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After our delightfully boozy lunch at the Boathouse we took a scenic drive along the coast of Kennebunkport.
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It’s a beautiful area…
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Wild and windswept.
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With some seriously gorgeous waterfront homes.
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Needless to say it’s a little out of our tax bracket.
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But with President Bush’s summer home at Walker’s Point for neighbors….
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That’s not the least bit surprising.
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It was a lovely drive along the coast…
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And though I would have loved to stop and snap some photos, the husband was hungry… so you’ll have to make do with a few quick shots from the car.
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Here’s the famous Cribstone Bridge.
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And as you’ve probably guessed, lobster reigns supreme.
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This was our destination, Cooks Lobster and Ale House.
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A local landmark built in 1955 on a long spit of land with panoramic water views. Popular with locals and tourists alike (although we locals don’t appreciate the tourist prices) it’s a no fuss, traditionally rustic waterfront restaurant.
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But what it lacks in decor? It makes up in scenic vistas. The view from our table was pretty sweet.
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The cocktails are potent.
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And two Cosmopolitans were all I could handle if I wanted to remain upright.
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Pardon the fuzzy pic, it was taken through a screen.
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The food is simple but delicious. Caesar salad (with the most amazing homemade herb butter croutons evah!) for me, a tasty French onion soup for my other half.
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Perfectly cooked lightly battered fried sea scallops for me….
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And lazy lobster for my rat bastard husband who ate it in front of me without feeling the least bit guilty. (I came up allergic 7 years ago and can no longer consume the delicious crustaceans without becoming seriously ill. 😩)
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Dessert? Of course it was blueberry pie. And as we waddled out to the car… we stopped for a moment to take in the beauty.
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And realized the husband might have backed up a bit too far upon arrival.
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Maine rocks. They’re unforgiving little devils.
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When it’s a beautiful summer evening in Maine? You head to the coast for dinner… and since we hadn’t been there in a few years, we drove to Cooks Lobster and Ale House.
In order to get to the Island where it’s located, you drive over the world famous Cribstone Bridge.
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Why do I say world famous? Because it’s literally the only one in the world.
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Built in 1927 of stacked granite blocks held together by gravity alone, the unique design allows high tides and rough seas to pass through freely.
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It’s a marvel of engineering and has had only minor repairs since it’s construction nearly a century ago.
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We tend to take it for granted in these parts but it’s actually a major tourist attraction.
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Of course the beautiful coast of Harpswell and Orrs Island don’t hurt either.
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Quintessential Maine fishing villages. Small, rugged and built to last.
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Onward to the restaurant… past stacks and stacks of lobster traps.
To be continued.
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We took a scenic drive down south the other day and ended up at Camp Ellis. A tiny spit of the Maine coast that suffers greatly during storms and high seas.
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So much so that their beach front is now mostly rock and concrete.
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Erosion is threatening homes and drastic measures are being employed. Because when your front lawn looks like this?
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You know something has to be done.
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I constantly wonder why people even bother. The sea will come, and nothing man can do will stop it.
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Waterfront living is wonderful, but water in your living room… not so much.
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Sweet, Fleeting Season in Camp Ellis
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Let’s start with a beautiful picture I snapped the other night when we took a ride up the coast.
Maine summer on the ocean.
You can’t beat it.
Our neighbor invited us over to see their tree house up close and personal.
Yes, the tree adjacent tree house I complained about in my blog a while back.
So… which one of you weasels ratted me out?
Adverbs.
Or rather, the death of them… is driving me to drink.
Real delicious?
Make the next one a double.
Grocery store bouquets.
Because sometimes a girl just has to buy herself flowers.
Socks… for my table?
Wonder if the dryer will eat those as well.
And finally, because you know I couldn’t resist….
You’re welcome.
Just when I think this horrible year can’t get any worse…..
2020 snickers and rubs its hands together in glee.
That’s right, a Great White Shark is in Maine waters and has killed a woman. We used to think this was impossible ….. but it’s 2020.
All bets are off.
Shortly after the tragedy, these pictures were taken off the coast of the Island where I used to lived.
Lunch.
That’s my Island in the background.
*Gulp*
And if Great White shark appearances in Maine aren’t crazy enough?
This happened early Wednesday morning:
It felt like a bomb had exploded in our basement.
And if that’s a 2.2?
I’m never moving to California.
Of course, we’re Mainers.
Tough….
Resilient.
We will rebuild!
Continuing farther down the coast of the Outer Banks, I wanted to stop and walk out on a pier.
(Have I mentioned that I have a knack for picking the coldest, windiest, most frigid days to do this? Seriously… it’s a gift. If there’s one bitter cold day on an otherwise delightfully warm 2 week vacation? That’s the one I’ll choose to walk out on a pier.)
There’s the husband, bracing himself against the wind and giving me (and my phone) the evil eye.
And there’s the entrance to Jennette’s Pier, the biggest and best in Nags Head.
Gladly.
This type… and the other. It was too damn cold for either of them.
Approaching the entrance…. you don’t follow a yellow brick road.
But a line of memorial blue fish.
I love this idea!
A quick peek at the beach…
The map…
And me mumbling ‘Holy Crap it’s freezing! Can you read the pier history a little faster please?’
