A pink mini donut at Starbucks and an iced Americano to wipe away the last sleepy cowebs in my head. I headed out of town with no clear plan of what do to. Something coastal/South. I had been to Acadia National Park quite a few times already, Portland was too long of a drive, so something else. Once I left town I knew where to head: Camden.
On the way on Highway 1 South, a few picturesque outdoor flea markets line the roadside.
Naturally, a Maine flea market along a busy coastal highway must have Maine-ish things for the tourista. Like stuffed deer, or black bears or a cute moose. Or lobster buoys and cages. Seeing a moose close up like this typically happens only at a fleamarkt. Bears, too. If you are lucky.
Lots of very old books (like law books from 1830) or antique cameras or vinyl records. Rather than enticing me to buy anything a flea market just reminds be of the passing of time. And sometimes we just want a trinket of times long gone. As if we can hold on to it.
Highway No 1 finally took me to Camden, the scenic (and very touristy) coastal town with a harbor full of windjammers, which offer 1/2 day tours, all kind of beautiful private sailboats, and the occasional super-yacht. Good food, nice views, and somehow just too much traffic.
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