R and J in the USA

On our first morning in Acadia National Park we rolled south to a parking area at the ocean’s edge on a very foggy, mildly rainy July day. Every morning we liked to find a beautiful place, on water, if possible, to back up the van and open the doors to a gorgeous view while we “have our mornings”. From the paved parking lot we looked over to the water’s edge and saw a spot where lots of cars were parking that was mostly hardened sand and gravel, lined by a big pile of rocks put there to prevent erosion. We decided to park there so we could open the back doors to an ocean view. We drove forward into the gravel intending to loop around and back in.

We both felt it almost instantly, but not quick enough to stop. The packed sand and gravel turned into loose rocks. Within seconds we went from being quite mobile to being nose-first-stuck deep in the loose stones. We learned the hard way what it means to have front-wheel drive.

It was a panic-worthy situation, yet neither of us felt any such instinct. Somehow, we both had a sense we would get out of this, and that it wasn’t a big deal. Though not excited to be stuck, we were a little excited to have cause to use the foldable shovel that we had packed.

Before we had even gotten out of our van to assess the situation, a local lobsterman, also named Ryan, was already stopped and on his belly helping us scoop out stones. No sooner had we all gotten on our bellies to start digging out stones from the wheel well when two more wonderful Samaritans – well, two separate couples of wonderful Samaritans, both visiting Maine from Canada – had also stopped. One of them was in a Subaru with a winch on the front.  All had stopped to offer some much-needed help to us obvious out-of-towners.

We were amazed not only at how quickly we were surrounded by folks happy, capable, and prepared to help, but how little crap they were giving us for this boneheaded rookie move. Not only were there no direct words of derision or judgement, there were no eye rolls, quiet whispers, or disapproving glances showing through otherwise trying-to-be-polite faces. And there certainly were no fingers being given. [We’re lookin’ at you Massachusetts ;). We love you, but you know how you can be :).] They greeted us with a smile and got right to the business of helping us.

The whole ordeal took maybe 45 minutes total, thanks to the kindness of strangers. And it had barely any impact on our day other than lifting our spirits with the display of kindness and character. This whole “Maine, the way life should be” thing was starting to make a whole lotta sense. 

We were so grateful to them all, and were very aware that the sense of ease and ability to access the rest of our day to do what we really had wanted to do was the tremendous gift they had all just given us. To thank them, we reached into our bag of holiday presents and started doling out Alpaca socks to the whole crew, which we were glad that they all happily accepted. [For those of you family members who don’t get Alpaca gifts for the holidays, know that your sacrifice was for a good cause.]

We moved right on with our day like nothing had happened. We, of course, opted to spend the rest of the morning in the paved part of the parking lot. No need to push our luck.

Lots of lessons learned of what it means and looks like to get stuck and unstuck in Maine.