Maine or Bust

By 10 AM on Day 3, Cole and I have completed our run in Massachusetts.

Making it the 41st state where he and I have been trail running.  Only difference this year is that we have an entourage.

I'm extremely proud of my green mushing team. They're staying in sync and avoiding wrapping themselves around trees, most of the time.  Cole is a seasoned traveler, but I can't deny that I had reservations about taking the two farm dogs. Pete is willful, mighty powers of persuasion are often necessary.  From Garrett's knobbly scars all around his neck, we think he was a bait dog used to train pit bulls and from his lack of knowledge of the outside world, it's suspected that he was chained up in a backyard until he escaped. So, everything is new to him.  Every day on this trip, I've been privileged to watch him get that look of wonderment in his face.  With no rocks at all back home and clear trails, I've had to teach him how to scamper over rocks, show him that a half fallen log isn't a barrier, you can either go over it, or under it.  Plainly put, I had worries about taking a dingbat Garrett and pigheaded Pete.  After 3 days together 24/7, all apprehensions evaporate.  In it's place, the same feeling I had when I went from this:

To this:

The more the merrier.
Onward ho! To Maine or bust.
So, you're waiting for obligatory pictures of coastline and lighthouses.  

Be patient.  I make a run for the hills instead.  Our campground in Pownal, Maine is inland.  The coast will be busier, more tourists and I'm seeking solitude.  Studies show that 75% North Americans are extroverts.  The remaining 25% of us spend our lives trying to convince the majority of you that being an introvert doesn't mean we're antisocial.  There's a reason I don't have TV, don't want to talk on the phone after I get off from work, don't listen to the radio at home-- I need quiet down time to balance the socializing needed to function at work.  Sadly, I've been out of kilter for two years and sorely in need of the restorative powers of alone time. 
Ask and you shall receive.  When I cross into Maine, this is what my phone does:

My contact list goes blank, I try to restore it from my cloud storage-- it's mysteriously empty.  I try to access it from my tablet and realize it's frozen.  Standing ovation for my guardian angels for coming up with this one.  Bravo!
Nothing left to do but run trails.  

Scaling the summit at Bradbury State Park.  Given a choice, a vertical ascent trail is always my pick!
Much to Garrett's chagrin.

Example of Pete's obstinate nature.  The train came to a stop because somebody wanted to cool down in a stream.

Gracing us with the permission to continue, we ultimately reach the top.

Oh yeah, here's your picture of the ocean.  Happy?

Me? Ecstatic. Thank you very much for asking.
We return to our campground, where we're tucked away in the very back, totally isolated from the other campers up front (preplanned mastermind).
It's lunch time.

 I'm out foraging. Apples are falling everywhere.

Elderberries are in season.

Miss Piggy even finds her childhood favorite:  wintergreen.

Chewing the leaves releases the aromatic oil.  This is the original wintergreen flavor. Over harvesting at the turn of the 20th century forced manufacturers to look elsewhere.  Synthetic flavor is now used or distilled from birch trees (natural, but not authentic!).
Hike. Forage. Eat. Repeat.

I find a gem off the beaten path:  Pineland Public Reserved Land.  

We're the only car at the trailhead. 600 acres all to ourselves... now we're talkin'!
Next stop:  Old Town House Park on the shores of the Royal River. 

A meadow park boasting a variety of Fall wildflowers.
Deserted, it becomes our personal playground.

National Parks are our crown jewels, majestic, awe inspiring, alas usually crowded.  Must see places.   But my smaller state parks and hidden private preserves are my must stay places.  I'll keep the smaller gems, thank you.

Two in the Bag

Day 2, September 11.

After a quick breakfast,

we break camp at 7:30 AM. We're on a mission today.
A 3 hour drive from Maryland puts us at our first resting point:  Rancocas State Park in New Jersey.  Or is it an abandoned field?

So happy this curmudgeon can't talk.  
Turn your frown upside down, Pete.  A shuttered park means dogs can roam free and after white knuckle traffic conditions, I can pretend there aren't millions of people all around me. Enochlophobia: irrational fear of crowds.  "Irrational"???  I prefer rational, logical and instinctive self preservation.  
Breath, Jamie, breath.

A pessimist would see a very desolate park.

But, I see it as a last refuge for wildlife.

The next 4 hour leg of the journey takes us right past NYC, hard to enjoy the skyline while hurtling through traffic at Mach 2.  In Northern Connecticut, I fall out of my Korean rocket ship and kiss the ground.  We made it!  I can quit holding my breath.

We're in Natchaug National Forest.  The map I printed at home doesn't correspond to the area.  We are not lost, only wandering... following our fearless leader, Cole.  Who, instinctively, leads us towards gun fire.

Numbnuts leads us right through Eastern Conn Sportsman's Club land.  Every time a shot rings, he points.  Unorthodox run, but still qualifies for our cross country odyssey.  Cole's first feather in his cap:  CT is in the bag.
An hour later, he grabs a second feather:  RI.

Pete's enthusiasm is hard to contain. 
Lincoln Woods State Park covered bridge entrance.  Sweet!

We do our run, more like a scramble over boulders.

Pete:  "Taxi! taxi?"
The drive through rural Connecticut and Rhode Island soothes me immensely.  The bucolic farms and historic house provide sensory overload.

