The Scenic Route

Up early with the threat of rain and a heavy, overcast sky, my friends, the Hollanders—friends that go back to high school days—and I charted our course to visit Campobello in New Brunswick, Canada. Intermittent rain didn’t defuse my enthusiasm for this adventure—one I have talked about since I settled into my camp on East Grand Lake in 2017. Campobello Island was the Franklin Roosevelt family retreat. My friend Harvey had been reading up on it for several months and was full of stories and snippets of history.

The day started with downloading to my GPS the directions to the Algonquin Hotel in St. Andrews. A fast ride to the Canadian border, where the line was short and the agent friendly, we made it to the hotel before lunch. The trip was uneventful until we got to the hotel, unpacked, and went back to our GPS for the route to Campobello Island, and whoa, what a surprise. Seems we had to go back to Maine to find the way to the island. GPS took us to the hotel alright, but—apparently the Algonquin was not the best home base for visiting Campobello. I reluctantly followed the GPS as it took us back to the international border and into Maine to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Bridge linking Lubec, Maine, to Campobello. It took us as long as getting to the Algonquin Hotel from camp. Well, we finally made it to Roosevelt Campobello International Park. There we were, out of sorts, tired from driving, and most importantly hungry.

Now, as I sit with my friends, finally having a bite to eat, enjoying the spectacular scenery, I realize that we tend to rely too much on GPS. The internet took me to the fastest route to the hotel, but since I failed to enter the ultimate destination, Campobello Island, we went out of our way. All in a day’s travels, I suppose.

I learned from Harvey that the Roosevelts’ 34-room “summer cottage” holds many secrets, especially from the Second World War period when FDR escaped here to find peace away from Washington and the pressures of the war. The island is also home to magnificent hiking trails—11 to be exact. I imagine how Roosevelt must have enjoyed this wilderness, despite his polio, perhaps with a companion to assist him. He wouldn’t have been deterred by a wrong turn or two, to say the least. He wouldn’t have made them in the first place with an old school map.