In Maine, I spend all summer up north at different camps hiking, fishing and never worrying about power or wifi. All of my weekends from late June to early August sleeping in the small camper my parents bought when I was in preschool. We wouldn’t stay in that camper though, it felt like being sealed in a tin can when the wonders of Maine were waiting. After driving hours through nothing but pine trees, dirt roads and dying devices. I wanted to explore, I wanted to dive into the cold lakes, hop from rock to rock until I reached the peak of the mountain to look out and see nothing but nature, stay past sunset to star gaze where light pollution from big cities hadn’t hit,  I wanted to enjoy the place that Maine was to me. This was the only vacation I ever knew, I didn’t know anything about nice hotels or bleach filled pools. I knew how to find the bathroom with nothing but a flash light not trying to disturbed the tent next to you but every rustle felt like a bear. I knew every fish my sister would catch because I spent so many words on questioning my dad of everything he ever caught. My summers in Maine were never glamorous or fancy to anyone but me.  When I would return to school and hear of people time spent inside or in a plane flying to a city I just learned wasn’t a state, I wasn’t jealous. I spent my summer where I belonged, in Maine where no one who didn’t appreciate Maine’s glory would be far away. 

Up North deep into Maine’s woods is a small camp named Matagamon, an hour drive into an unnamed road where the pavements stopped 20 minutes in. This small camp ground is what I would out anyone who wanted to understand what maine really is. A 30 foot river runs through the middle with a depth maxing at 6 feet, on a good day you can watch a fly fisher catch a small mouth bass but to anyone who visits the river is your tubing heaven. Continue on the narrow dirt road and it will take you to matagamon lake, fishing is slow but as you travel the shore you can see the wildlife that gets shoved away when people take over. At the heart of the camp is  the maine lodge where the owners stay, the small shop and incredible restaurant make you feel as if you never want to leave as you devour a “famous” bear bun breakfast sandwich. I know this place like the back of my hand, the smell of fresh wood, small families and man made everything. This small place in Maine past the heavy need for wifi, light pollution, and overly rude tourists is what Maine is to me, a place where over population hasn’t hit and life seems simple. 

As fall hit, that truly just meant fair season, the beginning of blueberry crisp, maple cotton candy, turkey legs and getting a stomach ache for the next week. I didn’t think of halloween or thanksgiving, the biggest holiday to me was the Fryeburg fair. 1154 Maine street in Fryeburg Maine with the strong aromas of fried food, farm animals and diesel is where I would spend a  weekend of joy attached to my dads ship for years and years. The tradition started when we stayed with Grampy helping him run the golf car both.  This is when I entered my first piglet chase, to someone who hasn’t been to a maine fair the idea of a kid trying to catch a pig in a sack might sound crazy, but it was the usual for anyone I talked to. I came in around last place, the kid with a dad on the side screaming in boots, long dirty beard and a flannel won. The joys of the Fryeburg fair didn’t end there. We bounced from truck pull to cow barn getting overpriced food that takes a few years of your life. I can still recall the last time I shared a bag of cotton candy with Grampy. He always loved the fair, he showed me how to love a Maine fair. 

I can call myself a mariner because I have loved, kept and cherished it. It’s not because I was born and raised here, it’s because I saw Maine for what it is and I explored it and took part of its glorious traditions without taking over. I can’t say I don’t hate tourists or being bored of looking at trees but I can say that I know how to love Maine for what it gives me. My maine is outside with and without people where traditions and family matter as much as keeping life simple.