The Quietside

Day 47

Sun rays awaken us, and we are glad that we did not book two nights at this place. We head into downtown Ellsworth to the Maine Grind, a hipster coffee shop on the corner. They have wi-fi, fantastic dark roast, and a lox bagel that impressed even this salmon-avoiding Mermaid. We people watch, post blogs, and do some research on Acadia. I find a campground called “Quietside” that is on the southwestern tip on Mount Desert Island (MDI). Miraculously, they have a tent site available, so I jump on it.

Nemo's Awaits

The ride onto MDI is lovely, especially in this sun. We haven't really seen the sun while on land in Maine yet. It's the perfect temperature for riding, too. On route, we pass touristy lobster themed shops and signage using the word “Maine” in more puns than I ever thought possible. We head east first, and peek at Bar Harbor, then cross over to MDI proper. We ride through Southwest Harbor, which is bustling and cute, though predictably touristy. We pass marinas full of swanky yachts, maybe Martha Stewart is on one. So far, this place is gorgeous.

Our campground is, indeed, tucked in a quiet spot amidst all of this vacationing paradise. The whole campground is tucked with in a forest. The campsites all have platforms, so we're feeling fancy. The camping cabins all have the weathered wood siding which I adore. This place is beautiful, there is lots of privacy throughout, and except for the gaggle of Quebec-y kids next door, it is, truly, the quiet side.

Ketch me if you can

Once our camp is set up and we're settled in, we go for a ride. We stay on this southern tip and explore Southwest Harbor, the Swan Island Ferry dock, and a little bit of Acadia Park. We end up at The Ketch, a seafood place right on the west facing marina. We share a bottle of wine and feast on fried seafood. The air is so lovely, smelling of both conifer and ocean.

The Quietside of R-Girl

Our evening is spent in the beautiful, if not quite unpacked, commons room blogging and checking in with family. The dark walk back to our tent reveals a starry night sky. We go without the rain fly tonight so we can star gaze while we fall asleep. Instead of sheep, we count stars shooting through the brilliantly clear sky.

Scootin' to Schoodic

Thanks Kate

Day 46

Another rainy day. We decide to break camp and try our luck further south in Acadia National Park. We say farewell to our blue-fingered friends, and hit the road. The clouds thicken, and the rain just gets worse and worse. We are both in full rain gear, so we're dry and comfortable underneath it all.

Since it's not quite raining anymore, we stop in at Schoodic Point, a little tip of Acadia National Park east of the main affair,. Visibility is terrible, unfortunately. At the point we sit on the rocks to watch the waves crash. It's glorious, even in the gray mist. We have a little lunch, and savor the tiny blueberry pie that Kate sent with us.

Back on the road, the mist gives way to a downpour. We decide to stay in Ellsworth tonight at a motel, if we can find one. We pull over to an ice cream shop that, although it is closed, still has wi-fi and an awning to sit under to get out of the rain. Lodging is ridiculously expensive here, so we end up at Jasper's hotel and restaurant, a dive on the main drag featuring a bright red lobster as its logo.

It's one of those nights where we're just happy to be out of the weather, on a bed and watching TV. This is our down time, our mundane activity to help us recover from so much wonderfulness. We spend the evening watching stupid TV shows and eating Wendy's from across the street. We love it.

Blueberry Camp

Marshall Girls: Olivia, Kate, Kelsey, and the Mermaid

Day 45

It's another rainy morning, not the best weather for travel. We get everything loaded, clean up our guest room and hit the road by 9 am. Amy and Harold give us a warm send off with extra baggies for our things to keep them dry, concerns that we will be warm enough, advice on routes, and promises to give Dean a kiss from his mama when we see him. I think we will be home sick for these people whom we have only just met for a long, long while.

Blueberry Rake

We have breakfast in Lubec at the Wharf. Happily, this breakfast is worth the long wait. They have a view of the marina, and the very best Eggs Benedict I've ever had. We watch as the sky pours forth, and hope it passes. For this reason alone, we are happy that our breakfast takes as long as it does.

Today we are heading just down the road to Cherryville where we have some friends from Marshall. Kate and Kelsey blazed the trail up here 3 summers ago, and now Olivia is here too. They convene for “Blueberry Camp”, an experience comprised of living in a tight community of 18 people and 10 dogs, and “raking” fresh organic blueberries for about a month. Unlike North Carolina blueberries which grow on tallish bushes, Maine blueberries grow very close to the ground. The berries are small, and so are “raked” with something that looks like an extra long dust pan with teeth. This particular farm, Burke Hill, is the source for fresh packed organic blueberries. Most farms up here use machinery to harvest, and end up selling their yield in dried or frozen form.

We are in Cherryville in no time, and wait at a tiny grocery for Olivia to come and fetch us. Within five minutes of being there, the Pirate starts fiddling with the Girl, and in no time has her entire speedometer removed. A guy nearby asks me “you havin' trouble wid ya skoodah?” It takes me a second to wade through the Maine accent (remember, we've practically been in the south the last 3 days) to decipher “are you having trouble with your scooter”. No, I say, hoping the Girl did not hear him call her that.

Shoe and Kate

Olivia fetches us with her friend Heather and a dog, Ember. We head back to camp, get big hugs from Kate and Kelsey, pat at least 7 of the 10 dogs, park the Girl and ride back into town for groceries. Nobody rakes berries if it's wet out, the berries must be totally dry. Needless to say, everyone in camp was well aware of the weather and impending rest day, they have the hangovers to prove it.

In town, Olivia explains that getting out of camp is something everyone looks forward to, and that meandering alone through the grocery isles is a type of therapy. We get it. Grocery shopping migrates to having a 3 pm lunch, and pretty much stalling as long as possible before heading back.

Kelsey and Rocky

It is drizzling and misty and not the best weather for putting our tent up. The digs out here are welcoming, but not fancy. We set up our camp beside a stack of lumber a foot from the driveway. The Girl stands guard in front of us. As it begins to rain harder, we join in the collective camp past time of hiding out in our tent. We nap and look at maps. As it grows dark, we emerge and head down to the group's outdoor kitchen and communal area. We chat with a few people from home and realize we have pals in common. We pass our bottle of scotch around to no avail, these folks did their drinkin' last night. It turns out to be a lovely night with no rain, spent visiting with friends who are also far from home and mid-adventure.