Sunday was primarily another day of driving, but it was easy as the drive wound through the New England countryside. (Click here to see the map of the route)
Driving west through Maine on Rt. 2 was peaceful. . . not much going on in the Maine countryside. We did, however, pass a beautiful old cemetery, and since I have an affinity for cemeteries we had to stop for photos. Many of the stones dated back to the 1800s.
We stopped for a tea and bathroom break in the small college town of Farmington, ME. It was such a small town, but at the same time it appeared to be the largest town for hours around. I couldn’t imagine going to college in a place so far removed from an urban area. What really drove home the differences between Farmington and our home in DC were the prices. My super-large cup of tea, which would be at least $2.00 at Starbucks, was 80 cents. 80 cents! I almost did a double-take when the cashier told me that. How can they even make a profit at that price point?
80 cent cup of tea in hand, we hit the road again, heading for the New Hampshire border.
Soon after crossing into the Live Free or Die state, Ryan spotted a sign for a covered bridge, and we took a little detour to find it.
The river that ran beneath it was gorgeous; the trees were just starting to come alive with color.
On the way back to our main route, we passed an old abandoned gas station. I had to stop and take some photos of the gorgeous old gas pumps:
A little while later we must have missed a turn, because the GPS led us down a back road that soon turned to dirt beneath our tires. It was a bit creepy, as it was clear our car was that of a tourist and not a local. At one home a man stared at us as, beer in hand, as we passed by his ramshackle house and junk-strewn yard. After about 2 miles, the GPS then instructed us to turn around and go back the way we’d come, back past the man who stared at us yet again. He’d probably had a good laugh when we passed the first time, knowing we were headed for a dead-end.
Either way, we got to see the wild turkeys grazing in a field:
And this picturesque red barn:
A little later on we stopped at this antique store which was located directly on Rt. 2. The owner was very friendly, and scored major points with me for having rescued a 3-legged cat. The shop had a fantastic array of vintage paintings and prints, but none came home with us.
As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the White Mountains grew larger and we remembered how much faster dusk approaches in the mountains. We were getting close to the town where we were staying, and had yet to pass by even a small grocery store to pick up fixings for dinner. The town of Gorham, NH was quiet, with no open grocery stores, and we realized that on a Sunday evening in the country many businesses were probably closed. Finally we hit the (literal) little town of Bethlehem, where there was a convenience store that stocked some groceries. We got some cheese and crackers as well as some local bacon for the next morning’s breakfast, and headed on to the Rustic Log Cabins.
The cabins were a welcome change from the previous accommodations in Maine. Cozy and quaint, but in a very tasteful way. We even had a fireplace directly in front of the bed. If that’s not the kind of setup you want for a chilly few days in the mountains, I don’t know what is.
After getting checked in, we settled into our cabin with our cheese and crackers, some mulled cider and a roaring fire, and did a puzzle. Which reminds me – I forgot to mention that we stopped at a cute little shop “I’m Puzzled” during our trek up Rt. 1 through Maine.