2 October 2012 Leaving Cambridge, we kept to the back road. Salem is only about a half hour north, and we were determined to stop off at the witchy town to have a look around. The back road ended up taking a little bit longer than expected, and the town of Salem, while being very witchy was also very touristy. It seemed like almost every second spot was offering some kind of witch tour or witch museum or witch souvenir. Nevertheless we followed the heritage trail around the sleepy town, stopping at Red's Sandwich Shop for a coffee and orange juice, and then wandering through all the old buildings and down the wharf.
I loved all the old houses with their wood paneling, all painted in different muted colours. It was very picturesque, and almost...dainty. It's strange to imagine the terror and suspicion and fear that happened right there in those houses over 300 years ago.
We decided to give the museum and tours a skip, and hit the road again.
Portsmouth was our next port of call. Grey skies and grey water welcomed us. It looked like dusk, even though it was lunch time. It was beautiful. The weather seemed to suit the picturesque coastal town perfectly.
The air was fresh and salty, with a light breeze coming off the bay, and we stopped in the perfect spot - Martingale Wharf - for a shared lobster roll and wedge salad. Both were perfectly light and delicious.
One hour left to drive, I got behind the wheel, and back on the highway. The cloudy skies accompanied us the whole way, but the temperatures rose with the humidity. We crossed the border in to Maine, flanked on either side by endless forests and forests of trees. It was hard to keep focused on the road with the plethora of colours on either side - cinnamon, maple, paprika and the deep dark green, always the green.