After 61 days, 24 campgrounds, 10 provinces, four Walmart parking lots, and one brief scolding at the U.S. border, I made it back to the United States by way of the great state of Maine. With no plan whatsoever, I ended up spending the night at a grocery store parking lot in Machias, where the overnight low dipped down to 28° (uh, that would be Fahrenheit).
After thawing myself out in the morning, I made my way to the scenic town of Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park. Imagine a small college town, on the water, and next to a national park. Throw in some friendly people, an airport offering glider flights, some great restaurants, and placement on my Top Ten List is all but assured. It wasn’t just Bar Harbor; I loved Blue Hill, Bucksport, Wiscasset, Camden, Freeport–to name a few.
I spent most of my time Down East. It is an area along the rocky coast of Maine filled with idyllic, rural communities and a simple way of life. Why is it called Down East? “When ships sailed from Boston to ports in Maine (which were to the east of Boston), the wind was at their backs, so they were sailing downwind, hence the term ‘Down East.'”
I spent a few nights with my friend’s parents in Blue Hill in a house with no wheels. While there, I brought the Airstream to a middle school in nearby Brooklin. It was an opportunity to share my story, teach some geography, and remind the kids to behave responsibly on the internet. I truly enjoyed my time at the school, and hope to do more of it around the country. Anyone know any teachers who want a part in a traveling show and tell?Read More