Goodbye, red barns…

Red fields…

White steeples…

And hello again, bridge. I was thankful that we could see ahead of us while crossing it this time.

New Brunswick really is beautiful and I was glad that we got to enjoy it while driving back through. There’s something about pouring rain and potholes that makes the scenery, no matter how picturesque, a little less important.

I took a few naps on this trip. Much needed because even though I didn’t want to talk about it at the moment, my hands were getting tingly with a potential panic attack at the though that I would be going back to work in 3 days. Yuck. I used all the time to rest that I could and before you know it, we were almost to the border.

All it took to really wake me up from my nap was seeing this:

“What is that?” I asked Kevin. Neither one of us knew. What I was sure about was that there would be pictures of this thing.

Snap snap snap. I was being quite the paparazzo about this thing.

Then, the man turned. I captured just one shot of this glare before I put my camera down. He continued to glare at us until we had passed him. Dude! I just liked your…your…whatever you were driving.

We crossed the border back into the US and the agent that questioned us had a thicker Canadian accent than anyone we’d met on our trip. This is also the part where I smuggled a seashell back into the country. And not that we would, but I can tell you, it would have been totally easy for us to bring something illegal back into the country. They barely gave us a second look. Surprising, given how threatening we both look.

Back in Maine there was more driving and when we arrived back in Manchester, New Hampshire we were both starving. We had dinner that night at Famous Dave’s Barbecue (one of our favorites that we do not have in OKC) and then slept in The Best Bed. I was so sad that our last night (and an early morning to top it off) were to be spent on the most comfortable bed of the trip.

Out of Manchester we flew and we arrived back in Oklahoma later that next afternoon.

Back in our neighborhood with a car full of birdseed…

Across the threshold…

And home…to this:

Ahh!

Thanks for tuning in for this long, drawn-out series. I’ll try to think of another one that might interest you guys in the future. Question is, what do you want to hear about?

It’s really difficult to go back to real life after 1.5 weeks of no responsibilities and lots of seafood. Tomorrow morning I’ll be bringing you our last day of travel and our arrival back in Norman. You don’t want to miss it. There’s some elderly road rage, smuggling across a border, and maybe some carrying across a threshold.

In case you missed any of the other installments, here’s a complete list:
Day 1 – On a plane, no entry
Day 2 – Portland, Maine
Day 2 – Part 2, Cape Elizabeth & South Portland
Day 3 – Portland to Bar Harbor
Day 4 – Part 1, Acadia National Park
Day 4 – Part 2, Sand Beach
Day 4 – Part 3, Dinner at Geddy’s
Day 5 – Part 1, Cadillac Mountain
Day 5 – Part 2, Bar Harbor
Day 6 – Part 1, Leaving Bar Harbor
Day 6 – Part 2, Arriving on Prince Edward Island
Day 7 – Green Gables
Day 8 – Lighthouses & Charlottetown

Here we go, our day driving around the island:

These bikers stopped in front of us to wait out the fog.

These folks were drying their Canadian flag in their backyard.

You see that fog? It’s creepin’ on in.

We were kinda up in a lot of people’s driveways. You never knew where you were going on this map.

I took a sea shell from this beach. Shh.

Anne fans, recognize this hotel?

Think back to Anne of Green Gables: The Sequel (or Anne of Avonlea, as it was marketed in the States)…

Certainly not a canonical scene from the books, but beautiful nonetheless.

After driving past Dalvay-by-the-Sea, we went on to Charlottetown to have dinner. I can’t remember the name of the place, but it was a little pub that we stopped by. There were hardly any people there (or anywhere) and I was still having some trouble figuring out the schedule these people live on. This establishment at least had a few people sitting outside enjoying their dinners though. It looked promising. Being that we weren’t locals and it felt ridiculously cold to us outside, we chose to dine indoors.

Kevin started with a crabcake.

And I went with the sashimi, which was pretty, but a mistake. Way, way too warm.

