The Quieter Quiet Side

Our final big brown sign moments were spent at Schoodic. Of course, we greatly overestimated what we could squeeze into the day and still make it to my friend Naomi’s house in Easthampton, MA at a reasonable hour. But, as Rita tried to weigh the decision to explore the rocky tidal pools against rushing off back to Mount Desert Island, the choice was perfectly clear. Schoodic became the sole focus of the day. It was the right decision.

Less is more, as they say.

Acadia has 3 main sections that are accessible by land. There’s another section, Isle Au Haut, that is accessible only by boat. You’d need to actually plan to make it there, so suffice it to say, we didn’t get there this trip anyway. For the less well-planned, you can visit two areas on Mount Desert Island– the Bar Harbor area and a place referred to as the “quiet side” which includes Southwest Harbor and Echo Bass Lake. The even quieter “quiet side” is not on Mount Desert Island, but on a peninsula just farther north called Schoodic.

In my opinion, a trip to Acadia wouldn’t be complete without a visit to Schoodic. Sure, go to Mount Desert Island. You have to see Cadillac Mountain and the Bubbles. You need to have a popover at Jordan Pond. But, if you want to just be– to sit on the shore by yourself and look out over the ocean, feeling the slight chill in the air as the wind sweeps over the bay and listening to the rhythm of the waves as they splash over the rocky shore (minus the noise of the hoards of tourists), you really should spend a sizable chunk of your Acadia time at Schoodic.

We started at the visitor center and, following the advice of a ranger (you know the rule), we took the bikes on the “carriage road” toward Frazier Point. I use the term carriage road here somewhat hesitantly, because these are absolutely not the same as the carriage roads of Mount Desert Island. These are more like gravel pathways.  The gravel is not compacted here, making the trail more difficult for a hybrid bike like mine. The effect of the loose gravel is to make the uphills more difficult and the downhills decidedly less pleasant, with a tendency to slip and slide which for me was little terrifying. Consequently, we quickly abandoned these “carriage roads” and turned instead to the park’s paved loop road. We’d traveled this loop road by car at dusk several nights prior, but the more leisurely pace of the bike ride yielded a completely different experience.

In many national parks, I’d recommend only seasoned cyclists ride the loop roads. But, at Schoodic, the road is fairly devoid of cars, making the loop road perfect for bicycles. I don’t want to imply there were crowds (there were not), but people of all ages were wandering the loop road by bike, likely having made the same decision we did. It’s a perfect way to experience Schoodic, because you can stop anywhere you want, and all along the way you’ve got the breeze in your hair and the faintly salty aroma of the sea wafting into your nose. It’s absolutely magnificent on a bright sunny day (sorry, again, good Chris), but I imagine it would be just as magical on an overcast or slightly foggy day– or on a dark, thick fog even.  Come to think of it, maybe there’s no bad day to explore Schoodic.  And, here’s a tip if you do decide to bike the loop road: if you get tired along the way or you’ve just lingered too long in the tidal pools, you can wave down one of the Island Explorer Buses that circle the loop road every 30 minutes in summer, load your bike on the front (or back) of it, and stop off for lunch or back to your vehicle.

Magic.

In this way, we explored Schoodic, loving every minute of it. We ended up grabbing a bite at The Pickled Wrinkle. If you weren’t following the advice of someone in the know, you’d never think to stop at this restaurant literally in the lot of a gas and convenience store. Good thing we always get recommendations from the rangers and the bus drivers and any other local that will talk to us. Actually, in Maine, we’ve found nearly everyone loves to tell a good yarn, so it’s pretty easy to get information if you’re willing to provide open ears for the tales. Lucky for me, Rita is better at listening longer and more patiently than I am, so she gathers some good inside tips while I’m typically distracted by some bird (or insect or plant or rock or…).

If you go to Schoodic (and you should go to Schoodic), you really want to eat a meal at the Pickled Wrinkle. Rita, having had no prior experience with eating conch and snails, braved the somewhat unusual (and, uh, chewy?) briny pickled wrinkles. I politely declined that delectable treat and opted for what probably were the best fried long-neck whole belly clams I’ve ever had. Oh, my! They were delicious. Rita loved her lobster flatbread too, so call this a Schoodic must.

