The Flint Hills of Kansas feel the most like home to me. They’ve felt that way since I lived there for several years beginning in the early 70’s. On the surface, the Flint Hills are just some pretty hills that mark a transition from the mixed deciduous woodlands of eastern Kansas to the vast steppe of the Great Plains that central and western Kansas are part of. But as I spent good and deep time in the Flint Hills, from the high rolling peaks to the hidden low nooks and crannies, I came away with a much deeper and enduring appreciation of the magic of the region. I took bicycle rides that started off in calm and quiet beauty that turned to a raging tempest of wind roaring in my face by noon, making forward progress nearly impossible.
William Least Heat Moon discovered this as well, and wrote about it in his wonderful book “PrairyErth: A Deep Map”, where he explores in depth the land, culture, and history of a section of the Flint Hills.
What do the Flint Hills of Kansas have to do with Maine? It’s a question I’d be asking about now if I were the reader here.
Only this: I think it takes time in a place to develop a deep and good understanding of it. This was brought into focus again for me this year as we spent our third summer cruising the coast of Maine. It took us three summers to really start to scratch the surface of the place, to really start to feel it, and this is very apparent to me now as we make our way south for the winter.
And this: The more I develop an appreciation for and understanding of a place, the more I’m surprised by the subtleties and complexities that start to bubble up once I’m willing to spend relaxed and contemplative time with it.
Take the word “place” in the above paragraph, and replace it with another noun — “person” or “thing” or “concept” or “problem” — and the statement is equally true.
For example, the city of Portland, Maine. During our first two summers cruising the Maine coast, we viewed Portland as just a city. It was expensive and loud and didn’t fit at all the story we will building in our minds about coastal Maine. However, this summer, Dave, Gene and I made landfall in Portland after our sail up from the mouth of the Chesapeake. We spent a couple days walking the area, testing out a couple breweries and enjoying ourselves in a local dive that we later found out might have been a touch dangerous. Dave and Gene flew home, Christine flew to Portland to join me, and the two of us spent several days splurging on a marina right on the Portland waterfront. Later in the summer Christine had an unexpected family trip that required her to fly out of Portland, so we sailed back to Portland where I dropped the hook in an underused anchorage and spent over a week there while she was away, and a few more days once she returned. During that time in Portland we discovered a wonderful city with fantastic walking potential, phenomenal food trucks, truly outstanding breweries and eateries, and a laid-back culture that was as delightful as it was unexpected.
Over a series of posts, I dig down a bit into a few of the places we discovered this past summer. I’ll go back and talk about the places we discovered in our two previous summers in a different post, or perhaps those places will just show up in the book I am outlining on our cruising adventures in Maine.
I hope you enjoy the posts, and as always feel free to reach out to me with questions or discussion.