After meeting in for coffee at a newly opened coffee shop called "The Speckled Axe," we checked Mike's map for the best route to Gooch's Beach in Kennebunkport and roared out of town. This is my part of Maine. I know my way around the coast.
Mike is pointing at his map and wondering why we aren't at the beach. (Does this photo like familiar? Check out my May 1 post, "Just three inches off.")
But - Hallelujah! - just a few hours later, Mike is pointing to the sea on the map - with said sea in the background!
This is something one can't do along the coast after Memorial Day. The traffic is slow but very heavy, and the middle of the road just isn't safe. It's really not safe now, but remember, Mike's from New York City ...
We talked with this gentleman, who rode a Vespa L50. Note that the dog basket isn't secured to the scooter.
This dog, on the other hand, was expressing his disgust loudly. "Throw the damn stick, one of you -why else did you drag me here?"
So, the damn stick was thrown, retrieved, returned, and the process was repeated endlessly
This young lady caught our eye. She seemed to be dancing in the surf
and enjoying herself immensely
For a moment, she rested as the sea gulls gathered around her. When she returned to her car, we walked down to speak with her; she'd parked quite close to us. (Alright, maybe not close, but within my walking range - barely.)
"Are you a dancer," I asked. "No," she replied. "Well, we watched you in the surf. You looked like a dancer." She smiled very nicely (why didn't my "charm" work 45 years ago?) and explained the reason for her activity.
"I was just trying to keep my music out of the water," she said, as she demonstrated her dance steps.
We stopped at the "Rock and Roll Cafe" in Scarborough for lunch. I am reflected in the mirror in the upper left-hand corner, snapping the photo.. Mike's a tad glum here, as he pondered why he needed my help in ordering a drink.
He asked the waitress for a "malted." She asked, "A malted what? "A malted," Mike repeated.
The young lady looked completely baffled. "He wants a milkshake," I told her. "Oh. O.K. - a milkshake," perhaps relieved that this was going to be a short conversation after all.
I've saved the most unpleasant photo for the end. Mike has a cell phone with GPS, which recorded our little ride to the beach. It should have been a nearly straight line from Portland to Gooch's Beach. It wasn't.