leaving Brooklyn, I found myself on I-278 heading out of town, the Manhattan skyline filling the scope of the driver’s side window. as the Brooklyn Bridge towered above me, its massive arches and span wires still in the morning air, I couldn’t help but smile in wonder. a glance at the mileage chart taped to my passenger compartment gave me another smile – so many miles left to drive!
the next stop was New Haven, CT, home of Yale University. stopped into a small cafe near campus named JoJo’s Coffee, which made me a great skim latte and a blueberry muffin. briefly stopped by the Biblical Studies department building, which was unfortunately closed due to commencement later in the week.
from there, it was backroads through Providence all the way to Newton, Mass., just across the Charles River from Cambridge. New England truly has a different feel from Colorado, and even from the midwestern states like Ohio or Indiana. the scenery continually changed between quaint little towns complete with whitewashed churches, brick schoolhouses, and inexplicably the largest number of pharmacies I’ve ever seen – with dense leafy trees and rolling hills. the roads carried as many motorcycles as automobiles.
anyhow, once in Cambridge, I ran across Cafe Pamplona and grabbed some dinner – can’t be more convenient to Harvard Square and campus. Harvard, too, was preparing for commencement exercises, so thousands of white folding chairs filled the inner lawns as students and volunteers made final preparations.
the next morning, after a run through Harvard’s campus, I was off for Portland, Maine. I took Route 1, the coastal road, from the border with New Hampshire almost all the way to South Portland. STEVE’S TRAVELING HINT: Do not take Route 1, ever, unless you love tacky touristy lobster shacks or are over 70 years old and love hanging out with others over 70 in the “Bed and Breakfast District.” no, that’s not a real thing. but really, it is.
Street scene in Portland, ME. absolutely one of my favourite places.
do you have certain places that you’ve been, that always call back to you? places that resonated with something deep inside, but you are hard-pressed to explain what exactly that quality is? Crescent Beach State Park just outside Portland is one of those places for me. above is a picture near the entrance, of course the Atlantic Ocean is just at the edge of the shot. I have almost this identical picture which I took way back in 2004, the last time I visited. I spent a long time here, back then as well as on this day, and reflected.
these pictures were taken at a railyard near Fort Allen Park, on the far eastern edge of Portland. this girl was obviously getting her wedding photos done, and I was among a small number of amateur photographers that happened to pass by. at the risk of intruding, I asked if I might take some photos as they were setting up, mainly to practice, but also because the natural lighting was just too perfect to pass up. she quickly agreed, so I snapped away. it wasn’t 10 minutes later that she and her entire wedding party ambled up to a hippie couple camping out in their car by the railyard and the docks and asked them to be in a picture with her (they had guitars and drums, as most traveling hippies do).