From our campsite in Camden Hills State Park, we climbed partway up Mount Megunticook, down a ravine, up and over Mount Battie before descending the boulder-strewn south face into town. After miles of hiking through the dark confines of the woods, we now walked in neighborhood streets passed old homes and the local library to a lawn overlooking the bustling harbor. A green schooner glided to a wharf, its red sails glowing against the blue sky. Sailboats coasted in the narrow aisles of water between the floats, painted buildings lined the wooden docks and people hurried by in all directions. We were taken by the beauty of the scene and a sense that time had stood still: we had entered a world unchanged since the 1800s. We were neighbors from a nearby village, traveling into town to sell our wares, stock up on dry goods or simply hear the latest news.
“Drying Sails in Camden Harbor”, 24×18, oil on canvas