(Alas, I am running a bit behind on my blog here. Time to play catch-up. Which is entirely different than playing 'Salt', which is my name for a popular game in the dining hall- where campers try to slide the salt shaker across the table, hoping to gauge the slide so that the shaker stops right at the edge with a bit hanging over... but I digress. This post concerns my adventuring 2 weeks ago, on July 4-5)
One of the best parts of coming to camp as a (quasi) staff member is the plethora of wonderful opportunities available to you on your day off-- there is so much to do, to explore, and new discoveries to make; I really do feel that, no matter how many summers I end up spending here, there will always be some little delightful, heretofore unknown thing just waiting around the corner. One of those occurred as I went to breakfast on my Saturday morning.
Allison has Sundays off, and that is our main "trip" day. Thus, I often have the other half of my weekend to myself, assuming I can recover from my Friday deep-night camp watchman duty with sufficient energy to get out and about. Since I sleep until sometime mid-morning, the first activity of the day is brunch, usually in North Conway (NH), at either Priscilla's or the Stairway Cafe, my two favorite haunts for a bit o' eggs, bacon, and syrupy delight.
In order to avoid the awful traffic on the main thoroughfare in NC, experienced visitors use the side roads to approach and park, and on this day I parked on a side road I had not used before; as I walked toward the restaurant, I noticed a little covey of businesses tucked behind the houses... and to my delight I noticed a bakery that I had no idea existed.
I love bakeries. There are few things in this world as aromatic as the smell of fresh bread cooking, and the yeasty incense wafted down this tree-lined entrance. I'm sure the look on my face was not much different than Charlie had when he discovered his possession of the Golden Ticket to the Chocolate Factory.
But first, breakfast. I would abstain from the bakery for just a short while in search of protein. The Stairway cafe is an eclectic place with incredible menu options, including various wild game sausages.
The presentation is wonderful, the food delicious; it's been a delight of mine for 3 years. This year marked two minor changes that intrigued me: they had added air conditioning, in the form of a window unit; and the paint job on the signature stairwell was disappointingly uniform. When I first discovered the restaurant, the words to the first verse of "Stairway to Heaven" were painted on the risers of each step. They actually repainted them last year, but when I inquired about the words I was told that they would be repainted on the new coat as well. Alas, they were not, and one of the quirky aspects that delighted me seems to have gone the way of the dodo. As for the A/C, it was a welcome addition, but also changed the feel a bit... in the past I would choose Stairway only on the cooler mornings, when the breeze coming through the open balcony door was sufficient to keep this hot-natured boy comfortable. Now, that decision factor no longer comes into play, and they keep the balcony door closed. Minor points, I know, but I get nostalgic about such things sometimes.
After breakfast I walked the main street for a bit, and took in an arts and crafts fair benefiting the Senior Center. There were a handful of booths, and I missed my wife the most as I wandered through, for the smell of fresh kettle corn was drifting from the center outwards; Allison dearly loves kettle corn, and I'm sure I would have lost some coin in my belt pouch if she had been with me! At one booth, I met a fellow potter. I have been studying and learning pottery for the past year, having both a modicum of success and a wonderful time to boot. Now one thing about Maine and New Hampshire... they are magnets for artistic types. You can't swing a kayak paddle around here without hitting a pottery shop. However, many of them are often shops featuring the work of masters, and stuff that is light-years beyond my capabilities at this point.
I truly enjoyed meeting this lady and browsing through her works because, although she was a more advanced potter than I, her techniques and styles were much more similar to the ones I'm learning, so I felt a kinship with her and her pottery. Sort of a "this is where I will be before too long" feeling. I honored the kinship by purchasing one of her pieces.
And then I headed to the bakery. I won't attempt to write how I felt when I went inside. It was a vicarious experience that I would have to mind-meld with you to share. Suffice it to say I bought I loaf of bread to take back to the cabin with me, for snacking on later that day.
Prudence demanded that I head back to the cabin for a nap, but instead I headed to Bridgton, a town just to the east of Fryeburg. I had been there just the day before, to watch Matthew and other IA/FA campers running in the annual "Four [mile] on the Fourth". However,it had been drizzling rain all day, and my favorite bookstore was closed, so I went back the next day. I wanted to go to the bookstore, by gum.
Bridgton is a neat little town with good shopping, dining, and (dare I repeat myself) a great little bookstore. I believe the town is mentioned in several Stephen King novels, although I can only personally confirm that for the "Dark Tower" series. Despite the fatigue that was starting to set in, I wandered through the narrow aisles between bookshelves, picked up a few things on clearance, and also selected an anthology of works by Maine poets. A few more pictures taken, some butter for the bread purchased at Food City, then it was time to head back to camp.
One last little note on the "discovery" theme. This country up here has a way of 'ambushing' you with scenic vistas. The prevalence of heavily wooded areas, composed of extremely tall pine trees, can provide a veil of sorts that hides things from you until the last minute; in the flatter, rolling landscapes of Texas and the Southwest, where the horizon is almost always visible, this doesn't occur so much.
Although I've made the drive to Bridgton many times now, I still recall vividly one such ambush the first time I drove there, and decided to recreate for you as best as possible. On the way to is a lovely little lake called Moose Pond. For my money, it's large enough to be called a lake, but up here, they call such things ponds, so we'll go with that. But the only warning you get is the existence of the kayak/tube/paddleboard shop just up the hill from Moose Pond, and BOOM! you go from forest to an exquisitely beautiful lake straddling both sides of the road. I guarantee you my pictures don't do it justice.