After that, we remorsefully took to the road (minus one last LL Bean stop) and headed off to Easthampton, Massachusetts. We opted to stay off I-90 and ended up taking State Route 2 through Massachusetts, which worked out scenically and without appreciable traffic. This route cost us a mere 7 minutes according to Waze– a small cost to stay off I-90.  We arrived just after 10 p.m., making it an early night (for this trip).

And, so, the Acadia portion of the vacation has ended and though I noted on the map there’s an Arcadia Wildlife Sanctuary nearby, I don’t think it will be quite up to my brown sign standards by comparison. It certainly won’t be Acadia.  Still, we’ll be open to whatever the day’s explorations include, brown signs or not. And, I’ll hold the memories of today’s peaceful moments in the quieter quiet side of Acadia deep in my heart for always.

Brown Sign Snobbery

I am a self-confessed big brown sign snob. It happens when you start counting national parks, I think. You are always seeking out the “capital N, capital P” parks, as I heard another national park hunter say. Currently there are 59 of these; there are 417 total units in the National Park System, including national monuments, national seashores, and a bunch of historical sites.

Yesterday, our adventures landed us in a state park (a baby brown, as I call them) and an international park (I need a new name here– perhaps an “alien brown?”– Rita has suggested the term “i-park.” I’m open to your clever ideas here).

I’ve got to admit, for a day spent outside a national park, it was a pretty good one.

The baby brown was really more of a camping area than what I’d call a park. But, what camping areas they were! If you are traveling in Maine and staying on the coast, I’d definitely take a look at Cobscook Bay State Park. For us, it was a pleasant, short detour, but basically a $12 contribution to the state park system of Maine. The views were pleasant enough, but nothing really called to us.

We headed from there to Eastport, by recommendation of my friend Mike Dunn (thanks, Mike). Mike has a great blog, Roads End Naturalist, where he writes about discoveries in nature and posts amazing photos of the natural world. He encouraged us to make the trek to Eastport to join Captain Butch and crew (Hank) for a few hours aboard the Pier Pressure. The boat company is called Eastport Windjammers. Like Mike, we’d recommend it wholeheartedly, even if Hank can’t resist charming you with tales of the area (I’m sure at least a few were actually true).

It was cloudy (but not foggy) by the time we boarded the boat. Before boarding, we’d picked up a couple of Jonah crab roll at the Happy Crab. This turned out to be a VERY delicious choice. (Btw, I love the Maine dry sense of humor, which you’d totally miss if you were put off by the flat delivery of the lines. Puns are literally everywhere. My favorite yesterday was the potter’s studio, “Clay of Fundy” in the region of the Bay of Fundy).

The weather must have put off a few potential whale watchers, making for an almost private boat tour of 8 guests, crew (Hank) and captain (Butch). I’d have loved another bright sunny day, but on the other hand, I’m guessing the whale watch from Bar Harbor was about 120 guests-full and, well, I was glad we’d made the drive to Eastport. We got a chance to see the Old Sow whirlpool, the largest whirlpool in the Western hemisphere. It’s a natural phenomenon that occurs where the waters of Passamaquoddy (my new favorite word to say) Bay meet the waters of the Bay of Fundy. It’s pretty amazing and I guess quite dangerous (see: Close encounters with the Old Sow), but according to Hank, we only got a “not much” look at it today. Still, it was pretty cool to see and hear the whirr of the spiraling water.

On the boat trip, we saw seals and porpoises, but the real winners were the bald eagles and the Minke whales. One of the whales stayed with us for quite a while (or, perhaps I should say, we stayed with him). He breached once (apparently yesterday they saw 15 breaches, according to Hank), but surfaced and dove multiple times over the next 40 minutes or so. This was my first minke whale sighting, so it was a definite highlight for me. (Who am I kidding? Any whale would have been a highlight.) Rita deemed these bald eagles “real” bald eagles because of their size and proximity. Personally, I think she was under the influence of Hank’s power of exaggeration. They looked like ordinary bald eagles to me (if seeing a bald eagle could ever be called ordinary).

After the whale watch, we wandered through town (all 3 blocks of it) and enjoyed meeting some local artists, including Cynthia Morse (a former art teacher, Marylu, who works in pastels), painter Ann Dalton, and woodcarver Rolland LeValle. I may or may not have purchased a piece of artwork because you know, my walls are pretty full.

