I wanted to get back to Maine. I had only been once before, a brief visit to Kennebunkport on a 4th of July. This may get me in a bit of trouble, but for the most part, the storybook Maine coastal towns are very similar. They all have the style of old New England seafaring communities: cozy attractiveness, no-nonsense, homey architecture, a harbor, a series of bars and restaurants, craft stores where you can buy Maine merchandise both authentic and inauthentic, and little inns and B&Bs. It's all very nice, if a bit boring. You can only see so many stark, rocky shorelines and eat so many lobster rolls before they lose their luster.
Bar Harbor (pronounced Bah Habah), the most northern of well-known Maine coastal towns, has an advantage. It is the gateway to Acadia National Park.
One key aspect of this trip was that it was pre-Memorial Day. This was a genius move, since one overwhelming impression I got everywhere I went was that, in season, this place must be swamped. To access Bar Harbor you typically fly into Bangor and take an hour-long, non-freeway drive to the coast. Judging from the roadside attractions and advertisements along the way, I gotta figure it's bumper to bumper in season and there's not that much parking in Bar Harbor, which has to be a nightmare if you're commuting in for a day-trip or your hotel is outside walking distance.
That said, Bar Harbor is as top notch resort town. The presence of the park gives it an added draw and it's response is to be overly full of restaurants and craps shops compared to other places on the Maine coast, but it's not distastefully done. It's still obviously Maine, not Ocean City or Myrtle Beach. Besides I'm not some bearded hipster searching for some sort of faux authenticity -- I'm a tourist, and proud of it.
Hanging in a Maine coastal town is something everyone should do. They are as genteel as they look, begging to be strolled through in khakis and boat shoes having genial conversations about how lovely everything is. I know I sound flip, but I'm sincere. But unless you're a dedicated souvenir shopper or are otherwise happy to center your day around drinking and eating, you need more. Often there are fine water excursions available -- anything from lobster fishing to sunset sails aboard old schooners. This being before season there was little of that in Bar Harbor. But Acadia National Park is alive and kicking.
Acadia, in the midst of it's 100th anniversary, was a delight. It's highest peak, Cadillac Mountain is an easy drive to the summit. The iconic thing to do is get up early to catch the 4:30 AM sunrise from the peak, as it is considered to be one of the first places you can see the morning sun from the U.S. I passed on dragging my ass out of bed at 4 AM -- I was on vacation after all -- but I did make the drive on a one of the sunny days (I had two sunny days, one just before leaving) and managed to take some excellent photos.
My time in Bar Harbor consisted primarily doing something active in the AM the hitting town for a late lunch followed by some wandering and/or drinkin about the town or coastline. This is about a perfect way to spend your entire life and if you can afford it I highly recommend it. There a number of fine hikes in Acadia. You can haul your ass by foot up to the top of Cadillac Mountain if you choose. I chose not. Most interestingly, there are what are referred to as "iron wrung" routes which take to up steep and treacherous mountain paths via the use of iron handholds or ladders (not for the faint of heart). I did none of these.
My first night I headed on foot towards town and took a turn off to walk to Bar Island. You can only walk to Bar Island at low tide, the land path will be underwater at high tide. True, it's something of a novelty to do this. It isn't strenuous and you are in no danger of the tide instantly washing you back in. It's really just a sort of pleasant promenade a short way across the bay to the island. Some people actually drove it, which I found marginally obnoxious. There also appeared to be a meeting of a local vintage moped society, which I found marginally endearing. Mostly it's a mix of folks -- tourists like me, locals walking their dogs, kids running and screaming. Once on to Bar Island there is a path to the top of the island (easy, about a mile round trip) from which you can look onto the Bar Harbor waterfront. It's not quite as nice as many in Maine, but it's still photoworthy.
The next day I hiked the length of Jordan Pond on suggestion of a ranger who said that if the water is still, you can get those perfect reflection nature photos that garner attention now and then. The water was not flat that day, but the hike itself was a fine walk in the woods along the shoreline of the pond (actually a small lake). At the south end of the pond stands Jordan Pond House which is a bit a destination given it's a sizeable restaurant with excellent views of the pond and its surroundings. I suspect your average day tripper comes into the park, drives to the top of Cadillac Mountain then comes here for lunch. I chose to find my meals in town.
Dinner highlight that night was Scotch Eggs at Leary's Pub which bills itself as the Easternmost Irish Pub in America. Probably true. It's a tiny little place tucked down a short alleyway. I only found because the folks on Yelp seem to think highly of it. It has a solid pubby vibe, friendly bartenders, I could do without the Irish music, but that's just me. Were I resident and not out to explore, I wouldn't hesitate to make it a usual stop.
I had an interesting conversation with the bartender there. I had noticed just about every shop in town had Help Wanted signs up. She explained that much of town hires in seasonal help from Jamaica. This is not unusual -- they do this on Mackinac Island also. Summer is off season in Jamaica. However, this year there had been some snafu with visas so here everybody was a couple of days from the Memorial Day slam and the Jamaicans were missing. Everyone was understaffed and undertrained. Glad I wasn't going to be around for the holiday. I don't know if they ever sorted out the visa issues but if you're a young adult looking for summer work, you could do a lot worse than slinging drinks in Bar Harbor for a few months.
