless. As my husband drove around the van his snide comment was, "Momma’s gonna stomp her own mud hole in somebody’s butt when he gets home."
Day Two brought it’s own very satisfying moment and I mean that literally. While driving through Pennsylvania, prior to the slight navigational difficulty ruining my husband jovial disposition, we happened upon another wonderful road sign that advertised factory tours and free samples in a little town called HERSHEYS. Since at that point we were well ahead of schedule, I begged to stop by. Really how could you not.
I was crushed when we found out that tours are only given in the morning and we were too late. Chocolate lovers you all understand. But don’t despair, the adjoining candy store was open. All I have to say is Nirvana.
The rest of the ride to the White Mountains of Maine is kinda blurry, since I was on a sugary chocolate high.
Day Three looks to be full of excitement, as we meet up with my husband’s relatives and do some sight seeing…. Stay tuned for more details soon.
Day 1 countdown - Road Trip…Just those two little words can evoke a myriad of reactions from people who have either wonderful memories of great adventures or horrendous tales of nightmarish trips that have left indelible scars on their psyches. The later scenario being far more prevalent in my memories, as our split family of five children usually wound up fighting about who got the window seat and who left their soda can half full to spill all over Daddy’s new car floorboards.
Faced with the perplexing dilemma of what to do with the kids for their annual summer vacation visits, my parents couldn’t afford the expense of long car trips and so they almost always went the cheap camping out route…Mosquitoes, half cooked hamburgers and communal bathrooms that reeked by the end of each steamy hot summer day, were the typical weekend agenda…Oh, I digress, those stories will have to wait for another day. Back to the great road trip...
For some the call of the open road, coupled with the desire to see new places is an irresistible lure that can’t be ignored. My husband is one of those people. As a child of the fifties, he rode the back seat of his parents big Mercury up and down the east coast of the United States. Bitten by the travel bug early in life, he has never lost his taste for cruising along the interstate.
Over the course of our marriage we have taken some really wonderful trips to places both near and far. Charleston, Chattanooga, Atlanta, Washington DC, Pensacola and even a cruise to the Bahamas. But even on our best adventures we still had our moments where thoughts of justifiable homicide entered both our minds.
A prime example of that justification would be my husbands pit stop rule. As a meticulous planner, who plots his route like a general would plan for a massive invasion, he adheres to a strict time travel schedule. Each day has a mileage quota and set time frame for reaching a predetermined destination.
Nothing is permitted to alter his carefully crafted itinerary, not even bathroom breaks. The standing rule has always been, get your business done before the full tank causes the gas pump to click off. That includes getting snacks and drinks from the cooler, and being buckled back in.
Not all the memories are bad, but some were and they left our son traumatized. I have vivid recollections of a flat tire in the Tennessee mountains, on a narrow two lane road. One side of the county "Highway" was the carved out granite wall of the mountain, while the side were my chauffer husband pulled off to change the thing was a steep ravine with a raging river thundering through it. The dramatic interlude was further intensified because the skies had opened up and buckets of rain were gushing down.
Our son, who was ten at the time, and I sat huddled in the back seat praying that the car wouldn’t slip off the jack and send us careening down the embankment to a watery grave. To this day anytime someone talks about having a flat tire, our full grown son stills makes the sign of the cross.
Last year for our 25th anniversary, my husband decided we needed to do something special to commemorate the event. Naturally while my thoughts ventured to a nice cruise, maybe to Alaska, he envisioned a 1,300 mile trek from our home in South Georgia all the way north to the rocky coastline of Maine where his maternal grandparents were from. Along the way, we could make stops at places of interest.
I acquiesced and the intricate planning commenced, with side trips to Gettysburg, and a quick jaunt to Nova Scotia included in the two week agenda. Circumstances intervened and waylaid our monumental excursion, but he never gave up on the trip, vowing no matter what we would load up and go this summer.
Of course gas was a heck of a lot cheaper just one year ago. That alarming fact has not deterred him in the least. After all as a newly minted member of AARP he will be getting a ten percent discount on motels and meals along the way.
So we have acquired state of the art navigation aids, along with a seven page schedule and are about to embark on another glorious road trip…The plan calls for a predawn departure Wednesday morning, with a firm goal of 800 miles by the end of the first day. Does anyone know a good criminal defense attorney in the Washington DC area?
