Greetings from Mighty Majestic Maine. Welcome to the Edell’s anniversary edition. Let’s talk some impressive stats….
1995 The year A Girl and Her Hubs met.
17 💍 How many years until he put a ring on it.
2012 The year A Girl married Her Hubs-Vegas Style. Also, the debut year of A Girl, Her Hubs and a Suitcase.
1998 We began traveling the world-first destination-Italy 🇮🇹
30 🗓️ That is how many years A Girl and Her Hubs have been together.
40+ The number (approximately) of whirlwind trips we have been on.
Longitudinal investment gained from decades of coupledom does offer a sense of pride and joy, but it is really the day-to-day grind-the welcoming familiarity of humdrum daily life that fosters true inner peace. Detaching from the everyday predictability to the unexpected nuances of discovery is what keeps the passioned quest alive. Destinational bonuses aside such as a stellar global magnet collection include infinite memorable and tender moments encountered, shared experiences together and the cherished rare, serendipity that treasured keepsakes of exploration are made from.
Travel grants a unique window of revelation that unveils the curious and magical world around us. However, our guilty pleasure and burden of unrelented wanderlust has been the driving force responsible for some of our most embarrassing mishaps that have provided A Girl and Her Hubs with endless entertaining content for storytelling. Regrettable catastrophes followed by amateur screwups that often resulted in international fiasco are the touchstones of many of our diabolical tales. It’s important to note this production is sans the usual run of the mill A Girl and Her Hubs shenanigans. The familiar large girl in a small word drama/cringy foot in mouth antics are noticeably absent this go around. No Moose were spotted, no hosts discord dished out, no scandalous cultural confusion or global misdeeds concocted. This report is void of the typical Jersey girl melodrama. What it lacks in theatrics it more than makes up in word artistry.
For our wedding anniversary, a task was set forth-a mutual goal to celebrate our 13 years of marriage while seeking a bargain deal. A challenging endeavor in the season of prolific summer rip-offs-we found a genuine pearl in a real oyster of a deal. Allegiant Airlines was offering $39 each way (plus baggage fees) to Bangor, Maine. This New England oasis checked all the boxes. Oddly, with all the years of globetrotting between us-we had never been to the “Pinetree State”.
A hasty impulsive non-refundable unanimous decision was declared. We instantly immersed ourselves in a rapid masterclass of the Northernmost US state. Ironically as we reside in the Southernmost US state of Florida. Instantly, we found ourselves spellbound beyond rationale from a soul stirring You Tube viewing of the magnificent splendor of the Blair Hill Inn located in the quaint small town of Greenville. This was a key step in our planning progression-as this shifted our focus from a beachy coastal trek of the shores of Bar Harbor (which nothing wrong with that) to instead the sedate natural brilliance of Moosehead Lake.
Everything about this adventure was optimistically different than our usual set of circumstances. Vacationing during high season is something we steer far away from. By utilizing the “shoulder” months we gratefully bypass irritating crowds, the unbearable heat, inflated prices, chaotic traffic, and other killjoy and wallet destroying nuisances. July in Maine is prime-time for a summer holiday-however, we did not confront any of the forementioned inconveniences above. Additionally, we departed through a significantly smaller airport than our usual home base of Tampa. The entire process from beginning to end was remarkably efficient, seamless and inexpensive. For this stint, we took a minimalist approach, downsizing our baggage, limiting our belongings and overall lowering our expectations which in the end helped us appreciate the rewards that much more.
Just short of three hours the wheels gently touched down on the Bangor tarmac. Flying out of St. Pete was refreshingly civilized and effortless. But arriving in Bangor we were downright giddy by the timesaving simplicity. In supersonic velocity we sped through a surprisingly orderly baggage claim and an impressively prompt car rental service. We uncoupled and in record time simultaneously procured both the car and suitcase. After decades of wrangling though the wretched horrors of airport chaos bulldozing through the frenzied purgatory between exhaustion and obligation-we graciously accepted this bounty from the travel Gods. We exited into the inviting cool Maine air and ultra-low humidity that more than made up for all the years of hellscape transport misery. We piled in our sporty Kia rental and made our way to the hotel.