A quick peek at the beach on the other side.
Through the gate…
Past the turtle.
And finally, the door…
Where the husband had to hold on to his hat so it didn’t fly off.
It was that windy.
A brief warm respite inside to pay the $2 ticket price and out we went.
As piers go?
It rocked.
Even the birds agreed.
These guys were everywhere.
Fighting the wind just like us.
Hairdo?
Not so much.
So we walked….
Shivering in the arctic blast…. with the husband cursing me under his breath.
Good times.
Every now and then there would be a wind break where we’d huddle to catch our breath.
And then finally, we reached the end.
Where the husband realized we had to walk back, into the wind…. and started cursing me under his breath all over again.
During the 17 years we lived in North Carolina, we never managed to make it to the Outer Banks… though not for lack of trying on my part. So on Day 6 of this vacation? A three hour road trip.
Past the Lamberts Point Coal Terminal in Hampton Roads…
The largest coal exporting port in the country.
And if you think it’s pretty? Just imagine how nice it smells….
Yes. Kind of like that.
Over and through the Hampton Bay Bridge Tunnel…
And past some tempting tourist attractions.
Is it shocking we didn’t stop?
No.
It is not.
One more very long bridge later….
And we were there.
The Outer Banks of North Carolina.
The Graveyard of the Atlantic.
200 miles of beach.
Where the wind was so fierce it was blowing said beach right across the road when we got there.
It had been a mild 48 degrees in Williamsburg, but here?
It felt like minus 12.
Beachfront condos and rentals were everywhere.
And in every color you can imagine.
Neighbor’s roof blocking your view?
No worries, just build a deck on yours.
It never ceases to amaze me how little property they can build on these days. Our town has a 3 acre minimum….
At the Outer Banks? It must be 3 inches.
And though we were getting hungry for lunch…
Awful Arthur’s was closed.
Damn… and I really wanted to see how awful it was.
But since we have a good friend named Richard, who is sometimes called Dick?
We had to.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen.
I got my crabs from Dirty Dicks.
My She Crab soup that is….
And my hushpuppies….
And my Ocean Blue Margarita in a disappointing plastic cup as they had run out of funny bar glasses…. or so we thought.
I’m not a Bloody Mary fan…. but that looks like a meal in itself.
The husband had mussels and lamented over not getting a glass for his collection.
(Oh, did I tell you? Along with all the other ridiculous pieces of crap things he collects… he has now decided to acquire a glass from every fun bar or restaurant we visit.)
Did this place qualify as fun?
I don’t know….
But with fried potato salad on the menu it definitely qualified as southern.
Finished eating, the husband asked the waitress to rinse out the plastic cups so he could bring them home to our friend as a joke…. which is when she pointed to us to their entire store of Dirty Dick merchandise.
We should have known.
But it was too good to pass up and we bought him a hat, a t shirt and a bumper sticker for Christmas.
(P.S… He loved them)
If you live in New England, I can guarantee you’ve seen numerous bumper stickers, t shirts and assorted swag with the ubiquitous black dog silhouette.
But on day 4 of our fabulous Cape Cod adventure, we had lunch at the real thing.
The original Black Dog Tavern on Martha’s Vineyard.
For a sweetly illustrated history, click here.
It’s a rustic little place…
With some fabulous views.
Filled with maritime history as well as the flavor of the sea….
And on the day we had lunch there?
Even an adorable real life black dog on the beach.
(No worries… it was a cool day, he had water and his owners checked on him regularly.)
Cocktail?
Don’t mind if I do….
Since we were at the Black Dog, I tried a Black Dog Orange Crush.
Which might have to become my new favorite way to wake up the day.
Happily sipping, we enjoyed watching the ferry.
The boats..
The harbor…
And local craft beer disappear.
But yes, the food. We came for food…
Quahog chowder. Thick, creamy and delicious with homemade croutons made for a nice start.
What’s a quahog you ask?
It’s a large hard shelled clam.
Isn’t that just typical human behavior?
Name your pet, then kill him to find out how old he is.
Sorry Ming, you deserved better. And I sincerely hope you weren’t in our soup.
I was in the mood for a good chargrilled burger and this one didn’t disappoint.
The husband? He inhaled two dozen mussels.
Replete, we said goodbye to the real black dog….
The views…
The pier….
And the original Black Dog Tavern.
Fervently wishing they would come to Maine and build one on our coast!
When we left Edgartown I saw a sign saying Menemsha, and something in the deep dark recesses of my brain sparked.
To be honest, I didn’t even know why until I got there.
The art wasn’t familiar.
Neither were the warnings about jellyfish and nude bathing…. two things that should never be experienced together.
So while the husband made a new friend…
I walked around wondering why this particular place had called to me.
Wind?
Just a wee bit…
It was a lovely spot.
And as I wandered…
I realized what I was doing.
I was walking in my late father’s footsteps.
He was an artist….. and had painted this very spot.
That’s why we were there.
Because all my life….. I’d seen the word Menemsha on a few of his paintings and never knew what it meant.
I lost my father when I was 15.
Much too young…
We missed so many things.
But for a moment, on this day….
He walked with me.
And my heart was full.
River's world..... 