Sue flew Southwest Airlines from Sacramento via Los Angeles and Milwaukee to Boston. Jerry flew United Airlines from Los Angeles via Houston (IAH) to Boston. Jerry’s flight was 3 hours late.  While Susan waited, she met a bank robber.  

Sue drove to our hotel in Leominster, which was across the street from a Party City and Ross, which almost threw our Friday itinerary into chaos. Alternate plans to shop all the next day were humorously considered, and then smartly rejected. In the morning we headed to breakfast at a well-recommended place that Sue found called Mr. C’s which to our surprise was out of business. “Plan B” was at a traditional diner called the 50/50. Big day at the Diner. It was one of the waitresses birthday, and one of the regulars had already had a “procedure” at finished breakfast at the 50/50 by 8:30 AM.

One impressive thing to see in Fitchburg is a big broken rock that landed nearby many years ago. It's now proudly displayed in the center of town and Sue had to stop to get a picture. We had to stop in to finalize the car rental agreement and had an amusing time watching a father and daughter argue about their car accident and rental car price. On the way out of town, we remembered that a childhood friend had two aunts from Fitchburg and wondered if they might still be living there?

As we drove through Massachusetts and New Hampshire (state #42 for Jerry), we enjoyed seeing all the small towns with their quintessential New England character. We found a covered bridge that Susan drove through…. at a safe speed…saving us from a $5 speeding fine.

After crossing into Vermont (state #43 for Jerry) we stopped in Brattleboro for a lunch at Top of the Hill Grill. It’s a tossup as to what was more visually fascinating… the great scenery or the hippies. Sue had Pulled Pork sandwich.

After lunch we made the long relaxing trip back into New Hampshire heading toward Concord. We made one quick stop to see President Franklin Pierce’s homestead. Our first stop in Concord was the Mary Baker Eddy Museum, which was closed and had very limited hours. So we did the next best thing which was to find the Reading Room which probably was probably on par with the museum for getting any historical information we wanted.  Sue got enough “low down” on all things MBE in Concord.  We did a little shopping and exploring in downtown, and then made our way out to see the a grand retirement community built on the site of one of MBE’s former residences, and then drove through the neighboring campus of the exclusive St. Marks Academy prep school.

Next, we drove to Portsmouth in search of the finest maple popovers. We drove into the center of Old Portsmouth where I made a fool of myself by running into a curb while trying to park. We found the bakery with the popovers, but they were less than impressive. The popovers weren’t maple flavored at all. The butter to spread on them had Maple flavoring. We still ate them, sitting outside and taking in the activity in the square. We watched a Juggler warming up for a big Friday night on the steps of a beautiful church. There were scary pumpkin headed ghosts and other Halloween decoration placed around the brick square. Lisa should move here.

I had admired an old WWI veteran’s bridge in Portsmouth and decided to drive across, turn around, and then continue our tour of the old town. It turns out the bridge is not old, but a completely new bridge replicating the original one that was torn down a few years ago. After we finished crossing the bridge, we walked around the Strawberry Banke housing settlement. And while we didn’t take the tour, we did get a good look at the architecture of early life in Portsmouth.

Next stop, Maine. Susan’s 50^th state (Jerry’s 44^th). As she prepared for the big moment, she directed me to cross over the same WWI Veteran’s bridge we had already crossed over. In the middle of the bridge she declared that we were now in Maine!  Well, wait a minute….. that means we actually set foot in Maine about a half hour ago when I crossed the bridge the first time.  What a downer. Maine showed up early. How anti-climatic. I felt like I had blown a surprise birthday party. But we recovered, recorded the big event for Instagram and Facebook and pressed on to Kennebunkport. I’m amused that the long anticipated and really big moment of the trip was completely overlooked. It makes for a good story. Happy 50^th, Sue.

Now we were in a race with daylight. And we were consumed in lots of Friday “get out of town” traffic. We needed our daylight. No wants to get their selfie in front of “41’s” and “43’s” beach house after dark!

Because of a wrong turn we actually headed toward Walker’s Point from the north rather than through town, which I thought was really more interesting, we drove through a nice neighborhood of high end, but not over-the-top, homes and all of a sudden arrived a at the shores of the Atlantic gazing out at the familiar site of the Bush compound at Walker’s Point. I expected the area to be more isolated, but it was more of a neighborhood feel. Sue loved the neighborhood.

Passing through Portland, we decided to refer to our dinner possibilities. We had a few, but parking was hard to find. We got off track and ended up wandering into Bibo’s Mad Apple Café. Like so many ad-libbed decisions on trips, Bibo’s turned out to be a highlight. Great food.

So, the night is young if your anywhere near Freeport. We were still able to squeeze in a shopping trip to L.L. Beans Outlet Store AND main store open 24hours, before winding things down and driving the final two hours to our hotel in Bangor. The hotel was very full and very active, which didn’t make much sense for a business hotel on a Friday night. It turns out this was University of Maine’s homecoming weekend. Any plans I had to visit the University of Maine campus in the morning were sensibly shelved. Later, we heard that the Black Bears beat William and Mary, which would make former U of Maine Quarterback Ralph “Gummie” Kingsbury, very proud.

