Cadillac Mountain

Day 49

Since the sunny weather is holding out, we decide to devote another to riding. We're heading over to Acadia National Park via some new back roads. We take Pretty Marsh Road, Indian Point Road and Crooked Road to get there. It's a lovely drive through the country, past, as you might imagine, pretty marshes filled with cattails, blooming lotus and other grasses, horses pastures and old barns. The western shores of the Quietside seem rather down to earth.

Our first activity in Acadia is to summit Cadillac Mountain, along with the throngs of other visitors. The ride up is a spectacular panorama of the island-filled waters surrounding MDI. The water from up here appears dark sparkling blue. The islands are emerald green, with white, wispy clouds here and there. The water is full of boats, particularly sailboats. At the top, there are endless granite expanses covered in light pink and green lichen to scramble over. The air is cool and lovely, and the views are worth putting up with these crowds for.

In addition to the views, the top of Cadillac Mountain also has some nice maps to help with orientation. I appreciate this. Here on MDI, we are still in the Bay of Fundy, just east of Nova Scotia. From our time on PEI learning about the Acadian people, I remember that their earliest settlement in North America was on the Bay of Fundy, on the southwestern shores of Nova Scotia. I gather that naming this park “Acadia” is a nod to that earliest settlement. Also, it was a French man who named his place Mount Desert Island in the 1600s, when he found the tops of these mountains to be rocky and barren.

Next we meander through the park on the lovely roads, soaking up the cool air and the deep green of the forests. We accidentally leave the park and come out at Seal Harbor. We take the opportunity to lurk around a fancy looking yacht club and ogle boats. We also drive through the neighborhoods that likely house the yacht club members. This gives new meaning to “summah homes”, Banner Elk has nothing on these folks.

We ride over to Northwest Harbor and decide to walk through the Asticou Azalea gardens, something that the Pirate spotted yesterday, and I had just read about in the ElleDecor (yes, I live in a tent for the summer and subscribe to ElleDécor). The gardens were established in the mid 1950's, I think through a grant. They are classic in every way: immaculately manicured beds of moss, rhododendron and azaleas, raked gravel pathways, a calm lotus pond, austere benches and sculpture. It's cool and calm, and has the intended effect on us.

Once again starving, we head north, and find Abel's Lobster Pound and Shore Food. To get to this place, you must wind through tall warehouses used to maybe store or build boats. Just when we think we've made a wrong turn, the harbor is before us with a lovely marina, and a restaurant. Outside, a covered building holds all of the live lobsters, and a wood fired pot of salt water that boils constantly for cooking the bugs. Though the interior of the restaurant is beautiful, we elect to sit by the water at a forest green picnic table and watch the boats. This place is a little pricey, so we end up with a ½ quart of steamed clams and a burger, with a nice Pinot Grigio for me and a local dark ale for the Pirate. It's all delicious, made more so by the fantastic service. We wash everything down with a slice of blueberry pie (which, truly, pales next to mine) and vanilla ice cream.

Stuffed and sleepy, we head back into the Park and find a nice sandy beach to lay on. It's a little cove with pebbles, soft sand and giant rocks in the water. The tide is quickly coming it, and with it a thick band of fog. We stretch out in the sun-warmed sand and relax, listening to the gulls and the children laugh near the water.

After a few big days, we decide to hit the grocery store and keep it simple for tomorrow. Well, we might have to have one more lobster, since it will be our last day by the ocean, after being by her side for well over a month. We will head west to Vermont and then slowly, slowly south, like a leaf drifting to the ground.