The next morning I rented a bike. Acadia's main road is called the Park Road Loop and it is exactly what it sounds like -- a long scenic drive through the park; 27 miles to be exact. I chose to bike it, although I did shortcut about seven miles off toward the end. The Park Loop will bring you in shooting distance of most of the park's main attractions, with a challenge of riding up to the top of Cadillac Mountain. I paused at a few overlooks along the way, but my main stop was at a place called Sandy Beach -- can you guess what is there? The bulk of the Maine coast is rocky, but there are packets of sand peppered throughout. On a sunny day in the height of summer, you could delude yourself that you've found a hidden cove in Florida or California. That delusion would last until you sank a toe into the frigid water. Still even pre-Memorial day there were optimistic people in bathing suits plunked down in the sand like they were going to work on their tans and sip a hurricane. Sorry, it was a lovely beach for what it was, but I've spent too many days on the Florida Gulf not to be a beach snob.
That said, the rocky coast is quite dramatic, with the perpetually crashing waves and the always threatening weather. Gothic is how I would describe the typical Maine vista. (You remember that old TV show Dark Shadows? It looks like the opening of that show.) And gothic is what I got the next day: on-and-off chilly drizzle without a ray of sun. It was a good day to be in the car, so that's what I did -- trolled the coast south.
My target was Camden, which has the tagline of Maine's hidden jewel, but the real hidden jewel was Ft. Knox Observatory. About half-way to Camden you stumble upon a suspension bridge over the Penobscot River that looks as though it came out of The Jetsons. Even better, one of the bridge towers contains an observatory; you ride an exceedingly fast elevator up to the top and are greeted with views of the surrounding miles, typical Maine coast picture-postcard views but dramatically expanded by your elevation. The coastal town here is Bucksport, an eensy little place with a nice harborfront that unfortunately ends in a large factory of some sort. But you get a lengthwise look at the broad Penobscot as it winds past green islands and shorelines to the Atlantic. Back on the ground you are free to wander Ft. Knox proper with its eerie stone catacombs and spiral stairways. All in all just very cool place. I'm sure there are guidebooks that suggest it, but I just happened on it by accident. One of those lucky rolls of the dice that can make a vacation.
I did make Camden, and it's as nice as any Maine coastal town. Not of the scope of Bar Harbor but of the same flavor. I snagged lunch on the waterfront and did a quick loop of the village, but there was nothing new or interesting. Just outside town there is a peak, Mt. Battie, that I drove up to try to get some shots of Camden from above, but by the time I got up there a dense cloud was covering the peak and all that could be seen was a uniform, end-of-world gray in all directions.
On the way back I made another stop, Southwest Harbor, which is yet another picturesque harbor and shops and restaurant town. The thing about Southwest Harbor is that it seems a little snootier than the other towns. The houses were definitely a step up, and there were a couple of restaurants that could be accurately described as high-end dining. I entered one took a seat at the bar and was completely ignored for a solid five or six minutes. So I left and tried to grab a sandwich at a deli but it was so crowded I couldn't get anyone's attention. So I abandoned ship and got dinner back in Bar Harbor.
My last day I decided to go for a run. Near my hotel, but in the park, there is a trail called the Witch Hole Pond route. It was identified by Runner's World magazine as one of the 10 can't miss running adventures. The loop is a bit over three miles and it was about a mile-and-a-half from my hotel so my plan was to run there, run the loop, then run back. 6-ish miles, easy peasy. First, the park is enormously hilly, so not easy. Second, as long-time readers will expect, I got lost on my way there. It took me two or three wrong turns and a couple of conversations with people who were smart enough to have park maps with them to find Witch Hole Pond. It also took me an extra three miles out of my way, so we were up to a 9-miler total. I did find the route eventually and it is a lovely run, enough that I had to stop a couple of times just to appreciate (not to catch breath, mind you).
So that was Bah Habah. As I look this post over, the tone seems a little unenthusiastic. That's real, but it's not the fault of Maine. Maine was exactly as promised and if you have an image of a coastal Maine vacation, Bar Harbor is the place you want to go. In fact, if the opportunity presented itself to go in season where I could partake of some of the water activities I might just do it. But I have traveled much and seen more. The Down East vibe of Maine, while a delight, can't hold a candle to Newfoundland. There is no place more Down East than Newfoundland. Literally. Hiking through mountainous regions -- well I 've spent my share of time in the Rockies and the various ranges in the Southwest. And as for waterside resort towns, all along the west coast of my state are the beach towns of your dreams. In fact, even one of the ten great running adventures, the loop around Witch Hole Pond, while beautiful, was no more beautiful than the runs on the Potowatami Trail a few miles from my house. And let's face it, these days you can fresh lobster in North Dakota.
So yes, Bar Harbor was a fine trip. I'm glad I did it and enjoyed myself. I can understand couples and families making an annual summer pilgrimage, especially families -- it would be a perfect week long summer vacation for a troop of kids. But set your expectations properly and reconsider if you're looking to step out of the box or for something that can't be had elsewhere.