Wells Beach, Maine.
From Vermont, we drove to Wells Beach, Maine, where we had a quick overnight on our way to Bar Harbor. It wasn’t an especially quaint coastal town, a touristy place deserted in off season and with the roads ripped apart for repair. But it had a 1,000 Trails RV park, which is free for us, so it was a good stopover.
The weather was cold, gray, and windy, but we drove to the public beach to at least see the Atlantic Ocean, so far from our own Pacific. We took the fur kids, but that decision didn’t prove popular with either of them.
Gypsy sees her first ocean.
Gypsy was horrified that we had brought her to this dismal, rocky, wet place where big water crashed loud on the ground, giant birds circled and squawked, and the wind threatened to toss her into the next town. She kept her belly to the ground and her ears flat.
Bailey couldn’t believe that we had finally released her from the confines of the RV and brought her to an open beach at last, with seagulls to chase and water to swim in, only to turn right around and leave.
Lobster rolls!
With the disgruntled beasts in tow, we drove along the coast, seeing mostly houses that had great views. When we came upon our first lobster pound, it only seemed right to splurge. We got two lobster rolls and a bowl of chowder to go, went back to Bessie, and hunkered down for the night.