The Maine Event

It's a Monday so you knew it had to be coming, right? And by it I mean the weekend update. I just scanned my blog, and it's been roughly two months since my Mondays didn't start with a WUblog. I used to pride myself on random blog formats and interestingly different ways of telling stories or anecdotes. No more! Long live predictability!

The Great Maine Adventure (the GMA) is the third in the G_A series. You may remember the GCA and the GBA--stay tuned for the GVA at the end of the month as we journey to Vermont for the ward campout. I kind of like these traveling adventures.

And now, on to the Maine event!

As a little background, any one who has roots in Utah is familiar with the Cafe Rio/Costa Vida-line of Mexican food chains. Debate at will which is best; my heart has always belonged to the Costa. Locations are primarily in Utah with a few in other Western states. Would it surprise you to know they have a location in Maine? It should--! It was a surprise, a delight, and the reason we chose to camp/adventure where we did in Maine. Since I'm all about making things happen lately, we combined one of the last camp-outs of the year and an outing to one of my most favorite food establishments into one last summer hurrah.

After a quasi-bumpy start, the drive to Portland was painless. We rolled into our campsite about 8:30; it was dark and quiet and barely a soul was moving. Knowing we'd made a reservation beforehand (we had the reservation confirmation), we commandeered a spot and setup camp. Our time around the campfire was spent in traditional form--hot dogs, smores, guitar playing, singing, story telling, photo taking... it was par for the course as far as campfires go.



Our true adventure didn't begin until it was time to bunker down for the night. We laid (layed?) down our tarps and unrolled our bags. It was a race to who could fall asleep first. Clearly, I lost that race. Between the snorers, the chatters, and four-whistle train that rumbled through camp at least six times in six hours, the sleep wasn't exactly sound. To ice the cake, the forecast read a 20% chance of rain, beginning at 4am. On the dot, 4am, it started to rain. Having made the grave error to forgo putting up tents to "sleep under the stars," we made do the best we could.

Well actually, most of the others did the best they could. Somehow I drew the lucky card and everyone took most excellent care of me. I stayed in my sleeping bag (as it was dry and warm) until we started breaking camp.

I felt like I hardly slept that night. However, in the wee hours of the morning, as Kylee and Julie were dragging my sleeping bag (with me in it!) into the center of the tarp so they could fold it over on me for protection, I started crankily disclaiming that they "leave me alone!" In my defense, I remember this, I remember Julie telling me to stop being a brat, and I remember thinking that I thought I was okay where I was, and they were moving me for warmth. (I was plenty warm; had already shed my wool socks long before) Here's my public apology: I'm sorry.

I also need to publicly apologize for freaking out when the cold, green, wet, dirty tarp covered my head and touched my face and I started publicly freaking out. I was in a cocoon and felt trapped! Claustrophobia set in! Panic ensued! Special shout out thanks to everyone who made my cacoon a memorable one--I appreciate your hard work in keeping me warm. And dry.

I think we were all rather happy when the night was over. On to the beach!






Finally, we were wet, cold, exhausted and hungry. Time for the crowning glory of the trip--Costa Vida. Whoop!


And the good news is... they're putting in a Costa at Boston College! Oh my my my. Best news of the quarter! The drive home was rather uneventful and not nearly as chatty as the ride there. Limited sleep and wet underwear will do that to you.

All in all, a quick 18-hour, 1-gas tank trip. Highly recommended.