The recent storm causes considerable coastal damage. Towns and cities along the Atlantic Ocean find waves crashing inside their establishments rather than hundreds of yards away, and many access roads are blocked. Even a portion of Boston's Seaport district floods with kayak-able, briny-caked streets.
All of this means that two days later an investigative drive along the coast of Kennebunk, Maine, is done with a twinge of caution. If the streets are icy, I won't be getting very far. A little bit of pre-drive, online investigation reveals that the damage to the area doesn't seem to rival at all the whacking the Massachusetts shoreline has endured, but the damage is still substantial. So, I charge up my cell phone, bring extra batteries for the 35mm camera, and head north.
I have a quick detour about one-third of the way to Maine when my car is shaking a bit on the highway. I pull off to a parking lot, kick snow and gunk from the wheel wells which seems to help a bit, and continue on my way. By the time I cross the Piscataqua River bridge, whatever has been wedged in the wheel seems to have melted or fallen away, and I am able to sail along at a better clip.
When I arrive close to my destination, I have almost a half hour of exploration time, so I turn right onto Sea Road and make my way east.
Other than a lot of snow and some icy tire tracks along the too-skinny back roads, there seems to be relatively marginal coastal damage. Some of the parking areas along the winding streets have been plowed, giving me (and other hardy souls) places to pull over in the sub-zero, windy, outrageously chilled winter air. What the beach-walkers get is a short, ice-riddled stroll along quiet, brittle beaches; what the camera-toters get are spectacular hues, unusual ice formations, and a stunning glow of the frigid sunlight dancing over an eerily calm sea.
It's almost as if the ocean has exhausted itself and is trying to sleep off the remnants of the storm so recently departed.
I don't drive all the way into the tourist village area of Kennebunkport. I have seen the television footage and the high water levels it suffered, and I'm not entirely certain that I want to be sad, which is what will happen when I see it. As it is, my main reaction to the ice-crusted world is two fold: it seems like Mars; and I only have the capacity to stand wide-eyed while mouthing the expression "Jesuschrist" over and over again.
Well, taking Christ's name in vain may not adequately label what I've seen, but the spectacular views and the seemingly small amount of damage here do seem to be the result of divine intervention. The ice remains solid, but the winter sun tries its best to melt the coating away from the crags along the shoreline.
By Friday, when the temperature hovers near 50 degrees, this may all be a memory. Until then, though, I will enjoy the glistening splendor of a coast that is predominantly shackled in ice.
Salud!
