So this is it, Colorado? This is where I'll be settling in? 

I guess so. I've signed a lease and found a job. I've made some friends and narrowed down my list of favorite pizza joints. Zoe and I settled down with some friends in a house on East Colfax. Our neighborhood is quiet for being only blocks from LoDo. The bar up the street has a great happy hour, and we're not too far from a park. Denver looks like it is going to be a fun city, albeit tough to save money in. Plus, the Front range sits majestically in the periphery, always. Beckoning. Now we'll just see how long winter lasts, and pine for long days and warm nights...

It all began at Moosehead. Well, not ALL of it. Just this part. In fact, even this part began at Lily Bay State Park. It began with a cacophony of songs among the trees, as the pre-dawn light warmed. The early-bird must get the worm, because the birds were out first. After a quick trip to pee among the treetop performances I returned to the tent, where the din of mosquito rose all around me, competing with the rest of the forest. 

We went from the bottom to the top and back to the bottom and then up and around. Moosehead from below, Moosehead from above. Little Moose, Big Moose, no real moose yet, though. 

It feels like a world away here. A world of our own, with foxes, eagles, loons and a pristine, mountain, lake-side camping spot. It took some work to get out here, but it was well worth it. 

I have the funniest little dog. She is all white and only weighs about 13 pounds. This inability to make note of her own small stature is the hallmark of her breed, for she is certainly a terrier. Jack Russel or Fox Terrier are my best guesses.  I have no guarantee that she is a "pure" bred anything. What is for sure is that she was picked up by the Asheville Humane Society cruising the streets of the city at 3am, without a collar, of course. This is something that has happened numerous times since we met five years ago. 

The long hours in which she is gone are heartbreaking, and during those times I find myself questioning my loyalty to her. But all Houdini qualities aside, she is a great dog. As good a partner as they come and liked by way more people than I am. Among certain circles, I am known as Zoe's owner. Before moving to Maine, more than a couple friends "offered" to "protect" Zoe from New England's harsh climate by keeping her with them, in North Carolina. 

Ironically, she loves the winters here. Snow and ice just make everything that much more fun to explore for her. Not being particularly adept at setting boundaries for myself, I find it difficult sometimes to be a leader for Zoe. I often find myself wanting to trust her in ways that aren't very dog-like. She is certainly no human. She is dog, through and through. Terrier, in fact, and quite funny. 

Often, I look down at her and her ears fall back in ways that make me laugh. She grunts and jerks and squeals while asleep. She hardly ever naps on trips in the car, preferring to watch the road instead. She is a bundle of experience-loving-mania, just like her caretaker - me. 

Oh, and did I say that she is little, white and lovable?  

Saturday morning Chels and I set out for Newport, Rhode Island. It was an amazingly beautiful day and we were headed for The Newport Folk Festival. Our plan was to camp somewhere in the vicinity on Saturday, before heading to the festival for Sunday’s performances. This weekend though, the (few) plans that we had made changed and we ended up winging it in Providence, RI the night before the festival instead. There really aren’t any camping possibilities very close to Providence, at least this late in the game, so that was out. WaterFire was in though, and that more than made up for it. WaterFire, if you don’t know, is when the city of Providence lights one hundred bonfires along the three rivers downtown. It is a surprisingly cool and non-commercial event. The gathering of people is really the event. It is remarkably like sitting in front of a campfire, only in downtown Providence and with a few vendors. It was a very nice evening. The weather was surprisingly cool and the fires pretty damn romantic.

Our ultimate mission was the folk-festival, however, so we set out early the next morning for Newport. We did stop at The Beacon, a diner, for some breakfast along the way. This place was a surprising treat and a real blast from the past. It reminded me of a few places back home – Cheap and simple with nice folks running the show. By this time we were entering a nicer section of Rhode Island and after breakfast the ride became very scenic. Views of the ocean came into view as we got closer to Jamestown, and the Newport bridge appeared in the distance.

Once we saw the bridge we knew we were close, so we hit up the Newport Visitor’s Center for some info before deciding on a plan. We came up with the idea to park somewhere along Bellevue Ave. and ride our bikes into the festival in order to avoid traffic and generally just enjoy the day.  The plan worked like a charm as the rides in and out were wonderful and the all traffic was avoided.

The festival itself was amazing and Fort Adams was just about the perfect place to see some music! The views were so great, from the bridge to the boats and the ocean as well as the actual fort itself, they were simply amazing. We got to the festival early, hula-hooped well before the crowds arrived, and generally just poked around. There were three stages, including one inside the fort this year. We made a plan to return to that stage later for our Ben Sollee fix, but first up was some dancing at both Sharon Jones and The Avett Brothers at the main stage….

