Saturday 2:37 PM

We're here!!! Finally!!! This place is so cool! We took the scenic route so we we actually came through the middle of Maine rather than up the coast. We went through a bunch of those neat little New England towns along the way. Dylan saw a Chevy Blazer that has catepillar treads instead of tires so we had to turn around a get pictures...and listen to Braxton wailing in the background because I slowed down to fast and all the luggage fell forward and came piling down on top of him. I was sorry it happened but had trouble expressing it because I was laughing so hard.

We got to Lubec and had to turn around and drive around the bay to get here. It is an old Coast Guard station that has been renovated. The cabin looks like a 20x20 cracker jack box with no character until you walk through the door. It's all open except for a partition that separates the bed from the rest of the room and a wall around the bathroom that doesn't go to the ceiling so all the rude sounds can be heard plain as day. Mom just has to suck it up and not worry about it. The guys don't seem to care... in fact I think the noises are intentionally getting louder and more rude.

The caretaker forgot we were coming so we had to get ahold of him to open our room up for us. That seems kind of normal because the lodge entrance has a table with notes to other incoming guests that simply say stuff like "Hartman's you are staying in the Washington room. It is unlocked and the key is on the counter. Enjoy your stay". And that is how people are greeted so it is a pretty laid back atmosphere.

When Richard did finally show up we asked him about the area and what there is to do here. He just looked at us and said "You do know you are at the end of the earth here right? There really isn't anything to do unless you want to see the lighthouse." He is actually a great guy and has friends that are lobster fishermen and offered to find us some lobster for our Monday dinner. You can only keep lobster that have a 5" inch back (which gives you about a 2 1/2 pounder) in the U.S. but the Canadians can keep anything so when the Americans catch the really big ones and toss them back the Canucks snatch them up and take them home. This is our government's preservation law at work...preserving nothing and giving it all to someone else!

We're getting unpacked and settled in so we'll post more later.

Craig

10:30AM, Saturday Morning:

Driving through the clouds in the mountains of Maine tells us we're getting closer but man this is a loooong road trip. Dad has done almost all of the driving as we have lost faith in Mom and never really had any in Braxx (evil laughter). I have watched 7 movies so far and eaten about 10 Slim Jims, half a barrel of cheese balls, 2 uncrustable PBJs (yum), 4 Monster Hitmen and a lot of water and pop so it's been a great ride so far. We have the A/C cranked and are bundled up in blankies and it is amazing! (Dad needs help in his taste in music but I digress).

We all slept pretty good while crossing Massachusetts, including Dad who was actually driving at the time (we now have trust issues with him as well. Helpful suggestions are desperately needed). He did pull over and sleep a little bit right before crossing into Maine. I'm going back to sleep now as it's call is overpowering me... Dylan signizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

5:03 AM, Early Saturday Morning
Temperature: 65 degrees, pleasant
Condition: Happy in a tired sort of way

Mom’s asleep, Dyl’s watching a movie, and me and dad are crying as we sing loud and proud to the deeply moving love song coming over the radio…no doubt off key…that is all.

4:00AM, Early Saturday Morning
Temperature: slightly frigid but not seeming to mind
Condition: A little sleepy

It has been a few hours since our lasts post so I guess it is time for an update. We’ve hit a bit of snag, whether it is the fact that dad took a break and let mom drive or faulty Garmin technology is yet to be determined, nevertheless, suburban New York will never be the same. After yanking dad from his restful repose, Maine is once again the destination instead of the dream. Apparently, or according to mom, the Garmin lied to us (Dylan here, in other words mom got us lost)…Dad says that the GPS is obviously female.
Back on the road again, we are a hundred and fifty miles from Boston (not exactly sure how to incorporate the accent via laptop so I’ll leave that up to the imagination). We’ve traveled from Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, to New York and on the way to Massachusetts. To say we’re aching and that our backs our all out of place would be an understatement, I personally am stuck in the back with Dylan who started the trip as a small child and, in 10 hours, has grown at least 5 inches. The comfortable nest I’ve created is growing increasingly smaller. So (yawn) I feel the eternal calling of sleep seeping back into the deep recesses of my mind…until next time.

