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Camden Hills State Park
Copyrighted photo courtesy Debra Conklin
Camden & Rockland - Change Can Be Special
By Debra Conklin
Published: September 06, 2005
IN order to take advantage of our last few remaining, sunshine-filled
days, I thought my family and I should spend a day away from the house
and chores. Not needing any further prodding, my husband
whole-heartedly agreed. So, turning to our son, I asked him what
he'd like to do for the day.
He replied with a question of his own. "Is this going to be MY special
day?" I nodded and agreed. "Yes it is. Now, tell us, what
would you like to do on YOUR special day?" Without hesitation, he
replied, "I want to go to the ocean!"
So, off to the ocean we went, but because we only had the day, we knew a
trip to Bar Harbor or southern Maine would be too far away, so we
decided to go to Camden
and Rockland. It had
been several years since we'd last been there and agreed it would be
good to see the changes, if any, that the area might have gone through.
One thing that definitely hadn't changed was Route 7 into
Belfast. With
twisting, turning, steep uphill and speedy downhill roads, my son
delightedly declared that the roads were "just like a roller-coaster
ride, but only in our truck." Once off Route 7 and turning onto
Route 1, the first immediate change that we came upon was in Belfast.
The entire area around Route 1 had developed into a busy intersection.
Restaurant chains, new banks, and retail stores were branching out all
along this route to feed, clothe and divert travelers. But, we
weren't tempted, we bypassed the area and kept traveling.
Moving away from Belfast and closer to the ocean, we made a quick stop
at Lincolnville Beach. We wanted to stretch our legs and our son
begged to have Dad teach him how to skip rocks. But soon bored
with that, he got more enjoyment from chasing the seagulls around.
Sitting on a bench I happily watched them and breathed deeply, sucking
in the cool ocean breeze. The smell of salt water flared open my
nostrils and the sky itself seemed to cling to my skin. After a
short stroll along the small strip of beach we climbed back into the
truck and headed off for Camden Hills
State Park and then the
Breakwater Lighthouse in Rockland.
Because my husband and I had been to the state park and the lighthouse,
many times over the years, we knew what to expect. Being familiar
with the park, we knew that the trails would be an easy hike for a six
year old. We also knew that the rocky shoreline of the park would
be a challenge for an active boy. After about an hour of wedging
ourselves into crevices, to see what sea creatures lurked there, scaling
rocks, that my son proclaimed were even better than the rock walls at
the Bangor State or the Skowhegan Fair and checking under seaweed for
crabs, starfish and whatever else lie hidden beneath, we decided it was
time to go across the road to drive to the top of Mt. Battie. The
spectacular views from the summit of Mt. Battie are as inspiring today
as they were when the poet Edna St. Vincent Milley wrote about them.
But, my son couldn't have cared less about poetry, the Mt. Battie Tower
was calling his name. Built in 1921, this World War 1 Memorial is
a big tourist draw as well as a lasting tribute to those who fought
bravely for our country. But, this of course, means little to a
small boy intent on getting to the top of an impressive castle tower.
He raced up the spiral staircase and once at the top excitedly yelled
how he could see "everywhere" and marveled at how small everything
looked, "Like toys in my room," he declared.
View from Mt. Battie Tower
Copyrighted photo courtesy Debra Conklin
After reluctantly leaving the state park, we then
drove through Camden. To my relief, it was gratifying to see that
this picturesque village had not changed since our last visit. We
were still enthralled by the boats and ships that filled the harbor,
were still excited by the hustle and bustle that is Camden, even in late
summer, and were still amazed by the throngs of shoppers that filled
crosswalks and spilled out of the shops.
As our day was winding down, we knew that the walk to the Breakwater
Lighthouse in Rockland would be the perfect place to close it out.
At 7/8 of a mile long, the walk to the lighthouse is the ideal time to
relax and talk about the day's events. To our surprise we were informed
that it was now possible to go right inside the lighthouse and wander
around. To us, this in itself was a big change from just a few
years ago, when the lighthouse windows and doors were boarded up tight.
Needless to say we were excited about the possibility of being able to
go inside. To our disappointment, though, once we arrived at the
lighthouse, they had just closed for the day, so we were unable to look
around. We made a promise to ourselves to come back next summer.
After the hike back, to console ourselves, we decided it was ice-cream
time. We went to the DQ in Rockland and as my husband enjoyed his
Banana Blizzard, we cruised the streets of Rockland and then
Thomaston. I
was pleased to see that downtown Rockland had remained virtually the
same, despite the growth just outside the downtown area on Route 1.
The changes that had occurred seemed to be improvements to the buildings
and these improvements seemed to breathe new life into downtown
Rockland. There wasn't a vacant storefront anywhere, the
waterfront was teeming with activity and a new appreciation was found
for this reemerging town.
Except for some new, wonderfully attractive sidewalks, it was comforting
to see that downtown Thomaston had remained unchanged as well. The most
drastic, noticeable change, though, was the loss of the Maine State
Prison. It was a gap in the landscape that left the square of
field, where it had once stood, strangely exposed and vulnerable. As we
continued to drive through the streets, I was delighted to see that many
of the historical houses had been marked as sites for the town's newly
instituted Museum in the Streets. With over 700 homes in
Thomaston, 85% of them are 100 to 200 years old. Many of these
homes once belonged to seafaring captains, generals and naval
commanders. The service of this type of museum is to tell the
story and history of the homes as well as, the importance of its past
inhabitants to the community.
At the end of our son's special day, as we wearily drove home, a dense
fog rolled in and blanketed our vehicle in early darkness. My son
lay stretched out in the extended cab of our truck and sleepily thanked
us for his "special" day.
To get to the Camden/Rockland area:
From the North
Exit 161 onto Route 7
Route 7 into Belfast
Route 1 into Camden, then Rockland and then Thomaston.
From the South
Exit 109 onto Route 17 then Route 90 into Rockport.
Route 1 into Camden or Rockland.
_____
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