62, 54, 80 Hike

In the continuing tradition of getting out into Nature until the big aluminum bird takes us across the pond, we are not letting any moss (that’s another blog, stay tuned) grow under our feet. It never ceases to amaze me how much things change. This year’s sojourn to Cobscook Bay State Park is a perfect example.

Camping with my sisters has become an annual event. What started out as a way to prepare for our Camino has become tradition. Each trip to some distant geographic location, each campsite with its own pluses and minuses is pleasurable training for Spain and its unknowns, so in my 20 year old memory, I suggested Cobscook for a couple of reasons. It was reasonably priced (ya, in 1975) and the campsites were fantastic, at least that’s how I remember them. They are private and most have water views of the bay. Bonus feature ~ if you are a camper, you are allowed to dig a peck of clams!

Reality check: the website and written material is woefully inadequate when it comes to descriptive information about any of the campsites! Looking on the park map there are 101 tenting sites. Should be a simple choice and it was. Site number 62 on said map was located along the shore line and on its own peninsula. The potable water and potty symbols were close by. What’s not to like.

The trip into the park was “Alice In Wonderland~esque”. Everything looked the same and everything looked different. I think it was 1979 the last time I camped here. Check in was simple, signage appropriate and roads well marked. Number 62, here we come.

This is where it gets interesting. A large granite post in the middle of the road and two hand carts told us we wouldn’t be driving to the campsite. Instead of investigating the site, we loaded up the two carts and headed up the non-vehicular road. When I said “headed up” I meant it. The way to the site was up-hill and the site, although private, was a tri-level spot, mostly covered by exposed tree roots. The only flat spot on the site wasn’t large enough to accommodate the foot print of our tent, the picnic table was on the edge of the ankle breaking labyrinth of roots and the firepit was on level three about 20 feet away. Oh and did I mention the clam flats were 50 feet below the site without a single way to climb down.

While I made the trip back to check to see about getting a different site, my intrepid companion started bringing all the equipment back to the parking area. At least it was downhill.

While driving back to check-in, I scoped out other sites finding one that fit all of our needs, including easy access to the water. “Can we possibly change our site?”, I said to the young lady behind the counter, named Tabitha. “62 just won’t work for us but I did notice number 54 and wondered if we could have that one.”, pleading just a bit. Unfortunately it wasn’t available for the time we would be in the park but she told me 101 was, so back to pick up the gear and my navigator. When we drove to 101 it was apparent it was even worse than 62. Back to check-in, rather sheepishly, and after agreeing to let us drive around to see the sites that were available, Tabitha stopped changing the number on our admittance card. (We bought her chocolates from Monica’s as a thank you for putting up with us.)

Number 80 was a winner but in driving through the park with very little information, I suggested we co-author an in-depth guide to all the sites to include access, privacy, site layout, whether or not it had parking and most importantly of all ~ can you get to the clam flats from the site. I think those folks in Augusta would appreciate our efforts.

Lucky for us, someone else has done all the hard work, in that regard, when it comes to the Camino. We shouldn’t have any problems at all! (wink,wink)

Buen Camino,

“Holy” Sneakers 500