Despite the late hour (I think it was about 4:30 by the time we left Eastport), we decided to make a run for the border. So you know, it’s an hour later in Canada than it is in Maine and the house tour at Roosevelt Campobello International Park closes at 6 Canadian time. The good news (perhaps the best news) is that the actual park is open until about a half hour past sunset. Here, I have to set aside my brown sign snobbery and tell you that you MUST go to Roosevelt Campobello International Park. For us, it was a real discovery (not an ordinary discovery by anyone’s standards). For the bike rider, there are a number of nearly empty and pretty well maintained carriage roads. And, for those seeking a naturalist sort of experience, there are over 4000 square miles of woods, ponds, bog, and shoreline in what used to be Roosevelt’s private playground. Franklin and Eleanor called it “their beloved island.” Beloved– isolated– beautiful– completely free– and oh, so peaceful. Really, if you come as far as Maine, you should take the extra time to come to Campobello. You’ll have the advantage of being able to PLAN your visit (again, not necessarily our strength– we “suffer” so you don’t have to) so you can actually tour the house as well. This way, you won’t have to risk an international incident as one of us wanders around the house while the other waits like a getaway driver in a bank heist, ready to outrun the mounties).

While at Campobello, we took a splendid stroll at Eagle Hill Bog, where pitcher plants abound. We toured the carriage roads by car, having left the bicycles at the motel for the day (did I mention the planning deficit?). Then, we wandered the island, arriving at the Herring Cove Restaurant just 40 minutes or so before closing and just after the “huge” (as described by our waitress, who may have been one of Hank’s disciples) crowds left (serendipity requires no planning). It was a fish chowder and poutine (when in Rome) dinner– a perfect accent to the day.

The plan is to return to the big brown Acadia, turning our attention to the Schoodic Peninsula on Friday before sadly leaving Maine. But, if I had another day here, this brown sign snob would probably turn right back for Campobello (with bike). It is a not-quite-big-brown sign not to be missed.

Good Un-intentions

Today’s road to Acadia was paved with good intentions. We intended to go on a carriage ride. We intended to bike the amphitheater route. We intended to get an early start. We intended to put the kayak in the water. We intended to have another dinner overlooking the ocean. We intended to get to Schoodic for sunset.

The missed intentions began first thing in the morning, sleeping in until…uh… well past 8. Naturally, we also intended to start with free breakfast. But, somehow neither of us made it over to the Red Barn Motel office for day old doughnuts and shrink-wrapped blueberry muffins. Ok. Maybe I never intended to return to the breakfast feast at the Red Barn Motel. If I’m being honest, I save my blueberry pie specifically for this purpose. A cup of coffee and a slice of fresh, homemade blueberry pie– now, I call that the breakfast of champions.

We woke to an absolutely clear (sorry, good Chris, it’s true) relatively warm (high of 67) and sunny day on the coast of Maine. As we drove toward the park, we made a stop at Lunt’s Gateway Lobster Pound for lunch (yes, it was that late, don’t judge us). I had a wonderful lobster roll and Rita had what she told me were delicious fried scallops (she didn’t share). And, then it was off to the park.

A note for the more well-planned visitor here: if you actually want to take a carriage ride and see those bridges only accessible by foot or carriage, you’d be well advised to make a reservation, apparently weeks in advance. For the record, it’s not such a good idea to make the call from the car on your way to Wildwood Stables in the summer.

Undeterred, I seized an open parking space at Eagle Lake. I knew full well this wasn’t on the day’s plan, but Rita was a good sport and rolled with it (I have been to 3 LL Beans, after all). I knew when she started counting carriage bridges we could hit on the bike ride, my detour had been deemed acceptable. Just like the guide book said, the beginning of the loop around Eagle Lake was crowded, but as soon as we hit a slight incline, the crowds thinned and by the time we reached the summit, we were pretty much alone on the path. The views were amazing and the ride, though somewhat challenging in places, was certainly nothing a bit of “b/hiking” (as Rita has deemed it) couldn’t help a not-quite-in-shape rider surmount.

