TRIP #5, 2014--No Dampening Color

There's No Dampening the Color
"We won't see the sun today," said Andy, peeking out the window about 7:00 a.m.
I thought he was probably right. The sky was heavily overcast, and I could see puddles in the parking lot.  "It already rained," I told him.
"Don't worry," assured Andy. "It wasn't enough to cause problems in Little Red."  But he spent an inordinate amount of time repacking my side of the car, just in case.   "If it does rain again, we had stuff in the back on your side that shouldn't get wet," he explained.
I really didn't need any explanation! I was the only stuff potentially getting wet.  We chose warmer clothes; it was 53 degrees, but in southern Maine only about five miles from the ocean, the autumn colors were spectacular.  Too bad it was so grey.

In addition to hiking trails, Wells Reserve offers educational
programs in nature study, ecology and fine arts. 

Signage in Maine leaves a lot to be desired if you're a driver--or a navigator.  The side streets all have a single name on each pole, so it has been tough to determine what street we are actually driving on.  "And there is one sign before any major road, not necessarily placed strategically," said Andy, "so it's hard to tell where to turn, much less what road you're on.  They aren't big on route numbers here either."
I wondered out loud if that's because of the small population and the fact that Maine is so "out-of-the-way" as a state.

Hardwood trees predominate in this part
of southern Maine.

 We delivered a sad good-bye to Maryanne this morning, with much pomp and circumstance, as Andy dropped her in the garbage.  For five trips Maryanne has been our untrustworthy GPS Navigon, named thus because Maryanne was the ditsiest girl Andy had ever dated.  She finally went dark and wouldn't hold a charge at all, but she hasn't been particularly useful since I blew out the cigarette lighter in Little Red about two years ago.  Even charging Maryanne in the motel room all night didn't work too well because when we needed her at the end of the day to find a restaurant or our next motel, she was already dead.  RIP, Maryanne!

Spectacular color greets hikers on
every turn of the trail in Wells Reserve.

We saw a sign on the road for Wells Reserve. I pointed it out to Andy.  "Let's see what it's all about," he suggested.  My thoughts exactly.  The Wells Reserve, originally a huge farm on the shoreline estuaries, manages grasslands, woodlands, freshwater wetlands, salt marshes and one of the last undeveloped sand beaches in Maine,.  The Wells National Estuarine Research Reserve created, maintains and patrols a network of trails for visitors to explore the beauty of the coastal ecosystem.  More than 100 educational programs are offered each year, and we passed three school groups along the trails.
A couple or more miles of trail--Knight Trail to Laudholm Connector to Pilger Trail to Laird-Norton Trail to Farley Trail to Saw-Whet Owl Trail-- took us through a variety of habitats for stupendous fall color.  The yellow birch, silver maple and undergrowth ferns had all turned and contrasted with the greens of Eastern white pine and white paper birch.
We followed Route #9 into Kennebunkport. "That's George Bush's house," said Andy, pointing to a huge grey mansion on the point.  He was right.  Taxis, cars and a tour bus slowed ahead of us. A sign said, "Absolutely NO stopping!" But tourists stood on the sidewalk and craned their necks anyway.  "I guess he's not there," said Andy.  "He's back in Texas by now, but he spends his summers here."

The town of Kennebunk has
already decorated for Halloween.

We parked in the village of Kennebunk and walked across the bridge to Kennebunkport.  The stores were crowded with tour bus passengers--art galleries, jewelry shops and clothiers interspersed with lobster shacks-- but all exclusive.  It was nice to window shop, but very little representative of Maine caught our eyes.

The tide comes in and fills the salt marshes
at Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge.

At the Rachel Carson (1907-1964) Wildlife Refuge, we took the time to walk the one-mile developed nature trail through deciduous and pine forests along the tidal salt marsh. The tide was just coming in.  Meadows of cordgrass in the distance bent and swayed in the breeze.  And farther off we could see the brilliant reds of the swamp maples from the lookout openings.  In her books, like Silent Spring, with ideas way ahead of its time for 1962, Carson challenged the widespread use of pesticides and fundamentally changed society's outlook on the natural environment.

The tiny Lobster Point Lighthouse stands
at the entrance to Marginal Way.

