Ron is excited to explore Maine. We haven’t arrived, and he’s already talking about a return trip exclusively to tour Maine.
Sleeping with the windows open, listening to the birds chirp in the clean, crisp air made cuddling in bed more desirable for me:-).
Pups agreed with me.
10:29 a.m., I crawled into the cab, receiving a scowl from Ron. I was pushing his patience with my last-minute walk around the campground.
The lane coming into the campground is lined with gnomes. While he was mapping out the drive, I told him I’d walk out the lane; he could pick me up when ready.
The problem occurred because the lane is narrow, and I was on a curve when he came upon me. Instead of jumping in the truck, I kept walking because I wanted one more picture. My decision irritated my husband; he pulled ahead to a safe spot and waited for me.
When I jokingly said, “What are you waiting for?” I received the look:-).
Of course, a small dump truck coming down the lane as we started moving didn’t help my case. But Ron isn’t one to hold onto things; no argument ensued.
Sweetwater Forest Family Campground has the right name. Camping beside the playground, the only time we didn’t hear children’s squeals were during quiet hours, 9:00 p.m to 8:00 a.m. Walking the grounds, all I saw were families having fun. At one site, grandma and grandpa were face timing grandchildren; I could hear both sides of the conversation, adorable beyond compare. The very next site, a young teen was face timing someone who made her smile.
Rounding a corner, I found a family with two teen daughters. The girls were swinging on the swings, laughing like toddlers. Mom and Dad, watching with that warm look that is only seen between parent and child.
Beautiful horses greet you on the way into camp. Privately owned Sweetwater Farms borders the campground. When I showed Ron the pictures, I said, “Look at me all buddy, buddy with the horse!” He smiled and laughed, knowing I am working on overcoming my fear of horses. I can honestly say I wasn’t scared of this magnificent beast at all. As soon as she heard my voice, she moved towards me, lifting her head over the fence. I wish petting were allowed; I would love to give her a little love.
Traffic coming off of the cape was slow. Surveying on Rte. 6 was the culprit for the delay.
At 11:37 a.m., after crossing the Sagamore Bridge, Ron says, “I guess when we cross that bridge, we’re back on the mainland, heading north towards Plymouth. Bye, Cape.”
“They are good little travelers, shitty campers, but good travelers.” Ron.
He’s not wrong. They sleep the entire time we’re traveling; both love the crate. But God forbid someone walks by the campground with a dog when they’re in the pen. Yappy is my description of their barking. We do one of three things: rattle the cage to distract them, stand in front of them so they can’t see, or put them in the trailer. Whichever stops the yelling first.
We have a Barker Breaker, which works great indoors, but not outdoors. Secluded campsites work best for pups.
Rain sprinkled on us as we neared Boston. Ron commented, “This feels a lot like Richmond.” The ride is bumpy on the Logan expressway. And the city did until we got closer and the skyline came into view—both of ours first time driving through Boston on I-95. I’ve driven in Boston on several different occasions, but nothing compares to whizzing by its tall buildings with your house behind you.
Boston’s tunnels were the bumpiest. Ron said, “This road doesn’t get paved much either, does it?”
Driving north on US 1 North coming out of Boston is a surreal experience. Tobin Bridge, formerly Mystic River Bridge, is more than 2 miles long, with three lanes on each of the two levels. The massive green structure is the largest bridge in New England.
Heading north, we were on the bottom level, which created this amusement park ride effect. Difficult to put into words, but we both agreed, the experience was bizarre.
1:32, we entered New Hampshire. Less than a mile into the state, Ron says, “Roads are way better in New Hampshire.”
GPS, in her electronic voice, said, “Welcome to Maine” at 1:48 p.m.
Rotaries in Maine are crazier than Massachusetts. Coming into Old Orchard, we encountered one and had no clue what to do. The traffic circle isn’t clearly defined. Definitely, tread with caution.
Ron and I both agree Old Orchard resembles Northwest Pennsylvania. Rolling hills, vibrant greenery everywhere, houses built to handle the weather, Maine is breathtaking.
At 2:33 p.m., I snapped my first picture of Hid’N Pines Campground (HPC). Ron prefers to do the check-in so he can ask questions. I never think to ask the right ones.
Montreal from Old Orchard is a five-hour drive. Until this trip, I had no idea how large Maine is. Ron and I have decided we want to spend a month in Maine exploring all of her treasures. We also want to explore Canada once COVID becomes more of a memory and the border opens.
Ron went to get firewood while I finished up yesterday’s blog. I was not allowed to start a fire until I got back.
Hid’N Pines uses old washing machine tubs for their fire pits. We decided to use the pop-up because it uses less wood.
Killing time until Ron allowed me to build a fire, we toured the campground. He didn’t want me to start the fire too early and run out of firewood. The camp store closed at 5:00. So walking we went.
More permanent sites here than the other campgrounds. Hid’n Pines is an older campground with a heated swimming pool. They offer trolley wide back and forth to the beach, but we’re going to ride our bikes.
Apparently, we had a stowaway gnome from Sweetwater, a drink one too. We were surprised to realize they had a dog park, thinking it was another playground because of the obstacles. How cute is the patriotic pig:-)?
Ron’s nightly weather report for Maine vs. Virginia: “66 degrees here, 86 degrees there. Twenty degrees warmer at home, that’s crazy!”
The GreenUpGirl.com is a fellow camper here in Maine. I perused the website quickly but didn’t find a name to go with the website. Green Up Girl has a cool camper, no doubt.
As Ron’s weather report states, Maine’s chillier than back home. I needed to break out the crocs—something I’ve never done before in July.
Maine is awesome:-)!
Side note to this day:
This morning a police officer rang our doorbell at home asking about a missing girl the landscapers found while working. Thankfully, her mother was easily located. The toddler slipped out in her diaper when mom wasn’t looking.
A few minutes ago, the camp owner rode through on her Can-Am Motorcycle. She stopped to ask if we’d seen a missing 10-year old with red hair named Alyssa. We hadn’t, but the kids next door knew who she was. They told the owner where to look. Hopefully, they found her too.
Weird beginning and ending to the day. Praying both children are tucked safely in their beds.