We were on our way back home when I decided on a whim to take the exit to Fairfield and check out what was advertised to be the largest antique mall in Maine. When I drove in I immediately recognized the place but it took until we got inside for my companion to do so as well. In a previous trip up to these parts we had managed to stop by a mere half an hour before closing so only got to scratch the surface of this delightful iceberg. But today we had a few hours to spare!
And so we walked into what was indeed a huge antique mall filled with vendors of every kind. It was so big in fact that we quickly lost track of each other as I lagged behind mucking about with some wax cylinders. There was a whole swarm of them and I was intrigued. But he was ahead of me and ventured into the basement before I knew where he was headed and I ended up going upstairs. We’d eventually meet up again but it was amusing to see what different things we saw and what caught both of our attention.
Before we separated we found an “apple doll” which is I guess a doll whose head is a whole dried apple? Only thing was this apple was from 1960 and had LONG since gone off. The little rotted core was all that was left and the doll’s dress I am sure wasn’t covered in blood stains but boy did it look like it was! We both declared this terrifying item cursed and refused to touch it. And that wasn’t the only terrifying doll. This place was loaded! In fact I found a basket labelled, “Basket of creepy dolls $30” in the basement and almost fell for it. I took a photo of the most cracked little baby face and wandered off to think about whether or not I wanted to take it, the torched corpse of another baby doll, and the various other parts in that basket home. What stopped me? Probably the fact the basket MOVED in the 15 minutes I wandered off. Was in a totally different spot in the booth! Uhmmmm…. OK, so I love creepy dolls but I draw a line with the ones that move on their own.
The rest of the shop had all kinds of fun finds – chickens galore! And rusty signs, and odd artifacts, probably haunted paintings and prints, weird books, clowns on parade, and old food cannisters from god knows when. Oh, and possibly the most offensive minstrel poster we’ve ever found. I think that one won the category for Most Racist Shit We’ve Ever Found [black] To Date. On my own I also found The Most Racist Shit We’ve Ever Found [Indigenous American.] It was a painting of a Native American, clad only in loin cloth, warming himself next to a fire, a pompously dressed Englishman behind him looking down like “this poor dumb savage” with the caption “Doh Wah Jack Heap Warm.” Shame I don’t get any prizes for this HORRIBLE game we play. I am happy to note the amount of racist bullshit here was actually pretty light, it was just what was here was pretty intense.
The rest of the shop had something for everyone. There were a few victrolas, some retro tourist things, lots of chickens, some rusty signs, a great deal of well-done taxidermy, a taxidermied bobcat that looked… not like a bobcat. That’s not to mention the pottery, weird books, beautiful glass, and Victrola and vinyl records everywhere! I would have brought home a sealed Badfinger album but I didn’t have $40 on me. I guess it would have been worth flipping… maybe next time! My companion did come home with a fidget. He says it’s a zippo but it’s grainy in texture and impossible not to play with sooo…. one man’s zippo is another man’s fidget.
Anyway, this was a lot of fun, took us quite a while to work through, and I would definitely go again.
The first bridge I came to was the Carlton Bridge on Carlton Road. Super easy find! I drove right to it! It was nestled between a lot of farmland and some houses, a really pretty area and there was a turn off to park. It’s a one-lane two-way bridge which isn’t unusual, luckily there was no traffic and better still there was a delightful little path that went down to the bottom of it where I could splash in the water and play with the camera. It was quiet here and quite beautiful. I was delighted by this. You go to one covered bridge and you sort of feel like you’ve seen them all but this one was just so sweet, so serene, that it really made me instantly fond of it. Other people were too. I got a few people slowing down to check out Daisy’s lovely new tatts and just as I drove away an old man pulled in, smiling.
