A wrap up from your Maine man

First let me say, no, I'm not going to apologize for the title pun.

Second, I mentioned in the first post of this series that I would have more to say about the lobster buoys that dotted the bay behind our hotel.

Sun glints off the numerous lobster buoys as a group
of gannetts fly over.

We saw lobster buoys everywhere -- in the stores, obviously, because they make iconic souvenirs -- but also on the water. For 20 odd miles on the trip to Mount Desert Island and back on the whale watching tours, you could look anywhere and see lobster buoys. The closer to shore, the more numerous they are, but you can't seem to go far enough away to not see them.

The result it that Maine lobstermen are suffering financially because they catch so many lobsters, they can't sell them for much. We saw a story on the news where one firm had inked a deal with a cruise line to provide them with lobsters, but the 5,000 lbs. they sold were a small dent in the supply.

The Side Street Cafe promoted saving the lobstermen by giving customers $5 off on lobster dishes. But even at $5 dollars off, the prices seemed pretty steep to me. The whole situation reminded me of farmers who grow whatever the hot commodity is because they can receive a good price for it until they wind up overproducing and driving the prices down. But that doesn't always seem to trickle down to the consumer. It's a vicious cycle, folks.

The night before leaving we wanted to use the hotel's shared computer to check in for our flight and print boarding passes, but what appeared to be a father and son were using it for the same purpose. No problem, we thought. They won't take long, and then it will be our turn. The teen ran the computer, but they hit some sort of a snag and the dad said he would go to the room and be right back. He wasn't.

The teen started checking his Facebook, then progressed to playing games. I wondered whether the hotel had another available computer, and Sharon asked the clerk. The clerk said they didn't, but she would help us. So we chatted with her and gave her the info to put in the website, and she printed out our passes.

The morning came all too soon, and my plan to put the top down for the drive to the airport ran into the meteorologist's telling me it was foggy out. Rats. We load up and head out. No fancy restaurants for breakfast; we'll stop at the McDonald's in Ellsworth.

Paul Bunyan reminds passersby the Maine used to be
the logging capital of the U.S. 

Before we make it all the way out of town, however, the sun makes an appearance. I pull off into a convenience store lot and the top comes down. We've left in plenty of time to make one more touristy stop before checking in at the airport.

Paul Bunyan lives in Bangor, sorta. The city erected a statue to Paul Bunyan outside its civic center, and we get the GPS to help us find him. Construction is underway at the center, so we can't come close to the statue, but we're able to take pics of old Paul. Depending on which InterWeb site you believe, Paul, or his statue, stands between 31 and 37 feet high.

I'm sure the Mainers believe that height is impressive, but they've never seen Sam Houston towering over I-45 on the way to Houston. Why, he's even taller than some of the trees.

And old Paul stands by himself. Where is his famous blue ox? Not here. The statue celebrates the lumber industry, and according to the Internet, Bangor claims to be the birthplace of the industry and, thus, Paul. Yeah, right.

They also claim this is the largest Bunyan statue in the world.That could be true. Here's a link to a story from the Bangor newspaper on the occasion of the statue's 50th anniversary: Paul Bunyan turns 50

A woman walks by on the sidewalk across from the statue. She very deliberately avoids looking at us, and I wonder if the statue embarrasses her, or us, or maybe both. In any case, she has no intention of recognizing our presence.

We have to go. We arrive at the airport, turn in the car, and check in. This time we go through the new full-body security scanner machine where you have to raise your arms. Once again, I'm told to wait, and a TSA agent takes me off to the end of the security area. He runs a hand down my back, then kneels and checks my ankles.

I make a comment about the hardware in my leg, but he says, "It's not an x-ray, sir," then sends me on my way. Again, Sharon goes through without a problem.

Our flight's been delayed because of a crew illness. So we sit and wait. Security agents take a dog onto the plane that's bound for Washington. All the unrest in the Middle East, apparently, which is also the excuse for telling passengers on the big plane to Dallas that they can only use the bathrooms in their class. Someday I figure I'll understand why having a coach-class passenger walk all the way to the back of the plane is safer than allowing him or her to use first class.

Some random thoughts about our trip:

I did a lot of Internet research about restaurants and attractions. Some common themes cropped up about the restaurants. Be prepared to wait, service is slow, the staff are rude.

We chose some of the more popular places to eat, but either our timing was very good, or the waits weren't any more onerous than the wait at any popular restaurant at meal time we've ever been to. Besides, we're on vacation. What's a little wait?

Service did seem a bit slow at times, but that could have been to the amount of business, or to the slower pace of a small town, even if it is a tourist town. Or it could just be that they were in no hurry to rush us out of the place to push as much business through as possible. Again, we were on vacation, so I didn't fret too much.

And no one was rude. We try to be respectful and kind to waitstaff. This tends to be reciprocated. Or maybe they were more relaxed because the clientele is different in September than the summer.

This trip began because of a picture in my mind. The pictures came to life and remain in my mind, no longer as something I wish I could see but as a memory of a wonder experienced. When you travel, especially on a "dream" vacation, you wonder if you will come away disappointed, if the reality can live up to the expectation.

But when you encounter the glory of creation, whether a giant cleft in the earth in Arizona, or the stark contrast between mountains and the desert in one place in far west Texas, or the crash of waves on the shore coupled with creatures of the deep great and small in Maine, the expectation will always be overshadowed by the reality.

That's good; that's very good.