Bar Harbor & Acadia National Park
In the muted light of morning the rounded islets between which we passed took on the silhouettes of the mammal for which they were named. Little imagination was needed to see porcupines with backs hunched and heads tucked in exposing their spiky spines which were in reality conifer trees. Our minds drifted only momentarily for the channel through which we passed was narrow and littered with floats marking the spots for lobster pots. Captain, Pilot and Mate were vigilant too and needed no assistance from us but watch we did in spite of this fact.
Mount Desert Island presented a bucket of beauty from which we sipped throughout the day. The name seems so incongruous and strange until the land is touched upon. Like so many places when viewed from the sea it is only the shape that is noted. The vegetation might dominate when examined a little more closely but from afar its presence is lost. And thus the rounded, bald topped mountain earned the name of desert. It is far from that. Higher and higher, into the clouds we climbed into the heart of Acadia National Park. One moment found us wrapped in fog and in the next our eyes feasted on the colors of fall. Cadillac Mountain’s polished pink pate was spattered in lime green lichens. In nooks and crannies shrubs held tight, their leaves maroon and red. Below, on the flanks of the mountains, maples melded crimson, orange and yellow. Smatterings of conifers added contrasting dark forest green. From the heights to the forests below we went to stand beside beaver ponds or stroll along ledges worn by crashing surf along the edges of the island. At each moment the desire was there to stop and drink, to truly absorb and understand this fascinating place.
Bar Harbor was the gateway through which we came and went throughout the day. Written upon the face of today is the story of the past when wealthy summer people and artists frolicked and lobstermen and shipbuilders went about their tasks. Its harbor will be our refuge in the night as we rest quietly at anchor until just before another morning’s light.
In the muted light of morning the rounded islets between which we passed took on the silhouettes of the mammal for which they were named. Little imagination was needed to see porcupines with backs hunched and heads tucked in exposing their spiky spines which were in reality conifer trees. Our minds drifted only momentarily for the channel through which we passed was narrow and littered with floats marking the spots for lobster pots. Captain, Pilot and Mate were vigilant too and needed no assistance from us but watch we did in spite of this fact.
Mount Desert Island presented a bucket of beauty from which we sipped throughout the day. The name seems so incongruous and strange until the land is touched upon. Like so many places when viewed from the sea it is only the shape that is noted. The vegetation might dominate when examined a little more closely but from afar its presence is lost. And thus the rounded, bald topped mountain earned the name of desert. It is far from that. Higher and higher, into the clouds we climbed into the heart of Acadia National Park. One moment found us wrapped in fog and in the next our eyes feasted on the colors of fall. Cadillac Mountain’s polished pink pate was spattered in lime green lichens. In nooks and crannies shrubs held tight, their leaves maroon and red. Below, on the flanks of the mountains, maples melded crimson, orange and yellow. Smatterings of conifers added contrasting dark forest green. From the heights to the forests below we went to stand beside beaver ponds or stroll along ledges worn by crashing surf along the edges of the island. At each moment the desire was there to stop and drink, to truly absorb and understand this fascinating place.
Bar Harbor was the gateway through which we came and went throughout the day. Written upon the face of today is the story of the past when wealthy summer people and artists frolicked and lobstermen and shipbuilders went about their tasks. Its harbor will be our refuge in the night as we rest quietly at anchor until just before another morning’s light.
