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LEFT PHOTO: View coming into St Albans, Maine.
RIGHT PHOTO: Devil's Head Ledge atop St Albans Mountain
Fall Is A Four Letter Word
By Debra Conklin
Published: August 14, 2005
AS A CHILD I looked forward to summer with great anticipation. Long lazy
days spent by a crystal clear lake, bicycling into town with friends for
ice-cream and soda. Camping out under the stars and playing hide and
seek in the twilight hours. Fall was a four-letter not to be repeated,
for fear that it would come sooner rather than later.
As an adult, though, summer means an entirely different thing.
Now, it seems to be a never-ending expanse of lawn that needs mowing,
hot days by the lake mean pain-filled, sunburned nights. A treat of
ice-cream means ten pounds added to the hips and camping out under the
stars means a sore back, a kinked neck and creaky joints. No, summer
isn't quite what it used to be as when I was a child.
But to see the trees, full and lush with fat green leaves, once again,
is a noticeable improvement over the spindly, naked branches of winter.
To be lulled to sleep, in the evening, by the sounds of crickets and
then awakened the next morning by the twittering of hungry birds, is a
welcome respite from the mechanical click of an oil furnace, snapping on
and off all night.
Even so, I'd have to say that fall is my preferred season. A four letter
word to me, as well, though meaning F-ull of A-utumn L-eaves and L-ight.
One of the best things to do during the autumn is to put on a pair of
walking boots and simply take a stroll through the Maine woods. It
doesn't really matter where, pick a path or a trail and just follow it.
It's also the perfect time of year for this. No black flies, 'mingies',
or mosquitoes to contend with as you wander through the forest, and the
air though still
warm, now has a slight crispness to it which makes for easier breathing
and a relaxed pace. A walk along any woods' trail will offer a true
array of blinding brightness. From the canopy of gently swaying trees
that shake off their gold and red coverings, to the easy crunch of
earlier sheddings beneath your boots. You'll be enveloped in tunnel of
intense hues that signal summer's end and the fleeting moments before
the first snowfall.
The place I'd like to brag about in this article is my own hometown of
St. Albans. With a population of just over 1,800 the community is
close-knit and friendly. The ride into town is lined with pastures of
farms that fence in cows and horses. Cornfields full of husks, which
cradle delicious, yellow ears of corn, stand tall waiting to be picked.
There's no shortage of road side stands selling these golden vegetables
either, with many being self-serve and using the honor system of payment
(a coffee can with a hole in the top of the plastic lid).
At the top of the hill, just before entering St.
Albans, the view will remind you of a picture postcard from days gone
by. The steeple of the Union Church reaches above the tree line,
overseeing the town. The rolling hills into the valley are vivid with
the brilliant colors of fall in full bloom. But, my own special place
(as well as many other locals) would have to be St. Albans Mountain.
Though the roads up the mountain are rough (four wheel drive is
essential) it's worth the rugged ride to the top. The mountain is
perfect for the ATV, snowmobile or cross country ski enthusiast and is
utilized by all three, during each season. Making the mountain an all
season destination for outdoor activity.
A small slice of history is also found on the mountain. A tiny almost
grown over cemetery is hidden in a small hillside. Many of the
headstones are broken or have gravesites with missing stones and most
are dated in the 1800's. Reading the headstones with names such as Jabez,
Jemima, Abel, Ephraim, Israel, Fanny and Lovina bring about thoughts of
another era and makes one wonder about the lifestyles of the people who
lived on the mountain. The abandoned and falling down houses that dot
the mountainside, sets the imagination racing, to which of those
families lived in those plain homes and how they might have survived the
harsh winters and the wild summers.
At the top of the mountain is a ledge called Devil's Head and is a
popular rest or picnic spot for those who have traveled up the mountain
or been hiking the roads. The view from the ledge overlooks a series of
ponds and with a backdrop of flaming trees, it truly is a sight for sore
eyes. After coming down off the mountain, Big Indian Lake shows off its
calm waters. At three and half miles long it's the ideal place for any
type of water activity. The public boat landing, off of Route 23, also
doubles as a swim front for children to cool off on a warm afternoon or
to wet the lines of their favorite fishing poles. A small park
established by caring townspeople provides a peaceful place to unwind,
have lunch or while away a leisurely autumn day.
After a full day of hiking, riding, fishing or just plain doing nothing,
a satisfying meal is the perfect way to end the day and that meal can be
found at The Sunrise Cafe (122 Hartland Road, Telephone 207-938-2030). The homelike cozy feel of the place is
provided by the open floor plan and the staff of Sunrise. Always warm
and welcoming, it's rare when they don't know the first names of many of
their customers and their kids, even the seasonal residents. The meals
are big, the prices reasonable and the service excellent. A day spent in
St. Albans, though not crammed with shops, restaurants or thrill rides,
is still a lovely place to visit, relax and reconnect with nature.
To get to St. Albans:
Exit 157 off Interstate 95
Route 2 West
Route 151 towards St. Albans, bear right at the sharp curve (this is the
Palmyra Rd.).
Palmyra Rd. into the town of St. Albans.
_____
Copyright 2005. Debra Conklin lives in the country with her
family and has been published in various magazines and newspapers.
Her first book of poetry and essays, This Ain't Shakespeare ... But It Sure Is Real