More Maine Gushing

My pal Jess was kind enough to invite me to help open up her folks' cabin on Deer Isle, Maine on a recent weekend. Deer Isle is like the peninsula-next-door: all the charm and gentle beauty of the more tourist oriented Mt. Desert Isle immediately to the east, without the sports bars and T-shirt shops. The whole island seems to have somehow stayed under the radar of the madding crowds, and preserved the sea-oriented life that brought folks there in the first place. The items on the 'impulse' shelf at the Stonington convenience store attest to the town's ongoing mollusk orientation:

But do not grow weary. This is not another post where I go on and on about the relative merits of different ways to consume lobster. I have moved on to clams:


And yes, you absolutely enjoy fried things more fully when accompanied by other fried things. So shush. It was one of those great weekends focused around the very best aspects of travel, which I have learned from my sister: looking at things, walking around, and putting things in your mouth.

We also had a bona fide bonfire, crafted in the traditional Maine fashion (with chainsaw and blowtorch, DUH):