Rush hour was a far cry from back home as the nearly vacant I-95 was a clear shot obstacle free. Our short drive took us directly to Country Inn at the mall. This roadside respite showcases 1980’s pizazz, checkered chic elegance and rustic sophistication. This bargain beauty is rated the #1 hotel in Bangor with close to 5 stars. Parking is free and apparently a popular stopping point for feisty tourists, minivan packed summer warriors Acadia National Park bound maximizing the halfway point to summer. Encased in a retail mecca of generic commerce and chain establishments-the vanilla commonplace indistinctiveness is its most ubiquitous feature.
For our only evening in Bangor, we made our way to High Tide Restaurant. The silhouette of downtown Bangor served as a pleasant backdrop that mirrored onto the docile waters of the Penobscot River. A vanishing sunset shifted transitioning day to night as a cover band cranked out one hit wonders.
We sat window side, facing the crowded deck full of Lobster chomping bib wearing tourists. Hubs and I sat across from each other staring out at the vast River savoring the moment. Hubs sipped on a local blackberry cider opting for a traditional lobster roll while I chose a modest Caesar salad.
After our satisfying meal, we walked along the Bangor waterfront trail. Under the moonlight, we strolled along the paved deserted walkway. The cool weather and isolation added to the calming promenade as we studied Bangor’s unfamiliar skyline illuminated across the still river. Although our time in Bangor would be brief, its small-town charm and vintage mystique would stay with me long after.
Day 2
Waking up in Bangor, the Country Inn was at max capacity. High pitched children’s laughter echoed through the congested breakfast room. A rambunctious mob aggressively formed around the coveted waffle maker-not even a fresh waffle is worth the struggle-this was our cue to get on the road. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was strong, the air was cool -it was early and now safely away from the Country Inn breakfast bullies, there was hardly anyone on the road.
Here’s a savvy tourist tip-when trekking about on a vacation consider an outing to a cemetery. What better place to seek solitude, serenity and quiet patrons? A meander through Mount Hope Cemetery is a free caper that guarantees aesthetic grounds, tranquil vibes and stellar views. Dating back to the 1840’s-the resting place of Maine’s most fortunate residents inhabit this pristine corner of Bangor’s undisturbed sacred acreage.
We set out on the gravel ascending path making our way up grassy hills, as cicadas hummed and vibrated their distinct summer ballad of insect courtship. We passed by aged tombstones, off kilter, entire families reduced to blocks of stones with only dashes to claim their short time on earth. One cannot amble through a cemetery without contemplating the frailty of humanity and inevitable mortality. Each headstone represented a lifetime, a soul, a being that existed with hopes and dreams-a life lived, loved and lost. We looped around the imperfect plots that bordered delicate lavender blended with unruly pervasive weeds. The imagery a poignant metaphor symbolizing the fragile vitality of life joined so closely to the stark reality of demise.
Piling back in the car, we went onto #2 and #3 of Bangor’s “must see” list. All within close proximity. The swanky neighborhood of Whitney Park Historic District is the former home of Bangor’s most famous resident and author Stephen King.
The 150-year-old Victorian mansion was the King family home since 1979 where they resided for 37 years until recently. Some of his darkest novels were created in that very house. The fictional town of Derry was inspired by Bangor. As a Stephen King enthusiast I found this highly intriguing. We drove down the unusually widely birthed mansion lined posh neighborhood. I was stunned that upon our arrival we were the only ones. We pulled right up to the gothic wrought iron gate, I gazed up at the peculiar turret tower and imagined the dynamic mastermind formulating the next terror filled novel. I craned my neck up, deep in thought when inexplicably a vehicle with similar objectives got directly behind us and rather obscenely laid on their horn, the obnoxious honking startled me in heart jolting hysteria. The eerie setting had already placed me in a hyper heightened state, so this completely destroyed the lighthearted viewing vibe. But fortunately-it was all captured in a recording. I watched this back no less than 500 times.
