Even though air travel isn’t half as much fun as it used to be.
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It’s odd how much I miss those rubber chicken dinners now that all you get is a packet of dry as toast cookies.
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But while the views out the window can be spectacular, I do prefer driving when it comes to setting your own schedule and stopping at will for local points of interest. Some of the best things we’ve found and seen have been well off the beaten path.
Cruise ships? Never. Floating germ factories crammed full of people with whom I don’t want to converse no less vacation.
Trains? Like them for day trips but no cramped overnight bunks and minuscule bathrooms for this chicka.
I know it’s a little soon after my last series of fair posts, but we hadn’t been to the biggest and best fair in Maine in six years and last week the husband said let’s go.
So we headed west to Fryeburg.
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This was a weird year weather wise, with way too much rain late in the summer so I despaired of finding vibrant fall color.
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Leaves were turning but in muted hues.
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Of course it didn’t help the day we picked to go was gloomy, damp and overcast.
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Still pretty, but not jaw dropping for autumn in Maine.
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Pulling in to the fair grounds parking lot you pass rows and rows ( and rows and rows and rows) of travel trailers occupying every spare inch of ground.
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It’s a virtual RV city and my idea of hell on earth, but to each their own.
Maine doesn’t have an official state fair but Fryeburg is the last of the season, as well as the biggest and the best. Paying our $15 per admission price, we entered the gate by the horses and just missed some live music.
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The band wasn’t there, but the draft horses were and that’s even better.
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Some of these fellas are unbelievably large. I tried taking a selfie behind this guy but he started to back up as I was focusing so I backed up as well. And quite quickly.
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Magic Mike was beautiful…
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As was this dappled grey I would have to name Snowflake.
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For the most part they’re gentle giants but a weeks worth of people gawking and petting would make me want to kick something too.
After our visit to the fair, we tried a place I’d been hearing good things about for dinner….the Old Mill Pub in Skowhegan.
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It didn’t look like much and since the inside dining room was packed, we headed outside.
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Where the view from our table wasn’t half bad.
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Things started well with a fabulous blueberry mule.
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And an amazing French Onion soup for the husband.
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This is his go to appetizer so when you’ve tried hundreds, you always appreciate when it’s done right.
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Dinner for me was yummy maple bourbon glazed steak tips with garlic mashed red potatoes and sautéed broccoli (not pictured) …. and a light and lovely lemon butter haddock and mashed for the spouse.
We’re not often in this part of Maine, but I’m putting the Old Mill Pub on my list of places to revisit if we are.
While I love palm tree clad tropical beach sunsets and the idea of cute cabana boys delivering endless margaritas, the reality of the heat which accompanies that fantasy makes me cranky just thinking about it.
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Great cities? They have a heartbeat and are filled with numerous ways to entertain, not to mention five star restaurants. The museums alone can keep me keep blissfully occupied for weeks. But the older I get? The more I appreciate a crowd free venue.
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My vacation choice is the mountains. Crisp, cool, pollution free air. Scenic vistas and breathtaking views. Unspoiled nature. That’s the vacation that lowers my blood pressure.
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These pictures were taken on our trip to the Great Smoky Mountain National Park in Tennessee 5 years ago.
A trip up the coast to Belfast brought us to Darby’s Tavern.
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It was built in 1865 and still has its original tin ceiling.
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The bar screams prohibition era retro.
And speaking of the bar…
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A ruby red grapefruit martini hit the spot.
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I think the Babe approved.
Darby’s is famous for it’s “from scratch” kitchen, and lunch did not disappoint.
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I started with homemade cornbread with blueberry maple butter. Ooh la la! So good I didn’t want to share.
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But the husband started with a sinfully rich cream of broccoli soup and kept reaching for my bread.
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Above the bar? The antique Budweiser lamp my husband has been trying to cajole off his brother who owns the same one . When you switch it on, the lamp lights and the Clydesdales start walking. Real man cave material, but Darbys wouldn’t sell theirs either.
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I ordered off the specials menu, though I had no idea what made a crab’s toe peek.
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Didn’t matter, it was delicious. Toes et al.
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Husband chose a broiled haddock in scampi sauce with a fresh green salad and maple Dijon vinaigrette.
In case you hadn’t guessed our recent scenic drive up the coast wasn’t random, it had a particular destination in mind.
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The often heard of, always praised… BCB.
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It didn’t fail to impress.
The place is huge.
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As advertised… it’s a giant chicken barn with the bottom floor devoted to a multi dealer antique store and the top floor home to over 200,000 books which sounded like pure heaven to me .
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We entered the building and turned left, happily strolling in and out of treasure filled booths. Husband is obsessed with old glass water jugs, but he already had this one and reluctantly put it back.
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I saw Benjamin Franklin… complete with kite.
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And the type of vintage crank phone I’ve been wanting for the man cave/Barn Mahal… though this one was in terrible shape… so there it stayed.
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The downstairs seemed to go on forever but when we were through with the left side of the barn and returned to the middle entrance to peruse the right side, the temperature started rising. ( Husband is seen here examining a wooden egg crate, but we already have 3… so I said no ) This old building has no air conditioning and it being the middle of summer… things were starting to get downright uncomfortable. For some reason the farther right you went the hotter it got so I was basically speed walking through the stalls trying to work my way back to a cooler section.
And because I don’t need any more vintage wooden crates for my vinyl record collection?
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A veritable mountain of vintage wooden crates for my vinyl record collection.
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And this … because a big chicken barn needs a randomly placed big chicken.
I’m ashamed to report I did not have the stamina to peruse the books. I climbed the large staircase, reached the top and literally couldn’t breathe for the heat. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say the temperature rivaled the surface of the sun. Okay, maybe that’s extreme… but honestly, it was unbearable and everyone who ascended to the second floor came right back down. I wish I’d known this before we came, I would have planned a fall or winter visit.
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We took a different route home and drove through one of the prettiest coastal towns in the state, Camden.
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We thought about lunch but the downtown area was packed solid with wall to wall tourists so we just breezed on by….
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With me wanting a hobbit doorway under our porch like this one.
River's world..... 