Lost in the Bog

Maine dirt intersection
Originally uploaded by thegreatplotnik.

Plotnik and Ducknik drove BZWZ to the bus station in Bangor, Maine, in time for a 3:15 bus to Portland. They hugged goodbye, then all Plot and Duck had to do was reverse the Mapquest route to get back to Deer Isle and the Taj.

But it wasn't as easy as it should have been. You can't just flip the paper upside down.

Somewhere in the middle of the route, instead of turning right they turned left or instead of turning left they turned right. They found themselves heading down a country road that looked like all the
country roads they'd taken towards the bus station. They had no map, and had no idea which direction they were going. All they knew was they were now off the Mapquest page.

It was 50/50 they were either going the right way or the wrong way. Plot wanted to stop and ask someone, but couldn't make himself pull up to a farmhouse and walk in to ask the farmer for
directions, without being afraid he'd say "Ah-yah, but ya have to sleep in the barn with my daugh-tah."

Finally, Plot spotted a person in an old station wagon, pulling out of a driveway of sorts. A man in a plaid shirt and gray beard down to his waist was sitting in the shotgun seat. He saw Plot walking towards him, and rolled down his window.

"Ah-yah. Are ya lost?"

"I'm afraid so," said Plotnik, pulling out as much charm as he could muster. "We're trying to get to Blue Hill and Deer Isle."

"Ah-ah," said the bearded man, and "Ah-ah," said the car's driver, the bearded man's mother, a very tiny white haired woman wearing a pastel smock that she had sewed from an old curtain when she was a little girl in 1905.

"Did ya pass a road goin' left?" said the little old lady.

"Yes," said Plotnik. They had passed a dozen roads going left. And a dozen roads going right. When the lady didn't say anything further, Plotnik repeated: "Yes? A road going left?"

The old lady nodded her head, then stared resolutely forward at the windshield for quite awhile, until her son said: "Well, ya bettah tun around and head back. Tell ya what."

Now Plotnik waited for the part about sleeping in the barn with the traveling salesman.

"Ya bettah follow us," the man said, and the little old lady backed the beat up station wagon into the narrow country lane. Plot turned his rented Hyundai around and got behind her.

For the next twenty five minutes Plotnik followed a 100 year old woman driving 5 mph down a country road. She would slow down for passing mice. She would brake for dirt. Not too long into
the ordeal, Plot was grinding his teeth to dust. Finally, when she braked to take a deep breath, Plot roared by her, which is not all that easy to do in a rented Hyundai, waving thank you as he passed. Eventually he turned left a few times and right a few times and got back to the Taj McCrow.

This little island is so very beautiful. Plot and Duck are sad to have only one more day here.

Yesterday, before the trip to Bangor, Finch took P, D and BZWZ to Stonington, the old town at the Southern tip of Deer Isle. There, it became a little clearer what Plot loves about this place: in
California anyplace quaint is already a tourist destination. Quaint people once lived and worked there, and to prove it, here is the Quaint Person Memorial.

In Maine, every place is quaint, so the real quaint people who once lived and worked there still live and work there. The lobstermen's
boats are here, the little cafe is there, the old opera house is up that hill and the town hall is on that ridge. OK, you have to search for Louisiana Hot Sauce to temper the mayo in the crab rolls, but, yo. That's some serious crab in there.

If you have to get lost, Deer Isle is where to do it. The sun is shining today. Probably more lobstah tonight.