The start of our last morning began with a visit to Target (as every day should) and then a citywide search for a Whoopee Pie. As the hopes for finding one of three recommended bakeries faded (my hopes were on the one that sounded like a pastry nazi), our quest morphed into the finding a couple of old family homes across the Penobscot River in Brewer. We quickly found the old Kingsbury farmhouse looking a little tired and a lot “green” on Brewer Road. This area must have been the “country”. We also found an antique schoolhouse on the main street that was just over the hill from the home, and we figure with some certainty that is where they probably were Helen and Ralph went to school. Then we drove across town to the “burbs” and Holyoke street, where the Skinners lived while great grandma was a child. This had a much more neighborhood feel.

About midway in the town of Brewer between the two ancestral homes is the Oak Hill cemetery. We had some difficulty finding the entrance, which we should have taken as a sign of the difficulty we would have finding the Kingsbury family plot. We did find several Kingsbury’s (just not the ones we were looking for) and many Sawyers (that will have to wait for another visit), and Sue did find our Skinners (a needle in a haystack). Sue was a good sport checking all the headstones she could, walking the length and breadth of the cemetery, which I appreciated so much. But after 90 minutes, we knew we were just burning up valuable time. I think I drove over a tombstone.

We spent a few pleasant minutes enjoying a very pretty park area on the shores of the Penobscot River, using our imagination to fill in many blanks. This wing of our family could very well have stayed put here in Maine and continued on. I should note that the entire three days of our trip had perfect weather in the high seventies, with almost no rain. A nor’easter pounded New England the following week.

We took Highway 9 east from Brewer for two hours, with almost no services and we were hungry. We drove as far as Machias before we could eat lunch. We arrived in town just in time for some surreal motorcycle/ atv convoy parade, and found a very popular Subway. No time to explore food options…we were too hungry. Subway would do. After another thirty minute drive we arrived at Lubec, the easternmost city in the United States. At the edge of the Bay of Fundy we crossed the Franklin Delano Roosevelt International Bridge, connecting Maine to New Brunswick, Canada. Customs in Canada was uneventful and when we asked the agent if she would stamp our passports we were told “no”. It was a short drive to the Roosevelt cottage, where the atmosphere was similar to a school campus on the last day of the schoolyear year. Susan learned that today was the last day of tours until re-opening next Spring, and this being the 50^th anniversary of the visitors center, a reception for guests and patrons had just ended. With about two hours left in their workday, I think the employees were just eager to get us into the gratuitous 10 minute movie/documentary and then over to the cottage for what turned out to be a lovely private tour. The house is worth the visit and the cottage has a lot of notes and designs similar to Springbrook in Hyde Park. Although everything felt more relaxed, here as I’m sure it did during the Roosevelt’s time. I think walking the grounds to a neighboring cottage, down to the front lawn, and onto the beaches of the  Bay of Fundy was as enjpyable as the cottage tour itself.

We were told one last landmark we should see while on the island was the Quoddy Head Lighthouse. Access to the small spit of land where the lighthouse stands is only accessible at low tide, and this is the Bay of Fundy where the tides fluctuate dramatically. The tide was just beginning to rise when we got there and there was not much chance of getting over and back before crossing was impossible for the next 8 hours. I watched the tides for a few minutes and I could actually see it rising with every swell and breaker. But the view of the bay and the lighthouse was spectacular and just what you would want to see to cap off a trip to the northern east coast.

Then I stepped in dog doo. After a 10 minute hazmat procedure, we were back on our way toward the US. At customs we answered the obligatory questions, had our trunk searched and expected to be on our way. But Sue and the Customs Agent struck up quite a conversation about everything from the dangers of Highway 9 at night (moose strikes) to food favorites. The agent convinced us to take the slightly longer coastal route, US Highway 1, which is more inhabited. He said that if our car broke down there were houses all along the way that we could stop at and tell them we were from California and were having car trouble, and they would be eager to help. I wasn’t as confident as he was. Luckily his theory wasn’t tested.  Anyway our conversation with the customs agent held up several cars behind us. It must have given the impression that we were as serious risk to national security and were being extensively vetted. All the while we were just chatting away with the customs agent without a care or concern about getting us to move on.

Our final dinner plans were for Uncle Kippy’s famous seafood restaurant because of the great reviews. Not from us. We didn’t get it. It wasn’t very good…probably our only bad choice for a meal. I think it was about 7 PM before we were done and now we had a good five hour drive back along the coast toward Bangor and then south to Portland. We stopped at Dunkin Donuts in Machias, simply because we hadn’t done one yet on this trip. We hit a strong downpour that probably lasted 10-15 minutes and made Sue very nervous. It made me nervous too and in retrospect I probably should have slowed down more to make both of us more comfortable. But it was fun.

During the trip back I realized we had missed one landmark in Bangor that I meant to see. And after weren’t we driving back right through Bangor? How could we leave something on the table? So we stopped in Bangor to see the USS Maine Memorial. It is a simulated bow of the Battleship Maine displaying the restored decorative iron casting that was retrieved from the wreckage in Havana Harbor.

The long drive to Portland ended around 11:30 PM as we hit the beds and I set my alarm and awoke at 4 AM for my ridiculously early flight. I headed out the door with a groggy “Goodbye” to Susan. Her fortuitous flight schedule gave her the chance to get a full night’s sleep AND to hit up on last food recommendation that had eluded us the day before. Sue got to pick up some Holy Donuts in Portland. Yum.