Maine (Part III)

On our penultimate day in Maine we went back to Camden and ate lunch in their pretty little park overlooking the harbor.

Then we did a short hike (which my ankle survived, fortunately) up to a low peak with a tower on top of it and a nice view of Camden.

We topped off the day by leaving my brother in the hotel and walking out to the Rockland Breakwater Lighthouse, which we could see from the hotel balcony. From the balcony it didn't seem very far, but up close it looked far more like the mile walk that it is.

The lighthouse itself wasn't particularly interesting (you couldn't go in or anything) but the walk was nice. We did see this large spider on the building.
I tried to get a picture where there was an actual reference for the size but the spider moved and I jumped about three feet so it didn't actually come out.

My dad was on some kind of Robert Redford kick and we'd watched The Sting earlier in the week so after the lighthouse we watched Three Days of the Condor, which I could have lived without seeing.

On Friday we had to leave fairly early and drive back to Portland so I could catch my return flight. We did have time to stop in a town along the way, the name of which I forget, to go on a boat tour for Cody. We saw other lots of other boats, lobster traps and buoys, and islands. So not terribly exciting but quite nice.

Actually, that probably describes the trip as a whole. It was nice to get a break and I had a lot of time to read and relax and while it wasn't a thrill a minute or anything it was lovely nevertheless.

Maine (Part II)

As I write this we're in the midst of one of the hardest sun showers I've ever seen. The rain is torrential, but everything is suffused with a golden light that's reflecting off the car windshields and puddles. Anyway . . .

Partway through our trip to Maine, and with my ankle feeling only bad as opposed to awful and looking lightly bruised as opposed to eggplant-esque, we headed up to Bar Harbor and Acadia. All along the way the highway is dotted with lupines (a very washed out picture below, I know).
They're a flower I don't see that often but do particularly love, because my mother used to read my sister and me Miss Rumphius when we were kids.
As a little girl, Miss Rumphius decides to do two things before she dies: travel the world and live by the sea when she is old. Her grandfather makes her promise to also do something to make the world a more beautiful place. And so in her old age she walks around scattering lupine seeds wherever she goes.

But back to Maine. Bar Harbor is a lot like Camden in that it's pretty and quiet and has cute shops and nice little restaurants. And a harbor. My parents came here on their honeymoon.

I was more excited though, to see Acadia, which, as it turns out, is a very genteel seeming national park. My father sister and I started out by going on a bike ride along one of the carriageways built by the Rockefellers.

Along the route we were able to see a neat bridge and a pretty lake, but nothing particularly earth-shattering.


After our biking and a couple side trips, first to the nature center and then to Bar Harbor to grab dinner stuff, we drove along on a greatest hits of Acadia tour. Our first stop was Thunder Hole, which was just gurgling at the time. Thunder Hole is a little cavern at the end of a small inlet. As the waves come in they force air out of the cavern, making the noise. You can just see the cavern in this terrible picture:

Then, we stopped at a cove where my brother and sister got their feet wet in very cold water.

And finally we drove up the edge of Somes Sound, which doesn't look to terribly interesting but is actually the only fjord on the East Coast--and the only one I've ever seen.

Our final stop of the night was Cadillac Mountain, where we watched the sun set.

And then it was the long, late drive back to Rockland, two-and-a-half hours away.

Maine (Part I)

Back in the beginning of June, I flew up to Portland, ME to spend a week with my immediate family. The trip got off to an auspicious start when, walking down the subway stairs, I missed the bottom step and sprained my ankle. I hadn't left myself enough time to hobble home for ice and ibuprofen, so I just tried to elevate it on the subway ride and then used a cup of ice and a bandanna to ice it when I got to the terminal.

The airport in Portland is tiny and pleasant and the city itself is lovely. Good restaurants, nice shops, right on the water . . . if I were a Sabres prospect I'd be pleased as all get out to be playing there this year instead of Rochester. We went to a really neat ocean-themed antique shop among other storeshad dinner with a college friend of my mother's and then drove up to Rockland, where we were staying. My parents and brother were staying in a time share at a resort with a golf course, health center, and pool, while my sister and I camped at a place nearby. It was nice because there was a comfortable balcony to read on while looking out over the golf course to the ocean and we had a little kitchen so we could cook meals.

Our first full day there we spent ages driving around looking for a little sand beach. No one in Maine seems capable of giving accurate directions. We finally found it and it was a nice little spot with a patch of sand, then rocks.
Then we drove up to a little mom and pop ice cream shop that had been recommended to us, only to learn that it was closed on Sundays. So we ate at Dairy Queen instead, which only served as a reminder of how lame Dairy Queen is. Ice milk is such a waste of time.

The next day we went to the Farnsworth Museum. It would be pretty unexceptional, except for the fact that it has the Wyeth Center, featuring a nice collection of work from all three Wyeths. We also saw the house of the museum's founder and went to get our homemade ice cream, which was everything Dairy Queen's wasn't.

After two days of gorgeous hot weather, we ventured into Camden, the beautiful little town where Edna St. Vincent Millay grew up, on a day that was chill and foggy. We ate by the harbor and then explored the town, going through the park and checking out the shops. The Megunticook River flows under many of the shops, and there's even a bookstore where you can look down through a hole in the floor to see it going along its way.

I can see why so many people like to spend their summers up in this area. It's nowhere near empty but it's incredibly tranquil compared to the overheated mess that is New York in the summer.