Now, for some reason I didn’t end up with pictures of our dinner, but I had this ENORMOUS bowl of mussels in a tomatoey brine and Kevin had…a burger.

Back to the resort we went for our last night in that huge room, with the daunting drive ahead of us the following day. Blech.

And since you made it all the way to the end, here’s a fun surprise:

When we woke up that morning (it was Saturday by now) we headed out to find some lunch and find it we did. It deserves an entry all its own because we ate more seafood than was probably healthy, but after that fine meal we were off to do what I had been looking forward to all along — see Green Gables. You see, I was raised in the south so I always take the precaution that things may be closed on Sunday. Green Gables, as it turns out, was not closed on Sunday, but Saturday worked out just fine for us.

After arriving at Green Gables we decided that we wanted to take a walk before looking through the house. Off into the Haunted Wood we went.

And through the woods and across the road to the homestead where Lucy Maud Montgomery lived.

I took pictures of this little critter because he looks so different from the chipmunks and squirrels we have around here.

And this is why I think I connect so much to L. M. Montgomery as a writer. One word: place.

Of course, we couldn’t visit Green Gables without taking a stroll down Lover’s Lane.

Back up the hill…

…to the house.

It’s the stoop. I have a think for front stoops. Especially those that are worn and have really old rugs on them.

Inside…

I loved this little plant. The way it looks like lace, and how that looks next to the curtains. So pretty.

Anne’s room

I don’t remember if this was Marilla’s room or the guest bedroom, but I loved the quilt and the pillow shams either way.

That was Green Gables. I don’t really know what to say about it except that it was a magical experience. Maybe not what it would have been when I was 11, but magical nonetheless. I hope that someday I will be able to take daughters back. It is something to be enjoyed and experienced with a young heart.

There is a clouded memory of sitting on the couch with my mother, the year must have been 1986 or ’87, and laughing at two girls on the television. They’d been chasing a cow and had fallen into the mud. I was two.

I’m sure the only reason I remember any of the film at all was because of that scene and because of how shockingly funny it is to a two-year-old to see people dressed in finery falling into a muddy field.

For as far back as I can remember my mother had this book up on her bookshelf. When I was still very small and my naps occurred on my parents’ bed in the middle of the afternoon, my mom and younger brother (I only had one at the time) would be asleep, but it would always take me quite a bit longer to get into my nap. I had too much running through my mind. Whatever was going on outside and across the street at my great-grandfather’s country store. Watching the birds landing on telephone wires outside the window. And running my fingers over the titles of books sitting on the shelf (their headboard was a long bookshelf).

Anne of Green Gables. Bound in a deep, red-brown leather, the titles of the volume were printed in gold leaf—Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery—Anne of Green Gables—Anne of Avonlea—Anne’s House of Dreams. “Green Gables,” “Avonlea,” “house of dreams,” it all sounded so magical to me. Now, I wasn’t reading much at that point (3-4 years old), but I knew enough about how to sound things out that I managed the smaller words and had mom’s help on the bigger ones. Avonlea is a doozy for a kid who hasn’t started kindergarten. Tracing the letters etched in gold was as much as I did for the next six years.

My love for reading had been ignited when I was very small, but it was burning at full force around 3rd grade, thanks to Mrs. Bural and her “reading loft.” I don’t know about the rest of the kids, but that tall, tree house contraption she had in the corner of the classroom was just what I needed to inspire me to finish my work.

It was the fall of 1995 when Mom finally let me take “Anne” of the shelf and begin reading. What a whirlwind that year was. I swept through the first two books in no time and was soon asking around for copies of the others in the series. As luck would have it, one of my classmates had the whole thing and she started loaning them out to me. I was mesmerized by this world and that there was someone out there (like I’ve told people before), who, even if she was fictional, was like me. In Anne I did find a kindred spirit. Someone who liked books, telling stories, wandering the woods, bringing outside things in, and striving hard at the one thing she felt she was good at — school.

That was my life and to see it in print, to see that I wasn’t as odd as I’d once thought…it meant the world to me.