We rode around Eagle Lake, went on to Bubble Pond (omg, this is beautiful) and lingered there a while, then persevered (somehow) to find a stone bridge beyond marker 10, then covered 2 downhill miles in no time flat back to our starting point at Eagle Lake. I just can’t say enough about these carriage roads. True, the park does have a more “developed” feel than most national parks because of these packed gravel roads. But, the fact that they are there makes bike riding through the park absolutely magnificent and it provides this lovely way to explore the park and get some exercise. We’ve seen serious bikers and young children; tandems, mountain bikes, recumbent bikes, road bikes, and old clunker bikes– it doesn’t seem to matter, the paths have something for everyone. Many people just stroll along the paths. But, in my opinion, a bike is the way to go here.

Ready for a little less exertion, we opted to head to Cadillac Mountain. If you are thinking you should avoid the crowds and miss the drive to the top, you’d be making a BIG mistake. The crowds are there for a reason, make no mistake. What a view! We managed to find a parking place with ease (it wasn’t sunset or sunrise). Did I mention the beautiful clear day? (Oh, yes, I think I did. So sorry, good Chris.)

Tourist mode in full swing, we left Cadillac Mountain for Jordan Pond, where we got an outdoor table at the restaurant and had the traditional popovers. As the travel books suggest, this too is an Acadia experience not to be missed. And, I understand the crab & lobster cakes were pretty fabulous (again, how would I know?) and the lobster bisque really hit the spot (of course, Rita has only my word on that). The view of the bubbles across Jordan Pond is postcard perfect. Besides, it’s always fun to eat on a terminal moraine, looking out at a tarn, right, Sam Fuerst?

Though it was later than we planned (we did actually have a plan at one time), we still opted to finish out the day at Schoodic. We took the loop drive at dusk, which turned out to be beautiful (except for the flies should you stop too long with your windows open). Rita described the peaceful drive aptly as like reading a good bedtime story at the end of a summer day. It was just that sort of snuggly, cozy feeling.

The lodging for the night was a bit further north in Jonesboro at the Blueberry Patch Motel and Cabins. It’s even further away from Acadia, but I have to admit, it’s a real step up from the Red Barn Inn (which was adequate in every way, except, maybe breakfast). There’s a reason we planned (yes, we do make some plans) to be further north for a couple nights, but given our experience with announcing plans, I’ll just keep that to myself for now.

Best laid plans… oh, you get the idea. I’m sure the carriage rides are overrated, anyway. Let’s just say, some of the biggest gifts of these trips are unintentionally discovered ones.

Where the road takes you

It is approximately, depending on your driving route, 1000 miles between Durham, North Carolina and Acadia National Park.  Two days in the car to breathe in the slightly salty air and take in the aroma of hemlock and spruce and feel the spray of the ocean as the waves crash on pink Cadillac Mountain granite.  One day in the car to forget the 97 degree days and feel compelled to dig out your polar fleece (it was 57 degrees).  And, just a moment settled into the car with Rita to leave the DPS email behind.

 

Vacation.

 

Finally.

 

It seems like forever since spring break and the last brown sign (El Cajas National Park in Ecuador) and even longer since the last American brown sign (Death Valley National Park).  But, I have once again arrived in a happy place.

 

Acadia is not a new brown sign for me.  I came here when I was 8 months pregnant with Tim.  However, I don’t remember much about that experience– it was a last get away before my world was forever changed by a wonderful little boy (now a wonderful young man).  Mount Desert Island was socked in by fog the entire time and it all seems eerily dreamlike in my memory.  I’m grateful for this opportunity to revisit the park in the sunshine and take in its beauty (though it is still beautiful in the fog, for sure).

 

We arrived in Acadia on Tuesday, having been forced by the time of arrival (and Rita) to bypass the brown sign on Monday night and head to the hotel.  I can sum up the drive this way:  drive, talk, get stuck in traffic, opt to take the mountain route instead I-95 (good choice), overnight in Wilkes-Barre, PA (thanks Hotwire), traffic slowdowns, incredible views of the Hudson Valley, more traffic slowdowns, lots of tolls (the NC Quick Pass does work in EZ Pass lanes!), late arrival at the Red Barn Motel.  It also included 2 Panera Breads and 2 LL Bean outlets (someone forgot her polar fleece).

