Camping — Mid-coast Maine
It was our intention to leave the Boston area Thursday evening. The iffy forecast gave us pause, so modifying the departure to a first-in-the-morning wake and dash seemed sensible. I say the weather, but that’s not it really. It was the prospect of sitting in traffic for hours in the rain, setting up a tent in the rain and dark, only to lay down to a questionable sleeping experience. How ’bout we just leave in the AM? Yup.
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As I write, that magical and fleeting stretch of New England weather that begins sometime in September and ends sometime in October is upon us. The air is crisp. The stinging morning cold strikes your face like a boxer’s landing blow. Momentarily jarred, it takes a second to register this strange phenomenon, this thing cold. You shrug, knowing that come brunchtime, remnants of Summer will again regain the upper hand… for a few hours at least.
Anytime is a lovely time to go to the beach. The Cape is not the beach. My preference: September, early morning if possible. Yeah, a sweater is likely accoutrement, but equally likely to be shed. You find parking. You do not find traffic. You find more than a patch of sand to claim. You may even find yourself Commander in Beach, with only a spattering of fellow bipeds about, free to do silly things as one pleases.
