It was with excitement that we set off on Friday, a day of adventures on the open road ahead of us. Yet few could have predicted how the day would turn out...
Following a rough guide round the region, taken from the official tourist website, we hoped for a peek at small town America, arty, folksy, 'neat'. However, our tour was immediately challenged when it became apparent that our map bore little or no resemblance to the world around us. Indeed, our journey was further compromised by Maine's penchant for naming their roads more than once and we found ourselves driving along the 2 north, 4 west, 100 south and the bet you have no idea where you are on the map, all at once.
Still, undeterred by our 'relaxed' progress, we thought it would be interesting to take an unplanned detour to a Shaker village. Clearly lost on an unnamed/multiple named road, we stopped to ask for directions at a gas station. A picturesque shakerless 35 minutes later we found ourselves back at the gas station. That irked a little. However, perseverance won out and we found the Shaker village. Its tall elegant buildings, tucked into the hills by Sabbathday Lake, were fascinating to look around. The village is now the only one left in the world where wooden Shaker boxes, built by Shakers onsite, can be bought. Our little detour took a while but it was really worth finding.
Back in the car our bad map/road correspondance luck continued. Comments made by mum and dad about the next part of the journey include 'utterly horrible' and 'first we lost our way, then we lost our will to live'. Hmm. We had wanted to go to Lewiston, which is one of America's top 100 art towns according to our printout. The main highway that used to run through the middle of Boston (now under reconstruction) was known as The Artery. I suppose I would describe the roads we were driving on - and let's continue the body metaphor - as an arm hair: tiny, many of them, not on our map. It took a long time to find Lewiston, and when we drove through it, I'm afraid the art was not apparent. And I'm afraid we were too tired to look. So on we continued to Farmington.
Distrust of the printout tour was rising in the car so it was with pleasure that Farmington did indeed have a quaint centre, as described. We wandered around the University of Maine at Farmington's buildings, quiet for the holiday, and happened upon a library. We entered, hoping to ask for information about motels, and found a real gem. Inside this small, oddly shaped building, was a miniature grand library, with arm chairs, wooden panelling, portraits and sky lights, sort of in the style of Grandpa's house. Such a charming discovery cheered us and on we continued to Wilson Lake and the Whispering Pines motel. The large calm lake was beautiful in the evening light and the air refreshing. We ate in the local pub, aptly named the Boiler Room for it really was the hub of the town. Packed with people and with live music and big portions, it was fun. Obviously, there was still room for the strange in this town and it was neatly presented in a series of large, multi-coloured and patterned painted ducks that could be spotted around the place...
Ahh, what a day. Our introduction to Maine 'off the beaten tourist track' was exciting and full of friendly people and unexpected finds. With our understanding of Maine's roads a little improved, I think we can hope for even more adventuring tomorrow...
Following a rough guide round the region, taken from the official tourist website, we hoped for a peek at small town America, arty, folksy, 'neat'. However, our tour was immediately challenged when it became apparent that our map bore little or no resemblance to the world around us. Indeed, our journey was further compromised by Maine's penchant for naming their roads more than once and we found ourselves driving along the 2 north, 4 west, 100 south and the bet you have no idea where you are on the map, all at once.
Still, undeterred by our 'relaxed' progress, we thought it would be interesting to take an unplanned detour to a Shaker village. Clearly lost on an unnamed/multiple named road, we stopped to ask for directions at a gas station. A picturesque shakerless 35 minutes later we found ourselves back at the gas station. That irked a little. However, perseverance won out and we found the Shaker village. Its tall elegant buildings, tucked into the hills by Sabbathday Lake, were fascinating to look around. The village is now the only one left in the world where wooden Shaker boxes, built by Shakers onsite, can be bought. Our little detour took a while but it was really worth finding.
Back in the car our bad map/road correspondance luck continued. Comments made by mum and dad about the next part of the journey include 'utterly horrible' and 'first we lost our way, then we lost our will to live'. Hmm. We had wanted to go to Lewiston, which is one of America's top 100 art towns according to our printout. The main highway that used to run through the middle of Boston (now under reconstruction) was known as The Artery. I suppose I would describe the roads we were driving on - and let's continue the body metaphor - as an arm hair: tiny, many of them, not on our map. It took a long time to find Lewiston, and when we drove through it, I'm afraid the art was not apparent. And I'm afraid we were too tired to look. So on we continued to Farmington.
Distrust of the printout tour was rising in the car so it was with pleasure that Farmington did indeed have a quaint centre, as described. We wandered around the University of Maine at Farmington's buildings, quiet for the holiday, and happened upon a library. We entered, hoping to ask for information about motels, and found a real gem. Inside this small, oddly shaped building, was a miniature grand library, with arm chairs, wooden panelling, portraits and sky lights, sort of in the style of Grandpa's house. Such a charming discovery cheered us and on we continued to Wilson Lake and the Whispering Pines motel. The large calm lake was beautiful in the evening light and the air refreshing. We ate in the local pub, aptly named the Boiler Room for it really was the hub of the town. Packed with people and with live music and big portions, it was fun. Obviously, there was still room for the strange in this town and it was neatly presented in a series of large, multi-coloured and patterned painted ducks that could be spotted around the place...
Ahh, what a day. Our introduction to Maine 'off the beaten tourist track' was exciting and full of friendly people and unexpected finds. With our understanding of Maine's roads a little improved, I think we can hope for even more adventuring tomorrow...
