We just got back from an epic trip to Orland, Maine to buy a sawmill. Highs in the 60s.

I pulled a travel trailer 4700 miles up there and back over 16 days with 2-100lb. Bloodhounds. They got us kicked out of 2 campgrounds but were a big hit in a couple others where there was a dog park and people could watch those big monsters play.

Enjoyed the cool weather, some LobsterS, clams, mussels, etc.

Got back late Sunday night at 10:00 pm. Pitch dark, Dead still.

But when I opened the truck door, It felt like I was stepping into a pressure cooker. The heat and humidity reminded me that I was back home.
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"Filet that fish? Hell naw! I'll scale him, gut him, fry him up in grease, take him by the head and tail, and play him like a French Harp!" - Uncle Paul sometime in the 60s.