My trip got off to a bit of a rocky start but due to my lack of planning or itinerary, nothing got too messed up with my schedule. I woke up at 9am for my 6:30am flight and grabbed the next flight into Boston, landing around 4:30. I hopped into my rental car that was still waiting on me, and spent a half hour circling the Logan airport roads until I decided to make a few illegal left turns to get onto the highway to Lamie’s Inn and Old Salt Tavern where I’d be calling home for the next few days in Hampton, New Hampshire.

Lamie’s is a family owned and operated inn that was built in 1740 with a tavern on the first floor of the home. As soon as I arrived and tossed my luggage in my room, I headed straight for that tavern where I would sit all night watching the college games and people watching. (also drinking the drinks the bartenders would mistakenly make) I eventually made my way back to my room upstairs where I started in on reading some of the stack of magazines I brought along that had accumulated over the past three months of not having the spare time. The next morning I ventured back down to the tavern for the free breakfast and waved goodbye to Lamie’s for the majority of the day as I made my way up to York, Maine, one of the southern most points along the coast of the state.

I saw my first real lighthouse and sat watching the tide hit the rocks while snapping my shutter repeatedly in all directions. There wasn’t a direction to look that wasn’t a great view despite the cloudy and raw weather that day. I’m not a cold weather person, but this air was crisp and incredibly refreshing. I hopped back into the heated car and drove down 1A along the coast of Maine and New Hampshire making stops wherever it seemed like a good idea. Most of the places I’m not even sure what they were called. Eventually I ended up driving through Kensington on one of the first roads created in New England, Route 84.

Next on my list of destinations was Portsmouth where I would settle for lunch/dinner at Portsmouth Brewery. Surprisingly the bartender made recommendations based on me mentioning Yuengling which isn’t distributed that far north. Turns out he grew up in Baltimore and of course went to school with that one swimmer guy. While waiting on my burger I struck up conversation with an older man and woman sitting next to me who I ended up talking to for the next hour and half about technology, music, the education system, the future, and everything in between. He had just moved to Boston the month before and had his first visitor in town from his hometown of Ohio.

After finishing my drink and delicious burger (more on that in the future), We wished each other the best of luck and parted ways. I made my way back south to Lamie’s where I’d catch the tail end of some football while dozing off. I’d be starting early the next day en route to Boston before catching a flight back to real life. It was also then that I realized that this guy forgot to steal a coaster from Portsmouth Brewery to add to his collection.

So. If you’re in that area and have a kind soul, please send one my way.

I checked out and hit the road around 9am and rolled into a parking garage in Charlestown, MA near the Bunker Hill monument which I would venture up the 294 spiral steps for the breath taking view of the city. It was completely worth the sweat shed, the gasps for air, and the wet shoes (it doesn’t dry to quickly inside a dark stony structure after a rain storm). I wished the two people already at the top the best of luck on the way back down the dark and wet adventure. I had the place to myself for just enough time to catch my breath, snap the shutter a few times out of each window, and take an obligatory instagram picture before I was greeted by a family that had also discovered how out of shape they were as I had too. They wished me luck as I gripped the railing envisioning myself slipping and tumbling the entire way down.

I made Bunker Hill the starting point for following the Freedom Trail across the Charlestown bridge and throughout the city on the hill.

I made sure to pass by all of the usual points of interest like Paul Revere’s digs, the site of that Boston Massacre thing, and made a short detour through the Quincy Jones market for lunch where some of the best smells can be found. After wrapping up my version of the Freedom Trail, I even found some more time to get a little reading done in Boston Commons which could be described as a miniature Central Park. I had the privilege of overhearing three different screaming matches between quarreling couples (C’mon man) before I got up and walked over to find Flour Bakery and Cafe which I had been advised to “eat all of the pastries.” And that I would have done, if I had the room in my stomach. Instead it was just a Boston Cream pie that would hold me over until I was sitting in the airport bar waiting for my flight home already.

This guy will absolutely be making another trip to New England.
I’m so late to the party.