Next, we made our way to Bangor’s second most famous citizen and legendary lumberjack Paul Bunyan. The fetching statue adorned in plaid, burly beard, and entrancing smile is a source of community pride. He stands 31 feet tall and represents Maine’s robust lumber industry. Back on July 4, 1975, buried below is a time capsule that is set to be opened on February 12, 2084. After a few goofy photos there is very little to do so back in the Kia we went to make our way to Part 2 of our Maine retreat-Moosehead Lake here we come.
Heading Northwest, we leisurely made our way via the scenic route. We passed plush green fields, thriving farms and thick woodlands. Sparsely populated, the houses generously spaced out, sporadically dotting the winding roads. Caravans of motorcycle straddling weekend enthusiasts traveled in large packs taking advantage of the idyllic conditions. We pulled over at an impeccable covered bridge, ceremoniously driving through the timber truss structure. The wooden enclosed frame designed to maximize the bridge’s life immediately stirred up feelings of wistful nostalgia. It’s illogical that an engineering necessity can evoke an emotional response or be a symbol of romance-but it does.
Hubs had done some research prior and was on a mission to locate the perfect bakery. Tucked on the side of the main road, grabbing the last parking spot we pulled into the Abbot Village Bakery. He grabbed a donut (or two) and we sat outside as he munched on the Boston Cream. He may have mumbled mid-chomp Dunkin Donuts is better. I opted out of this decadent indulgence this time.
We eventually entered the main town of Greenville serving as the gateway to Moosehead Lake. The main street has many shops, restaurants and things to do. With only one traffic light, it may be a tiny town (population 1,440) but does not lack sophistication. The lake is the lifeline of the town and has the Katahdin Museum as well as the Katahdin Steamboat.
There are many cruise options available unfortunately we missed all of them due to our limited time. We walked around the small free museum that highlights the area and history of the “Kate”. We popped in and out of the moose themed stores and picked up a few moose trinkets along the way. By this time, we were getting tired and check in time was approaching. So, we made our way the few short miles to the Blair Hill Inn.
Overlooking Maine’s largest glacier lake, this stunning establishment is a ten-guest room country estate. It is atop a 20′ high, 900′ long field stone wall. The hillside perch we spent many memorable moments on provides one of the most astonishing, expansive lake views in the world. The resort stretches across 79 acres with a boastful farm to table 5 course fine dining restaurant, full-service spa, private hiking trails, scenic overlooks, a trout pond, fields and woodlands. Serving once as a breeding farm built in 1891, it is now a finely restored boutique hotel.
As we pulled in it was even more impressive in person. It absolutely did not disappoint. We were met at the entrance by Addy. He was as kind as they come, offering us champagne and going into the history of Blair Hill. He took us on a tour and led us to the wrap around porch that was as captivating as a landscape painting in the Louvre. The sky was crystal clear; the lake below glistened under the radiant sun. There was nothing to obstruct the view and there was no way to truly capture it. Pictures failed to do it justice and eventually the eyes grew weary trying to carbon copy the flawless splendor into the minds permanent data bank. We had been generously upgraded to a bigger suite with a grander view which was very much appreciated.
Addy took us to our room. Wall to ceiling windows faced in full panoramic grandeur. From our room we had clear views of Big Moose Mountain. We were tired after a long, full day and ready to pamper ourselves in the amenities of our supreme room which lacked nothing. We luxuriated the remainder of the evening taking full advantage of nature’s free show right from our comfy setting.
At sunset we made our way to the communal porch bypassing the restaurant Slate. It was in full swing serving culinary excellence from the looks of it. We faced the salmon-streaked sky as the summer sun slowly vanished into the mountain’s rugged outline.
We returned later at darkness to stargaze. My bar was low thanks to bright light city living with a complete scarcity for star viewing conditions. If I positioned my head in a bizarre 180-degree awkward angle, risking a slight neck injury and chiropractor involvement at a later date-I was rather satisfied with the white flickering specks that sparkled against the onyx backdrop. I was thrilled I could mentally connect the dots of the recognizable big dipper formation. Back in the room, we ended the evening watching a scary movie in our cozy suite.
