6/21/14
Mars Hill, Maine (Mars Hill Mountain)
If ever there was a time to say, “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” it would
be now. Sitting atop Mars Hill
Mountain, puffing on an ESG, watching the first sunrise in the country (lower
48) on the first day of summer, this is truly a blissful experience. I am literally typing blind, so I will
need to go back and proofread. I
don’t even care the damage staring directly at the sun might be doing to my
eye. It was a treacherous and steep
climb, but it wasn’t that long. My
cell phone flashlight provided ample light, and the path was easy to
follow. Once I got to the ridge, I
lit up my ESG and walked along to the summit. I got all the way to the top with plenty of time to spare. I saw that people had carved and burned
their name into the lean-to, so I did the same, leaving my mark. There was plenty of time until sunrise,
but I wasn’t sure about the best spot.
I didn’t think I would be able to see the sunrise from the true summit
due to the tees, but the clearing a few feet below was perfect, so I found the
best spot. It was really clouldy,
and I feared that I might not get to see it.
Then, it happened.
At 4:36 AM, I saw the first glimmer of the sun through the cloud bank, 2
minutes before West Quoddy Head, and I knew that I was the first person, of 300
million in the lower 48 states to see the sun rise today, the first day of
summer. It was truly magical. I took a bunch of pictures and sent
them to practically everyone I know.
Just one small note before I close. The previous entry was written at about 2 AM last night. I say last night since there a few
things that can cause me to change the date on the entry, such as sleeping
after midnight, seeing the new day on my watch face, watching “Married… with
Children” on TBS, or the sunrise.
Since I hadn’t done any of the others, by the very nature of this
adventure, I can now do this entry with a new date and call the previous one
last night. I was about to leave
when I remembered that I wanted to write this entry, and then I saw the sun
rising fully above the cloud bank, so I sat down and proceeded to write this
entry, which I will now go back and edit and close before I finally take my
nap, though I’m not sure I need it, and might just head straight to St. Croix
Island IHS.
At sea, Mink, Blue Hill Bay
When I was driving last night, every time I told myself that there was
only X time left until I got to the mountain, I would always have to remind
myself that it would then be followed by the hike to the top of the mountain,
the hike back, and then this hellish 11 hours of driving. Hellish is an understatement, and I am
only halfway done with the driving.
Here aboard the boat that will take me to the Ranger Station that has
the last stamp I need for my Acadia brochure, I can scarcely believe that I was
in the office just 24 hours ago.
After I closed, I made my way back down to the car, eating a Quest bar
en route. I lit up a Jugar cigar I
think it was closed, planning to take my nap either at St. Croix or after the
cigar. Big mistake. As soon as I lit up, I knew that I would
not be able to finish the cigar without falling asleep at the wheel. I had about 2 hours to spare for stops
and Dutch time, so I pulled into a rest stop, put my cigar on top of the car,
and set the alarm for an hour later.
I don’t know if I fell asleep, but I was wide awake 20 minutes
later. I stopped for gas and then
went to the McDonald’s drive through, getting the steak and egg, along with a
coffee. I’m quite sure it was the
first time I ever had McDonald’s and a cigar while driving. I finished the cigar and was soon at
St. Croix Island IHS.
I had to be
very careful not to accidentally drive into Canada, since I did not want to
deal with the hassle of crossing back and forth and dealing with BSA and
CBP. The gift shop at the VC was
lacking, but I got the stamped brochure, which was what mattered. I lit up my Padron and walked along the
path. There was no public access
to the island, but you could see it from the end of the path. For better or worse, I had established
a precedent, checking off an NPS if I can see the site if it is not publically
accessible, so long as I get the stamped brochure. Then, another long drive to the ferry dock, more naps, and
lunch at a lobster shack. That
might be one of my favorite things about Maine, all the roadside shacks.
After I had lunch, I lit up an LFD and
got back on the road. My mother
had sent me an email about another summer trip, which threw a wrench in my entire
summer travel schedule. I was
going to respond at the red light, but I saw a notice on console that said
incoming call from [her number]. I
pressed a button, and her voice came crystal clear through the sound system,
and she could hear me fine. It was
amazing. I suppose most modern
cars can do it, actually. We ended
the conversation agreeing that that this would hardly be our last trip to
Maine, since we both loved it so much.
For her, it is the beaches and the water. For me, it is the mountains and the trees. With about 15 minutes left to the dock,
I realized that I was starting to fall asleep. Twice I almost nodded off and swerved into the
shoulder. I didn’t want to pull
over so close to the dock, so I used all of my remaining energy to focus on
getting safely to the dock. I was
there soon enough, and I bought my ticket. I then went back to my car and passed out for about an hour,
definitely falling asleep this time, waking up refreshed. The five-hour drive back to my aunt’s
house tonight should be tough, but there are no more time crunches, just the
one on the island. As soon as the
boat took off, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.
Brookline, Massachusetts
Today is the longest day of the year, and it sure as hell felt like
it. It has been 40 hours since I
have slept in a bed, only getting a total of 2 hours napping in the car, and,
in the 32 hours since I left the rental car station, I have done 1100 miles of
driving, smoked a dozen cigars, and hiked for 4 hours. I have seen a glorious sunset, and I
have gotten two very important NPS stamps. I have not, however, been able to properly define
chemistry. I am unwilling to give
it the Clarence Thomas definition, so, for now, I am stuck with the interaction
of “style” definition. I will
continue to consider it as I drive tomorrow, but I think the proper question
might better be left to the psychologists and not the philosophers. It is not yet midnight, and I can
scarcely believe that the sunrise was this morning. It seems so long ago.
