Cinco de Mayo is the wettest, drabbest, least adventurous day of the journey. Still a few highlights of Belfast and Camden to recall.
Found Marshall’s Brewery on the wharf in Belfast. Very much the hole-in-the-wall, but they are getting orders for their beer up and down the coast of Maine. Sampled the three darkest and pronounced the Oyster Stout the best. Not up to the standards of the Imperial Stout two nights back, but that brew might spoil me for the rest.
Then I rode up Route One, hoping to see something new. Maine Pottery was a nice display of local potters just over the bridge from Belfast
(www.MainelyPottery.com),
but I was not in the acquisitive mood for pottery, dishes, and anything I already have in great stock at home. Beyond that Route One did not look well in the rain, and I turned back after Searsport.
Ditto for Camden, although Elm Street is changing: my mother-in-law’s favorite restaurant “The Villager” is out of business, and it looks like the “Sea Dog” is coming back to replace it. They were brewers who apparently folded their tents in Camden 4-5 years ago, but are returning this summer. It’s amazing how little else has changed on the main street.
The Camden Deli, with one of the best views of the harbor, is still making great sandwiches. I opted for the Tuscan Pea Bean soup instead, and was not disappointed.
Tried unsuccessfully to capture the back of the Deli. It has a pool beneath it which flows into the bay like a small waterfall. You’ll just have to go there to appreciate it.
Finished the day with a folk concert by Charlie King in the Camden Library. Very uplifting, even the political ditties. He sang two wonderful songs about immigrants, one about Sacco and Vanzetti, the other about an El Salvadoran labor organizer named Yanira Menino. Pete Seeger had sent him a news clipping, hinting strongly that someone should write a song about this woman. Apparently he and Pete were buds. Here’s the YouTube rendition:
He also played a love song he wrote for his partner before she died. That got me teary-eyed, but I am glad to remember Kathy my last night in Camden, a place she loved to visit.
Headed for Edgecomb tomorrow, the Sheepscot Inn.
All in all; a good travel day. Looking not quite like spring. Out and about with the familiar; but new again. Charlie did not seem to mind when I sang along. Fair pictures, angle must be hard to figure. Memories of trips with Kathy are golden in spite of the twinges of saddening bites that make you pause in place for a moment. On to the next new thing tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Forgot to mention Charlie King was born in Brockton, MA, where I taught for twenty years. We shared a few memories after the concert.
Another very meaningful song, “Pour Yourself Out in Love” struck my chords. He wrote it following a depression.
Old friends and wine, good companions, as are songs from the distant past. I am being regaled as I move around by song friends from my own younger days. These songs are what I now know as one of the pleasures of music. Remembering how I felt when I heard them years ago. Thanks, Library donor