TRIP #5, 2014--Lookin' Down

Lookin' Down on Creation
So far I've seen two animals on this trip, besides all the red squirrels and chipmunks in the woods: a pencil thin green snake and the fawn that crossed in front of the car ahead of us last night.  They weren't of much note! Everyone else must be busy looking for winter homes in the woods.
This morning felt like autumn.  We stepped out the door of the motel to temperatures in the 40's, and trees had yellowed overnight.  But the sun was bright. It would be a lovely day.
We stopped at the Acadia Visitor Center to check in for a park pass.  A John Muir quote said, "Everyone needs beauty, as well as bread... places to play and pray, where nature heals and gives strength to body and soul alike."

Rugged cliffs line both sides of Sand Beach.

Andy said there was another part to it that suggested Americans would never have that beauty because they didn't respect the land or anything. That's a sad comment about our values.  But I guess it's like a lot of things... 
like the older lady yesterday at the lighthouse who just stood behind me while Andy tried to take my picture.  She thoughtlessly stepped into the frame and just looked at him.
Or like the man who banged his muddy boots on our porch railings at 6:00 a.m. this morning.  It shook the whole building.

Few trees grow on the sheer sides of Precipice Cliff.

Andy took the road to Sand Beach.  He had studied the literature last night and read about Great Head Trail.  It was a 1.4-mile hike around a peninsula that climbed 145 feet to the top of Great Head.
I guess that didn't include the walk across Sand Beach and about 30 stairs to the start of the trail. But what a walk!  The blue-blaze path scaled granite boulders and sandy sheets of stone, climbed over walls of pink and white granite interlaced with tree roots, and skirted the cliff edges for spectacular views of Sand Beach and Precipice Cliff.
It took us a couple hours of hard up and down, but this trail wins the prize for having it all.  Others thought so too.

The viewpoints on top offer breath-
taking panoramas of Sand Beach.

As we passed couples and small groups, we could hear the crashing of the incoming tide and see the white breakers coming in beneath us.  People walked on Sand Beach, and beyond it Precipice Cliff rose in the steep splendor of its black slate face.  "I could try it if you take me early in the morning," I offered.

Waves swirl around rock outcroppings
in the surf below us. 

Andy laughed.  "No way! I know your limitations. You'd never make it." He was thinking about the time in 1971 when I sat down and cried half way across the sheer cliff face.  Frozen with fear then, I clung to the spike driven in above my head, kept my feet as close to the inside of the one-foot wide shelf, and stared at the thousand-foot drop below me.  I had reached my hiking limit, and Andy learned fast!

Every turn of the trail brings
new beauty from on top of Great Head.

Autumn tinges the landscape
with color as berry bushes turn.

Andy has me pose at Thunder Hole in
spite of the crowds of people there.

Thunder Hole was closed because of high tide.  The tour bus had stopped and people milled around the pullout, sitting on the boulders and craning their necks to look over the edge.  When a giant wave crashed over the railings below us, it was easy to understand why the trail was closed off when the tide was at its peak.
"Gorham Mountain is next," said Andy.  "It's only a little over two miles round trip."

Climbing Cadillac Cliffs requires
a whole lot of rock scrambling.

And here I thought we were done for the day!  This scenic climb took us through the woods and up Gorham Mountain to the summit at 525 feet.  We forked to the right going up, scrambling over the granite to Cadillac Cliffs.  Here sheer walls of black slate had broken off in slabs.  My legs were not long enough for some of the natural steps, and going uphill was a challenge for muscles and lungs.  Then the trail climbed again over flat slabs of uplifted granite.  Yellow-leafed aspen fluttered in the breeze, and the red blueberry bushes accented the rock ridges.  We could hear the buoy bell clanging in the distance, and every turn opened up a stunning panorama of water, waves and autumn foliage.  Several times we selected boulders and sat to take in the breathtaking beauty.  A brisk breeze, maybe 20 m.p.h., swept the top of Gorham Mountain (524 feet), but it took effort to leave a place of such beauty and magnitude.  For the most part, I'd add solitude, but the trail was popular, and on a day like today many took advantage.

From the top of Gorham Mountain we have
unobstructed views of the ocean inn every direction.

Jordan Pond supplies drinking water for the restaurant and nearby towns.  It is so clear that the bottom is visible to as deep as 45 feet.  Boating is allowed but not swimming.  According to the sign,  boats are cleaner than people.  Three tour buses and hundreds of people had stopped.  We walked down to the dam and one of the old Rockefeller carriage bridges.  In the distance rose two rounded mountains.  "Do you remember those?" asked Andy. "A guy told us they were named for boobs because they reminded a Frenchman of a woman's breasts. They used to be called Les Boob-les."

Wind sweeps across the granite top of Gorham Mountain,
but it's a place to relax and breathe in the beauty of nature.

"Now they are called The Bubbles," I said, reading the sign.
"That's a shame!" he criticized.  "I guess the park is trying to be socially correct instead of historical."
We drove to Cadillac Mountain along with a zillion other people.  "This is the highest point on the Atlantic Coast," explained Andy.  At the top we were at 1,530 feet in elevation.  From one pullout we watched a little boat ferry passengers back and forth from the cruise ship to the village of Bar Harbor.
I wondered if any of them ever got to the top of Cadillac Mountain.  If not, lots of others did!  Three tour buses, two Oli's Trolleys and at least 50 private vehicles.

The Bubbles rise from sea
level at the far end of
Jordan Pond.

"In spite of the masses, I'm impressed," said Andy.
I looked at him in surprise.  "You?  Who hates contending with crowds?"
"Yes, because it's spotless and well maintained," he answered.
And he was absolutely right.   At 3:15 p.m. we were on top of the world, looking down on creation. And it was magnificent.

Pristine Jordan Pond provides drinking water for the
restaurant and several towns nearby.

                                 We checked in town to pay for our reserved seats on tomorrow's whale watch.  Weather predictions call for clear skies but a little cooler temperatures.  The clerk said, "Dress warm.  It can be 25 degrees colder on the water, and the high for tomorrow is a predicted 57 degrees."

Tourists line the top of Cadillac Mountain, the
highest point on the Atlantic Coast in the United States,
 to catch the last rays of sun as it sets in the West.

After dinner we stopped at Otter Point.  The tide was low.  We did not see any otters.  "Why would it be called Otter Point?" asked Andy. "Otters are fresh water animals, and this is the ocean!  Are you SURE it's not Outer Point?"
"Sure. Check the map," I told him.  I couldn't answer that one.
Thirty-eight stairs led from the road down to a rocky beach with no name.  "And why did we stop here?" I asked.
"It looked interesting" was my answer.   At 5:30 p.m. it was too early to go back to the room and too late to hike.  "I want a moose," said Andy.
So did I!
We drove up Cadillac Mountain to the Blue Hill Overlook.  We might have been looking for moose. People collected at the top to watch the sun set.  There were even a few dogs.  Huddled on the side of granite-capped Cadillac, literally a couple hundred gazed as the fall of fire dipped behind a lower cloud layer. It wasn't spectacular.  I'd be lying if I wrote that it was.  But it was fun to be at the top of the world looking down on creation.