Absolutely the wildest trip I've ever been on.
A quick lethal dose of Mac n' Cheese with fried chicken before the trip.
At the art museum in Quebec. I felt abstract and part of the exhibit.
The town hall. One of the best European style buildings in North America.
Spending halcyon days at the port that once guarded the St. Lawrence.
Tranquil streets paired with the beautiful sun and le Poutine.
As we hurtled towards Maine, Google maps made a seminal miscalulation, routing us away from the normal crossing at Jackman. Only at the border did we realize how deeply we erred, but had come too far to be able to backtrack. The border guarded was baffled by our arrival, and warned us of miles of rough logging trail ahead. Despite his admonishments, we trudged ahead. I only recall infinite forests and potholes and we barrelled down the road, with me spotting potholes, and Harrison trying his best to avoid them. However in the middle, three Meese were spotted, a rare and satisfying discovery in the woods.
We can see by this truck that it really is a logging trail.
The ultimate tranquility of Maine.
Despite the tranquility, the conditions were anything but. Freezing rain had set in and soaked through our clothes and partially flooded the trails. I especially was underprepared, with only a single 500mL bottle to my name. Despearate, I drank from the nearby pond on the way up without a filter; without it, I would not have been successful in my climb.