2016/08 Newf'land trip - Bradbury Mountain |
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At the USA border, we were lined up when the guards suddenly closed all lanes, and brought out the sniffer dogs. We all had to sit there with engines off and windows closed, while the dogs walked around the vehicles giving us all a sniff. Most of the guards looked to be casual, but one of the dog handlers looked flustered, so my suspicion was that the whole thing was a drill and her dog was supposed to find something planted in one of the cars. After a long wait the dogs were taken away, and the lanes were opened. And we could go back to worrying about how much diesel we had left.
We ended up putting 33.5 gallons into a 34 gallon tank, cutting it too fine, as restarting a diesel after running out is not easy. Running out halfway across the border might be even worse! The only gas station in town had a problem too; it took over twenty minutes to fill the tank and the pressure was so low the pump didn’t shut off on full.
We’d crossed into the Eastern time zone, which gave us an extra hour on the clock. We hoped to get to the other side of Maine before stopping to camp.
We’ve driven this route twice before and Maine’s Highway 9 still has an extreme camber. My advice is to never buy a trailer that has the 
fridge on the driver’s side, as one day you’ll end up on a road like this and your fridge door will open and swing until the hinges fracture and it falls off! Like ours did in ‘89. The road does however have one perfect little rest area with this stream gurgling behind it. It was almost full by late afternoon with campers settling down for the night.
We arrived in Bangor just before rush hour, early enough for quilt stops there and in nearby Orrington. We saw signs 
for WKIT, Stephen King’s rock station. Yes, Maine is the part of the world where King’s characters meet nasty ends, the dead walk, and demons join the fun.
Traffic was heavy on a Friday evening, but we made it to our chosen campsite before dark at Bradbury Mountain, just before Portland. The park didn’t seem to have much to offer other than forest and a hill, but the host said he was sorry but they were full. “All except for one tiny odd-shaped site”, he added. “We’ll fit”, I said and we did with a bit of rearranging of boulders. For a change we had a warm humid evening, a sign that we were heading south.