My mom a Midwest girl married my New England father in hopes that someday she could stay in a cottage by the sea. Small little cottages dot the rocky coastline all the way up Route One. My dad being a grumpy New Englander referred to them as, Tourist Traps. My dad’s dead now but my mom finally did get her wish forty years later.
We stayed at a cute little place just outside Camden for about $100 a night (we negotiated the price). The cottage looked out to a rolling wildflower field that tumbled it’s way down to the ocean. We took a stroll on the rocky beach before the black flies hit at sunset. Further north in Acadia National Park they have signs saying, “Don’t Take Our Rocks!”. They are pretty seducing rocks. I stuck a few in my pockets to remember our trip.
That night, we could hear the waves crashing on the beach. The sky was so clear you could see the streaks and stars of the Milky Way Galaxy. I woke up around 2 am thinking I could hearing someone having sex in a nearby cottage. Turns out it was only an owl. Not that I’ve ever known a hooter but it was an odd sound to hear.
The High Tide Inn