John Baldacci, Governor of Maine, was at the opening of the Stetson Wind Farm just outside Danforth. The great and the good of the area were there, along with community members, or so the news blurb said.
Hubby and I thought we should go along, take some photos and see the wind turbines up close. There is one spot along the road going to the site where several of the wind turbines are visible. They look majestic, slowly turning above the trees, backdropped by the sky.
When we arrived at the site entrance, we were told we could not go up the mountain as we 'were not on the list'. We had heard about the opening on MPBN, Maine public radio and I had searched on the internet for the time, but no-one mentioned it was by invite or list only. We were shocked that this was the case as only a handful of community reisdents would go anyway, and what did they think? Someone might try and do something funny?
Well, the best bit was a group of protesters who felt that the whole scheme had been pushed through by the Governor without any public vote or discussion. There were seven people with placards from Lincoln - a very interesting group who are concerned about another proposed site around the Lincoln lakes that would ruin the scenery for all there. At least the Stetson farm was out away from any town, so the noise and lights would not be disturbing like the Mars Hill farm iss to residents.
So we stayed and chatted with the protesters and took pictures of them and their placards for about half an hour. We were cold by then so came home. I will be writing to the Governor to express my displeasure about not being allowed up the mountain today. will be keen to see how he responds (or whoever responds on his behalf).
Showing posts with label maine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maine. Show all posts
Thursday, 22 January 2009
Friday, 16 January 2009
Cold Weather
Before I moved to Maine from England, I had never experienced the kind of cold weather that is the norm here in New England. Winters in old England tended to be damp and on bad days a few degrees below zero. If there was any snow, it would be a couple of inches that stayed for one or two days, then it would melt away.
When I first arrived at Boston airport in late January 2003, I had no idea what -20 was like. It was a fine sunny day and looked so nice from inside the airport. Walking outside to get the bus, the wind cut through my totally inadequate clothes, almost as though I was not wearing them. Once on the bus up to Maine it was fine.
I arrived in Bangor, Maine at 10:30 that night and jumped into a cab, asking to be taken to a motel. By now the temperature had dropped to -35. The motel was cheap and shabby, with thin covers on the two beds and a hard-presses heater below the window. I put all the bed covers onto one bed and slept with most of my clothes on and was still not completely warm. The only redeeming feature of the motel room was the shower which was strong and hot.
The next morning I was told that I had to cross the road to a garage to get a coffee. I set off past the doors of other rooms. At the end of the building I was faced with the full force of the wind blowing from behind the building. I was so cold I could not walk any further. I had to return to my room without any coffee and call a cab to take me to a coffee shop in a mall as I realised that I had to purchase a thick coat with hood, some strong boots for walking in snow and ice, a warm hat and gloves. Once I had those, I was better able to face the weather.
That was my first impression of the United States - bitter cold and hard walking. Now I love the winters here. I have adjusted to the necessities of winter living and enjoy walking in the snow. I have experienced cross country skiing which I just adore. I drive through snow storms and down ice-covered roads with my music on loud. Winters are great. They are proper winters, fully distinct from other seasons. Going indoors after battling through snow drifts and in -40 wind chills is devine. Getting warm by the wood stove and cooking thick soups on top, with fresh biscuits. What can beat that?
When I first arrived at Boston airport in late January 2003, I had no idea what -20 was like. It was a fine sunny day and looked so nice from inside the airport. Walking outside to get the bus, the wind cut through my totally inadequate clothes, almost as though I was not wearing them. Once on the bus up to Maine it was fine.
I arrived in Bangor, Maine at 10:30 that night and jumped into a cab, asking to be taken to a motel. By now the temperature had dropped to -35. The motel was cheap and shabby, with thin covers on the two beds and a hard-presses heater below the window. I put all the bed covers onto one bed and slept with most of my clothes on and was still not completely warm. The only redeeming feature of the motel room was the shower which was strong and hot.
The next morning I was told that I had to cross the road to a garage to get a coffee. I set off past the doors of other rooms. At the end of the building I was faced with the full force of the wind blowing from behind the building. I was so cold I could not walk any further. I had to return to my room without any coffee and call a cab to take me to a coffee shop in a mall as I realised that I had to purchase a thick coat with hood, some strong boots for walking in snow and ice, a warm hat and gloves. Once I had those, I was better able to face the weather.
That was my first impression of the United States - bitter cold and hard walking. Now I love the winters here. I have adjusted to the necessities of winter living and enjoy walking in the snow. I have experienced cross country skiing which I just adore. I drive through snow storms and down ice-covered roads with my music on loud. Winters are great. They are proper winters, fully distinct from other seasons. Going indoors after battling through snow drifts and in -40 wind chills is devine. Getting warm by the wood stove and cooking thick soups on top, with fresh biscuits. What can beat that?
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