This refuge in her name is studying ways to give salt marsh plants the best possible opportunity to keep pace with sea level rise as global warming continues.  A sign asked visitors, "Will salt marshes be able to migrate inland as sea levels rise or will they be challenged by sea walls, roads and structures and ultimately destroyed?"  In The Sea Around Us, Carson wrote, "All the life of the planet is interrelated... each species has its own ties to others, and... all are related to earth.  This is the theme of The Sea Around Us and the other sea books, and it is also the message of Silent Spring."

Wild rose and yellow berry bushes line the ridge along
Marginal Way in Ogunquit as angry waves pound the coast.

Lobster Point Lighthouse, constructed by the town of Ogunquit in 1941 and renovated in 1998, marks the entrance to Marginal Way, an asphalt path along the coastline metamorphic rock ridge.  Wild rose bushes and red sumac colored the path.  On the other side of Marginal Way, huge homes hugged the inner shoreline. Waves crashed below us.  When Andy spotted two lobster pods tossed on the rocks, he climbed down to salvage the rope.  If nothing else, we have three authentic lobster pod souvenirs, and now we have the rope to go with them.
"The seventeen miles or so of New Hampshire coastline is all built up," said Andy.  We crossed the rusted bridge into Portsmouth.  It was sudden civilization.
A slow drive down Route #1A took us the whole length of the New Hampshire seacoast to Hampton Beach.  The vacation town, crammed with hotels, was closed down. People don't come here for leaves, and the summer break vacation season was long past.  Hampton Beach had curled up for the winter.

Andy tackles a delicacy dinner of twin lobsters.

The last time we were at Hampton Beach was 1971.  Since then much of the beach is washed out.  A reinforced concrete wall and sections of granite boulders now protect the highway and businesses on the other side of the road.
One of those protected businesses was Ray's Seafood Lobster Restaurant.  It's where Drew had dinner when he completed the Tri-State Seacoast Century bike ride out of Hampton Beach two years ago.  He had told us not to miss Ray's for lobster on Route #1A.  So we didn't. 

The Sailor's Memorial
statue looks like a sea goddess
stretching toward the water.

We're glad we took his advice.  Andy said he probably had not had a lobster dinner in 35 years.  But he had not forgotten how to eat the delicacy!
We parked on Pierce Island and walked out to Four Tree Island in downtown Portsmouth to see the Sailor's Memorial  A great blue heron landed and took off as we approached.  Many birds had visited this statue before the heron and left evidence.

Anne Jaffrey's tombstone reminds
visitors of the fragile nature of life.

Point of Graves in downtown Portsmouth is an old cemetery.  The oldest stone marks the grave of Anne Jaffrey, who died in childbirth in 1682.  She was the 18-year-old wife of a Scottish sea merchant named George Jaffrey. Would she ever be surprised by Portsmouth today!

Prescott Park is deserted in the early
evening chill, but statues, like this one
of a whale, compliment the colorful
late fall flowers. 

The Portsmouth Burial Ground has some of the finest Colonial Era gravestones in northern New England, and it's hard to believe the etchings and carvings on some can still be read after 300 years. 
Portsmouth residents patronized Massachusetts carvers until the early 1800's. Quaker William Mumford is one of the most famous.
Just off the walkway around Liberty Gardens, the Piscataqua was moored, along with a number of lobster boats.  But as dusk and darkness set in around 6:30 p.m., there was little activity in Prescott Park.  Our day of spectacular color had come to an end.

TRIP #5, 2014--Eclectic Day

An Eclectic Day of Travel Activities

Andy tries on the L.L.Bean
boot outside the store in Freeport.

A few miles down the road from our motel was the headquarters for L.L.Bean with a complex of stores.
For an hour we browsed through the displays, including a trout pond and a native fish of Maine aquarium tank, both with live fish; a stuffed Russian bear; two stuffed moose who died in mortal combat, antlers locked; five and six-man canoes; and just about every animal that could be hunted, including American mink and Russian musk ox.

Two stuffed moose, originally found dead in a Maine
backyard, provide one of the fascinating store displays.

The complex had amazing collections of classy clothing, attractive home goods, creative sporting needs, and unique foods.  I could have spent two fortunes. Andy said we didn't need anything!  "But dear," I said sweetly, "they ship free anywhere in the U.S.  If you bought a kayak, you wouldn't have to carry it on the roof of  Little Red."  He wasn't moved.