I have carried those stories with me ever since. Through high school and no boys liking me and then boys liking me and realizing that was a little worse maybe than when they didn’t. Onto college and doubts about love and what was really important. College made me jaded. I held little hope that things would turn out much like they do in novels. “Love,” to me, had become a series of decisions. In a way I still do believe that. Whoever you end up married to, it’s going to be work. You just have to decide to stick with it.

But it was when I met Kevin that my mind was changed. My ideas were turned upside down. The dreams and hopes of a little girl had come alive again. In him I had found someone who took an interest in the things I love, the things that make my heart sing. I had all but given up. When God brought him into my life I got a little embarrassed to mention the sweet things that he did for me, because I didn’t know anyone who had a boyfriend (or a husband, for that matter) who took the sort of care and interest that Kevin did.

It was after we were engaged that Kevin revealed to me where he’d planned the honeymoon — Prince Edward Island. He knew of my love for the books and my desire to see the island. It didn’t hurt that we’re both huge seafood fans. I couldn’t believe how blessed I was.

All this is to say that you don’t have to stop dreaming, ever. God knows the desires of your heart. Things that I had dreamed about as a child and forgotten or brushed aside as an adult, realizing the “impossibility” of my hopes, He brought back to me. No doubt to show me that He doesn’t forget, always provides, and cares about even the most minuscule things.

TOMORROW – I’ll tell you about our trip to Green Gables.

What I will tell you is that once we reached shore we were exhausted from the long drive. Kevin was all tense in his back from driving all day in the rain. I was irritable because SURPRISE! that’s how I get when my behind goes numb from riding in a car too long.

It took 45 minutes from the time we reached the shore until we made it to the Cavendish Gateway Resort in Mayfield. The roads were winding and there were lots of hills, making a trip that looked short much, much longer. The scenery was beautiful though. We still hadn’t seen the sun and that made the dreary day turn into a dark night by the time we reached the hotel.

We were one of about 3 cars at the huge resort and we were about to find out why. No, it wasn’t the condition of the room or the service. All of that was top notch.

After we settled into our room a bit we grabbed our laptops to find the closest place to get a quick meal. Only…there was nothing within an HOUR drive that was open. It was 8 o’clock in the evening and there wasn’t anything. Not only that, but we were running low on gas and there were no gas stations near that were open so that we could get gas and drive to one of the bigger cities even if we wanted to. And that was our night.

We knew going to PEI that we were arriving a few weeks before their high season started. What we didn’t know was exactly what that meant. Later in the weekend we went into town and found restaurants closing at 6 PM. This is unheard of in the town we live in. I only wish I’d known how it was before going. I think it may be the fact that most of the island is really, REALLY rural.

Having eaten nothing since noon we now dined on the airplane peanuts I had, thankfully, saved, a few crackers, and water.

Then we went to sleep. The next day was better.

It was already raining steadily outside as we parked downtown and walked into the restaurant. Thus far, every day of our trip that we spent traveling from one place to another we had been met with rain. This day was no different.

First of all, I have to tell you that the food was out of this world. I ordered an omelet, “The Smokey,” but made a few substitutions. Have you ever had lox and bagel? Bagel and lox? No? You haven’t lived, my friend. I challenge you to present me with a combination more perfect, more palate satisfying than a bagel, a generous helping of cream cheese, smoked salmon (lox), and (depending on where you get it) sliced tomato, onion, and capers. Oi. Anyways, I made my omelet a little like that. The Smokey already came with the smoked trout (no salmon, but this was just as great…and fresh and local!), tomatoes, onions, basil, etc., but I removed the parmesan and added cream cheese and capers. Win win win win win.

Does my husband always look like he’s up to something? Yes. And was our table decorated in a Superwoman motif? You’d better believe it.

It looked like the cast of friends was running this place.

Only they were younger and hipstery.

