Bradbury Mountain State Park is such a hole-in-the-wall state park. It’s empty most of the time except for six or eight campers. No rush here. Sit and talk to the campground host or help the ranger stack firewood. It’s slow time; my time. I asked the ranger how to get to the city of Auburn, which is inland, rather than go out to the freeway to Portsmouth. He shook his head and tried to layout the route. I picked up road names here and there and told him not to worry. I’ll find my way using google maps. Back in my office (aka, the RV table) I memorized the numerous intersections and back roads to the city. Boy, did I get lost! I loved it. I’d pull off the road and fire up the laptop to find out where I was. (I’m glad I don’t have a GPS. It would take all the fun out of the surprises.)
The countryside was mix of delights: houses and barns built 150 to 200 years ago; hay fields, hardwood forests and the roads, oh, my god, the roads. Once leaving the major highways one is introduced to the rural road systems of Maine. Are they a total mess: ripples, cracks with grass growing in them, holes with patches, crumbling shoulder pavement; dips and valleys in the pavement. Driving Maine rural roads is an experience one must have to know the state. I was really upset with the conditions of the roads until I talked to a local. They have yet to figure out how to do road building in a state that has massive frost heave. Talk to any farmer and he will tell you about the new crop of rocks that show up every spring due to the lifting powers of ground being frozen. Roads are not exception.
So here’s Ramblin’ Ron at the helm of the 29 foot Winnebago named Snee-Oosh like he was trying to negotiate Dodd’s Narrows in the Gulf Islands at maximum flood. First the rig would lurch to the port as she struck a diagonal pavement mound; correct to the starboard; fractured shoulder pavement; twist the helm back to port. Oh, my god, oncoming big boat (farm truck); watch rigging clearance (don’t hit mirrors!!). Ripples in the pavement and all the dirty dishes start chattering in the sink. The helm wants to jump out of my hands. Things crash to the floor. “What’s going on back there?!?” Oops, missed a turn. Round up into the wind! (Pull over) Gotta go back. Falling off. Prepare to come about. (Turn around) Coming about in a 29 foot land yacht is no easy task. Reaching hull speed on this puppy for these conditions. Cut the knots (speed)? Hell no!! Haul in the sheets!! More RPM’s needed to get up the hill and bank to the starboard. Love those stonewalls. “Reduce Speed” sign; slow down. The four way stop intersection in downtown North Pownal was made up of a century old church, a town hall and eight houses with a "for sale" café. Then it was back to the country. I was laughing the whole time sawing back and forth across the road with the RV heeling this way and that, trying to handle the totally uneven surface, .
Maine is a treasure to be discovered. When it was made up of farms, small towns existed everywhere connected by farm-to-market roads. With automobiles now these wonderful little villages struggle to keep alive. First Gloucester, then New Gloucester, then followed by Upper Gloucester; all towns right out of England and labeled in the same manner; first the town, then a newer town with the same name; then a town further up the river with the same name and since it’s either up the river or up on the hill, it gets by default the name of Upper.
Finally the density of the houses increased and the speed limit dropped and I reached the outskirts of Auburn. I caught a glimpse of the town’s history through the houses. There was a large pond on the Androscoggin River with long two and three story red brick buildings lining the banks. The town was first a farm town but when the railroad arrived, it turned into a mill town attracting many French Canadians to work in the shoe factories or textile mills.
I stopped and discovered a tomato on the bench behind the helm. “Now how did that make its way up forward??” I cranked up the laptop again and with the help of google (charts) maps, I found the main drag. However the very simple task of changing the oil on the RV became a journey of going to one place then another all telling me that the rig was too big for their place. I finally ended up (the fourth try) at a Ford dealership that specialized in trucks. They could take me in thirty minutes and so the satisfaction of being self contained proved to be rewarding. I turned the hot water tank on and did that noisy sink full of dirty dishes. Life is good.
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