A Lady Escapes: Camden, Maine

Midcoast claims my childhood summers. It claims those of my mother as well. Though she now lives in the far reaches of Downeast Maine  (where few tourists explore) and I myself used to dwell on Mount Desert Island (where most tourists go), the seaside towns of Camden, Rockland and Lincolnville speak to our comfortable youth and cherished summers, filled with the sight of the still cold sea from atop Mt. Battie and ginger from Dorman's Dairy Dream. They were filled with the color of blue from the native berries and red like the cooked lobsters eaten in all the restaurants by mainly out of towners. Camden, in particular, is a romantic vision of coastal Maine, and it's easy to forget that any other kind exists. And yet I still love that vision after all these years, and it's why I recently drove four hours north from Boston to see it alive again. In late May it was still fairly quiet, but in the next few weeks, Camden and the other midcoast towns will be filled to the brim with vacationers eager to experience what I have known my entire life, and that is a calm only towns this far north offer, in the sweet, gentle villages along the rocky coast. It is a calm that inspires the phrase, "the way life should be," which greets visitors to the state of Maine after they cross the Piscataqua River. Visit the little shops and walk the main streets, but do find a bench that overlooks the harbors, and watch as the fishermen come and go, and watch the happy visitors enjoy their first schooner ride and breathe deeply. You're in Maine.