New england

Growing up in Maryland, just south of Baltimore, it was every citizens duty to make their yearly pilgrimage to “downey ocean.” This is the phrase you hear a million times from your aunts, uncles, and grandparents with their thick Baltimorean accent. Of course “downey ocean” is their attempt to say some form of “down to the ocean.” The ocean in question is not specifically the Atlantic, but Ocean City, a sprawling jungle of loud mufflers, leathery skinned old people, and french fries. That isn’t to say Ocean City is a terrible place, but when a friend suggested traveling to New Hampshire and Maine for a summer vacation, I was dumbfounded I hadn’t thought to go sooner. Since 2015 I have traveled to New England at least once a year, each time trying to go somewhere I’ve never been before. From the rocky coasts of Owls Head to the treacherous summits of White Mountain National forest, New England has become dear to my heart.