Day 3
Waking up in the Blair Hill Inn, the sky was gloomy with a forecast of rain. Our original plan to hike Mount Kineo State Park seemed a bit ambitious. The 800-foot mountain is an island in the deepest part of Moosehead Lake. It requires a boat passage to get there which also felt out of our comfort zone.
Window side with our sublime view, we pondered our prospects over breakfast. We dined on tasty homemade granola and yogurt with fresh pastries. Hubs picked at a curious omelet combination of American cheese, corn and peas (Sad to say-not a fan).
We had a delightful chat with the general manager Jason, who just in the 2 days we were there had grown to be a friendly welcoming presence. He offered suggestions for the day, alternatives to Kineo and interesting facts of the area. The view from Blair Hill never dulled nor dimmed in its beauty. There was an essence of untouched attraction that was rare to see these days. We had to keep reminding ourselves we were in the USA. Only a 3-hour flight from home, no currency exchange, no language barrier and no time change. There is an absolute allure to international escape to the foreign unknown, unexplored destinations. But there is also an arresting appeal to the easier local possibilities that have equally stimulating promise.
We got on the road and with just a light drizzle we drove the Moosehead Lake Scenic Byway. It is 59 miles of picturesque landscape from Greenville –Jackman. Trees of every species flanked the empty roadway. Not a car was seen during our voyage. As the fog lifted and the rain stopped, the sun emerged. We passed cabins from quaint to exquisite. At Rockwood we walked out onto the dock that overlooked the lake-this portion known for its abundant salmon and trout fishing. We drove a little further to an inlet for some photo ops but were attacked by flesh eating invisible gnats. We quickly sheltered back in the car, cautious to retry this again.
We continued on passing the US Border Patrol as we were just a mere 16 miles from Quebec. The byway website boasts ample opportunities for Moose sightings, water falls, snowmobiling, canoeing, and birdwatching. Instead, we made an uneventful pitstop for Hubs and a toothbrush purchase followed by a failed maple syrup pursuit. The bootleg syrup was “advertised” by a roadside homemade faded sign As we pulled to the dodgy dwelling, a cranky lady wagged her finger and firmly dictated where to park and how to precede. Sidestepping the “Sanford and Son” hoarders stash we entered the home, children and toys askew-she unveiled her dubious syrup stash. The array of offerings varied from gallons to pint sized bottles-a large monetary range from a car payment to a partial gas full up. My syrup consumption these days is rather unimpressive. Her syrup hustle tactics were more aggressive than the pushy waffle maker squad back in Bangor’s Country Inn (these folks should form a collab). I envisioned the scenario of flying home with the overpriced questionably made jug of syrup. Then I imagined telling this rather imposing woman “No” (after all she allocated time to provide parking instructions). This is a real “Sophie’s Choice” conundrum. But realizing I would never see this woman again and she is surely not the typical A Girl and Her Hubs demographic this seemed like the wiser of the two. We respectfully declined and hightailed it out of there. At the airport 24 hours later, we would pick up a miniscule sized bottle that would have to suffice our syrup hankering.
On our way back we tried to get to the B52 Crash Site. Back in 1962 on a cold January day blistery winds caused a giant United States Air Force Boeing B-52C Stratofortress to lose control and crash into Elephant Mountain.
Three crew members survived under extraordinary circumstances. The crash remnants remain as they were on that fateful day. To get there, it is a quick turnoff with little signage, as one progresses additional signage warns you are doing this at your own risk. Due to the rain and already makeshift roadway, the terrain was a bit precarious for our delicate Kia. ATV drivers passed us with worried looks, while our WAZE navigation gave up. We were officially off the grid. The roadway turned into a muddy one lane winding path. As concerns for safety outweighed curiosity we turned around, watching it later on You Tube in the comfort of our home.
Back at Blair Hill we decided to explore the grounds. Swapping our Mount Kineo experience for something closer and less intimidating. On the property there is a 1.5-mile easy loop trail. It has a steady incline but nothing too challenging.