Chief Passamaquoddy rules
the road on U.S.#1.

Outside the Conundrum Bistro stood the 40-foot statue of Chief Passamaquoddy, affectionately known by locals as Big Freeport Indian.  With his full-feathered headdress and holding spear and shield, the chief has been greeting visitors to Freeport, Maine, for more than 45 years.  "He doesn't look particularly happy," said Andy.
"You're right," I agreed.  "But the bistro wine bar is closed, so no wonder."

Hopping from rock to rock along the
breakwater, we explore Spring Point Light.

Andy wasn't particularly happy either.  The adjoining shops that advertised Maine-made gifts and products only carried outdoor clothing and antiques.  He wanted unique craft-type souvenirs and art.
Originally named Purpooduck, the Spring Point Ledge Lighthouse is part of a park that extends for a mile of oceanfront along the shoreline of South Portland.  This lighthouse was approved by Congress in 1895, after numerous ship wrecks in bad weather. Purpooduck was an Indian word meaning, "a point of land that juts out into the water and is infrequently visited," the Indian name given to the whole peninsula.

Carved on the top with leaves, the Portland Breakwater
Lighthouse is one-of-a-kind in the world.

The Portland Breakwater Lighthouse on Cushing's Point was built in 1855, the only one of its kind in the world.  Originally at the end of a 1,990-foot breakwater, it protected South Portland's inner harbor from storms. Also called Bug Light, probably because it is so small, it guided ships from Casco Bay through the entrance to Portland Harbor. This steel structure with thick coats of white paint was designed to look like a Choragic monument of Lysicrates from the fourth century near the Acropolis in Athens, Greece.  The decorated top is reminiscent of Corinthian columns.  At one time a keeper's house was attached.
In 1941, the families who lived on Cushing's Point and called it "the best home in the world" were displaced to make way for a shipyard. And from 1941 to 1945, the 140 acres was the site of 60 buildings, all dedicated to ship building for World War II.  "We had one thing in mind," said an employee of the time. "Produce to win."

The artistic sculpture of a giant ship pays tribute to all those
from Maine who sacrificed homes and lives in the
shipbuilding industry.

First, in 1941, once the families were removed and their homes leveled, the shipyard owners built a 1,500-foot coffer dam to keep water out of the ship building basin. It started with 1,000 employees and soon swelled to 30,000 workers.  At maximum capacity the shipyards employed 18,000.  Snow, ice and temperatures of as low as -10, -20, and even -30 degrees below zero were no excuse to stop working.  It was a test of worker character like no other.
The shipyards could construct up to 13 ships at once.  Here workers completed 266 cargo vessels, 30 ocean class vessels for the British and 236 Liberty Ships for the U.S.  Since many of the Liberty ships only had a maximum speed of 11 knots, they sailed in convoys of at least 50 or 60 since German subs could only carry a limited number of torpedoes.  The workers had to build ships faster than German subs could sink them in order to keep troops in Europe supplied.  When World War II ended, shipbuilding at Cushing's Point was no longer needed.

Autumn colors predominate at Portland Head Lighthouse,
even though temperatures plummet into the 50s.

Our next stop was Portland Head Light in Cape Elizabeth, started in 1787.  In the hour we spent here in Fort Williams Park, the wind shifted.  "It's a storm off the coast, but it's blowing straight east," said Andy.  As we circled the lighthouse for views of the craggy rock ledges below and the red sumac and black-eyed Susans surrounding the base, the wind picked up to more than 30 m.p.h. sustained.  Heads down, we plowed forward as temperatures suddenly dropped about 20 degrees.

Caught in an updraft, a sea gull swoops
into the picture at Portland Head Light.

Sea gulls caught the drafts and with wings spread literally hung in midair.  Andy saw a poor monarch butterfly get blown tumbling across the field until it could take refuge in a thicket of wild roses.  Flags, extended straight out, whipped madly.  "Where in the world did this come from so fast?" asked Andy.  We dashed back to the car for jackets.  "We're going to get rain,"  But we never did.
Near the lighthouse and a part of the Fort Williams Park was the site of old Fort Williams.  Established in 1750 as Portland Harbor, the site was the closest harbor from the colonies to Europe. In 1873, Portland Head became the headquarters for harbor defense with six gun batteries that carried two guns each. During World War I and early in World War II, Fort Williams served as a coastal artillery post called Battery Blair after Francis P. Blair, a veteran of the Mexican War and the Civil War.


