I lay back in my inner tube and kicked my feet. The water was clear and warm. A dragonfly hovered before me. On the far shore of the lake, evergreen trees stretched as far as I could see.
It doesn’t get any better than this, I thought.
I renewed my vow not to leave Maine in the summer.
Why go anywhere else?
For years, I didn’t really have a choice. I was a school librarian, so the bulk of my vacation time was in the summer. My mother and my husband Paul’s parents lived in southern New England. We spent much of the summer going back and forth, or picking them up to bring them up to Maine.
Paul and I would often spend a week camping at Moosehead Lake with my mother and our dogs. Then we’d drive her back to her home in Massachusetts, leave the dogs with her, and continue on to spend a week on Martha’s Vineyard.
A few times we also traveled with Paul’s parents, visiting upstate New York and the area around Lancaster, Pennsylvania.
Then my mother moved. All the parents were growing older. Paul’s father passed away in 2003. At his funeral, Paul’s cousin mentioned that he and his wife were renting a place that summer in Rockland.
We visited them—it was a grand McMansion perched on Penobscot Bay. Very nice. Paul and I wondered why we hadn’t thought of renting a place in Maine as well.
So we did, by finding a rental on the bay. It was not nearly as elegant, but it had a long deck that extended across half the house. Our mothers were coming along too, and this was a perfect place for them to hang out. I could kayak off the rocky beach below. The cottage was located on a quiet, dead-end street, with nary a tourist in sight.
A tradition began. My mother continued to come with us for several years, until she passed in 2009. Paul and I just spent our 22nd annual week there. I always moan and groan as I pack up all the clothes, gear and food we need, but I quickly recuperate once we’re there. It’s only a one-hour drive, with relatively little traffic, and when we get there we feel like we’re in another world. I always start the week with a thousand worries about what could go wrong both at the cottage and at home, and end up feeling relaxed and renewed.
Isn’t that what we all want from a vacation?
I was reminded to be grateful for my staycations when I went to visit my sister and her husband in Rhode Island last August. We hadn’t seen each other in person since the pandemic, so I was eager to go. But I had forgotten what a slog it is to get down there in the summer. As I inched along in traffic, I was flooded with memories of past trips, made only worse because we were transporting elderly people and panting dogs.
I was younger then, and more tolerant of discomfort, but I would still be drained by the end of those journeys.
I am not so crazy about being in crowds anymore either. Recently I uncovered a T-shirt I purchased at the Newport Folk Festival in 1987. It was a fun time, but wall-to-wall people, which actually can be bothersome even in an outdoor venue on Narragansett Bay.
Of course, sticking around Maine in the summer does not mean you can completely avoid traffic or crowds. However, as Mainers, we know where they are. We made several trips to Acadia in April and May. Even then, we were hardly alone. But we know better than to go anywhere near Cadillac Mountain and Jordan Pond in July.
Taking day trips in the middle of the week also helps if we want to go to busy places like Boothbay Harbor or Camden. I figure weekenders will still be there on Monday and more are coming in on Friday.
But the real benefit to staying in Maine in the summer is that you don’t need to go near crowds at all if you don’t want to. There are so many wonderful places to visit that are off the beaten path.
In fact, I have a list of favorite spots that is so long I can’t even get to all of them some years. Last summer was so rainy, I never got to Harpswell, for example. Since that town is comprised of several peninsulas, there are plenty of nooks and crannies to explore.
I have no complaints about the last few months. There have been a few hot spells, but they haven’t lasted long. Paul and I have done a lot of gallivanting, but there’s still more to do, and time is running out. And that’s another reason I hate to leave Maine in the summer—I can’t possibly ignore my list.
I do love to travel. So even though I’m more than content to stay put in Vacationland in June, July and August, I’ve been taking some armchair trips, through murder mysteries set abroad. I’ve visited England, Ireland, France and Italy so far. Japan is next.
Reading those mysteries while sitting on my porch, or by the lake or on that deck overlooking Penobscot Bay, I can’t help but think, “It really doesn’t get any better than this.”
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