By this time the festival crowd was swelling and a line forming to get into the ‘dance area’ that was up front. I know that this is a ‘folk’ festival but the dance area was way too small, though to their credit organizers say this is the first year that one was ever even provided. With acts like the Dap Kings on the schedule, it is good to see that somebody was planning ahead. We snuck in easily for Sharon Jones, but the crowd for the Avetts was huge. Luckily, we befriended somebody up front, Erin from Boston (shoutout!), and were able to grab a primo spot for the show. They, of course, rocked the festival and made our weekend and we reflected on that very fact on our way back towards the beer garden for some lunch.

At this point there were tons of boats in the harbor checking out the festival from the water as we hit up the beer line where there was almost a riot when we heard rumblings that the festival was running out of beer, fast. Luckily, for us, we made it to the front before the kegs ran dry and we enjoyed a couple cold beverages right on the seawall overlooking Narragansett Bay. We talked boats and ate while others around us did the same. It was a beautiful scene. Pete Seeger’s grandkid, Tao, provided the soundtrack. The sun provided the lighting. The temperature was perfect and Chelsey and I lost ourselves in conversation before realizing that we were missing music – Ben Sollee was playing on the other side of the festival.

Luckily the place was small and we made it for the end of his set. Sara Jarosz, Jim James and eventually The Preservation Hall Jazz Band were all on stage with him and Daniel Moore at some point during the part of the show that we caught! Pretty sweet. We danced for a bit inside the fort before heading to see Edward Sharpe, Elvis Perkins (a last-minute Justin Townes Earl replacement)  and eventually Levon Helm. It was an exhausting and all-around sweaty afternoon to say the least.

All in all I enjoyed the festival immensely, although I wish that there was on-site camping available. The sheer amount of amazing music more than makes up for it, however (you can download most of the sets from this weekend here).  Our entire weekend was filled with so much spontaneity and surprises that it seems to have flown by. Weekends like this help us forget our “9 to 5′s” and I am thankful to have such a great soundtrack to accompany my life.

How do you start using words to describe a place like Acadia? Is it even possible? Amazement and child-like wonder are the first words that come to mind, not to describe the natural area but instead to portray the state of mind that a place like this has on visitors. This past weekend Chelsey and I had the chance to visit Acadia again, this time with two good friends (Shoutout to Erin & Ryan!) on the windward side of Mount Desert, Southwest Harbor. The Southwest side of the island is far less visited than the more popular Cadillac Mountain area. This fact became apparent when we encountered only one other hiker on our way up Beech Mountain!

Our first mission on our way Downeast was food, but that was quickly followed up with a search for a swimming hole. WE settled on Damariscotta Lake for a swim after enjoying some Mexican food from Paco’s Tacos down by the waterfront. The lake was packed but the water was warm and extremely inviting. We swam several times and soaked up the rays in between dips. Zoe liked it about as much as we did, though I assume she would have enjoyed running around with all of the kids a lot more. As it was she had to hang out by our stuff, tied up in the sun. Kinda like she does at home all day long!

The rest of the ride to Acadia was wonderful. The sky was blue and our skin was warm as we sang our way down the road. The Avetts were on the radio and the wind was in our hair. Its moments like that that help us forget the day-to-day, 9-5 of our lives.

We actually got to the park before our friends did and so we checked-in and began to tend to a fire. There is something primal about starting and keeping a fire going, staring into the deep of it and poking around in it with a stick. It has been a long time since my ancestors figured out the art of fire-making. I, for one, am just happy to have  lighter to do it with. Erin & Ryan arrived and approved of the campsite that they had reserved, and we hung out a bit before retiring for the evening. Before I knew it, I was awake and it was breakfast time, somewhere around 5 am (the sun rises early in Acadia!)…

The thing about weather in Maine is how it seems to be an odd tandem of steadfast change. We have all heard the idioms regarding weather in New England. Cliche or not, they very much apply. The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of how it feels to live in Maine is the sun’s location in the sky. You really get the feeling that you are out of the way, I mean, I knew that I was moving north but the sun sits so low on the horizon that it really feels like I have moved north. Looking out my back window the sun has danced across the horizon in just a couple of weeks, skipping over another house just about everyday.

Something else that I notice on my walk into work every morning is just how big the sky is. It is an humongous, velvety thing that drapes over the edges of the skyline. On blustery days the clouds are big and they move quickly across the sky. Other days the dense fog rolls in right over the city, cold and wet, with little droplets to exploding all over your face and hair like, covered like cobwebs on a gray morning. Sometimes it will rain in a flash, leaving you wet from head to toe yet standing in the bright sunshine just moments later.

The hot days are really, really hot. Some summer days the warmth never has a chance. Most days though, at least this summer, are just about perfect. Especially when a fine afternoon dissolves into the pink and purple edge of night at twilight, as that same sun that was angled so closely in the sky earlier slides off the edge of it all, and our side of the planet fades into darkness.

