Today begins my favorite time of the year: going to the beach! Not just any beach, mind you, but York Beach in Maine. My partner has brought many wonderful things to my life, but introducing me to this beach sure ranks near the top. My childhood beach, it turns out, wasn’t even a beach at all (really), but some sand trucked in to the middle of Pennsylvania and dumped on the side of a lake that was specially constructed to provide water for a gristmill in the nineteenth century.
I really prefer York.
For someone who freaks out at creepy crawlies in the water and not knowing what you’re stepping on, Maine beaches are great, because they’re pretty darn cold, which means creepy crawlies are at a minimum.
In fact, the number of Things in the Water that I’ve experienced up there is precisely one: a single big ol’ fish who bumped into my knee, once, then moved on. At least I think it was just a regular fish. It might have been something else but I will remain blissfully unaware….
Before the beach, we’ll be camping for a couple days in Acadia National Park. I’ve been looking forward to some quiet time perched on a vantage point, sharpening my best pocket knife. I’ve been working so hard I deserve it!
We did a scouting mission last summer, and this summer—with our beloved George (our Mazda2) loaded with camping gear—we’ll be spending a few days up there before heading back down to York.
But no worries, after our time in the woods, we’ll firmly entrench ourselves in beach culture, which includes going to the local arcade and eating fried dough. And ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.