Last Saturday, I woke up to grey skies and spitting rain. The hubs was out of town on a work retreat, and my friend Adam and I had planned to drive up to Maine in search of fall colors and fresh air.
We almost didn’t go. It had been a long week for both of us, and the howling wind made me want to hunker down and watch movies all day.
I knew I’d get cabin fever, though, and we hoped the skies would clear up if we drove north. So we hopped in my car and hit the road.
We stopped first at the Nubble Lighthouse on Cape Neddick. It was cold (and crowded, despite the photo below), but gorgeous.
We wandered around and took photos of the light and the waves, then bought steaming bowls of soup from a nearby clam shack (chowder for me, lobster bisque for him) and ate them sitting in the car.
Our next stop was Two Lights State Park, up on Cape Elizabeth. Adam had been there before, but I never had. It is windswept and understated and quietly stunning.
We climbed all around the rocky cliffs – which go right down to the water, great slabs piled on top of one another to form a sort of natural terrace.
Ahead, we glimpsed the blue sky we’d been chasing (though we never quite reached it).
The wind roared in our ears, frothing the waves into whitecaps and sending the clouds scudding across the sky.
It reminded me of being in Ireland, long ago: climbing up to an old ruined fort on the largest of the Aran Islands and letting the wind blow my hair straight back and pull the breath right out of my lungs.
Here, on the other side of the Atlantic, I remembered a favorite line from Anne of the Island:
Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.
Without consciously realizing it, that was exactly what we had done: left the city behind to come stand on the edge of the world, letting the wind – and each other’s company – blow the fog out of our souls.
It was a bracing antidote to the daily frustrations and larger struggles of the week. Just what we needed.
Our last stop was Bug Light – a glimpse of blue sky, a dramatic sunset, and the tiniest lighthouse I’d ever seen.
We headed home (stopping for dinner in Portsmouth) – windblown and tired, but utterly at peace.
What are your best antidotes for soul fog?