on Mount Desert Island

We arrived here last Sunday. Our host, B, was out and had left a welcoming note. We brought stuff in from the car and settled into our little upstairs apartment, complete with Arts and Crafts furniture, artwork, great colors, and stunning views. The highlight of the apartment is a sitting area with three windows looking onto a lawn, beyond which is a meadow and the edge of Acadia National Park. The loons fly overhead each morning, making the commute from the pond just through the trees to their eating grounds. I love their throaty cries.

The island is shaped like a person's lungs. B lives on the west side of the western lobe, the quiet side, diagonally opposite bustling Bar Harbor.

When B invited us to stay here, I wasn't sure how things would work out, if he wanted to be solitary and occasionally wave at us across the clothesline, or if he wanted to spend more time with us. It turns out that we've had the pleasure of his companies on a number of his adventures.

On Sunday, we took a short walk into Acadia NP to see a few ponds and walk on well-kept roads surrounded by tall pines. Later, the three of us drove into Bar Harbor for dinner at a place down a little alley behind a barn. Very fun and very good food. And we walked around BH a bit after dinner. What years before had been a charming town to my eyes suddenly felt like too much -- too many stores, too many tee shirts, too many people. I was glad to get back home.

Monday, we hiked up Acadia Mountain (eastern side of western lobe). It was actually hard going for me, or maybe I should say challenging. For one thing, it was quite vertical, and although many kind souls had cut steps and blazed paths, still, there was some work involved. B thinks the climb was "moderate," a few outside opinions call it "strenuous," and my ankles and knees thought that perhaps doing a climb like that every other day would be appropriate.

Regardless, as we wound our way to the top across rough granite boulders and through twisted trees, we started to get glimpses of the lay of the land. It was a brilliant day and we could see for miles. We were also right next to the water, so we could see sounds, expensive houses next to the sounds, and islands. B pointed out the spot below where he woke up one morning and realized he needed to move to Maine. (He now spends most of his time in Boston and comes to Maine every month.)

Back at sea level, we returned to the house and made dinner for B and his delightful neighbor A. They've both owned houses here for 25 years and enjoy each others' company a great deal.

On Tuesday, B took his boat for repairs. We met him in the boatyard, from which a tourist cruise goes to a small island. The three of us hopped on the tourist cruise. Funny - my expectations were that a bored captain would take us to the island, then sullenly take us back. Far from it. The highlight was the boat ride - the captain knows the islands and which parts are owned by nature conservancies, land trusts, or the park. He knows the animals and we got to see bald eagles and seals, cormorants and auks and terns. He explained the boom and bust cycles of the fishing trade and described how lobstering has survived all these years. He even had a few lobster traps waiting and showed us what it's like when you pull up a trap - what to throw back, how to measure a lobster, and so on.

Our stop was in Frenchboro, a small town on Long Island. There are summer people there, but just 50 people live there year round. Last year, someone from the island graduated from high school on the mainland; the last high school senior is five years older.

After our return, we enacted a hens-foxes-and-boats scenario with B's repaired boat. The boat was on one side of the harbor and needed to be taken out on the other side. We had two cars and three people and no parking places on the other side. It took a while. I was the designated person to wait on the other side with jeep and trailer, and I didn't mind at all. It was a very pretty wait.

Dinner at home again, followed by a scrabble-like game called Bananagrams. I don't play games often, but this one was fun and we were well-matched, which made it more so.

Wednesday, Robert and I took off for another hike while B stayed behind to take care of some work items, or at least that was the plan. B was feeling funny, amused, something that we had not yet seen the "main highlight" of Acadia NP, so sent us over to the eastern lobe for some hiking.

The main part of the park has a 27-mile long driving loop, carriage roads (originally for horses; today there are more bikers and walkers), and extensive hiking trails. We got a good taste of all three, with some stunning views thrown in. We started out by driving half the loop, the half along the ocean. It's a slow drive, but not a crowded one, at least not while we were there.

