The day started with this.
A pink mini donut at Starbucks and an iced Americano to wipe away the last sleepy cowebs in my head. I headed out of town with no clear plan of what do to. Something coastal/South. I had been to Acadia National Park quite a few times already, Portland was too long of a drive, so something else. Once I left town I knew where to head: Camden.
On the way on Highway 1 South, a few picturesque outdoor flea markets line the roadside.
Naturally, a Maine flea market along a busy coastal highway must have Maine-ish things for the tourista. Like stuffed deer, or black bears or a cute moose. Or lobster buoys and cages. Seeing a moose close up like this typically happens only at a fleamarkt. Bears, too. If you are lucky. Because otherwise, they land on your windshield. Or eat your cats for snacks.
Lots of very old books (like law books from 1830) or antique cameras or vinyl records. Rather than enticing me to buy anything a flea market just reminds be of the passing of time. And sometimes we just want a trinket of times long gone. As if we can hold on to it.
Highway No 1 finally took me to Camden, the scenic (and very touristy) coastal town with a harbor full of windjammers, which offer 1/2 day tours, all kind of beautiful private sailboats, and the occasional super-yacht. Good food, nice views, and somehow just too much traffic.