Derry, New Hampshire

We left our campground near Portland, Maine around noon yesterday, and drove south along the Maine coast. Unlike the Oregon coast, it is almost impossible to find any place to park an RV, so we viewed the towns along the way from the truck, with little peaks at the ocean here and there. Kennebunkport was a cute little town centered around a protected bay with interesting shops lining the streets. Our route was much slower than the freeway, but we avoided part of the toll road. How toll roads make sense, I am at a loss to explain, but at least Maine has a wide lane on the right for RVs at every toll booth.

Arriving in Kittery around 2, we did a little shopping at the factory outlet malls. Laura found a pair of running shoes that fit her on sale, so the stop was successful. We continued south along the coast into New Hampshire, and then cut across the state to our campground in Derry. I found the campground on-line – it is not listed in any of the travel directories. That should have been a warning. It’s not a bad place, adjacent to a golf course and tucked into a thick wood forest. It’s just that most of the inhabitants look like they have been living here in their trailers for years. Plastic pink flamingos and flowers grace many of the flower pots, and Christmas lights hang from the majority of the trailers. Most folks drive around in golf carts and look like they are all related. You can even here the faint sound of banjo music at night (OK, just kidding about that!).

We set up camp before dark and then drove up to Manchester to meet one of our high school friends and her family for dinner. Janet Eck graduated from Helena High with a 4.0 and attended MIT and Harvard. She married Elliott Bloom, a research engineer for a medical device company here in New Hampshire. They have one child, Maya, who is 13 and like Laura, attends 8th grade. We spent over three hours at a Mexican restaurant eating and catching up on the last 30 years. We had a great evening reminiscing!

I’ll end today with a short story I wrote after my morning walk with Rocky (our Pomeranian) today.

Rocky’s Obsession

Everyone, it seems, has an obsession. For Rocky, it is chipmunks. To humans, chipmunks are cute little furry creatures, daintily darting among the trees, filling the forest with their friendly chatter. To a dog, they are the ultimate squeaky toy!

We awoke this morning at our campsite in Derry, New Hampshire, tucked deep in a thick wood. Rocky’s head was filled with the chirping of dozens of chipmunks as we started our morning walk. Their sound reverberated all around us, but their presence remained hidden. Was this really the ultimate chipmunk hunting grounds, or was he slowly losing his sanity, just imagining the sounds ringing in his ears?

Primordial instincts kicked in, as he rolled in a plethora of odoriferous substances discovered on the forest floor, trying to mask his smell, just as his ancestors had done for generations. Alas, stealth mode didn’t work – the chirping continued, but with no visible sign of the mystical creatures. Paranoia was starting to set in, as he dashed wildly back and forth towards the sounds echoing in his head.

Ultimately he accepted defeat and returned with me to the RV, exhausted and confused. He slunk to the window by the kitchen table and stared deeply into the forest, hoping to detect any movement that might return his sanity. After long anxious minutes, he suddenly exploded in wild barks and howls. There on a rock, just outside the window, sat a fat chipmunk sunning himself.

The chipmunk taunted Rocky, as if knowing the window was an impenetrable barrier. He stuffed his cheeks with nuts just feet from Rocky’s cold black nose pressed hard against the pane. Rocky whimpered incessantly, his ultimate prize so close, yet untouchable. Paranoia gone, obsession rekindled!