The next bridge was on Sawyer’s Crossing. My GPS didn’t seem to know which road was Sawyer’s Crossing and this area was super confusing, filled with all sorts of winding roads all connecting to each other in what I can only say is the most disorienting rat’s nest of turns I have seen in a long long time. I did eventually find the bridge by looking for a river on the GPS map and going towards it. However by this time there was a sports car behind me, nudging Daisy’s poor ass, so I had to go over the bridge instead of stopping. As it turns out there’s no place to park, AT ALL. There’s no parking lot, no turn offs, you could barely pull over aside the road far enough to let another car go coming form the other direction. It was weird. I found three trails down a nearby road but not their beginning, just their middle which went across the road. My curiosity was peaked but I didn’t really know how to explore that further. Instead I wound over that damn bridge two more times, both times a car appearing out of the middle of nowhere to ride my bumper. I got annoyed, never did manage to snap a photo, though it looks much like the other bridge, just lacking in the quiet charm.
The third bridge is called Thomson Bridge and it is right on Main Street, has a pedestrian walkway right over it, and ample parking! I couldn’t have asked for better! Instantly I liked this bridge too. It was bigger but still only one lane for cars and one for pedestrians. It spanned a lovely river and a dam which apparently doesn’t exist anymore. It was such a drop dead gorgeous day I loitered and took marble photos for quite a while. Some cars passed but not many and going back to the car I was struck by how beautiful the decaying wool mill behind it was. I wanted to explore that further so I hopped in my car, turned it on, drove over the bridge, and turned down a nearby street to see the ruins better.
To end one day’s worth of chasing waterfalls I drove up to Rumford falls just as it was starting to get a bit dark. I hadn’t realized this was also the location of another one of the things on my list of roadside attractions – a giant Paul Bunyan statue complete with Babe the big blue ox!
Sadly I showed up at the wrong time of year and the falls were completely dry… nothing really to see here except a series of weird Indian Cut-Outs?? I guess Maine hasn’t been seen by the PC police yet… but anyway! If you’re going to go see this, go in the spring when there is a flow! Unless you’re just here to take cheeky photos with Paul Bunyan…. he’s out in the parking lot and just as tacky and hilarious as he looks. Great opportunity for selfie mischief! I would say I look like a total dork with my jeans still rolled up from playing in the water but then I realized I’m hugging a big blue ox soooo…..
Screw Auger Falls was another one of the waterfalls listed on the
But with that all said and done Screw Auger Falls was an awesome little spot. Besides having two waterfalls within easy walking distance the smaller of the two allowed for a local swimming hole where children splashed about in the shallow water. Adults mostly loitered around the edges because this place was made of natural granite which had been worn very slick and smooth by the erosive nature of water and perhaps by retreating glaciers before that. On top of that algae grew over many bits which made for an intensely slick surface. None-the-less I had been driving all day and it was in the 80’s. Despite my lack of swimwear I decided to roll up my jeans, lop off my trusty Converses, and wade right in! The water was just above where I had rolled up my jeans at the deepest point across the river where I had started. It had taken me a good ten minutes to get this few feet because of the slick nature of the rocks. Children here knew how to navigate this danger as they slid around on their bellies like joyful seals. It was a sight to see! When I managed to get into this somewhat deep spot I bent down and splashed in the water letting it whoosh over my face and arms, essentially bathing in the river with my clothes still on.
The ice cold water felt almost baptismal in a way. I’ve been playing in a lot of rivers these past few months and every time it’s the same – the healing properties of the waters come from the psychological boost you get when you can almost feel all the negativity in your life just washing over your skin and tumbling down stream never to be seen again. At long last I was encouraging my true hippie nature to come out and play. How joyful I have been getting back in touch with the beauty of New England, and cranking up the radio as I go – singing along loudly and badly to Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and all the music I had stopped listening to over the years when I never should have. The raucous screaming guitars and belted out rhythmus soothing my soul. At night I escape into another long forgotten guilty pleasure – beatnik literature, now with far more bite and meaning with my age and life experience. It’s interesting to almost reach back in time and touch another generation with such a powerful wanderlust. In addition to this seeing all these new beautiful places and meeting so many wonderful people had relit something powerful and intense in my heart – such a strong feeling of connection and wonder. In remembering who I am I learned who I need to be.
