Maine was wonderful to say the absolute least. Picturesque. Friendly. Quiet. We had originally planned to spend 4-5 days in Maine. We ended up being here for 14 days and enjoyed nearly every minute of it (especially once we got north of Portland).
On our way to the northwest corner of Maine, we stopped in a state park. The website said it was open. We cruised in at twilight to discover the campground had in fact closed for the season. The ranger flagged us down and it became apparent that this dude did not give a shit about anything other than his six meat and cheese sandwich that he was eating like it was evidence in a murder case. “Just pick a place,” he said between bites and pointed amorphously at the ever darker woods around us. “I’ll bring you some firewood, yeah?”
I agreed. A fire would be nice. Heat. Light. Us alone in the woods. Sure.
Miracle and I found a spot beside the pond and set up camp. Our ranger never brought the wood and the night came on in the pine forest with a darkness so opaque and a stillness so complete that you could only tell when you blinked by the noise of your eyelids opening and shutting.
That’s when I encountered the moose. I was down by the pond where I could see some stars. And they seemed to pop right out of the sky. I was surprised to hear the tide lapping at the shore since this was a pond and there should be no tide. I realized a few meters away (gotta practice that metric system for the Canadian leg!) a giant wallowing beast was bathing in the water. I walked back a few steps and then I trotted backwards. Then, I ran. I don’t think the moose saw me, nor would the moose have cared, but I am a ninny.
We woke the next morning with the mission to press on toward the border. The trees up here are in full fledged color and our final cruise through the deep woods was soaked with warm colors against a blue blue sky. I thought I would never see fall colors like this ever again. Then we entered Canada…