 

After a bit of a slow start, we headed out to Acadia.  I’d been warned about the summer crowds at Acadia and in this way, the visitor center did not disappoint.  It was reminiscent of any of the jam-packed western parks.  Here’s a word of advice though:  buy the park pass.  Here, you must display it from your windshield at all times and we’ve not only been stopped and asked for it (and ID), we’ve also seen people ticketed for not having one.  So, it’s serious business here.  Not at all like Voyageurs, where they couldn’t seem to care less.  You can get a day pass, of course, but we always opt for the year-long one– ever hopeful it will get more use during the year.

 

We left the Red Barn Motel (sparse, but functional & with a view overlooking the Narraguagus River, although too far from the park for my tastes) about 10 (I know, but a girl’s gotta get some rest on vacation, right?) and headed to the well-traveled part of the park on Mount Desert Island.  We took the Park Loop Rd and spent most of the morning along the shore, taking in the views and the spray, as well as some of the famous spots (Thunder Hole, Sand Beach, Otter Point).  The guide book suggested that summer visitors are often disappointed by Thunder Hole, which in the calmer seas of summer does not sound like thunder– but, well prepared, we were not disappointed by the lack of thunder action, and instead just enjoyed watching the energy of the waves dissipate as the water funneled into the channel in the rock.  Then, we moved on to a quieter exploration of Otter Point.

 

Following the advice of a ranger (always ask a ranger for advice), we stopped at a lot near the Brown Gatehouse and mounted the bikes for a fabulous ride on the carriage roads.  We brought bikes from North Carolina, but they are easily available to rent for about $25 a day (lowered price for multiple days).  Still, it’s fun to have your own bike.  I am SO glad we brought them.  The carriage roads put the strolling paths through Duke Forest to shame.  They are beautiful, wondrous paths that the Rockefellers built to entertain guests, with amazing stone bridges (think Blue Ridge Parkway but more quaint) that open to magnificent views of the ocean and inland ponds and streams.  It’d be super fun to spend a full week exploring them.  That said, it’s surprising how mountainous the terrain is on Mount Desert Island.  I know the name should be a hint, but still, it’s an island, so to go from sea level to 1000 ft of elevation is still a bit of a surprise to me.  Cadillac Mountain is actually 1530 ft tall, but we haven’t been there yet.

 

We took a route that was deemed “easy” by someone, but it provided plenty of uphill challenge for us.  We wandered around Upper Haddock Pond, crossed 3 stone carriage bridges, and the gatehouse.  It was glorious way to spend the afternoon.  Arriving at the gatehouse (which was thankfully by the car), Rita had a bit of a mechanical bike breakdown, with her chain getting wrapped and jammed against the frame.  Luckily, there was a family from Illinois picnicking by our car and the man was handy with a screwdriver and managed to save us a trip to the bikeshop for sure.  I know folks complain about how self-focused people are, but my experience has really largely demonstrated the opposite:  I am grateful for all those who have helped us along our travels, asking nothing in return.  Today, we are particularly grateful for the help of a family of four from Illinois.

 

After the ride, we went in search of a quintessential Maine lobster boil and found just the one a little off the beaten path on “the quiet side” of Mount Desert Island (the western side).  Rita had gotten a tip about Thurston’s Lobster Pound.  It is in Bernard (stop in Somesville on the way– it is really lovely).  Rita’s second ever lobster got a little well done, so they replaced it with her third and gave us 2 blueberry pies as compensation.  For the record, you should order the blueberry pie from the start– we’d have missed it– and it shouldn’t be missed.  Dinner was great and the view was superb.  

 

We watched the sunset over Pretty Marsh (which was pretty, but had no marsh that we could see) with one other family.  I’m sure this was less crowded than the sunset at Cadillac Mountain, but I probably won’t make it there for sunset to compare.  I find I prefer the quieter spots, away from the crowds and cell phones.

 

All told, we’ve traveled a bunch of miles in this trip so far– but I don’t begrudge a mile of them.  If we’d opted for a shorter route, we’d have missed the magical moments, like when the wrong turn on the carriage trail lands you on a mountain ridge watching peregrine falcons spiral and dive and call out to each other.  You just have to go where the road takes you and enjoy the ride, eh?