Sincerely, the Maine-anites

As I write this we are two hours out and the van has become our new home for a time. This wondrous place we are riding towards holds beautiful oceanic views of…the…ocean I guess. This has greatly accelerated my excitement as the last time my eyes reverently touched the rolling waves was when I went to Mexico and became king of the penthouse. My subjects still deny this fact even to this day. I forgive them.
The miles tick by and I find me and my dad discussing different ideas of what we can do on this trip. Outside cars rush by on the interstate; the slipstream swooshing off their sleekly painted vehicles pushes our van from side to side. A giant Semi truck slides by, the logo reads of a beer company and we observe the massive tanker filled with the amber liquid with a sense of amusement. We then began to discuss the position Maine had on gun laws. Father reported that they do not recognize Indiana firearm permits so the aresenal stayed behind. Well, there goes all my dreams of lobster fishing (I fish my way...you fish your way!).

Sincerely, Braxton (King of Mexico)

4:23 PM, Friday Afternoon
Temperature: Can’t tell because of the sweet, sweet A/C
Condition: Waterlogged

NOW the journey begins. For some unknown reason, our departure couldn’t have been timed better, the storm had ended and after nearly an hour in the car without it moving from our driveway, I felt the familiar bump of the van’s tires touching down on asphalt road. The engine revved and my heart flipped (not literally…this would hurt) and the trees began to pass as each danced by in different poses. Life was good; me and Dyll were splayed out in the back, laptops full of movies and brains full of adventure; mom and dad sat in the front seats listening to music. We were all wet from the torrential downpour mentioned earlier, but none seemed to mind as we prepared for the twenty hour long trip ahead of us by stopping at TACO BELL and arby’s (I capitalize TACO BELL because it is way better than that other place!). After we left we crossed Six Span Bridge only to be greeted by the first odd sight of a trip that was sure to provide many others. Orange traffic cones alerted to drivers of the renditions being applied to the bridge, but on one crane in particular was a speed boat being hoisted fifty feet above the river (Dad swears that it is some kind of a conspiracy). Cameras, to say the least, were not prepped or rolling; so taking the situation to outside sources was the only option…by the way, thank you Lola Gunderman for the help.

We're Ready To Go And It's Pouring Rain

12:30 PM, Friday Early Afternoon
Temperature: Way too hot
Condition: Itching to leave
The Journey Began! Well that had been the idea anyway. Due to the time infractions between schedules, the majority of that being the most time caustic individual in our travel weathered band (Marcie), we did not endeavor to actually leave the driveway until after 3:00 PM. As grandparents and other family members arrived to see us off, a horrendous lightning blast shattered the tranquil sounds of the day. Soon after, a sheer sheet of rain bombarded us from all sides, making life a little more difficult as we tried, victoriously, to carry our supplies to the car. Once this was completed and mom had turned some good old gospel music on for Ruger so he would not go “Ding batty” as she put it (no doubt a reference from her childhood…somewhere out of the early sixties would be my best estimate), we all piled into the car. The only thing left to do was to figure out where we were going.
To do this we had to first get directions; now someone (meaning me…Braxton Troyer) might question the sanity of certain individuals who had waited until all was situated and everyone was placed in the car to acquire the appropriate address of our eventual destination. But as it stands, the four of us sat there in the van while Marcie, aghasted and angered at our lack of silence as she listens to weeks old messages of the address on her phone, communicates to the three men the importance of said message through less than cordial means; namely…she yelled at us.

Sincerely, the Maine-o-nites

PS: Dylan here, I am posting this for Braxton, I apologize to everyone for Braxton's overdeveloped sense pen-man-ship. Please do not lose heart future posts will be written in English.