The whole day was a blur.
After I closed on the boat, I went to the gift shop to get a replica of
the lighthouse on the island. They
didn’t have replicas, but she tried to give me directions to walk to the
lighthouse. I pretended to listen
politely, not telling her that I had no desire to see the lighthouse unless I
would be adding a replica to my collection. I then proceeded to the ranger station to get that final
stamp. I will mention, however,
that, I realized that I did not have the park headquarters’ stamp, but I
actually don’t think they have their own stamp. This trip is supposed to be a parallel to the one I took
with my mom last year the same weekend.
During that trip, I had smoked the Cubans I brought back from my
Passover trip, so it was only fitting that I lit up a Cuban from this year’s
Passover trip as I announced, “Acadia Complete,” adding “for now” in case I
needed to get the HQ stamp. I went
on a little hike, managing to step in some deep mud and getting my shoe very
wet and dirty. I made my way back
to the boat with plenty of time and ditched my Hoyo as I was waiting.
The boat ride back was unadventurous,
and stopped at a restaurant for dinner.
I got a fried seafood platter, which was overpriced and not that good. I should have just stopped at one of
the shacks. They were out of
blueberry pie, which was just as well, since I stopped at a little bakery for
coffee and a blueberry cobbler. I
ate far more of it than I should have, saving some more for after I finished
the Aurora I had lit up. I was
trying to coordinate with my mother for our plans tomorrow, but she had found
herself in the quiet car. Rather
than moving to a regular car, she thought it would be a better idea to email
back and forth with me, as if driving 1100 miles on almost no sleep was not hard
enough on it’s own. At the next
stop, she moved, or so she said, and then we got disconnected. The service was back up, but she was no
longer picking up the phone. She
instead sent me another long email and had moved back to the quiet car, not she
had any desire to sit in the quiet car.
Finally, she said that she didn’t really care what we did and that I
could just plan something. I asked
her why she didn’t just say that in her first email. The reason I bring this up is that I know “winging” it never
works, and I didn’t want to have to plan either late at night when I got home
or in the morning, which would cut into our day, and trying to plan it by email
was as dangerous as it was inefficient.
My frustration over this was quickly turning to anger at her
irrationality, and it wiped out all the pleasure I had gotten from the
day. Recency always trumps primacy
when it comes to emotions.
It was
then that I saw it. A sign that
Augusta was 10 miles away. I had
planned to include Augusta with my October Canada trip so that I could start
off the trip by saying “New England Complete,” but it seemed foolish to put it
off, especially since all of the New England trips had been ones either
partially or entirely with my mother, so it would be fitting for this one to be
the one where I said “New England Complete.” I called an audible, which I almost never do, and I quickly
entered the State House into the GPS, which showed a 8:12 PM arrival, but when
was sunset? My phone did not have
data service, and I was frantically refreshing it. That’s when I saw the blue lights behind me. My heart stopped. Was I being busted? Nope, he kept going past me. I breathed a sigh of relief and then
saw that sunset was at 8:26 PM.
I
suppose that before I continue, I should note that my cousin just walked in to
the kitchen where I am writing this entry. She is absolutely gorgeous, and she seems to have only
gotten prettier since the last time I saw her. She is certainly no longer the little
girl that I used to tease.
Okay, back to Augusta. I
will also add that I was planning on writing an entry from Augusta, as I like
to do from each Capitol, but my laptop was at 8% the charge when I checked on
the boat, so it had to be less now.
At 5% it won’t function. It
was then that I realized I had brought the wrong charger. I didn’t have to look at it. I remembered from when I put it in the
glove compartment, but I didn’t realize it until then. I knew that I would have only chance to
tranfer the Travelogue off somehow, but how to do it? As soon as I got into the city, I saw a scaffolding over the
dome, and I was forced to laugh, knowing that it would ruin the picture, though
it would not stop me from saying “Maine Complete,” which I did, adding that it
would be New England Complete tomorrow.
All the anger and frustration I had felt disappeared and was replaced by
the thrill of being able to say “New England Complete.” I also had successfully
managed to copy the Travelogue to my phone, the laptop dying seconds
later.
I lit up my Gurkha, which I
knew would be the last cigar of the night, ditching it as soon as got over the
New Hampshire border. By the
numbers, I spent 26 hours in Maine, 4 hours for the sunrise, 4 hours for the
stamp, 1 hour eating and gassing up, 2 hours napping, and 15 hours driving, not
to mention the 4 hours of driving that took me to Maine and the 1 hour from the
border to Brookline, for a total 21 hours of driving over the course of this
32-hour jaunt. I gassed up, got
lost, made it towards Boston, took a wrong turn, which added a few extra
minutes, and finally found myself in the Synagogue parking lot. As I was leaving the parking lot, I
almost walked right into a pole. I
commented to myself on the irony of driving safely for 1100 miles only to walk
into a pole.
I walked to their
building, reminding myself that it was the second identical looking building on
the block. I walked in and was
about to press the buzzer when I realized that it did not say
“Hamilton/Block.” I walked out,
saying, “Oh, so it’s the THIRD identical looking building.” Sure enough, it was. My mother, aunt, and uncle were all
waiting for me, and my aunt was practically a zombie. She perfunctorily asked what I wanted to eat because she is
a good host, and, since this is a bacon-free home, I settled for cheese. She also set me up with my cousin’s
(not the gorgeous cousin, her brother) laptop, but it was a Mac, and it could not
read my phone. I wound up emailing
to myself, and just deleting everything but this entry and last night’s. I proceeded to write this entry, which
I will now close so that I can get to sleep, perchance to dream.
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