Gulf Hagas

They call it "Maine's Grand Canyon." As part of the Appalachian Trail corridor, Gulf Hagas is a sweeping gorge at 400 feet of elevation. The eight mile loop rim trail takes about six hours to complete and on a summer day offers ideal swimming holes with shallow falls and rocks for sunning.





Our crew of four arrived at the Pleasant River campground and checked in with a ranger named Faun Dill who spoke fondly of Jack Daniels and warned us of the logging trucks that claim the right of way in the area. The area was teeming with wildlife as we spotted a moose, rabbit, pheasant, snake and several frogs in minutes. The campsite was situated along a river which remained completely silent except for the occasional call of local animals. We cooked a vegetarian pasta with garlic, onions, spinich and carrots and emptied several bottles of red around the campfire-good food tastes better in the woods. Our picnic table just happened to have a red and white checkered tablecloth tot top it off.



After a somewhat restless night imagining worst case scenarios involving bears I enjoyed instant coffee overlooking the river. Within the first five minutes of the hike we crossed a wide river in knee deep water and continued sloshing in wet boots for the miles that followed through the forest. The trail runs alongside the gorge offering views of waterfalls and bush. The rocks appeared to be sweating with beads of condensation during the humid trek. Around the halfway point the perfect swimming hole was spotted and we declared lunchtime. Wading in the cool clear water refreshed everyone for the return segment of the rim trail which crossed through tall and mountain streams. The hike is wet at times but the terrain is mild enough to enjoy the surroundings.





After hiking the rim, I'm not sold on the nickname "Grand Canyon of Maine" since it is barely a "Mini Me" of the Grand Canyon and much greener, but nonetheless, Gulf Hagas is an idyllic summer hike for any lover of nature.

Surfing and Hiking and Biking, Oh My!

Some do adventure sports for the thrill, some for the bragging rights and some because its just plain fun. With two vans full of gear, a few Kiwis took campers to the ocean and into the bush to pack in as much outdoor adventure as possible into three days.

First stop: Kennebunkport's Gooch Beach for some surfing. While the real waves come to the Atlantic during hurricane season, July's swells are well-suited for beginning surfers. Outfitted in wetsuits by Aquaholic's Surf Shop the campers took to the ocean with seven and eight-foot foam boards. The boys learn quickly and practice through the afternoon paddling and quickly standing on the boards. The smallest and youngest boys in the group emerge as the best surfers for the day. Go figure.





That evening we camp in a thickly forested reserve of the Kennebunkport Land Trust situated along a river. The nearby resident who used to lifeguard at Puerto Escondito, one of the largest surf breaks in the world, allows the boys hit golf balls from his porch across the river. After a long day of activity we eat heartily and sleep well.



Day two is mountain biking. We drive to New Hampshire's majestic White Mountains and arrive at Great Glen Trails Adventure Center where we rent mountain bikes. The trails are well groomed and meander through woods and rolling hills with wildflowers that surround Mt. Washington. Trail maps are easy to read and routes for all levels are available so bikers can choose their own challenge. The facility also has a cafe and locker rooms.



We decide on a short hike the next day to accommodate a drive to the top of Mt. Washington, "Home of the world's worst weather." The guide scoffed at our vehicles when he realized we were driving twelve passenger vans to the top of the mount. The trip is about a 25 minute drive during which passengers can listen to an informational CD about Mt. Washington. The winding road reminds me of Highway 1 in California from which cars can plummet over the cliffs if the driver is not careful. The mountain was surrounded by low-lying clouds making it appear volcanic. Sweeping views of the White Mountains are offered throughout the drive and make me think of "The Sound of Music." At the summit the air is fresh. An old lodge where people used to spend the night has been preserved and serves as a museum. The highest wind speed ever recorded on the mountain is 231 m.p.h. and the summit frequently gets hurricane force winds.



The last stop was Glen Ellis Falls, a series of waterfalls tucked in the woods. We brought bathing suits to take advantage of the scenic and cool swimming holes. A few brave souls jumped from the cliffs into the water. The swim was a refreshing respite before leaving the White Mountains. These rich experiences among nature make peeing in the woods well worth it.

Reggaefest: A Perfect Summer's Day

Every Sunday throughout the summer, Peak's Island, an island 45 minutes offshore from Portland, Maine, has a tradition that free-spirited twentysomethings have come to enjoy: Reggaefest. This full day of reggae music and Corona is held at an open-air beach bar above the sand and on a sunshine-filled day makes one feel like they've been transported to the Caribbean.

Ferries are available every hour from Portland's Old Port. Many Reggaefest goers also arrive via private sailboats and yachts. We happened to jump on a 40-foot pleasure yacht called the My Fair Lady with friends and snack on hors d'ouvres during the trip. Beautiful.

Its the kind of place people get chatty and meet their neighbors. The dance floor is filled with happy vacationers swaying to the reggae beats while the guys with dreads hit the steel drums and keyboard. And if it happens to rain, the patio is fully covered so the party continues.

After taking the ferry back to Portland, end the day with dinner in the Old Port. Gritty's fish and chips hit the spot during our visit and numerous other options are available from J's Seafood to Flatbread Pizza Co.

Why? In case you can't make it to Jamaica.

Chick-en Pad-dies!

Everyday at camp we eat in the dining hall; after flag raising, at lunchtime and after flag lowering. It is to be a civilized dining experience, however, walking into the dining hall sounds just like walking into a crowded bar. The din comes from a bunch of boys with ADD tendencies.

We say prayer and then all hell breaks loose. The runners emerge from the kitchen delivering meals. At the first sight of a chicken patty the chant begins with fists on the tables, "Chick-en Pad-dies, Chick-en Pad-dies..." A camper drops his cup and another chant with finger pointing begins, "You, you, you, you, ahhhhhh YOU!" On trip days counselors have to remain alert so campers do not do this chant in public restaurants as they are conditioned.

Boys get lost on their way to the salad bar aimlessly wandering in laps araound the dining hall. Little Freddy even eats a fluff sandwich as he walks with a smile on his face getting the sticky white marshmellow behind his ear, on his cheek, down his shirt. Some of the lost boys stare as if they've never been in this dining hall before, observing the wall hangings and climbing behind the directors' table which is against the rules.

Others are busy tracking down the grilled cheese sandwiches, the coveted meal alternative for kosher and vegetarian eaters. The chef carries the grilled cheeses out on a tray high above her head to make it past the grabbing hands.

As the kitchen staff hangs the sign instructing everyone to save a spoon for dessert another chant begins, "Save your spoon! Save your spoon!" A handful of campers have priorities other than sweets. These campers hurry through each meal to play the salt and pepper shaker game which entails sliding the containers across the picnic tables at each other. The other popular game is called "Bear-Karate-Gun" mimicking "Rock-Paper-Scissors." Bear kills karate, karate chops gun and gun shoots bear. Counselors are not too old for immaturity catapulting small bits of food and using salad tongs to lift glasses.

Birthdays are also special occasions in the dining hall as the lights go out and cakes are carried to the campers of honor. Camp, of course, has a special version of "Happy Birthday" during which everyone does the wave and shouts a girly "Woooo" to finish each line of the song. At the end is a thundering drumroll on the picnic tables. The more noise the better.

And the clock keeps ticking. Meals in the dining hall extend for an eternity since the directors call each row seperately to serve themselves. Announcements over a microphone conclude each meal and counselors make the sign of the buffalo to quiet the campers.

The chaos of the dining hall has not been matched by any bar to which I've been but it is possible that somewhere out there a crazier place exists.