My tall bedroom windows face east, allowing abundant morning sun to shine in. On Saturday, I awoke to that natural alarm clock and resolved I could not stay indoors. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, packed a few snacks, and grabbed my Maine map—all that is required for a day of ambling.
After hopping on 295 North, I decided I would take an exit when…it felt right. I thought Exit 28 sounded good, so I followed Route 1 North through the towns of Bath, Wiscasset, Newcastle and Damariscotta, and then I headed due south on routes 129/130 to Pemaquid Lighthouse Park. Built in 1827, the lighthouse sits on a huge, rocky outcrop at the tip of one of the many peninsulas along the Maine coast.
About a dozen other people strolled around the well-landscaped grounds, scaled spiral steps to the lighthouse’s observation deck, and ventured out onto the rocks. The offshore Hurricane Katia also made her presence known, churning up some strong waves and rip currents. I walked out on the rocks to a safe distance and perched myself atop one of the ridges and ate the southwest turkey wrap and clementines I brought for lunch. Although it was a perfect reading spot, listening to the waves crash against the rocks, I found myself absorbed in observing the waves swell and then roll in and back out. It was also interesting to study the rip current. I’ve certainly been caught swimming in my fair share of rip currents and have seen them at the beach; but sitting about 40 feet above the waves offered a new bird’s-eye perspective of the current, as water rushed from the left, converged with water from the right, and the resulting channel of churning water receded back to sea.
After about an hour wave- and people-watching (lots of tourists in khaki shorts and white sneakers…) I wandered into the Fishermen’s Museum, which offers a look into the area’s maritime history. Lobster traps and other old fishing equipment adorned the walls, and a records room containing old logs of shipwrecks and the lighthouse captains piqued my interest. I then walked up the spiral staircase to the top of the lighthouse, where I examined the original Fresnel lens and took in the beautiful view of the ocean. The clear blue sky allowed for glimpses of some of the islands scattered across the adjoining bay.
Back in the car, I opened the map and decided to head back north to the Damariscotta area. Along Route 130, I saw a sign for “Fort William Henry Historical Site” and turned left. There I found “Colonial Pemaquid,” a National Historic Landmark—a pretty legitimate designation, so I decided to amble. I walked across excavations of 17th- and 18th-century structures, including Fort William Henry, which played a role in 17th-century wars between the English and Native Americans (you can read more detailed history here). The artifacts museum was closed, and a wedding party started to congregate on the grounds, so I moved on. I look forward to returning and exploring more, though.
I continued north along Rt. 130 to Damariscotta, where I spotted the Maine Coast Book Shop and Café. I found a parking spot and strolled along Main Street, featuring a myriad of charming, independent shops and galleries. I meandered into the bookstore and browsed Maine hiking and trail guides. While I skimmed through the options, I overheard one of the workers assisting a customer find a book titled “Nothin’ but Puffins.” They were having a difficult time locating it on the shelves. After settling on Moon’s Maine Hiking, I turned around to find the field guide section and decided to browse there a little, too. My eyes immediately spotted “Nothin’ but Puffins” on a lower shelf, so I called the clerk, still frantically searching for the book, over. She was so grateful and exclaimed that I deserved a sticker. Thinking she was joking, I just smiled and said I was glad I could help, and I proceeded to browse through the Staff Picks. A few minutes later, while I read the back of The Scent of Rain and Lightning by Nancy Pickard, the woman enthusiastically gave me a sticker featuring a colorful dragonfly, with a green thorax, blue abdomen and pink wings and legs. For those of you who don’t know, the dragonfly is my favorite insect (and means a lot to me, but that’s a story for another day), so I let my inner child prevail with excitement and stuck the prize to my shirt.
While I made my purchases (the hiking guide and a few postcards), I asked another clerk if she could recommend any nearby trails along the Damariscotta River. She gave me directions to Dodge Point Public Reserved Land, just a few miles away on River Road (how appropriate). I found it easily and was thankful for a convenient and helpful bulletin board displaying trail information. I trekked along the Old Farm Road Trail, which traverses along old farm roads (again, how appropriate) used by farmers in the 19th century. At the first junction, I decided to continue along the Shore Trail, which follows the shores of the Damariscotta River and offers access to sand and pebble beaches. With no one else around, I sat on the sand and snacked on some almonds, taking in the river’s tranquility, an antithesis to what I observed just a few hours before. For as beautiful of a day it was, I encountered only a handful of other hikers on the pebble shore, where they watched their dogs frolic in the water; and except for passing one family about 0.2 miles into the Old Farm Road trail, I had the trails to myself.
After the hike, I decided to continue along River Road, a scenic drive with tall firs on both sides of the road. About eight miles later, I came to a junction with Route 27. I could turn right to go to Wiscasset and connect with Route 1, or turn left and go to Boothbay Harbor. The latter name sounded familiar, so I turned left, and a few miles down the road, I arrived in another quaint little town. It was now about 6:00 p.m., and with a wonderful autumnal chill in the air, I decided to amble once again. I could immediately tell the town must be hopping with tourists in the summer, with shops along like Daffy Taffy Moosehead Coffee Shop (which was sadly closed for the day) along the main street. After sitting by the harbor for awhile, I strolled into Sherman’s Book and Stationery, where I bought some more postcards, and then the Friends of the Library Used Bookstore.
Walking back to the car, an older couple asked me if I knew where Gleason Fine Art was, which I just happened to walk by. I confidently provided directions, not disclosing I just finished my first visit to Boothbay Harbor. They didn’t need to know.
With dusk approaching, I decided to head home to Portland, knowing I would be driving south and west with good views of the sunset. I was not disappointed—the sky was painted in bright pink and orange in the west, but that was not the only treat. Wispy altocumulus clouds also slowly slipped by the rising, almost-full harvest moon in the east. I looked for places to pull over along 295, but alas, the sky sightings will have to remain mental pictures.
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