always on the move

The first item we had written down when compiling our joint bucket list about a decade ago was to travel for a year continuously. We had met a couple of years earlier at the start of S’s nine-months-long jaunt through South America. The following year, D had backpacked through most of the same countries over the course of six months. Aiming to reprise those travels, but to do so together, we set the bar at a nice round number, envisioning lots of adventures and plenty of opportunities for cultural immersion and culinary exploration. A decade later and with two kids in tow, it feels like we have spent the last twelve months constantly on the move. The last year has treated us well, but it has also been exhausting — and definitely not what we had had in mind when penning our bucket list.

down by the bay

After missing out on a puffin cruise this summer, we marked the end of our stay in Bangor with an even more quintessentially Maine experience, spending a day out on a lobster boat with some friends.

midsummer musings

Every year in mid-August, D pauses to take stock. The approaching end of the month signals the end of the summer, which this year means yet another move for our itinerant clan. Mid-August also marks the anniversary of D’s arrival in the United States — an event that personally feels no less momentous than it did three decades ago despite the significant passage of time and all the twists and turns that life has taken in the intervening years.

back at the beginning

Casting around for suitable hiking options in the Rangeley Lakes area, we came across a familiar name: Tumbledown Mountain. “It looks beautiful and it has a tarn on top, we should do it!” S exclaimed before adding, “Wait, didn’t we climb this before our wedding?” It seemed unlikely — we got married on the coast, a couple hours’ drive away. “There are probably multiple peaks with that name,” D ventured. This was not an unreasonable assumption; after all, Maine has multiple Bald Mountains — including two in the Rangeley Lakes area alone — so why not multiple Tumbledown Mountains?

mushroom kingdom

Happiness is many different things to different people — a lover’s embrace; an old favorite song that tugs at one’s heartstrings; a hard-to-find bird bursting suddenly into view; a quiet afternoon with a book and one’s dog curled up at one’s feet; the unrestrained, contagious laughter of one’s children. For D’s parents, happiness is a wild mushroom, or — more precisely — a forest full of them.

along the 45th parallel

We’ve been writing a lot about Maine’s northern woods and mountains the last few months. Wandering these boreal forests about an hour south of the Canadian border or feeling the cold sting of the ocean wind whipping across the mountaintops we’ve climbed, we sometimes forget that we’re not that far north at all. The night temperatures may dip into the low 50s in the middle of summer and our car may be fogged over most mornings, but we’re barely halfway between the equator and the north pole. Maine’s northernmost point, in fact, is closer to the equator than Paris, Munich, or Vienna.

summer stories

“Don’t just lie there; tell me a Pinky Bear story!” Junebug commands before D has even laid his head on her pillow, “whatever you want, but it has to be something new!” D’s mom is of the opinion that Junebug has us both wrapped around her little finger and will for many years to come. She’s certainly grown more imperious as the summer has progressed. “Brush your teeth, do the mouthwash, leave the door open, go to bed, and don’t put anyone to sleep,” are the precise nightly instructions S receives from our little lovable tyrant when we switch off.

echoes of the past

This is not the first summer we have spent in Maine, but it does mark the first time we have resided here for an extended period with kids old enough to appreciate it. It’s not just the access to natural wonders and the sense of community we’ve all enjoyed. Small towns, which Maine has aplenty, are the heartbeat of America, showcasing the country’s historical origins and keeping its traditions alive. The kids might not fully appreciate the history, but they sure have enjoyed dipping a toe into it.

small-town life

In a curious way, being a global nomad has brought S full circle. Growing up in a small town, she had longed to get out and explore the world, leading her to study abroad in both high school and college, backpack for a year before grad school, and eagerly jump into the itinerant Foreign Service lifestyle. Yet, living much of the last decade in capital cities around the world has also highlighted the appeal of small-town America in ways S might not have appreciated at the beginning of our odyssey. The slower pace of living, proximity to nature, and community feeling of small-town life make S want to put down roots somewhere and have a small town of our own we could truly call home.

saddle up

The Appalachian Trail isn’t the longest hiking trail in the world — it’s not even the longest trail in America — but it is the stuff of legends. First there was Earl Shaffer, the WWII vet who wanted to “walk the war out of my system” and in doing so became the first person to thru-hike the AT. He accomplished the feat in 1948, a decade after the trail had been completed. Then there was Emma Gatewood, a grandmother of 23 who in 1955, at the age of 67, told her family she “was going for a walk,” bought a one-way ticket from Ohio to Georgia, and disappeared into the woods for half a year, becoming the first woman and only the sixth person ever to thru-hike the trail. Bill Bryson’s humorous, self-deprecating account of his 1998 thru-hike helped popularize the pursuit. Only 3,000 people had accomplished the feat in the trail’s first sixty years. Since Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods was published and subsequently turned into a movie, that number has swelled to more than 21,000.