Always stop for the sunset.

I drove for 12 hours yesterday. It wasn't planned that way, but there were a few things I wanted to see on my month-long residency in Maine that had the Sunday of Labor Day weekend as their last chance. This trip has meant finding lots along the way to see, so the day ran long — I had planned 6 hours.

I accidentally found my way to the cage match that was Aragosta's last non-guest dining opportunity for 2026. I had written eating at Aragosta off. We couldn't stay because I'm traveling with my pup Fynn and the timing for their open dinners didn't work with our flow of locations. Yesterday not by plan I ended up nearby as they were opening, so I figured why not. It was insane. Hundreds of people, lots of Vermont, Virginia and New York plates (me included), parking everywhere like it was Woodstock 1969, and even more people arriving by boat into the small harbor.

I watched them turn away countless people and spent just under two hours sitting on various rocks, planters and chairs waiting for my spot. Dinner was a quick 30 minutes, a lovely cocktail and fresh pasta. The deck was mostly filled with food pilgrims. I had really wanted to get back to our sleep spot for the next couple of nights before dark. That want had been blown up by my two and a half hours at Aragosta, and I now needed to charge my car, which in Maine means adding a drive. I turned down a road I'd never planned to be on and likely will never be on again. After a day of driving in mostly rain and fog I rounded a corner and WOW was all I could say. Before me was one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen. This photo is simply my exhausted soul holding up a grubby-lensed iPhone and clicking. No filter, no crop, not even an exposure adjustment.

The pasta was good, I'll probably buy fresh tagliatelle and riff on the idea for CANAVA. But nature won the day. The reel in my mind will play back those five minutes on the side of a road forever.

Always stop for the sunset.