The view from the top of the bridge was stunning. Pink and purple cotton candy streaked the sky as the orange glow of the sun faded in the distance. I was crossing the bridge at the perfect moment, peaking above the coast at just the right time to catch a glimpse of Cape Cod that was truly remarkable. This is hard for me to say right now, as I was planning on trying my hardest not to enjoy the Cape during my trip. I imagined it as a place chock-full of yuppie, uber-rich wannabe tycoons on vacation from 75-hour work-weeks. A place where docksiders and khakis threaten to jump out at every turn and scare me off. Driving over The Bourne Bridge that evening were the first glimpses of something that in no way made me want to run away, in fact I could have stayed there a whole lot longer than the three days that I was there.

The Cape left me wanting more. Maybe it was because I was only able to spend such a short time there, or maybe it was because I left my partner (and dog) there, but somehow I get the feeling that this feeling of longing occurs within a lot of people’s stomachs as they cross the river again northward, off of the island. Until my trip I hadn’t realized that the cape was an island, cut off from the rest of the state by the Cape Cod Canal. That beautiful scene that I witnessed going across the bridge is witnessed by millions of visitors each year, and can cause a massive amount of automobile congestion in the warmest, summer months. I personally saw such an assault of automobiles on my way into the area, albeit far enough away from the Cape to enjoy my ride in. The traffic that I rode into occurred right inside of Boston as I made the switch from I-95 to 93 - a rookie mistake, I know. When Google spit the directions from Portland out, I just assumed that each route was equal. Downtown Boston at 6pm disagrees.

With the insane traffic jam behind me and some great tunes on the radio life was gravy once I was over the bridge. Some cheap Mexican food was eaten and the night was called off due to exhaustion.  Up early the next morning I cruised along the peninsula’s two major roads – 28 & Hwy 6. The two roads are very different, 6 being the obvious scenic route, passing by insanely large Cape Cod style homes and scenic views of the water. 28 on the other hand, was stockade after stockade of places to spend your cash.

My favorite part of the area was the National Seashore. We headed up to Truro on a beautiful Sunday and enjoyed the winds as they swept across the dunes. Birds chirped and butterflies were everywhere. We even heard the screech of a hawk, though we never caught a real glimpse of it. Zoe loved it most of all, glad to get out of the car and run around for a day. She really loves to travel and is a great companion on the road, but she really does, like me, enjoy getting out.

While we were at the beach, Chels and Zoe took off for the ocean while I stood atop the dune. The sky was blue, with huge white clouds floating around. I remember the wind being a bit too cold  but the sun seemed to be putting up a good fight. Cape Cod felt like the huge pile of sand that it really is at that time and place. When you drive around the island it is amazing how the place feels in no way small. It could have been the lines of traffic or countless ice cream stands but the Cape just has a presence. I just know that when I looked down at Zoe from the dunes she was just a tiny speck of white on the beach.

And that is a lot of sand.

This past weekend in Maine was an ab-SO-lutely gorgeous one! Temperatures reached into the 50′s for the first time in I don’t know how many weeks, and the sky was bright blue and lit up by an enormous yellow sun. I knew it was going to be a beautiful weekend on Friday when Chels and I were getting our outfits ready for our evening. I was dressing as the Dormouse and Chels the White Rabbit for Tod’s birthday and a showing of Tim Burton’s Alice in IMAX 3D. As we were cutting felt we hatched plans to walk to Portland’s winter market, drink some wine and come home and slack-line.

The walk to market was fantastic! Portland is such a dog-friendly city so Zoe came into the market with us and several people stopped to introduce themselves. Portland’s winter market is housed in an indoor storefront across from the Civic Center. It is a pretty cool little market and Chels and I pick up some stuff each time we check it out. Saturday it was some greens – no garlic was available.

After the market we meandered our way into and across the Old Port, looking for a Portland Trails map. We were itching for a mini-adventure and some wine. By the time we found a map on the other side of town, we had already stopped for a bottle of Oregon Pinot Gris by the bay. We sat and watched the Eiders while Zoe sniffed around.  People were everywhere – riding bikes and walking around. Everybody was enjoying an early taste of spring.

The next day Chels, Zoe and I headed down east to Boothbay Harbor. We have driven by Boothbay on our way up the coast before, but never checked it out. We listened to some Avett Brothers and cruised along the coastline. Zoe couldn’t wait to get out of the car. It was a beautiful day on the Maine Coast. A bit cooler than we thought it’d be, so Chels and I bundled up. With hats and gloves on we kept the wind at bay and walked along the rocks. We saw The Cuckolds in the distance while we scanned for birds in the water. We didn’t stay long, meandering our way first to the car, then to lunch on The Sheepscot River, and eventually back home again.