I am on vacation. Therefore, I am not at home pondering sex offender housing restrictions or marijuana distribution centers.
Perhaps next week.
Instead, on the first full day of vacation, which is occurring while our two children are away at camp, I am 10 miles down a dirt road somewhere in the vicinity of Shirley.
My husband is driving. He mapped out our route the night before. We are heading to Moxie Falls, where we will delight in its magnificent beauty and cool ourselves in the clear woodland pools that surround it.
At least that is the plan.
My husband is a banker. He was born to be a banker. He fits perfectly into the mostly black-and-white and live-by-the-rules world of banking. Schedules and calendars are his friends.
He is “Banker Rick” and I’m lucky to have him. He’s steady, dutifully nags me for debit card receipts, makes sure that I don’t overdraw the checking account and always reminds me of our dental appointments.
But while Banker Rick spends most of his days charting a steady course for our lives, he is, it turns out, not much of a map reader.
Banker Rick is on vacation.
On Sunday night, “Vacation Rick” is in control. He is sitting at the kitchen counter. He has his “vacation hat” on his head, a carefree grin on his face, a cold beer in his hand, the blessed Maine Atlas and Gazetteer spread before him and a week’s worth of day trips to plot.
Vacation Rick is charming, but he must be watched closely and occasionally reined in.
It has been awhile since our last vacation, and I can’t remember the last one we had with no children.
Vacation Rick is in rare form and I have unfortunately forgotten to keep my eye on this carefree version of my husband.
This is exactly why on Monday morning we are 10 miles down a dirt road somewhere around Shirley or Squaretown Township or Little Squaw Township.
Seems Vacation Rick found a shortcut.
We’ve run into washed-out-road signs and taken rights and lefts that don’t appear on any map. We’ve not seen a person, a vehicle, not even a moose. Power lines disappeared miles back.
The only real road signs warn us that log trucks have the right of way.
Since this “unimproved road,” as it is referred to in the gazetteer, is not very wide, my guess is the log truck’s right of way will involve a path directly over the top of our vehicle.
I am not happy when I am nervous and concerned that we are about to orphan our children.
This is when Vacation Rick and Banker Rick try to merge to find the right mix that might appease me.
Vacation Rick cracks jokes to try to make this unexpected jaunt into the Maine wilderness a humorous adventure.
He fails.
Banker Rick acknowledges my concern and tries to assure me that everything will be fine. He thinks he “might know where we might be” and occasionally yells “I AM STAYING TO THE RIGHT” when I gently and lovingly remind him to do so.
The dog in the back seat is getting restless.
“She senses your anxiety,” my husband tells me.
There is a brief moment of levity and surprise when we approach a bend in the road and come across a neat-as-a-pin log cabin, complete with Adirondack chairs, a fire pit, a basketball hoop and a large neon sign across the front that says “Wally’s World.”
Vacation Rick wants to go back and take a picture. I’m thinking I might hear banjo music in the distance and I nix the idea.
We travel another 8.9 miles and the mood in the car is not improving until suddenly a red minivan magically appears behind us.
We pull over and they pass us with a carefree and friendly wave.
“Follow them!” I shout.
“I will,” Vacation Rick replies enthusiastically. “I’m sure they must know where they’re going!”
Five minutes later they have led us directly to the Moxie Falls boat landing, where there are people and cars and power lines.
“Hey, this is exactly where I said we’d come out,” he boasts.
The falls are magnificent, by the way, and worth the trip if you’ve never been. It’s an easy and short hike in. Bring a book, a towel and a camera and you can easily spend the day wading and swimming in the pools of clear water surrounding the falls.
But here’s a thought. If you’re leaving from the Bangor area you may want to try taking Route 15 to Guilford and cutting across Route 16, which is a perfectly respectable and clearly “improved” road that leads to U.S. Route 201 in Moscow, which in turn will take you directly to Moxie Falls.
We survived our first day, and Vacation Rick is still grinning foolishly and being perfectly charming, and he barely protests when I gently pry the Gazetteer from his hands and tuck it away on my side of the car.
E-mail Renee at reneeordway@gmail.com and listen to her and co-host Dan Frazell from 7 to 9 a.m. Monday through Friday on the radio at 103.1 The Pulse.