Ha! I bet you thought I forgot how to do this here now blog thing. I haven’t really, but let’s see if it still all hangs together.
I took a day off for Columbus Day (it’s not a standard company holiday where I work, but I have enough vacation days left over that it’s OK) so we were in Maine for three days. One of them, and I think it was Sunday, we went a little farther afield than usual for a walk — to Streaked Mountain, off the road from Paris to Buckfield. It was a very pretty drive — well, the last part, past Paris, anyway; the road from Oxford to Paris is low-density commercial sprawl, dominated by prefabricated house builders, the Oxford Plains Speedway car racetrack, and then a short strip of ordinary fast-food shops and gas stations. But starting in downtown Paris it’s good small-town and rural Maine, with sweeping views off route 117.
Streaked (pronounce the “ed” at the end, not just the “d”. It rhymes with “you’re looking a little peaked”. Let me look around here for an accent grave รจ. There it is! Streakèd) Mountain is named that because of long streaks of bare rock. The trailhead is by a very pretty little stream, and the very steep trail parallels the stream for a little way. We didn’t get very far up the mountain — just a little way up the first expanse of steep bare rock — but there was a lovely view from there, and even from quite close to the trailhead. This picture is just from my iPhone. How about that color? That’s the late afternoon, close to sunset, light, not adjusted in photoshop or anything. Does it look more like a painting than most photos? I couldn’t have done that on purpose if I was trying.