We parked at Sand Beach (notable for its sand - most of Maine's beaches are rocky) which we visited briefly. Then we headed up to the peak of Gorham Mountain. The walk parallels the shore, so you get views along the way and you especially get views at the top, which is less like a point and more like an extended ridge line. This walk was more crowded, in that we saw people along the trail, but there were plenty of times that we felt like the only people on the trail.

The trails around here are a mix of flat boulders, shaded tree trunks, natural cobblestone paths up small creeks, and carved steps. The maintainers do a great job of keeping the trails clean and well-marked. In places exposed to weather, they also place cairns, small arrangements of rocks, to guide you in case the blazes wear away.

Near the top, we saw a fawn browsing on blueberries, and I hope getting fat for the coming winter. Although you could not see its ribs, it was so hungry that it didn't mind our presence. Every now and then it would look up to see if we were still there, then go back to the job at hand. We were able to talk quietly, take pictures, move around, all without disturbing it. Such a gift.

When we got back down, we walked on a path between the road and the ocean. We saw thunder hole. In quieter waters, it's more like "Hole that sloshes." But in rough weather, it apparently booms with each wave that comes in. A few weeks ago, several tourists were swept off the rocks there and one girl died. This despite the best efforts of rangers who tried to keep people off the rocks because they knew how dangerous the situation was. Apparently an unheard-of huge wave came out of nowhere and managed to snare seven people. Very sad.

There were beautiful little coves, some with perfectly round pebble-like rocks at the bottom of the cliff. There were people and dogs, wildflowers, gorgeous rocks you could walk onto. Back at the parking lot, we realized we were hungry, so we headed for the only restaurant in the park. But so had everyone else, and we headed out of the park to a small nearby town where we called B to check in.

Turns out that friends of his had sailed into that same town and he was helping them dock. Off they went for a sail, and we went in search of lunch and for a stroll in the little village. Then, because it was yet another beautiful day in this corner of paradise, we decided to drive up Cadillac Mountain (over 1000 feet!). At the top, there's a huge parking lot and lots of people. Still, it's very pretty and very windy and we took a short walk on a carefully paved path.

Another checkin with B and plans were still gelling, so we headed back across the island and walked for a bit on carriage roads. Very peaceful and quiet there, with just a few people in sight. These are wide roads with very gentle rises and falls and beautiful bridges to carry traffic above and out of sight. After a bit, B called (thank goodness for modern technology) to say that the five of us had dinner reservations at 6:30. So we tore back to the house, washed all the salt off, and returned to the other side of the island.

The restaurant was in an out of the way town, south of Bar Harbor, and the food was absolutely delicious. The place was packed, too. I have been loving the fresh fish here and have been eating way more than I typically do.

That brings us to yesterday. B had mentioned a place up the coast (off the island) called Schoodic Peninsula. Apparently, this Sunday's Boston Globe had a brief article about it which said that it's the quieter side of Acadia, undiscovered, almost unvisited. Part of the peninsula is devoted to fishing villages; the other part is owned by the Park Service. It also has a loop road, which we drove. There's a little area from when the Navy owned it, and a sculpture event going on with massive pieces of granite and sculptors from different countries. Along our drive, we stopped to hike up the very short Schoodic Mountain. It was still a challenging hike and there were some very vertical parts, although we did not take the trail described as "steep."

Then we noodled around the countryside, partly in search of antiques (I ended up with a tiny cat statue for $2), partly in search of lunch, which was ok, not stellar. And on another country road, we stumbled on a small organic farm that has a 25-family CSA and bought some food for dinner. Then into a town for some feta to complete our salad.

We had a small cocktail party with the neighbor across the street, then started dinner. Fortunately there were three dishes because I made one of them way too hot. Whoops. We put yogurt on top, which helped, but still.

So that's the trip so far. We have two more days here, then we're off to Portland for two days before easing back into society as we know it.