So, one never knows when one might be ambushed by a Moose Pond or a bakery. The only option is to get out there and see what happens... see what you can find. Here in Maine... or New Hampshire... or anywhere.
One of the best parts of coming to camp as a (quasi) staff member is the plethora of wonderful opportunities available to you on your day off-- there is so much to do, to explore, and new discoveries to make; I really do feel that, no matter how many summers I end up spending here, there will always be some little delightful, heretofore unknown thing just waiting around the corner. One of those occurred as I went to breakfast on my Saturday morning.
Allison has Sundays off, and that is our main "trip" day. Thus, I often have the other half of my weekend to myself, assuming I can recover from my Friday deep-night camp watchman duty with sufficient energy to get out and about. Since I sleep until sometime mid-morning, the first activity of the day is brunch, usually in North Conway (NH), at either Priscilla's or the Stairway Cafe, my two favorite haunts for a bit o' eggs, bacon, and syrupy delight.
In order to avoid the awful traffic on the main thoroughfare in NC, experienced visitors use the side roads to approach and park, and on this day I parked on a side road I had not used before; as I walked toward the restaurant, I noticed a little covey of businesses tucked behind the houses... and to my delight I noticed a bakery that I had no idea existed.
 |
| The little bakery behind the houses |
I love bakeries. There are few things in this world as aromatic as the smell of fresh bread cooking, and the yeasty incense wafted down this tree-lined entrance. I'm sure the look on my face was not much different than Charlie had when he discovered his possession of the Golden Ticket to the Chocolate Factory.
But first, breakfast. I would abstain from the bakery for just a short while in search of protein. The Stairway cafe is an eclectic place with incredible menu options, including various wild game sausages.
 |
| The "North Country Hiker"breakfast... yummmmm |
The presentation is wonderful, the food delicious; it's been a delight of mine for 3 years. This year marked two minor changes that intrigued me: they had added air conditioning, in the form of a window unit; and the paint job on the signature stairwell was disappointingly uniform. When I first discovered the restaurant, the words to the first verse of "Stairway to Heaven" were painted on the risers of each step. They actually repainted them last year, but when I inquired about the words I was told that they would be repainted on the new coat as well. Alas, they were not, and one of the quirky aspects that delighted me seems to have gone the way of the dodo. As for the A/C, it was a welcome addition, but also changed the feel a bit... in the past I would choose Stairway only on the cooler mornings, when the breeze coming through the open balcony door was sufficient to keep this hot-natured boy comfortable. Now, that decision factor no longer comes into play, and they keep the balcony door closed. Minor points, I know, but I get nostalgic about such things sometimes.
After breakfast I walked the main street for a bit, and took in an arts and crafts fair benefiting the Senior Center. There were a handful of booths, and I missed my wife the most as I wandered through, for the smell of fresh kettle corn was drifting from the center outwards; Allison dearly loves kettle corn, and I'm sure I would have lost some coin in my belt pouch if she had been with me! At one booth, I met a fellow potter. I have been studying and learning pottery for the past year, having both a modicum of success and a wonderful time to boot. Now one thing about Maine and New Hampshire... they are magnets for artistic types. You can't swing a kayak paddle around here without hitting a pottery shop. However, many of them are often shops featuring the work of masters, and stuff that is light-years beyond my capabilities at this point.
 |
| My pottery acquisition |
And then I headed to the bakery. I won't attempt to write how I felt when I went inside. It was a vicarious experience that I would have to mind-meld with you to share. Suffice it to say I bought I loaf of bread to take back to the cabin with me, for snacking on later that day.
 |
| Matthew, all set to run fou |
Prudence demanded that I head back to the cabin for a nap, but instead I headed to Bridgton, a town just to the east of Fryeburg. I had been there just the day before, to watch Matthew and other IA/FA campers running in the annual "Four [mile] on the Fourth". However,it had been drizzling rain all day, and my favorite bookstore was closed, so I went back the next day. I wanted to go to the bookstore, by gum.
Bridgton is a neat little town with good shopping, dining, and (dare I repeat myself) a great little bookstore. I believe the town is mentioned in several Stephen King novels, although I can only personally confirm that for the "Dark Tower" series. Despite the fatigue that was starting to set in, I wandered through the narrow aisles between bookshelves, picked up a few things on clearance, and also selected an anthology of works by Maine poets. A few more pictures taken, some butter for the bread purchased at Food City, then it was time to head back to camp.One last little note on the "discovery" theme. This country up here has a way of 'ambushing' you with scenic vistas. The prevalence of heavily wooded areas, composed of extremely tall pine trees, can provide a veil of sorts that hides things from you until the last minute; in the flatter, rolling landscapes of Texas and the Southwest, where the horizon is almost always visible, this doesn't occur so much.
Although I've made the drive to Bridgton many times now, I still recall vividly one such ambush the first time I drove there, and decided to recreate for you as best as possible. On the way to is a lovely little lake called Moose Pond. For my money, it's large enough to be called a lake, but up here, they call such things ponds, so we'll go with that. But the only warning you get is the existence of the kayak/tube/paddleboard shop just up the hill from Moose Pond, and BOOM! you go from forest to an exquisitely beautiful lake straddling both sides of the road. I guarantee you my pictures don't do it justice.
 |
| Just a country road through the pines... |
 |
| this is less than 1/10 of a mile from the other photo. Promise |
So, one never knows when one might be ambushed by a Moose Pond or a bakery. The only option is to get out there and see what happens... see what you can find. Here in Maine... or New Hampshire... or anywhere.
