I’m thinking pancakes. It’s not my normal breakfast  – most days I just scarf down some fruit and a cup of coffee. But pancakes have been calling to me lately. Perhaps it is a longing for simpler childhood days when Mom mixed up a batch of buttermilk batter and lured us out of bed with the delicious aroma of flapjacks sizzling on the griddle. Sometimes Mom threw in bananas or chocolate chips for variety. On occasion she got really creative and made pancakes with Mickey Mouse ears. Ah yes, my sisters and I were pancake gourmands. Or so I thought until I visited New England.

Quiet during the fall "leaf-peeping" season, the Sugar House roars to life every spring as the sap is boiled down to produce pure maple syrup

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Fall foliage at Acadia National Park, Bar Harbor, Maine

More Wordless Wednesday

For my final day in Maine I chose to wander south on US Rt. 1 along the coast, sampling the various towns from Penobscot Bay to the New Hampshire state line. I started in Camden, which one local resident described as “the jewel in Midcoast Maine’s crown.” It is a lovely village, with the requisite picturesque church steeples, sailboats, and a waterfall that cascades down a rock outcropping in the center of town before emptying into the harbor. Its streets are lined with perfectly manicured shops and brick-laid sidewalks lead to alleys and nooks with more shops and restaurants.

Lovely little harbor in Camden, Maine

Downtown Camden, Maine

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Remember the movie Funny Girl? The one starring Barbra Streisand as Fanny Brice? Remember the scene where Nicky Arnstein takes her to Maine and introduces her to lobster? And she eats herself stupid?

Since arriving in Maine I’ve had lobster in just about every way it can possibly be prepared. I’ve had lobster bisque, lobster stew, lobster pot pie, and a lobster sandwich. I’ve had lobster atop a Caesar salad. But until last night I hadn’t splurged on a whole lobster. Since I will soon be leaving Maine, I figured it was now or never. My server suggested a 1 1/4 pound lobster, which sounded just fine to me. A few minutes later, she plunked down a giant plate in front of me. On it was an entire lobster – claws, head, body, tail and all.

Now, I’m not a particularly squeamish person, so the antennae and the itsy bitsy feet didn’t really bother me. My problem was Read the rest of this entry »

My car is headed south now, as I gradually make my way back home to Florida. However I am still traveling in an unstructured manner, so when I came around the long curve of Route 1 leading to Penobscot Bay and spied the Penobscot Narrows Bridge, I just knew I had to stop for a photo. I pulled off Rt. 1 and discovered that there was a visitors center for the bridge. To my surprise, the tallest upright of the bridge houses an observatory in the upper tip of “the needle.” Five dollars bought me the right not only to ride to the top of the tower, but also entry into the adjacent Fort Knox.

Penobscot Narrows Bridge

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God was a careless artist when he created Maine. He did not dab with a paintbrush. He did not splash. He poured beauty over the State. Nowhere is this magnificence more evident than in Acadia National Park, which occupies nearly half of Mount Desert Island and a scattering of smaller islands off the coast of northeast Maine.

Fall colors in Acadia National Park

I could live here for years and still not sample everything that Acadia National Park has to offer, much less see it in its many moods and seasons. As it was, I spent the better part of two days viewing the spectacular fall foliage, which may have been the showiest display in years because of the abundant summer rains. On day one I began by driving the 27-mile loop road in the eastern section of the park, which is the easiest way to see spots like Sand Beach, a turquoise jewel of a cove tucked between two rocky arms that is a favorite of summer beach-goers, and the historic Jordan Pond House, known for their tea and popovers as much for the view from their floor-to-ceiling windows.

Sand Beach in Acadia National Park, Maine

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Oh the weather outside is frightful, But the fire is so delightful, And since we’ve no place to go, Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

At the moment, the lyrics of this old song could not be more appropriate. I arrived in Bar Harbor, Maine at noon yesterday to skies so dark and gloomy that it was difficult to get a good photo. From the town pier I climbed the hill and strolled through Agamont Park where, despite the chilly weather, people sat on wooden benches enjoying the view of the harbor. I was surprised to find the town so full of tourists at this time of year but I soon learned why; two cruise ships had anchored off-shore for the day. Apparently the activity of “leaf-peeping” – traveling in search of colorful fall foliage – has been embraced by the cruise industry and Bar Harbor is one of their major ports of call.

Indeed, the fall foliage along the coast of Maine is quite showy; the broad, leafy trees overhanging the steeply inclined sidewalks of town still exhibit brilliant colors. I wandered in and out of shops, stopping here for espresso, Read the rest of this entry »

Give me a Mom and Pop motel over one of the ubiquitous chain motels any day! They are often dated to the point of being dilapidated and offer only the most basic amenities: a couple miniature bars of soap, two or three cellophane wrapped plastic cups, a few scratchy towels barely big enough to be called towels, and a roll of single-ply toilet paper slightly less rough than sandpaper. The better ones occasionally even provide shampoo, conditioner, and a coffee maker. So why am I so attracted to these small, locally-owned operations? Aside from the fact that they are affordable, the owners of these establishments almost always bend over backwards to make you comfortable.

When I rolled into Woodstock, New Hampshire for my recent visit to Franconia Notch State Park, I spotted The Carriage Motel high atop a hill overlooking a river. It had that kitschy look that screams Mom and Pop, including an old-fashioned game room in the courtyard. True to form, owners France and Dennis Demers welcomed me with Read the rest of this entry »

The more I travel the more I appreciate the astonishing beauty in the United States. There are so many things I love: lighthouses, waterfalls, beaches, wildflowers, mountain trails, the list could go on forever. I find that most trips take on some sort of theme and this one is no different, as today I visited my third gorge in as many days. This one was The Flume in Franconia Notch State Park in north central New Hampshire.

The Flume at Franconia Notch State Park New Hampshire

Even though the fall foliage here is “past peak,” inside the protected gorge there were enough leaves remaining on the trees to add some color to the trails. The Flume is a natural 800-foot long gorge with perpendicular walls that rise to a height of 90 feet. It was formed nearly 200 million years ago when the underlying granite fractured vertically, leaving wide gaps. Later, the molten lava that was forced up through these cracks cooled to form basalt rock. As erosion lowered the earth’s surface, the dikes were exposed. The softer basalt eroded faster than the surrounding granite, creating the deep valley that is today the gorge. After the Ice Age, Flume Brook began to flow through the valley, and the swiftly moving water further eroded the gorge and became a series of spectacular waterfalls: Read the rest of this entry »