Once we’d finished our yummy breakfast back out the door we went, now out into the pouring rain. Serious rain. I enjoy the rain more than the next person. A lot more. When I hear people complain about rain it hurts me down to my core, but I won’t talk about that now. It was raining and we were in it, heading out of Maine, into New Brunswick, with our final destination in front of us — Prince Edward Island.

Only here’s the deal. Maine? Bigger than you think. It takes a while to get out especially when there is a ridiculous amount of road construction going on. And that rain? Still with us. One. Two. FIVE hours down the road.

You see that sign? NEW BRUNSWICK CANADA. It is in caps and they are serious, folks. For the first time in my life (and not the first time in my mission tripping husband’s) I was crossing an international border. You heard me right, I’ve never even been to Mexico. This trip was my first time through customs and my first time to show someone my passport.

And that’s where it got interesting.

We had nothing to declare going in (though I have NO DOUBT that we could have made it back out of Canada with any number of weapons — they barely glanced at us), so when we parked the car and went inside to get stamped we figured that we’d be back outside and on the road in no time. Wrong. The man in front of us in line “forgot” to declare a large bottle of alcohol and that had to be dealt with. Then it was our turn. My passport was fine. I haven’t had so much as a speeding ticket in my life. Next, Kevin handed his passport over. The agent at the desk paused, went back to the computer, tinkered around for a bit, came back and asked for Kevin’s social security number, went back and tinkered around more (this actually took quite a bit of time), and finally joined us with a worried look on his face.

Then I found out I’d married a felon.

Seriously, folks, this was the way to do it. Keep up the facade all during the dating relationship, snag the girl, get her married and then take off across the Canadian border with her while she and everyone else remains under the assumption that you’re “honeymooning.”

And I’m kidding. But brilliant plan, right? What the agent revealed to us was that someone who was wanted for a number of crimes in Utah and Oklahoma (umm…we live here! what’s going on folks?!) has been using my husband’s name (they may not know him personally or even know that someone with the name exists) as an alias. Grrreat. And here we are trying to cross the border. Into Canada. Probably to get Canadian papers. Because you can do anything with Canadian papers, right? That’s what I’ve heard.

The social security number cleared us for entry (thankfully this person hasn’t stolen my husband’s identity, just using the name) and we were back on the road.

It. was. still. raining.

Here, in pictures…the next 7 and 1/2 hours of our lives:

Mmhmm. Yup. Rain.

Now, here are a few things that occurred on our trip into Canada and a few observations that I made. (I’m trying not to make a lot of sweeping generalizations here.)

1. The rest stops off the Canadian highway in New Brunswick are a little off the beaten path. Instead of finding a gas station right on the side of the highway like you would in the US, you have to get into a town a little. Or something. The one we found was hard to find. And it took a while driving down the highway before we even reached it. Someone please explain so we know for next time.
2. Who am I kidding. We will NEVER drive to PEI again. It’s a ferry or a boat for this girl.
3. Once you put more than one language on a sign, I stop reading it. Ask Kevin. We were getting deep into New Brunswick, almost to the coast whenever he asked me about a sign we’d just passed. “I didn’t read it,” I said. “What?” he replied. “Nope, I haven’t read a sign in about 100 miles. I stopped once the French started.” This isn’t political or nationalist or whatever, I just can’t deal with the clutter. This proved a little bit troublesome. What with the rain and the pouring and the needing to read the signs and drive and miss the potholes in the New Brunswick highway that were BIGGER THAN A HUMAN HEAD.

And then, finally, the vision we’d been waiting for (and at this point, praying for) all day:

The bridge that would bring us into the loving arms of dear, old PEI.

Part 2 of our arrival on PEI will be posted tomorrow. And remember, once we crossed that bridge it was only 7pm. There are still hours to go before we get to sleep. But at this point in the trip our only concern was sustenance. It only gets better. And if you ever plan on traveling to PEI you do NOT want to miss tomorrow’s continuation.

I want to learn how to make these hats.

Specifically the one that looks like a fish consuming a human head.

This is the Quarterdeck, the restaurant we ate at our first night in Bar Harbor.

