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Friday, October 14, 2016
Home, sweet home
“New Brunswick barn,” oil on canvas, by Carol L. Douglas.
My first painting yesterday was of a barn. The grillwork of a Model T glowed faintly in the gloom of the open door. I was interested in the apple tree, but thought fondly ofKari Ganoung Ruiz and how well she paints old cars.
The property owner eventually came over to chat. He knew exactly where I live because he visits the Owl’s Head Transportation Museum. He invited us to lunch, little knowing that for thousands of miles, Mary and I have fantasized that someone, anyone, would offer us a home-cooked meal. And this was the one day when we couldn’t accept, because we had an absolutely strict timetable.
And he had leftover pie. Geesh.
Farm owner and his market truck.
Mary’s license arrived in Rockport Tuesday, so she had a photo of it on her phone. Still, I insisted on driving the Calais-to-Rockport leg of the trip. Searsport, Belfast, Lincolnville, and Camden, each in turn glowing gently in a light rain. Then I made the last rise up Richards Hill and was home.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. I’ve learned a few things, however.
The most useless things I brought were my hiking poles. I never remembered to use them.
I packed very austerely for the trip, and still brought exactly 100 lbs. of stuff. My painting supplies and canvases were calculated just right; my clothes hardly mattered. However, I wish I’d also had:
My painting umbrella and stool;
Proper camping equipment including a tent, because that SUV really was impossible to sleep in;
A more reliable car;
An atlas of Canada. There is no substitute for a paper map.
I enjoyed everything about this trip, even when Mary was so ill. However, if I were to identify the most memorable moments, they would include:
German bike tourists laboring up and down the Al-Can. That really is a strange hobby;