Tuesday, September 7, 2010
I love camping. Fray's a great sport, even if her lack of sherpa skills relegates us to car camping.
To me, campgrounds - even the most beautiful - have a sweet, vintage appeal. They're a little neglected - quiet, and simple - products of a bygone era. Rusted-out swingsets and grills, RVs with P.O.W. flags and hanging tomato baskets.
Dinner takes time, as does a simple cup of tea. (These things also involve incendiary devices, which means they are Dogtor territory.) We go to bed early after a good conversation around the campfire. (We burned what I believe was pinion pine firewood - it smelled amazing.)
We set up at a small campground on Mount Battie in Camden, Maine. I've always been drawn to Camden because Edna St. Vincent Millay grew up there - and the place exceeded my expectations. The summit of Mount Battie overlooks Penobscot Bay - a beautiful expanse of deep water, small islands and evergreen-topped mountains. One side of the campground bordered a cliff overlooking the ocean, with access to a rocky beach. (Not so toddler-friendly, but stunning.)
Camden itself is charming - full of inns, restaurants offering chowder and lobster rolls, and a gorgeous bay area -which this weekend hosted the Windjammer Festival. (I love re-enactors dressed as pirates!)
We visited Lincolnville Beach and biked around Megunticook Lake. (I did not hear any loons - but we did have a very vocal owl at our campsite the second night.) We scored with food - a standout being an unplanned stop at Dot's Market in Lincolnville for coffee - which turned into coffee, torte, muffins, and a sticky bun for le Dogteur.
Only a little scarred from yesterday's six+ hour drive with an underslept toddler, we plan to return to Camden again.