This particular evening we decided to check out a local lobster pound. It’s not like the ones you’ll see on the side of the road. Like I stated before, Bar Harbor is a very touristy town. I loved it and want to go back, but you need to know that before going there. Don’t worry, it’s nothing along the lines of Branson or Gatlinburg. They know what their market is though.

This is Stewman’s Downtown.

Kevin and I have this thing where we try the spinach and artichoke dip at every restaurant we visit. Whenever they don’t have that, we’ll sometimes go for the crab dip. And if you’re a restaurant that doesn’t have dip, you aren’t worth my time.

At Stewman’s we started with their seafood dip.

It was creamy and cheesy and dreamy and…mmm. I don’t remember what Kevin had that night, but he thinks it was the lazy lobster. I was slacking on my photographer responsibilities. Can you blame me though? I had a roasting pan full of Prince Edward Island mussels to dig into.

As my mother would say, we left that place “fuller’n'a dog tick.” True.

After dinner we headed back up the street to where we parked (a little church’s parking lot) and I spotted something. Can you see it?

The moose. Do you see it?

Let’s talk about this moose. I loved him. Though I’ve never been to Alaska, so much of Maine reminded me of what I have seen of Alaska on TV and in movies. I’m a huge fan of Northern Exposure (even though I was all of 9-years-old when that show went off the air; last fall I rented the entire series from Netflix and watched the show while I designed my save-the-dates and later my invitations) and anything about life in Alaska. For years during high school and a little while after I planned on completing my education degree and moving to Alaska to teach. And make bank. And live alone in a cabin in the woods like a real pioneer. All while freezing my tiny tookus off and spending a fortune on delicacies–like bread. So anyways, Maine was exciting for me because it’s a little like Alaska, only on the east coast.

Sadly, I didn’t see one solitary moose on our honeymoon. Hrmph. That’s why I liked this guy so much.

I cannot, for the life of me, think of a better place for us to have taken our honeymoon. The food was fabulous the entire time. Everywhere we went. And all the places we visited had incredible scenery. Sigh. I love the Maine coast.

(This was our last full day in Maine. That’s right. It means that tomorrow you have our trek through the abys–I mean, New Brunswick and our arrival in PEI to look forward to. Don’t get too excited.)

On day 5 we made it up to the top of Cadillac Mountain before the fog rolled in for the day. And yes, it did eventually roll in on us.

Check out the panoramic view. It was incredible.

I think that this curly white growth is the stuff that Bear Grylls ate on Man vs. Wild when he was in Iceland. I used to be addicted to that show. It makes me crave Taco Bell though (as does Deadliest Catch). And the Oceans movies make me crave popcorn. Bad.

Us, at the top of Cadillac Mountain.

Another seagull that wouldn’t pay any attention to me.

The town was down below us. At least one of them. I thought it was Bar Harbor at the time, but I’m not so sure now. And I have no idea what direction I’m looking, so don’t even ask.

Like I told you, FOG. It was starting to become a theme of our honeymoon at this point. Little did we know…

The ocean. And today was special because I was finally going to touch it.

Acadia National Park’s Sand Beach.

I should put together a series of photos of Kevin, walking in front of me, by himself. There are a lot.

I could have stood there snapping shots of the waves all day long. Lucky for you I didn’t. And I’m merciful…only posting a few of the ones I took. If you want more, click on over to my flickr.

I loved the lifeguard’s chair.

Those creepy birds sat there the whole time we were on the beach.

Poor guy

I love barnacles. Baaaarnacles. You can’t even say the world without sounding like a pirate.

Right before we left the beach another couple wandered up and we asked them to take a picture of us. The first one of us together on our honeymoon.

And then we left because we were freezing. It was turning chilly and both of us were ready to get back to a warm room. And in all my oceanic zeal my feet got wet. I get grumpy when my clothing is damp.

Kevin, opening the door of the Honeymoonmobile (as I dubbed it). Yup, I got me a gentleman.