I was only going to stay in Maine for three days, really, but then my mother’s ride to the family reunion couldn’t get the day off so I ended up staying up here for two weeks, and then there was a death in family so I had to stay for the funeral, so another week passed, and then…. it was only a few days away from when a Viking ship was supposed to come into port, and you can’t expect me to pass up a Viking ship… So here I am!
We got out late this morning, my mother came with me, and drove the two or so hours to the coast. I wasn’t 100% certain where I was going because my GPS refused to recognize “Rockland Public Landing.” So I guess I can add public docks and piers to the many places which do not have an address to put in the GPS. I figured it couldn’t be that difficult, just go to Rockland and drive along the seaside until I find a Viking ship…. I’d pulled off similar stunts in the past. I was told there was a big jetty you could walk out onto that had a lighthouse at the end. That seemed hard to miss…. so where was it again?
I pulled in what looked like some sort of dock or pier, and it was, and it was public, but it wasn’t the right one. But I thought I could see what looked like a Viking ship in the distance, near a lighthouse…. so I asked the GPS where I could find a lighthouse and it brought me to Owl’s Head Lighthouse…. three and a half miles from the first unnamed pier and out in some residential part of town. It seemed to have its own park, a little swimming area, and you could crawl into the lighthouse for a suggested donation of $3. By this time I was so overstimulated from trying to find the place I totally skipped on taking a photo of the actual lighthouse…. so for this one time only I have taken an image from Google. SORRY.
The lighthouse was tiny, enough to fit ten or so people in at a time. There was an old man at the door letting people in who asked us to sign the guestbook and leave a donation and I smiled and said I would. He seemed to be getting a kick out of me, I think it was my fading but still bright orange hair. I crawled up to the top with no problem and saw the big rotating light bulb. Apparently it’s getting ready to be retired. Pity! I looked out over the harbor… no viking ship in sight. Hmmm. My bid to get a better look from a high vantage point was doing me no favors. I asked the attendant about it. She had no idea but someone else who went into the lighthouse with us did. “OH! We JUST got in at the 10AM showing! It’s PACKED! It’s at the Harbor Park, you know where the Pearl Restaurant is…. but we parked at the Y!” “GREAT, THANK YOU!” I smiled again. See, sometimes unscheduled detours have their reasons, what was the chances of getting directions anywhere else??
So back I went up that same three mile stretch of “main street.” For anyone looking for the Rockland Public Landing let me help you out. Just type in The Pearl Restaurant. It sits in the parking lot. You could also type in the Rockland Yacht Club which is also right there. I drove in the parking lot and it was PACKED, a huge queue formed off the Yacht Club and just beyond it…. A VIKING BOAT! The next twenty minutes was me trying to find parking somewhere nearby and the twenty minutes after that was my phone being an ass and taking me a preposterously unnecessary long-cut to the boat. But there it was, the Draken, sitting in all her glory, her pretty little dragon head peering up at us from below. I paid for tickets and off we went to wait for our turn.
It seems people from all over were checking out this ship. She was stopped in Rockport Maine for a few days but she’s on a tour down the East Coast from there stopping in Massachusetts and Rhode Island before going farther south. When we boarded we were shuffled in like sardines and listened to one of three speakers tell us about the bow. It was ornately carved. Ropes were draped everywhere from where they had to hoist the sails. They spoke about the wood used to make the mast, apparently at one point it snapped in half and they realized they had used the wrong kind of tree…. a replacement Douglas Fir stood in the old one’s place.
After this we were filtered to the next part of the ship to listen to the next speaker who told us all how dangerous it was to hoist the masses. I took photos of rope like I’d never seen it before (and perhaps I hadn’t.) The boat began to churn a bit as the water became the tiniest bit rough. I got a bit queasy. I really wanted to come out here today but truth be told I’m literally phobic of the ocean and being on it. The only reason I was standing here was because I knew it was moored to the dock! If it were sailing somewhere I’d be tweaking… Mum got a bit dizzy from the gentle back and forth. A footprint carved into the floor was pointed out. It was a replica of a footprint they found carved out of an actual Viking ship but no one could say why it was there…. lucky omen? Sign of the Gods? Sign of boredom? Who knows! I took more photos but it was pretty dang crowded.