Can you imagine a house surviving war, beetles and the worst nightmare possible:  remodeling?

323 years, unscathed.
As is the house one of my ancestors built in the early 1700's in Ashford, CT.

10 years spent researching my family's genealogy bear fruit.  Gives me shivers to think that fingers that share my DNA put those boards up on the house.  Would their hearts be just as stirred to know that their 5th great granddaughter is standing on the lawn proudly beholding their work? I hope so.  When I reflect back on the multitudes of hardships my colonial forefathers endured, my life's obstacles don't seem insurmountable after all.  For example, driving through Boston traffic to get to our campground in northern Mass...  
I keep my info book on my lap-- my safety blanket.

Easily 200 pages of navigation info, camping reservations, trail maps, local history.  As with every trip, should the binder become lost, all pages have been xeroxed and put in a manila envelope under the trunk's carpet.  Welcome to my world.
Once again, I'm setting up camp by head lantern.  We're basically all alone in this one area of 50 camp sites at Harold Parker State Park.  Peaceful vicinity.  Yet, the constant hum of traffic in the distance and planes flying overhead are oppressive. Now, I finally understand why urban gardens have fountains:  to muffle the noise of the city.
The next morning, we get a good look at our surroundings for the first time.

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto".  
Smell the air, we're getting closer to Maine, that's where the real fun will begin.  But, that's a story for another day....

Ready, Set, Go

Months of planning and anticipation culminated in a day.  September 10th at 0400 hour, myself and my mushing team blast off from the farm.  
The dogs cannot contain their excitement.

In spite of our predawn departure, we get stuck for an hour in 6 AM rush hour traffic on a Saturday in Atlanta.   Take a moment to say a little prayer for the poor souls who live there. 
We arrive at our first on our adventure:  Cowpens National Battlefield, in Gaffney, South Carolina.  A former cow pasture and surrounding woods that became pivotal during the Revolutionary War. Trails everywhere... this is it, we're on VACATION!!!

Can you not see the jubilation in their faces???  Note the fancy backpack in the foreground.  It's my travel pack, to be strapped to me from now until the end.  Was it Pete voicing his opinion that we needn't travel 5 hours to see a cow pasture, we have plenty of pastures at the farm; or was he ensuring to never lose me, as he could locate me by smell; or did he have a full bladder and needed to relieve himself? We'll never know.  

Smugly content...
Take 2.  Four hours and one century later, we lay siege to an important Civil War city:  Petersburg, Virginia.

We all agree that this one would make a fine souvenir.

Load 'er up, boys!
We pile back into our little tin can and bear North.

Overloaded beyond its stated weight capacity, the little car struggles to keep up with 80 mph traffic. 

Stripped of its seats, with our sleeping bags, mattresses, blankets, towels and jackets acting as benches, the car is one large doghouse.  Every nook and cranny is occupied.  Daily portions of vacuum sealed dog kibbles are stuffed under seats, under blankets.  Garrett has a paw on his personal stash.
We stole away from Alabama predawn and we creep into our campground at Cedarville State Park in Maryland in a cloak of darkness.  While I'm setting up the tent and fixing our suppers, Pete scouts the area.

The only way Mr. Magoo will tolerate being out of doors when dark:  if he has his own head lantern strapped around his neck.  
Not a very eventful first day, thankfully.  

Snug as 4 Alabama bugs, in 3 man tent. Day 1, in the bag.  Sleeping bag, that is.

Cleared for Takeoff

Last week Cole had his last chemo treatment and final staging at Auburn University.  It was a very long day.

He was happy to be home.  I was happy to get a good report.  Liver and spleen clear of any disease. Everything seems to indicate that the chemo did was it was supposed to do:  suppress the cancer.  Small glitch: the ALP values were through the roof, implying his liver isn't a happy camper.  We're going to roll with it anyway.

Because we are happy campers.

Facial, anyone?

Hard to be evasive when Cole is laying on my chest.  Better to simply endure the exfoliation.

I even bought some new clothes for the trip...mostly for the dogs.

I did splurge for one hunter orange shirt to match my hat.  Don't hate me because I'm a fashion maven.

Each dog has their own backpack with their orange vests, life preservers, rain jackets, fleece jackets, etc, etc.

My compact car has an 800 lb cargo capacity.  The dogs and I use up 370 of that, leaving 430 lbs for all the food and supplies.  Considering I've taken 60 lbs of seats out, I have a little more leeway and space.  A little.
Who said you can't take it all with you?
Every dogs' meal is vacuum sealed to keep it fresher and prevent bears from breaking into my car.  Plus 32 cans of dog food for their toppings.  My food is all vacuum sealed too.  Yes, I do believe there are grocery stores in Maine.  But, you can't shop and leave three dogs unattended in a running air conditioned car, not these three anyway.  They play with the window controls.  
Besides, this is how I like to travel. I've charted my course, over 3000 miles, so I knew what to save up for fuel.  Camping is all prepaid.  Saved up for all the park fees.  Food is all bought.  Trip is 100% paid for.  No credit card charges chasing me down next month.  I can totally relax.  

All gassed up and ready to roll.

On your marks, get set, GO!

Making tracks to Maine!