Love of fiber arts

Probably due to Stephen King, the first Maine city I recall being aware of is Bangor. I can't say that I had much of a conception of what it might be like, but I did expect it to be bigger than it is. After a brief and busy visit, my impression is that Bangor is more like a big suburb of a large city, except in this case it's just a big suburb surrounded by wilderness.

Although I didn't have a lot of free time, I maximized what was available and tracked down a local yarn shop in nearby Orono, which is north of Bangor. This LYS is found on what looks like the definition of a quaint northeastern Main Street (even if it's actually Mill Street).

Like the Bemidji, Minnesota yarn shop I visited about three weeks earlier, Fiberphilia is pretty much the only local place to buy yarn in its area. Their selection is fairly typical of what I'm accustomed to seeing in LYSes--plenty of Cascade and Noro, for instance--but Fiberphilia does have some regional yarns that I don't expect one finds as easily elsewhere.

The person working on the day of my visit--the co-owner?--was very helpful and not only regarding the store's merchandise. He suggested the place where I ate lunch that day and the next. Both recommendations were splendid. I never would have thought to go to a bakery run by Franciscan monks or drive a little off the highway to get to a very popular diner in a small town.

After my nice visit I left with some Cascade sock yarn and those superb tips on where to eat. Not bad for an abbreviated amount of time in Bangor and vicinity.

Making the rounds

I don't recommend traveling like I have during my northeastern journey. Drive a bunch, arrive at the hotel, get up, cram a bunch of activity in, return to the hotel, and repeat. When all is said and done, I'll have driven over two thousand miles in six days. Simply put, it's too rushed.

Which isn't to say that it's been a bad trip. Today I made the short drive to Orono, Maine and found one of the few local yarn shops in the region. That led me to lunch at a place run by Francsican monks. I had my first lobster roll and whoopie pie. I saw a movie and got a haircut. Oh yeah, I also did the work that was the basis of justifying this trip in the first place.

There's much more to say, but duty calls again in the morning, so I must be getting to bed. Tomorrow I drive to the land of Dunder Mifflin. Maybe I'll take in a minor league baseball game. Or maybe I'll collapse.

The Maine point

Today's leg of this northeastern trek: drive from Oneonta, New York to Bangor, Maine. Although this journey has piled up the miles, it has been relatively easy driving. Still, I wish I had an extra day or two to spend up here.

I better be careful what I wish for, though. Hurricane Earl is supposed to visit this area at some point late Friday night and into Saturday, although I'm not exactly sure what that means. On the way up here I popped into a grocery store in Portsmouth, New Hampshire and was surprised by how hopping the place was. I'm guessing people there were stocking up in anticipation of what might be on the way.

Today hasn't provided much time for just soaking up where I am, but I did get a little of it while having dinner at Muddy Rudder. I went out with a couple others from the university and looked out at the bay while having a crab and lobster cake sandwich. A visit to a local yarn shop should happen on Friday. Otherwise time's a-wasting for my blip of a visit to Maine. I'll be leaving Saturday morning. That's too soon.