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Heading out to the 175th Fryeburg Fair, a selfie.

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This is the oldest (175 years) and the biggest fair in Maine. How big, you ask?

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This big.

And after a late start due to my husband playing cribbage at breakfast with friends, we arrived two hours later than planned.

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On the way to parking the car? RV heaven.

Or hell as far as I’m concerned. Densely packed on flat dirt as far as the eye can see, I can’t imagine spending a week like that, but people come from all over New England and look forward to it every year.

To each their own.

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Many people go to the fair for the rides and carnival atmosphere … we’re not those people.

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We started with the race horses.

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Beautiful creatures who enjoy an occasional scratch.

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This poor fellow was trying to take a nap.

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While this one looked ready to munch a mum.

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Food trucks and vendors were everywhere but my husband hates eating lunch standing up and ducked into the one little restaurant they have on site instead.

Big mistake.

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It’s a bare bones place with a limited menu. They didn’t even have ice for our drinks. Warm Pepsi anyone?

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Husband had a watery bowl of stew with a biscuit you could use for a boat anchor while I had a dry turkey salad roll the waitress mistakenly charged me $1 for instead of the $11 it cost. A dollar was really all it was worth, but the cashier caught the error and we moved on.

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To the draft horses.

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Who were finishing the pulling show the husband usually likes to watch.

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These horses are gentle giants and I hate to see them straining …

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So I wasn’t disappointed we’d missed most of it.

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This beauty stood almost 19 hands.

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And the husband spent more than 19 minutes talking to this owner while I wandered around.

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Out back, these fellows were getting a bath.

Percherons, Belgians, and Haflingers. They never fail to impress.

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