Hurricane Arthur smacked the Maine coast somewhere around three this morning. Hard steady rain pounding on the skylights and wind howling through the balsams woke me up, and it was hard to get back to sleep knowing all the packing and loading we would have to do once day broke.
The storm was still steady when we all got up, but with the help of Josh and the benefit of our new foul weather gear, we were only slightly soggy when we piled into the van for a 9:30 departure. The going was a little slow on the two-lane roads that made up the first leg of our journey, though, and it was close to noon before we made the interstate.
Then there was the question of that lobster we promised to bring to Heidi's parents in Buffalo, so I got off the turnpike again south of Portland, hoping to find a good place on Rte 1. Our search took us on a detour to Orchard Beach, where we found a helpful lobster pound who packed up four to go.
Saturday of Fourth of July weekend is crowded at any beach town, though, and we found ourselves stuck in traffic on the strip. Even though it gave us a lot of opportunity to people watch and window shop from the van (best bad shirt slogan: That was a nice story, babe, now make me a sandwich), knowing we had miles to go before we slept, we soon became impatient to get back on the road.
By now it was well past lunch time, and we delayed a little longer looking for a spot where we could get one last lobster roll and maybe a couple of burgers. No such luck, though, and so I turned back onto the highway.
Not too far down the road we passed a rest stop and service area with a huge sign: Lobsters packed to travel, and darn it if they didn't have lobster rolls and burgers, too. Good to know.
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