ME.

Driving through Maine on Rt. 1 did not meet my expectations. Perhaps, only because my expectations were wrong. Instead of the jagged, rocky coast I imagined below me, the road separated from the ocean by only a steel guard rail (not unlike the PCH), I found rolling hills, sprawling forests and fields, and stone beaches leading to quiet harbors and inlets. This is not a complaint.

Passing through Bath, I somehow forgot about Popham Beach, the location of the background image on my Droid X for the past 6 months. I would, unfortunately, continue to forget about it until we were driving South again.

Breakfast at the Wiscasset Diner in the eponymous town was charming and satisfying.

Driving through the Mid Coast, with its charming towns and pastoral fields made me want to stay. Maybe spend a summer working on a fishing boat?

The lobster roll from Red's, touristy as it may be, is near perfect.

We passed a number of flea markets. This mount for $500. A bear pelt for $900. I once saw pictures of a Stanford White property with two polar bear rugs; such furnishing is probably not as acceptable as it once was, but I wouldn't oppose it.

Buoys for $15? I'm glad I found mine on the Cape.

Yours truly doing who knows what.

We eventually arrived at Bar Harbor. Passing by named estates and local hotels, I dreaded the thought of the crowds that would emerge in the summer months.

An afternoon hiking down (and up) Acadia's Cadillac Mountain and stopping along Ocean Drive lent spectacular views of the coastline, from far and near.

I finally found the rocky shores I had been yearning for.

As the sun set on our last night in Maine, I raced through Acadia National Park chasing the orange glow. Miles of road on the Park Loop were passed in a rushed blur; my eyes focused on every bend and curve of asphalt.

I wanted more time then. I still do now.