This lighthouse on Two Lights Road
is actually a private home.

In 1930, National Guard encampments here turned the area into an American town within a town, complete with library, movie theater and swimming pool.  A few years later, the CCC chose this site as the state headquarters for training. Men ages 18 to 25 spent weeks here before being assigned to one of Maine's 28 Civilian Conservation Corps camps.  Now the whole area was a huge grassy park.  By the time we climbed down from the gun placements and walked back to the car, we were freezing.  It was 58 degrees, and the wind howled.A street named Two Lights caught Andy's attention.  "Let's see what we can find," he said. "It's not on the map, but the name sounds like lighthouses."  Sure enough.  At the end of the point were two lighthouses converted into beautiful private homes.  Wind whipped unmercifully as we climbed up on the rocks for pictures. Amazing what people with some ingenuity can accomplish!  Yes, I meant ALL of us!

Downtown South Portland has a character all its own.

South Portland has a really cool downtown.  Right on the water, it has lots of character.  We parked at a meter and for a few coins had an hour to walk the cobblestone streets, browse in the shops and check out the Fish Market.  Fresh lobster meat tails were selling for $49.95 a pound.  Just shows how much is wasted when you buy the whole animal!  And how little meat you get from one lobster!  But the selection of fish was amazing, and the whole ambiance of this oceanfront fishing town, absolutely fascinating.

TRIP #5, 2014--Day of Summer

Another Day of Summer
Dressed in shorts this morning, we set out from Augusta for Brunswick, Maine.  At 9:00 a.m. the sun was bright and the temperature, already 65 degrees with a predicted high of 83.

Maine hardwoods put on a spectacular display of color.

Our first destination was Boothbay Harbor, but we stopped once along U.S. Route #1 for pictures of leaves.  The colors are amazing. The scarlet shades of the sumac set off deep green pines interspersed with yellow birch.  Swamp maples, also called silver maples, turned first; they are now bright oranges and reds.  Nature has painted a masterpiece.
"The Kennebec is a huge river," I said, as we crossed heading south.
"Down here it is," answered Andy. "It's affected by the tide here, as well, and the tide is just coming in."

The private lighthouse on Hendrick's Head still warns ships
of dangerous rock outcroppings near the shoreline. 

Hendrick's Head Lighthouse on Beach Road is privately owned.  We crossed a bed of exposed seaweed, picking our way carefully along the granite outcroppings by staying on rougher surfaces.  The tide was still low, but the wet seaweed was very slippery.  A fall meant certain injury... or at least a lot of serious scratches.  Andy coaxed and prodded.  His clear eye and steady hand got me to the top of a granite point, high and dry, that gave us a view of the lighthouse that protected Dogfish Head Bay.  At the shoreline a woman stood quietly by an easel, daubing colors on the canvas.  A family on the beach tossed a stick into the water for a black lab.  He repeatedly bounded after it, swam to the stick and brought it back, sending spray everywhere.

Displays at the shops in
Boothbay Harbor remind
us that autumn is here.

It was a perfect beach scene.For two hours we strolled along the harbor at Boothbay, watching the boats come and go, looking in lots of the tourist shops and meandering through water-side gardens of hotels that lined the busy harbor.
We walked across the water on the old wooden boardwalk foot bridge and peeked in the windows of Bridge House, built in 1902.  It was an office and repair shop now.  A large tour sailboat glided silently past.
The tourists waved excitedly in the distance.

In the middle of the bay, Bridge House serves as a
maintenance area for the wooden foot bridge.

     "Our last lighthouse is out there on that island." Andy pointed but the building was hidden by pine trees on the harbor side.  We tried walking on both sides of the harbor, but we couldn't get close enough for a picture.
M. Roberts, the wife of Edward Roberts, invited us to browse through her husband's art in their working studio/shop.  She said they marvel at the green in Connecticut every year when they arrive from Florida.  We guessed they were seasonal and about ready to leave New England.  "I'll bet this town closes down in a couple weeks," said Andy as we left.
Going through Wiscasset was a slow drive. Everyone was in line at the fish stand or crowding the sidewalk café.  It felt like mid-July.

