Acadia: Part Deux

Day 2:

Crows yawped before the sun peaked through the pines on which they roosted above our tired heads.  Not to be outdone, the ubiquitous white throated sparrow joined in soon thereafter.  The campsite was bustling before 8 and we were on our way to focus our efforts to the North and East. 

 

Cadillac Mountain was a top priority.  Given the availability of a road to the peak, we took it and saved up our tired muscles for another hike later in the day.  The moving abyss looming out my window made me queasy on the switchback road up the mountain, and the view were great.

And then… the hoards.  We were not prepared for the swarms of Homo sapiens plaguing the mountain top.  It was a beautiful day on a weekend, and so I’m not sure why we thought it would not be crowded, and I think the reality is that we didn’t really think about it, but to be confronted with it after such a beautifully solo experience the day before was a bit of a psyche shift.  Again, though, the views!  Oh the views!  We were glad to not have hiked up. 

It occurred to us as we dropped elevation down into Bar Harbor that these people on vacation were also taking a holiday from following basic traffic laws.  Countless close-calls and distracted dim-wittedness put us even more on edge.  We were really not here to see people.  Happy to be parked, we had an early lunch on the edge of the main thoroughfares and rebounded.  A quick walk through the cuter-than-expected souvenir-filled town and before you could say lahhbstahhh roll, we were out of there.  The tight muscles needed to be stretched.

Nitwits plagued us still on the loop road and the hoard stymied our attempts at swimming at the ocean beach, but we muscled our way into seeing Thunder Hole in hopes of a little drama.  No drama.  Quiet hole.  So, on to Gorham Mountain where the parking lot was crowed, but thankfully primarily for the ocean cliff walk located in a completely different direction.  Breathing a sigh of relief as a big group moved off with a ranger toward the ocean, we took to the wood.

A 1.8 mile round trip, Gorham Mnt. Trail was listed as moderate, so, again, we looked forward to a fairly easy hike.  Sharing the exposed rocky trail with only a handful of groups was a welcome afternoon escape.  Mostly exposed bedrock, the trail was expertly constructed with boulder steps exactly where we needed them.  Cairns marked our path over large-crystalled lichen covered granite.  Blueberries and mosses clung to thin soils bridging outcrops.  Cranberries nestled in the crevasses.  The forager in me enjoyed the tasty fruits of the trail, but S was hesitant.  Apparently, I was Eve tempting him with the tasty globes.  I didn’t care.  They were sun-kissed and delicious.  He was missing out.

Home again home again to grilled chicken thighs and potato/onion/pepper pockets, gin and tonics and waiting for the stars.  A quick ¼ mile drive to the rocky shore and we were in star-heaven.  The fractured rocks couldn’t have been more comfortable with that view of billions and billions of stars above. The Milky Way swooped across the sky providing for most of the light in the moon-less sky.  Satellites and planets nestled into the nooks and crannies and binoculars exposed  mini-constellations hiding in the velvety dark.  Shooting stars from all angles drew tangents across the sky.  With the sound of the surf, and a small breeze keeping the bugs away, it was incredible.

 

Off to Boston the next day via York, ME, and home again home again for real.  Two thumbs up. 

A note:  Now in Fort McMurray, Alberta, Canada, and man... what an opposite sort of experience.  Hopefully, I'll have time to throw something together about this trip soon.  For now, the memories of Maine make for a peaceful escape.

   

Acadia: No Reservations

A week-long conference, even with awesome weather, great friends, and ocean views, is inspiration for a bit of quiet.  BIOGEOMON was over and Scotty and I took off for parts unknown.  Our destination:  Acadia National Park; we were flying by the seat of our pants going No-Reservation-style and looking forward to every minute.

Driving north and east, Rte. 1 took us through countless isolated  towns nestled upon the coastal igneous and metamorphic bedrock:  we breakfasted at Belfast.  Grabbed some firewood at a local Shaw’s and hoped for the best.  Stopping at the Thompson Island Welcome Center  we booked a walk-in on the south side of the park:  Seawall Campsite, Here We Come!  We had a site.  We were in.

We pitched the tent in the mossy wood, dropped our goods, made a couple of PB&J’s and high-tailed it to Mount Acadia via the long road ‘round the west edge of the island catching Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse not 2 miles from our home-base.  We were ready to stretch the legs.

Considered ‘Strenuous’, we were not daunted by Acadia Mountain… it just seemed like the right mountain to tackle on the first afternoon.  It was short, for goodness sakes… how hard can a couple of kms be?  And really, the east-west mountain ridge, rising to the 681 ft. summit, was steep and rugged, but it was not too bad.  I admit, though, we both did breathe comments like “glad we aren’t doing this in the rain” and “ooh that pass would be rough slick” (see post on Owls’ Head in ADKs).   

It was clear sunny warm weather and we were nearly alone on the mountain.  A false peak teased us with views of Echo Lake through the stunted Scrub Oaks and low-bush blueberry bushes.  A few more cairns and boulders opened up to a wildly rewarding rocky crag overlooking the south and west and a bit to the east.  Rounded monoliths everywhere are covered with lichens of greens and orange.  Four people were at the summit upon our arrival, but within minutes we had the glorious view to ourselves.  Blessed quiet and peaceful solitude.  Views of Somes Sound, the only fjord in eastern U.S.,  and Southwest Harbor, had us captivated.  We could see for miles over the green and rock and into blue open ocean.  Squinting, we could pretend to see our campsite.  A peregrine falcon welcomed us to her roost, yelling her hovering hello somewhere over her nest.  All was well in our world, and we tried to leave twice before we could actually get the gumption to do so.  It was coming on dinner time.  That helped… and we had local organic mouth-watering pork chops to cook over open flame.

It was time for fire and stars.

Day two:  To Be Continued…..

Elvis has Left the Building

The porch is cool(er) at 7 in the morning….  Turns out, early is a good time to exist in an 11 day heat wave.  Who knew.   Coming off a stint in Nashville, where the temperature was literally Africa-hot (I'm talking same temp as Baghdad (109 F) but it is not a Dry Heat), the mid 90’s really isn’t THAT bad.  Still, it gets on my nerves.  The easy morning air full of bird chatter and cicada buzzing is most welcome….    

Returning home this past weekend, we were primed for the heat.  Our stay in Nashville required active hydration, something readily found in the Music City.  Downtown is full-up brimming with honky-tonks and loud bars and watering holes of all sorts  –  folks drinking, smoking sections, and live music cannot be avoided even at breakfast time.  There is only so much of that I can take, really, but in small doses, very fun.  I learned about $1200 cowboy boots, Stetson hats, Nashville Hot Chicken, twang, spangled shirts, Jimmy Buffett haunts, pralines, the Ryman, the Coliseum, guitar cases and amps on the move, license plate encrusted old-time country joints, Gee’s Bend quilts, Elvis on every street corner.  In short:  a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

Sadly, I missed a good chunk of the food scene (which you know is key!) and the next time I find myself there, I plan to eat well.  I hear great things and had some glimpses.

For now, let it be said:   I’ve had a taste of the culture and it is fried.