The coast of Maine is dotted with quaint small towns that come alive during tourist season. Along the commercial strip their streets are choked with gawkers and shoppers buying lobster rolls and pine scented candles and painted seashells.
Belfast is one of those towns.
Picturesque and unassuming. It sits just off route one at the mouth of the Passagassawakeag River estuary on the Penobscot Bay. Most people go for the charming harbor, tasty restaurants and string of quaint little shops.
But just off the beaten path, spooky sites are waiting to be discovered.
In an effort to fit in, Lucinda impersonated a buoy on dilapidated building on Front Street.
She discovered the fading signature of an absent street artist.
And investigated a group of abandoned big rig trailers in a weed-infested parking lot.
Strolling down the Harbor Walk, it would be easy to be sucked into the quaint shops and ice cream parlors. But there’s so much more to see if you keep your eyes open.
An abandoned chair casting shadows on a storage container.
A wild conglomeration of rusting metal incongruously name Bridge Peace. It was donated to the city by artist Norman Tinker in 2008 and guards the Belfast Armistice Bridge. The bridge itself is a memorial to those who served and died in World War I.
And a fallen tree bleached like bones in the sunlight of an empty beach.
These aren’t the sites tourists come to see, but weird wonderful things are everywhere. You just have to keep your eyes open.