Jackman, Maine.... Finally!

  Jackman, Maine, United States
Saturday, October 13, 2007

After a night on the floor of Helen's B&B, we woke before 5 to the sounds of Charlene starting breakfast in the kitchen. I fell back asleep shortly after she left Joe with instructions for turning on the coffee. She was heading back to her boyfriend's farm and would return later that morning for her guests. After 6 I woke again to find Joe gone. Now, those familiar with our journeys know that finding Joe off and out before the sun rises is more expected than anything, so when I woke to find the sun waking up and Joe gone, I assumed that he was off shooting pictures of the quaint, colonial looking streets of Skowhegan. I could hear Charlene starting breakfast for her guests and as I rolled off the mattress set up on the floor, I spotted Joe's camera case on the floor. He was gone for sure, but with no camera in tow and not far to travel, I couldn't really imagine what he was up to.
The night had taken the rain with it and when the sun rose, it was easy to tell that it was going to be a beautiful day. The storm had passed and a cool, crisp air had moved in helping to shed some proverbial light on the pickle we had found ourselves in this morning. I sat with Charlene over a cup of coffee rehashing our night and bringing her up to speed, for the first time, about our night. She had insisted we not talk about it the night before and was only worried about our relaxing. As I told her about what happened the night before she asked where the truck had been towed to. I told her Charlie and Sons had towed the truck to an auto body place that would not be open until Monday and of course she knew the guys. She seemed a little surprised however that the truck had been towed there. She explained to me that it was a shame that the truck was where it was because her father owned a garage which was open on Saturdays and if the tow truck driver had towed it to her dad's place, she was sure the truck could have been fixed sooner than Monday. I quickly backed her up, asked her to repeat what she just said, and knew that there was a glimmer of hope! I explained to Charlene that I didn't really care where the truck was, if someone could fix it today, Joe and I would gladly give her son the business if he would be willing to take a look at the broken down Betty Lou. Charlene's mother, Helen, would be at the house soon, Charlene explained and they would make some phone calls to see how they could help.

I called Joe immediately. He had been gone a while and I had good news to share. Turns out, Joe was doing his own problem solving at the local Tim Horton Donut Shop. He met the manager there, (Charlene's ex-sister in law by the way) who recommended we check out Fun Stuff. When I called him excited with my news about a Saturday morning shop, he had gathered the same news. Fun Stuff is the shop in fact; that Charlene's whole family owns and operates. We both were hopeful and relieved from each end of the phones and things were continuing to look up.

I helped Charlene prepare breakfast and kept my hostess, witnessing skills sharp while serving coffee to her guests. Charlene's broken wrist kept her from cracking eggs and doing the normal breakfast preparing duties so I felt good about being able to earn our keep a little. When Helen arrived I knew instantly that everything was going to be alright. Clearly the matriarch of the family, Helen ordered her husband and her grandson from the kitchen phone at Charlene's. She insisted that Mark, her grandson, take a look at Joe's truck and was very eager to be helpful to us. When Joe returned with donuts, the four of us got acquainted over coffee and confections in the kitchen. Charlene and her mother Helen have a very typical mother daughter relationship and they didn't hold back at all in our company. By the time we left that day, we both knew more about their family; I am sure, than many of the other family members did.
When Mark called Charlene's to say he was ready to take a look at the truck, Joe needed a ride to the garage to pass along the car keys. Helen didn't seem interested in driving to the garage, a place she probably spends too much time already. Instead, she just handed Joe the car keys and sent him on his way. For those of you not completely understanding what is going on here, let me sum up; we slept on a total stranger's floor of whom has a family that owns a repair garage. The stranger's mother has now passed off her CAR KEYS off to Joe who she doesn't blink at as he backs out of the driveway. I continued to help with breakfast and trying to make myself useful in the kitchen when my cell phone rings. It is Joe and he has been gone less than ½ hour so I am amazed when he tells me to gather our things, the truck is fixed and we are back on track.
When he arrived at the repair shop where our truck had been towed, Mark was waiting for him with a tow truck. They were going to tow the truck over to the family's shop Fun Stuff to look at. Mark decided to just have a look underneath before going to all the trouble of towing the truck and good thing he did. The fuel line was disconnected, we knew that, and it could be fixed with a screwdriver, we didn't know that. Within a few twists of a screwdriver, Mark had fixed our truck and our problems.
Joe thanked him and drove immediately to the local wal-mart and grocery store for gift cards of gratitude for our gracious guardian angels. When we pulled out of Skowhegan at 9:30 am we had already had a full day. Full of anxiety, full of questions, full of serendipity, and full of kindness. Strangers who we would have never met before had all come into our lives to help enrich it. Our detour in Skowhegan reminded us of the power and kindness of people. We were humbled by our need to rely on people but grateful that they were there when we needed them. Strangers in theory, all of these people will be friends in our hearts because they reminded us of the spirit of humanity.
Although the last 12 hours had felt like an eternity, we had lost little time when all was said and done. It was like a moment in the twilight zone as we drove out of Skowhegan. Stopped in time only to be reminded of some lesson. I could almost here to narrative voice of Rod Serling overhead as we drove out of town. The road crews had worked through the night and even the highway that had caused us to be still in Skowhegan was now newly repaired, open, and ready to guide us north to Moose country. The cabin we had reserved in Jackman was waiting for us and in hindsight, the delay actually worked in our favor. Instead of driving to Jackman in the dark, pouring rain, we were able to relax, breathe the crisp air, and enjoy a bright morning drive.
The morning drive was breathtaking and we continued to enjoy our Tim Horton's Donuts as we recounted all the events that occurred throughout the night. Arriving in Jackman, we drove through the little town, and headed just north to Dennistown to check into our peace and quiet. We were excited about all the roadside signs and warning that begged us to drive slowly. Moose are notorious for crossing the highway at dawn and dusk especially and at sometimes 2-3 times the girth of a deer; these monsters are a dangerous hazard. The cabins at Spruce Meadow were perfect. Small and efficient our fully equipped cabin was warm and accommodating. Although the cabins sat closer to the highway than I had expected, the porch overlooked an open field backup up only to woods that went on forever. We quickly unloaded, regrouped, and headed out with the Maine Atlas that Scott, from the cabin office had loaned us.
Up state Maine is so open that most of it is not even broken into towns. It is private land that the paper companies own but allow for public use. The map in upstate Maine is simply a grid named with some random number code that looks more like a quarterback call than a town name. Because of the vastness, there was really only 1 major highway paved and traffic friendly. Rt 201, the same road that we had driven the day before. In order to get off the beaten path, you need to be ready for off road driving. While it's not muddin', the "roads" in Maine are bumpy, gravel and dirt paved, and are not for everyone. We knew we would face these roads once we got up here. Hopefully, now everyone gets why we braved the drive with the Bronco. No Saturn (especially mine shiny new one) would ever survive on roads like these. We drove the dirty roads for hours in search of all things peaceful. The foliage was good, not great, and with the second to last day of Moose hunting season, there were more pick ups off the roads than on them. We drove, explored, and walked for hours up and around the roads that often forked off with only a bright orange paper arrow to remind you which way you turned. I followed that Atlas map like a GPS guided sure that with one wrong turn we would be a bear's dinner.