Maine: Part Two

I ended my Maine: Part One post with, “More of Maine tomorrow!”  Perhaps ‘tomorrow’ was not the right word.  ‘Eventually’ would have been more accurate.

Let me not waste any more time and jump right in.  After spending some time in Eastport and Perry, we headed to Lubec where I lived when from the ages of about 6 to 9 and where my parents moved after I went to college.

Lubec is located about an hour from Perry and happens to be the eastern most point in the U.S. We visited the area many times throughout my life for many reasons.  My favorite reason was Quoddy Head State Park – destination of many childhood bike rides and walks; site of continued teenage planning and pondering (of course).

{ Definitely the first time I posed in front of this sign.  I was too busy, you know, planning and pondering. }

Quoddy Head is home to my favorite trail of any trail I have ever hiked.  And I have hiked a lot of trails.  This is partly due to nostalgia, but mostly due to the incredible views.  The main trail follows the edge of the cliffs (pictured from a distance below).

There are virtually no fences and lots of little places to stop and test the intensity of your fear of heights.  Much like Yellowstone, Quoddy Head will not keep you safe.  You must keep yourself safe.



{ Canada's Grand Manan Island is in the distance. }



In this picture if you look closely, you can see two teeny, tiny French gentlemen who have apparently taken leave of their senses and are testing the sturdiness of the rock beneath their feet.  That cliff continues down quite a bit further to where the extremely frigid waters meet the equally extreme jagged rocks.



{ Au revoire, tiny French man. }

In this picture you can see two sane Americans, in love, and enjoying the view from the top of that same cliff from a bench planted a safe distance from the edge.



{ Now would be a good time to give a shoutout to the developers of 10-second delay technology. }



Between the lighthouse and the start of the trails is a lovely beach eroded into existence for the express purpose of producing the most divine skipping rocks.

While there I rinsed my skipping rocks in the same naturally-formed basin I have used many times in years past.  How is it that I feel so much changing so quickly only to find that nothing really does?

Goodbye, Lubec.  We came from the other side to see you.

Before leaving Maine I made sure to get me some lobster …

To snap a picture of one of the many, many lupine patches we passed …

 To take a first real look at this sign …



{ Wait, what? }



And to marvel at my utter ignorance of what goes on outside of the city …

On our drive back to my mother-in-law’s house in New Hampshire, we made one final stop in Maine.  I give you, Fort Knox.  Site of one of my future music videos perhaps?

{ One of the many dark, creepy passages in the fort.  I think it scares me now more than it did when I was a kid.  Probably because I didn't have TV as a kid.  Many scary movies since then have taught me a fear of dark, creepy passages in old forts. }

{ The town of Bucksport viewed from Fort Knox. }

So, there you go.  It has been a long month of waiting – on pins and needles I’m sure – for Maine: Part Two.  Now you can finally stop hitting the refresh button and move on to checking in on some other, lesser relevant sites such as … oh, I don’t know … Facebook or BankofAmerica.com?