The bronze statue, Fisherman's Memorial,
pays tribute to those fishermen who
sacrificed their lives at sea.

We exited Route #27 in order to check out the city of Bath, called Home of Ship Building.  An interpretive sign said the city owed existence to Charles Davenport, who founded it on "blocks of charity."  We walked up and down a quiet main street and relaxed with coffee and blueberry muffins at Café Crème.  The shipyard and dry docks were quiet because it was Sunday, but the coffee shop buzzed with customers.
After checking in the motel, Andy drove leisurely along Route #24, crossing Great Island all the way down to Orrs Island to Bailey's Island.  "Somewhere along the coast they sold a 50-acre island to a land trust for $925,000," he mused.  "I wouldn't mind owning a 50-acre island." It was Goslings Island in Casco Bay, Maine, and the price was $18,500 an acre.

Beautiful as it looks, this patch is
highly "poisonous" ivy.

We looked around the Land's End gift shop at the point and photographed the Fisherman's Memorial, dedicated to all those who lost their lives at sea.  Nearby was a gorgeous patch of brilliant red leaves with a sign, "Nature's natural remedy for poison ivy sold inside."  It was meant as a warning for tourists, but most tourists seemed oblivious.
Along the road, stands and trucks sold fresh lobster for $4.50 a pound.  We saw one sign on Bailey's Island for $4.30 a pound, and take-out shacks and restaurants are charging anywhere from $16. to $19. and more for a one-pound lobster dinner.  It seems the mark-up is pretty stiff, and lobsters are currently in plentiful supply.
Part way back along Route #24 on Great Island, we took a left toward Harpswell.  As we drove southwest to the next jut of land, a red fox cowered in the middle of the road.  Andy tooted the horn and slowed down.  "I thought it was a cat," he said.
"I thought it was a coyote," I responded. 
"He's a young one, but if he doesn't move, he won't be young very long," Andy responded.  The fox scampered away before I could grab the camera.
Bowdoin College, founded in 1734, reminds me a little of a compact and exclusive Miami of Ohio.  The red brick buildings are classy and beautifully maintained.  We walked around the main quad with its 200-plus-year-old oak trees.  Kids rode bikes, played Frisbee and sun bathed.  "I wonder if there is a no-car policy," said Andy out loud.  "there are so many bikes. It's a private school so they could demand no vehicles."

From a distance the ship yard dry dock looks like a giant lock.

The stately old houses that lined Maine Street lent an air of sophisticated elegance.  And Brunswick was a thriving town with a four-lane main street and a viable shopping district.
Bath City Dog Park on the water allowed us to see the ship yards of Bath.  "That's for repairing the really big ships," said Andy.

The statue of the ship
Wyoming towers over
the surrounding landscape.

"The blue sides fill with water after a ship has pulled in. When they drain out the water, the ship goes up in dry dock and workers can repair the underside. They can do an ocean liner in there," he added.
"It must be a really deep port on the Kennebec," I said.
As we drove away from the shipyard area, I noticed a sign on the main building that said, "Defense contractor. Photography prohibited. Police take notice."  But I wasn't even trying!
Maine Maritime Museum, just down the road, had closed, but we walked to the sculpture of the Wyoming with its flags flying high. It is called the Schooner Wyoming Evocation.  I'm guessing that the name comes from the fact that the immense white sculpture evokes the impression of a great ship. In Bath, the Wyoming has landed.

TRIP #5, 2014--Indian Summer

Indian Summer Autumn


Scaling the rock ledges below Pemaquid Light gives us
incredible views and a different perspective.

When we stepped out of the motel at 8 a.m. this morning after breakfast in the room, it was already warm enough for just shirt sleeves.  By 9 a.m. the bank in Rockport said 69 degrees.  But all the trees lining Mechanics Drive were brilliant yellow.  The warm won't last too much longer, but today we'll hit the 80's inland, according to predictions.

Barnacle encrusted rocks on the seashore mark the high tide.

As the tide comes in, the waves
crash higher and higher on the ledge.

