Return to Content

Off-Season on Maine's Southern Coast

Off-Season on Maine’s Southern Coast
6 votes, 4.50 avg. rating (88% score)

Off-season travelers to Maine’s Southern Coast leave with memories for a lifetime.

saragray-southerncoast
Photo/Art by Sara Gray

I know of few things more satisfying than to sleep by the sea. It matters little whether I find a room large or small, plain or fancy. It’s the windows that matter; if I can see, hear, and smell the sea, I’m a happy traveler. Yet in summer the rooms I long for have long been spoken for, beyond my reach as surely as a starlet for the love-struck teenager. Summer, I sleep inland, in exile, dreaming of curtains stirred by sea winds, terraces lit with morning sun. I count the days until September.

The off-season coastal traveler knows the advantages of fall. Unlike the height of summer, when minimum stays are mandatory, off-season one may dart, minnow-like, from inn to inn and from cove to open sea to deep harbor, until one finds a place so special there’s no reason to venture farther.

The Southern Maine Coast remains for me one of those special places on earth. Perhaps because I once lived there, oceanside, returning to the Yorks, Ogunquit, the Kennebunks, and the beaches of Scarborough restores bounce to my step. It’s a much-sought-after region in summer, but on Labor Day many people depart as though sucked out by the tide, leaving behind villages with graceful homes built by sea captains, stunning cliffside walks, miles of beaches—and always a place to park.

Last fall I came to the Southern Maine Coast. At home the leaves swirled; the woodpile begged for stacking. No matter! At waterside hotels and inns chefs were in place, staffs at the ready. I heard waves thunder and the dawn chug of lobster boats. One morning I woke to the sunrise and settled before a window in a rocking chair. There had been a storm, so that the sea boomed. Just beyond a window, the waves broke so close that I imagined I could hear the cry to hoist sails. I returned home as encrusted with salt as a barnacle, and happy. For one shining week the starlet had been mine.

Please Note: This article was accurate at the time of publication. When planning a trip, please confirm details by directly contacting any company or establishment you intend to visit.

Tags:
Mel Allen

Author:

Mel Allen

Biography:

Mel is the fifth editor of Yankee Magazine since its beginning in 1935. His career at Yankee spans more than three decades, during which he has edited and written for every section of the magazine, including home, food, and travel. In his pursuit of stories, he has raced a sled dog team, crawled into the dens of black bears, fished with the legendary Ted Williams, picked potatoes in Aroostook County, and stood beneath a battleship before it was launched. Mel teaches magazine writing at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst and is author of A Coach’s Letter to His Son. His column, “Here in New England,” is a 2012 National City and Regional Magazine Awards Finalist for the category Column.
No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

We reserve the right to remove or edit comments that are offensive or disrespectful to our readers and/or writers, cannot be verified, lack clarity, or contain profanity. Your comments may be republished by Yankee Magazine across multiple platforms.

Register Sign In

©2013, Yankee Publishing Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Yankee Publishing Inc., | P.O. Box 520, Dublin, NH 03444 | (603) 563-8111

80th-anniversart-calendar600x350-2