Saco'ed

I have arrived home sandy, sweaty, sore, exhausted, but above all, happy, from my weekend at Fryeburg, Maine. This trip was planned last December, December, because people were so excited about it. Not only was it a chance for all of us to spend 2 nights by the beach, but it was also one of our close friends 21st birthday- so the celebrations were endless. About 35 of us met up at 4:45A.M. at a visitor center near the highway- people had made the trek from southern Mass, Connecticut, even New York, to meet up and be part of the raucous caravan that would be heading to the infamous Saco River. Two french-vanilla ice coffees, 1 Red Bull, 1 wrong turn, 2 tolls, and a playlist of Chris Brown later, we'd finally arrived at a dirt road, a nearly hidden entrance to Fiddlehead Campground.
From our car we could hear shouts and yells from our friends in the cars in front of us- ecstatic about the impending two days of what I heard would be no sleep. We drove down a windy, bumpy dirt road, bottoming out at the end, and arrived at a shack where I checked in with the "staff" of two college age girls- definitely not the most well run place, but perfect for a group of college kids. Checked in, ready to go, we drove down to Beach 1 (the rumored "best" beach) and parked our cars on the side of the dunes. There were about twelve tents between our group, and about six hundred tents on the beach overall. People yelling, music blaring, the occasional firework bursting above- I literally had to ask myself, "Is this real life?"
The next two days were a blur of loud music, being woken up at 5am by fireworks and someone yelling, "TIME TO GET UP AND GET SACOED!", making friends with everyone we met, dancing on the beach, floating five miles down the river armed with floats, funnels, and food, and laughing around numerous campfires. Yes, the port-a-potty's were appalling; yes, being woken up at 5 was incredibly annoying; yes, my tent had about three inches of sand coating the inside; and yes, I felt like I'd been hit by a train when I arrived home Sunday afternoon, but would I go back?


Hell yes. But only one weekend a summer- a person can only take so much Saco...