We traveled up the East coast into the southern Maine beach town of York. Chris had found this treasure called Libby’s Oceanside Camp, celebrating 100 years. Libby’s is a fifth-generation-owned campground on the cliff of York overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Our campsite was about 15 feet from the edge of the cliff, which had about a 25 ft drop off to the ocean. Romans 1:20 says, “For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.” When you see a sunrise over Libby’s in York, Maine, you are without excuse of the magnificent miracle of God’s creation.
York has an interesting beach, a mixture of rocks and smooth sand. The rocks are visible 24 hours a day. The sand beach, however, is revealed mostly at low tide. Looking out over the ocean is a lighthouse standing as a vigilant guardian of the shore. The Cape Neddick Nubble Lighthouse is a famous American icon as a classic example of a lighthouse, and locals will tell you that it is the most photographed lighthouse in America. We had to see this piece of Americana up close so we traveled through the narrow winding roads of York to get close. There is a park upon which it sits, but RVs are not welcome. Service Dog Charlie and I had to figure out how to maneuver a turn-around, while Chris walked up the hill to get a picture. It was worth it.
Our fellow campers at York were also wonderful. To our left was Heidi and Steve. Steve is a travelling nurse. Heidi is a photographer who captured us unawares watching one of the spectacular sunrises. Steve gets contracts across the country, but York is kind of a home base from their Airstream trailer overlooking the ocean. Carol and Ben were on our right. We spent an evening with them at their campfire swapping stories about our lives, our belief in God, how we met our spouses and our passions in life. Then there was Don the next afternoon. He was a retired NCAA basketball referee. I could have listened all night to his stories about the athletes and coaches he met along the way, but a storm blew in from the southwest and we had to hustle inside. It blew so hard that Chris and I thought we might end up in the ocean.
You can’t go to Maine without trying Maine lobster, right? After walking around old town York, we settled in at a restaurant. The waitress took our order and plopped down two plastic buckets, saying in her abrupt New England brogue, “this is everything you need.” There was a lobster cracker, a bib, and handiwipes. She stood back and watched the show. Crack the claw and liquid flies everywhere. Even Service Dog Charlie took cover. This green slime called tomalley gets all over things. Messy, a lot of work. Did I say, “messy?” The waitress, now laughing, said she could have told us just to order the lobster roll, but all the tourists have to have the real lobster experience. And it was. In fact, York, Maine turned out to be one of the most wonderful experiences of our “on the road” American Chronicles adventures. Well worth the trip.
