I could go on and on about our Maine vacation. But I’ve put a cap on my ramblings. So today is the last post about our trip. The last portion of our vacation was spent in the highland portion of the state, at Moosehead Lake.
Since we only had 10 days to spend In Maine, we really wanted to see as much as we could. After spending most of our trip near the coast, we wanted to be sure to experience the inland region as well. This area of the state is just about as different from the coast as we could get. There were no coastal villages, no streets jammed with tourists, no sun hats, flip flops or breezy dresses. Quite the contrast actually. The town of Greenville, which sits on Moosehead Lake, is small, quiet and very woodsy. Unusually cold temperatures meant that {yet again} Derek and I were just about the only visitors around.
In the summer Greenville attracts hunters, fishermen, white water rafters and wildlife enthusiasts. The industry is mostly logging, guiding and lodge operation. But for a town that rugged, we were surprised by the aura of Mayberry it held. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone knew we were visiting.
One night we stopped by an ice cream stand {go figure} and two boys walked up behind us. While I was waiting on my cone the younger, probably seven, dressed in his little league uniform, walked up to the window. He leaned on the ledge, barely tall enough to see inside. A teenage girl was working. “Hey there! How’d the game go? Are we celebrating?” she asked him.
“Eh. We lost.”
“Okay, well, do you need something sweet or something salty to make you feel better?”
“Just shoe string potatoes please,” he told her. His older brother, probably 13 got a cone. The conversation continued, and I could still hear them chatting as Derek and I walked back to the car with our ice cream in hand. It’s a cute place, for real.
Of all the places we stayed, our two nights at the Indian Hill motel in Greenville was my absolute favorite. No, it didn’t include Kim’s amazing breakfast. But it was undoubtedly one of the cleanest rooms I’ve ever stayed in, in my whole life. It’s an old motor motel now owned by a young couple. They’ve done a great job restoring it’s 60’s charm, and all the rooms boast panoramic views of the lake. It’s just breathtaking.
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I had my heart set on seeing a moose. Yes, yes. Moose do live in Practically Canada. But I never see them. I wanted a Maine moose.
To see our moose, we booked a “Moose Safari,” yes, they actually have those, with Northern Outfitters. They actually guarantee that you see a moose. Guaranteed! They have a land option, which means you travel on foot, and a water option, which means you travel by canoe. We went the canoe route, since walking tends to get uncomfortable for me after a while.
Little did I know a moose safari requires such an early start. We were up and at the meeting spot at 5:45am. From there we took a 45 minute drive north via logging roads into the woods. Once to our spot we got out and into the canoes. We were all silent and anxious to spot one of these magical creatures. It was freezing cold, windy, and drizzling. But I didn’t care. I kept my eyes open, ready to spot. We were all silent as we stealthily paddled around.
That silence was only broken by one sound. The ring of my phone. My 7:30 am alarm going off. Boy am I obnoxious. It was in a pocket on the inside of my coat, under my life vest. Well, that was awkward. But we pressed on. Until it happened again–because I had just snoozed it, not turned it off the first time.
After paddling for nearly an hour with no luck, we decided to get back in the van to try to find a moose on land somewhere, which everyone was in favor of, since the icy temps were making everyone a little miserable. Once back in the van we drove and drove and drove. A couple times we were close. Once we even got out to follow fresh tracks…only to find them cut off and into the woods. So close.
When our four hour tour was nearly over, we had canoed, tracked, driven, and learned all the signs of moose habitation. But still, we hadn’t seen a moose. Frustrated, our guide was just starting to tell us what kind of compensation we could get for not seeing a moose on a tour that guaranteed a sighting…when, suddenly I saw one. Like magic. There is was in a stream on the side of the road. Our guide told us it was a yearling. Even though she was young, she was still huge. The way she moved was fascinating. Slow and lumbering. She looked so weird, like a cross between a horse and a camel, covered in the fur of a donkey.
Okay, so mission #1 accomplished. Mission #2–hiking to Maine’s highest point. That one didn’t end up happening. Based on the activities and pain levels of previous days, Derek put the kibosh on a five mile hike uphill. Instead, we took a ferry to Mt. Kineo and walked a much shorter trail to the summit.
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A little bummed that I could go to the highest point, this was a very good second. Mt Kineo is gorgeous. As a special bonus, getting to the summit also required facing a little fear, which I like to do. The highest point is in the woods, so there is a lookout tower you can climb to see a 360˚view of the region. Now, I don’t mind heights, unless I can see through what I’m standing on. The metal mesh stairs were–in a word–terrifying to me.
In the end, I was glad I climbed up. Even though, one could argue that the overlooks along the way were pretty cool as well.
Our last stop in the highlands was Elephant Mountain, site of a 1963 B-52 crash. Most of you know I tend to like things on the creepy side, and boy, oh boy–this is one of the eeriest places I’ve ever been. The remains of the aircraft have been placed at the crash site as a memorial to those involved and those who lost their lives. It’s so quiet. So surreal.
The next day we got up, ready to head back to Boston to catch an early flight the following day. Originally we planned to drive straight there, not sure what we would do in Boston all afternoon. But…on the way, got talking about states. Which ones we’d been to, which ones we needed to visit. That’s when Vermont came up. We’d never been.
On a whim, in order to mark it off of our list, we decided to add three hours to our drive in order to stop by Cabot Creamery–which hold the award for World’s Best Cheddar. WORLD’S BEST. Why wouldn’t we go?? And Goodrich Maple Farm. I won’t bore you with all the details, but we toured both and I ate 27 different kinds of cheese that day.
I guess, in hindsight, that was our first “yes” of summer. It was a great choice.
Amy
