Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Portland, Maine

Those are my feet, up there. That's the first time they were in the Atlantic Ocean. I'm 41 years old.

I have had to put off this trip to Maine for two years. I suppose that's not entirely true, as everything in life is a choice, right? I chose to pay cash for my trip this time. I had to pre-arrange for things to be managed while I was gone, and the whole month of May was crazypants because I was preparing for my absence (mostly by making soap). But it was worth it.

For all my life, I never understood why some people were "into" water, or boating, or lighthouses. I grew up in the gorgeous landlocked state of Iowa, where river fishing and taming my hair due to the air humidity were the closest I came to water recreation. After hanging out in and around Portland, Maine for a week, I am starting to understand.

The sea is mysterious. It stretches forever away. It is blue on top, and three feet beneath that turns black as night and is terrifying. It's also liberating. I also had the thought, more than once, that the ocean is alive, and it felt like it wanted to say something or do something--to send a message. Of course, this is ridiculous thinking, but that's the feeling I got, standing on a beach, watching the tides come in.

The landscape on Maine beaches is stunning. The air was fresh--scented with salt and pine trees. I can breathe in right now and remember it, and my blood pressure drops. Amazing.

Have you taken a trip that affected you?

(Many more photos to come--lots of stories to tell.)

No comments:

Post a Comment