Governor is in the back seat, I have the local country station on but low enough where I can still hear the rain pounding on the windshield. This short drive through the dense pine trees takes me to a gravel road that soon forks with a wooden sign reading “lighthouse right, trail left”.
After driving over 2,000 miles we are ready to do some hiking. We go left, stop short of the trail and park. When I step out I realize just how different the weather is. I was just in Virginia where it was almost 90 degrees and now it’s incredibly cold, with intermittent rain showers and strong winds. I dig through my bags to find a jacket, camera, and then Governor and I head on the trail.
After some walking the Governor and I come up on a bunker dating back to the first world war. Now covered in graffiti and the entrance is partially blocked off by wood panels falling to the ground. But that’s ok, I wasn’t interested in what was inside but more so what I can see from above.
Governor and I climb over to find ourselves overlooking the ocean, the cliffs we are standing on are complete with strong waves crashing on the jagged rocks just 50 feet below me. Here I stand in awe gazing upon the power of nature while enduring the strong gust of winds that are inching my hat loose. I see my destination in the distance slightly blocked by the mountainous rock structure but I knew I needed to get closer.
Governor and I carry on our trail until we come to a overlook, not necessarily a path but a beach that lacks sand and is replaced with everything from small loose rock to large boulders. These boulders are getting hit with crashing waves every few seconds.
I knew traveling through these rocks we’d have to be careful but also stay towards the back not just because I was freezing and my hands were numb but because these powerful waves had the ability to simply wash away any evidence of myself or the Governor ever being there.
So we stay on higher grounds looping around to finally see it. There it is in all its glory, the Portland Headlight LightHouse, here in Portland, Maine.
I’m throwing and shaking my hands around to try to get some blood flowing to them and get enough dexterity where I can grab my camera and take a photo.
This lighthouse was created back in the 1780s to let the locals know of incoming attacks. Later this was turned into and still used today to guide ships into the harbor. The lighthouse works as a beacon to let sailors know they are home.
This was such a surreal moment for me.
The past two months I gave up my home in Texas, traveled 2,000+ miles with my dog, meeting a lot of great people and places to ultimately get right here and while this lighthouse didn’t let me know I was home, it did let me know I was right where I needed to be, exploring.
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