Re-Entry

There was an energy pervading the Nomad - not only did Dave have the drive and the urgency to get us home to mid-coast Maine, but it seemed our RV shared in the exuberance. We were out of Connecticut, had passed the exit for central Massachusetts (and Jill called her Mom at that point), and the Nomad was getting over 11 miles a gallon - which was a rarity for this trip.. or any RV of his age, size, and weight.

We were passing old familiar state route signs and our comfort level started returning. We made a short pit-stop in Amesbury, Massachusetts for fuel - and got right back into the home-bound groove. The station attendants' name was Jesus. He shot us an odd, then a "whatever" look when Jill commented, "See? I told you Jesus was with us." She also told him he had a good name. He managed to chuckle and express a thank you... we think.


The aura of the urgency seemed to filtrate the area. Jill wondered out loud how we are going to cross these four lanes of congested traffic in order to get back onto the highway? As if by magic, the light changed to red, all the traffic stopped and parted to let us out. We wished getting on our way was always this easy!

Onward to New Hampshire! We breezed down I-95 and even had a pleasant toll plaza employee. Before we realized it, we were crossing the bridge over the Piscataqua River into Maine. The evening sun cast a glow on the massive steel structure. It seemed that, for a while anyways, time didn't exist. Not until we felt hunger pangs in our stomachs. We couldn't get to the Kennebunk rest area fast enough. Once there, we parked amongst the semi's and felt gnome-like. It was a little ironic - we were in a similar parking situation six months ago, when this portion of the journey began, just across the highway.

We breathed in the chilly sea air, listened to the seagulls squawk for a handout, and bolted for the restrooms. After regrouping, we stood in line for some dinner. Timing was still smiling on us, as we beat a large mob of hungry travelers who got in line behind us. After we ate and called friends, saying "Guess where we are?" and got answers ranging from Pennsylvania and Connecticut. Our oldest grandson even said, "Down south." Only after Jill told him we were in Maine, he responded with, "COME HOME NOW! WHEN CAN I SEE YOU?" Jill had to calm him down and explain that we were still two hours away. He promptly dropped the phone and shouted to his Mom, "WE HAVE TO GO AND PICK UP GRAMMY & BAMPY!!" Our grand-daughter Alyssa calmly picked up the phone and asked where we were. We told her we were in Maine and she replied, "About time. I miss you. When are you coming to see us?"

After about 45 minutes of explaining, checking the Nomad over, and calling a few more friends, we realized we had better get a move on. The sun was now setting. Portland's rush hour was now over and we passed through without the congestion. Even the two toll booth takers undercharged our vehicle as they wished us well. The sun the painted the city in pastels.

Once off I-295, we ventured onto Coastal Route 1 - and were promptly reminded how rough a winter Maine had. The roads were pockmarked with holes where the tar used to be. To say it was like the surface of the moon, is an understatement. We apologized (several times) to our vehicle for practically taking out the suspension, especially in Warren, Maine - where we traversed the road at 25 miles per hour. It only took one or two B-I-G holes to convince us that was a wise move.

Finally, at around 9 p.m., we pulled into the new Wal-Mart in Thomaston. We found a decent place to park- under some lights and next to an island of trees and shrubs. We spent the weekend with our kids and grandchildren. We ran into some friends in the store and we went to Sunday Mass to reconnect with more friends and then out to breakfast before heading off to the Augusta - Gardiner KOA in Richmond, Maine.

The Nomad made the 90 minute trek from Thomaston to Richmond without any problems. Some of the roads, however, provided entertainment as we sailed over some unmarked frost heaves at too fast a speed. The Nomad rocked... literally. He also rolled, bounced, and pressed on without complaint. We feel the Nomad was generally relieved to pull into a campsite... finally.

Until next time,
The Happy Campers,
Jill & Dave