At the other end of the ship we learned all about life on it. Apparently if they were doing this Old School there would be around 100 oarsmen chugging along when the wind wasn’t going. The oars were not in place today, probably to allow people to squeeze through. I was horrified and amazed to learn there were no sleeping quarters below deck. As it turns out Vikings specialized in somewhat quick voyages, lasting 30-90 days, where they would sleep on deck in seal skin sleeping bags which fit two crewmen each. I admired more little artistic embellishments and my jaw probably hit the floor again when they said this ship could creep up rivers in as little as five feet of water when need be. And then it was off the ship I went, snapping more photos and taking a small stroll onto the pier. I wanted to walk out to the lighthouse which I suspected was at the end of it buuuut by now it was getting SUPER muggy and I was drenched in sweat and we kinda just wanted to go home. I’d even forgotten about my desire for a lobster roll. Oh well! It was an awesome day! And I am certain I will be back…
I had such a wonderful afternoon scrambling on the rocky coastline at 
I arrived just as the sun was starting it’s weary retreat but when I was still bright enough and warm enough to really enjoy a cool sea breeze. Having reached the beach at low tide there were shells aplenty to find buried in the sand and plenty of wide open spaces to walk as the sea retreated ever farther. And since it was off-season this place wasn’t packed with people sunbathing like beached sardines. Instead a few pedestrians ambled lazily from one place to another and five people on horseback enjoyed the tepid waves slipping to shore. Two horses caught my attention for their behavior. A white horse clearly loved the waves and kept running directly into them, getting as deep as his flanks before his rider kept dragging him begrudgingly out. His friend, a young black horse, trailed behind him acting like the water was perhaps made of lava. He kicked and fumbled and tried to avoid it at all costs. When the water finally swooshed by his hooves he revolted with high kicks and terrible grimaces. I could tell he though the white horse has lost his mind.
Once the horses rode off I was left with some sea gulls. I took a few really sweet snaps of them scoring dinner – a crab they had beaten the tar out of. However when they realized what I was up to they beat a huffy retreat leaving the emptied out crab shell and showing me nothing but their glorious feathery butt as they waddled into the ocean and got smaller and smaller. Such is the fickle nature of a sea gull but hey! At least they were foraging for nature food and not dive bombing tourists for French fries and doritos. So there is that.
Popham is quite large at low tide and I took quite a walk in the dusk light. Someone had taken driftwood and built fun little structures. I thought they made the perfect subject matter for some whimsical tinted shots. I didn’t really want to leave but it was getting dark and I wanted to go a half mile up the road where Fort Popham was still waiting for me.
I am feeling full of myself again. My energy is nearly back and I was delighted to go out today and spend the greatest time scampering along the Maine coastline. In honor of this month’s theme Haunted New England I decided to go in search of a castle ruin. I had found one article online boasting, “Take a hike and see a castle in Maine!” Sounded pleasant, though there were no photos or any real description just the cryptic remark that I could find it in Fort Williams Park. Okaaaay… I knew it was on the coast somewhere and figured it’d be in some quiet out of the way place, perhaps a nice nature trail through the woods to some burned out ruin like 
The park was busy! Wow! And the weather? Freakishly warm. I was wearing a T-shirt while staring at the frigid Maine seashore and I was sweating balls. My calendar says October but mother nature apparently thinks it’s June. I can go with that. I passed by some sort of abandoned building driving in and wondered if that was the castle or part of it. There were so many people but where were they coming from and where were they going? I couldn’t tell so I just started to walk, pretending I knew. I ended up at a beach, a really lovely little beach surrounded on all sides by rocky outcroppings and the remains of an old fort. Beyond the harbor there were two lighthouses. Bonus for me.
The first thing that really caught my curiosity was a decrepit ruin jutting from the rocks and looking very uninviting. Could I scramble over the rocks and get to it? Was I allowed? I decided to try it, all the meanwhile expecting someone to start hollering at me but alas no, this is Maine, where Darwinian population control is encouraged. It turns out it was the remains of an old mine, bolted shut with a metal door. Damn. There’d be no retrieving Lassie’s bones today.
After that I decided to see where some of the actual paths attached to the beach went. I was delighted to find myself outside an old battery. It looked rather castle-like but it was still obviously a fort. However not far away I could see something that looked far more castle like. Third time’s a charm. But first I wanted to go harass some funny looking sea birds so I scrabbled over some more pointy rocks to take a few snaps of them doing their birdy thing. I looked around me and on this jagged seaside cliff there were a few precarious benches. Yep, I’m in Maine.
I came upon the castle from the back and through the little snippet of woods. It made a coy entrance into my life using the trees like a shy bride uses a veil. OK so maybe it was just a burned out stone mansion and not a castle but still I couldn’t help but adore it. Today was awesome. People were awesome. I got asked if I had been here before by an old man. Nope! We sat and chatted for a good fifteen minutes. Poor dear lives in Los Vegas. Pity that. Had a lot of people smile, laugh, and compliment the hair. Apparently orange hair makes me more approachable? Well that’s a relief. Scientific studies seem to think wearing orange makes people more hostile towards you…
I stuck my tongue out at the drone and snapped it’s photo instead. GOTCHYA you buzzing little spy bastard! (Yes, I know, wedding photography, public place, it had a right to be there but still. Drones. UGH.)