There were no others around on this easy clear path. The day had turned into a beautiful day, absolute perfection. Mid-way the views are well worth it. We completed the hike in an hour going at a very leisurely pace, covered gazebos enclosed with a grill and comfy seating were spread throughout the grounds. It was a good way to close out the day at Blair Hill.
For dinner at the recommendations of Addy we ate at Kelly’s Landing-a casual bar/restaurant.
Its geographical location was interesting as it can be seen from Blair Hill on the opposite side of the Lake. It is waterfront dining with mosquitoes and no-see-ums rampant. Hubs splurged on Scallops a rarity in his repertoire, another lack luster Caeser salad for me.
We made our way back, another quiet evening. One thing I did achieve on this short getaway was rest, plenty of it.
Day 4
Awakening on our last day, we had to pace ourselves as it would be a long one. We had a late flight back in Bangor this evening. We packed up and enjoyed an unrushed breakfast concluding our time at Blair Hill.
We lingered possibly a little longer than our hosts would have preferred, looking out at the clear vistas unmotivated to leave this little slice of heaven. It was not until our waitress shared with us what winter in Maine entails that we started to appreciate our imminent return to Tampa. She indicated colder weather will soon be on its way and with that comes icy roads, darkened skies at midafternoon and a very different Moosehead Lake-not one for the faint of heart. That was enough to energize us out of there.
Reflecting back on Blair Hill Inn what will remain with me is the sense of love and pride that showed in everything they did. Staying in such an intimate shared space with the same smiling staff each day offered a comfort that is rare. There friendliness and constant availability was a palpable presence that made a real difference.
Back on the road we drove an hour and half to the Penobscot Narrows Observatory. Followed by Fort Knox. The Penobscot Narrows Observatory is the tallest bridge observatory.
Visitors can take the elevator (apparently Maine’s fastest one) 420 feet up to capture breathtaking panoramic views of the Penobscot Bay area. Constructed in the middle of a 2-lane bridge holds the full glass enclosure to where the elevator takes one to. Oddly, Hubs and I have been afflicted with persistent vertigo since by looking down the dizzying distance below. Sea foam caused by live organisms, water force and a unique ecosystem created frothy white streaks easily visualized from above. At the deepest part of the waterway, it is 100 feet deep.
The weather was exceptional as we made our way next door to the Fort Knox Historic Site which features one of the best-preserved examples of fortifications constructed in the mid-1800s. It is named after Major General Henry Knox. We walked around, getting a 360-degree perspective. But sadly, we began losing interest due to a variety of factors including ill-behaved, temperamental children, hunger, and a lack of real historic relevance.
We stopped off in downtown Bangor for some lunch at Paddy Murphy’s. A friendly midday crowd filled all the available seating. We gobbled up hearty salads and decompressed from the day’s activities. I was glad that even if just for a quick meal we made our way back to Bangor to get one final glimpse- as we had gone through initially so quickly. We made it full circle with nothing left to see.
We made our way back to the airport where it all began just a short 4 days earlier. I had taken in all Maine had to offer. We had driven through quiet towns with American flags proudly displayed. Some of the friendliest people we ever encountered were during these few days. There is a certain magic and enchantment found in small towns-an appeal centered around a unity where everyone is there for one another. Whether this is fact or fiction is unknown but try to keep an open mind. That’s what these four days were for me. An alter universe where it’s ok to rest and relax. No guilt or harm in keeping things low key. No gluttony displayed, no art consumed, little exertion expended. I am fully alright with this. Not every expedition requires a spreadsheet (although it is handy) and agenda. Change is looming for A Girl and Her Hubs some good, some unknown. We have been on a good run for a long time and my heart is full with gratitude and ready for whatever is around the bend. The stillness of Maine is just what we needed. From the quirky, quaint old timey-yet hip (what’s old is new again logic) of Bangor to the ease and tranquility of Moosehead Lake-this sojourn offered peace of mind and restoration that has prepared me for whatever is yet to come.
A Girl Her Hubs and a Suitcase 