Thursday 15 October 2009 - Bar Harbour, Maine

Our opinions on Nantucket were echoed during our visit to the mainland of Cape Cod - more perfectly groomed and uninspiring houses and dull touristy towns - until we reached the northern-most point of the Cape, Provincetown. P-Town (as it's known locally) is markedly different form any of the other Cape Cod towns in that it is a hotbed for local culture and arts and is openly (and frequently flamboyantly) gay. Taking place during our visit was the annual leather festival which was demonstrated by large numbers of men walking the streets in tight (and often ill-fitting) motorcycle leathers. Quite a sight. The town was excellent and, considering the town's small size and that our visit was out of season, there was an awful lot going on (in addition to the leather based activities).
From P-Town we travelled back through Massachusetts to Boston stopping off to visit a cranberry farm during harvest time and Plymouth - the site where the Pilgrims landed in 1620. Although the trip to Plymouth was largely stymied by the awful weather, it didn't affect our enjoyment of the cranberries. Harvesting the berries (which go straight into the Ocean Spray drinks we get in England) is quite a spectacular process as the bogs in which they grow are flooded causing the berries to float to the surface. The resulting sea of red berries is quite a spectacle and one of the iconic images of New England in the fall.
Our 3 nights in Boston were punctuated by lots of walking around the city looking at historical sights and (at Lisa's insistence) important locations from Ally McBeal. I wish that I had read more of Boston's history before visiting (I am only now reading a history of the war of independence) as it so much informs and pervades the city.
One highlight of our visit was on Sunday 4 October when Monkey Wrench, fresh from completing his hike of the Appalachian Trail in late September, came out to Boston to meet Lisa and I for lunch. It was excellent to see him and his wife Jodi again and hear his tales of finishing the AT (after initially having to get off in New Hampshire with knee problems).
From Boston we took a day trip to Salem, Massachusetts (not to be confused with Old Salem, North Carolina where Lisa lived). Salem was the site of the witch trials in the 17th Century in which more than 20 people were executed as witches as hysteria gripped the town. The modern town of Salem was pretty grim - there is a witch museum (that we visited) that tells a basic story of trials and crudely attempts to set them in a historical context. This museum is accompanied by a myriad of other tourist attractions about the more macabre and Gothic side of witchcraft (compounded by our visit taking place on the approach to Halloween). This caused me to get very self-righteous and indignant - it seemed to me horribly distasteful to create such a grotty tourist attraction on the back of what was one of the more shameful moments of early American history. As I was in the midst of my grump, Lisa noticed that all of the actual historical sights associated with the witch trials (such as the town hall, church and the houses of the protagonists) were not in old Salem at all, but in the nearby village of Danvers. So, in the afternoon we drove out of Salem to look at the genuine historical sites. This was a much more gratifying experience as the buildings are simply part of a pretty New England suburban neighbourhood without tourist bell and whistles. A small monument brings home how this was an event that took place in a sleepy community, not against the backdrop of Gothic music and spooky lighting.
Danvers also gave us a taste of what was to come as the towns showed the first signs of the fall colours that we went in search of over the next few days. Driving across to Vermont and first through the Green Mountains and then into New Hampshire and the White Mountains provided some truly spectacular views that vastly exceeded my expectations. Whole hillsides covered in reds and oranges and rural highways where trees of bright yellow surround the road meant that turning every corner brought something new. If Lisa's camera was busy in Charleston, here it went into overdrive! Vermont also allowed me to stand on the Appalachian Trail again for the first time since completing my hike. Although this doesn't seem a big deal, it felt surprisingly profound as it brought home to me the magnitude of my adventure.
Even more memories of the trail were invoked when the following weekend we drove to the Maine coast to stay with Peggy and Paul who I had hiked with off and on until Waynesboro, Virginia (about 800 miles into the Trail). We stayed with them in their new apartment, a 2 minute walk from a beautiful beach. The weekend was excellent as we visited the local tourist attractions (including the Bush family's summer house) and caught up on what had happened since we last saw each other. On Saturday night we went out to a local brewery to meet Beccy and Matt (Spitfire and No Toys) who I hadn't seen since Erwin, Tennessee - it was amazing all being together again and hopefully the start of some long friendships off the trail.
We were sad to leave Peg and Paul, but on Sunday we got in our car (a Toyota Yaris - it looks like a go-kart compared to some of the huge pickups on the highway) and began our journey north along the Maine coast. We spent a day in the pretty fishing village of Camden and then pushed on to Bar Harbour and Acadia National Park.
Acadia is located on an island just separated form the coast and is made up of sharp jutting mountains and forests which run right to the edge of the rocky coastline. Lisa and I drove around the park and took a hike up the Beehive - a very steep expanse of rock that commands amazing views of the coastline. It was beautiful and somewhere I'd like to return to in order to explore the network of hiking trails that criss-cross the island.
Also in Bar Harbour we had the ultimate Maine culinary experience - lobster. I found it delicious, but a surprisingly savage process. Tearing apart a whole lobster leaves you under no illusions that this little fella was happily swimming in the ocean until a few days ago. I enjoyed it, but it was a little fiddly (I really prefer my food to be shovel-able).
From here we leave to cross our first border and enjoy more culinary delights - onwards to poutine and smoked meat, onwards to maple syrup, onwards... to Canada!

Monday 28 September 2009 - A bus from Providence, RI to Hyannis, MA

Have just concluded an excellent week in Providence staying with Regan and are currently on our way to Cape Cod and our ferry to Nantucket. We got up to lots of adventures in Providence including (but not limited to):

• Attending a shockingly poor acoustic open-mic night where two acts performed equally dreadful versions of 'Living in a land down under';
• Seeing an excellent, mustachioed six piece band called Tallahassee playing bluegrassy rock with an ex New England Patriots American Football player as a lead singer;
• Eating out in Providence's Federal Hill neighbourhood which is so Italian-American it felt like eating in a scene from Goodfellas;
• Watching a movie about the campaign to elect Ron Paul to the presidency in 2008 - the first time I've encountered spontaneous applause in a cinema;
• Enjoying one of the oddest days of my life by attending a carnivorous plants show and then taking my first ever waltz lesson;
• Witnessing first hand just how bad Rhode Island drivers are including seeing a crash happen on the highway and a lorry driver reversing into a tree outside Regan's house (knocking it to a 45 degree angle).

As well as this Lisa and I met lots of Regan's friends as they all came over for pizza on Saturday afternoon. Am sad to be leaving Providence but excited to be on the road again. Cape Cod here we come...