Pemaquid Light, built in 1827, is the most photographed lighthouse in Maine.  I'm not sure how they calculate that one!  We parked in the main lot by the gift shop and took the steps to the rock ledges below.  I guess that wouldn't be possible at high tide, but we lucked out.  On the knoll next to the lighthouse, white chairs were set up for a noon wedding overlooking the ocean.  Part of that parking lot was blocked off, but even tourists walking in that parking lot gate were being charged the $2.00 per person fee.  We wound our way down the slanted granite cliff face a second time for different shots of the lighthouse.
Seagulls soared and swooped just above us, and cormorants rested right on the edge of the breaking waves.  The tide was coming in, and every couple waves sent spray high in the air as they met the shore.  You couldn't ask for a more glorious day.

Pemaquid Light is the most photographed lighthouse in Maine.

Heading inland, we encountered a detour on Route #32. It meant retracing our path and finding back roads north.  That wasn't a problem. We had lots of time, a gorgeous day and more autumn colors as we headed away from the water.

Everywhere along the road wild
flowers bloom and trees change color.

Savage Oakes Vineyard and Winery was a lovely break.  High on a hillside, the tiny knotty-pine tasting room provided the colors and flavors of autumn.

Savage Oakes Vineyard and Winery decorates for fall.

"We've had a bountiful year," said the owner.  "The grapes love the sun, but we need cool temperatures now in order to harvest.  Otherwise we have problems with the bees."
I understand precisely why people plan trips to New England at this time of year.  The colors are beyond description, and the leaves turn so very quickly.  Color only lasts a week or two, and peak starts inland and spreads south.
Already the top third of Maine has peaked.  But I also understand why motels and restaurants are so pricey in this part of the world at this time of year.  Their season is exceedingly limited, and winters are brutal.  It's... make as much as you can as fast as you can.

Even in Augusta at the State Capitol,
the flowers flourish and trees put on a show of color.

Hence, Sweetgrass Winery had lots of visitors. Most of them sampled the spirits; we were happy with tastings of five wines and "smashes," blends  of wine and brandy--all deliciously fruity.  The view from outside the tasting room was a gorgeous blend of yellow, orange, red and green.  The group behind us asked about the owners.  "Oh yes," said our server. "They still have all the animals: rabbits and chickens and ducks and peacocks."  We only saw the barnyard/winery cat.
Then it was back on the road toward Augusta.
As the state capitol, Augusta pops up out of countryside.  Even within the city limits, rolling hills, wooded slopes and broad fields with small frame houses spread before us.  And suddenly, we were downtown.  It was 87 degrees, not a cloud in the sky with bright sunshine.
We went back and forth across the Kennebec River a couple times before getting our bearings.  But no matter!  There were round-abouts at either end of the bridge.
The Maine State House was getting a new, shiny copper dome. "You know what they used in Connecticut?" said Andy. "Gold leaf. It's paper thin, like tissue, and each square had to be glued on separately."
"Yes," I answered, "and you know who paid for it!"
We walked the whole block around the State House and leisurely strolled past the Law Enforcement Officers Memorial and the Firemen's Memorial.

Even though Fort Western is closed at 4:30 p.m.,
we have a sense of what it was like to live inside on the frontier.

On the other side of the Kennebec River was Downtown Augusta, with beautiful old three- and four-story brick and stone buildings. Some looked abandoned or in serious decline. Nearby was old Fort Western, built in 1754, the place Benedict Arnold started his campaign south to New Haven.  He used the Fort as a staging point for his assault on Quebec during the American Revolution.  At 4:30 p.m. the employees were just leaving. We couldn't go in, but we walked around the outside log barrier used for protection so many years ago.  Maybe we can see the inside tomorrow.  We've been promised another even warmer Indian Summer day.

TRIP #5, 2014--Touring Lighthouses

Touring Maine's Lighthouses
Leaves are turning. When we left the Bar Harbor area this morning, the road was lined with cars pulling small trailers.  People are here to see leaves in autumn splendor.  According to the weather channel, northern Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire are already at peak.  That also accounts for the crazy prices at motels and restaurants.
Last night we heard a hiker say. "Maine is a have and have not state."  I think that's true of many areas of the country, unfortunately, but as we drove, we noticed ever so many signs at the ends of driveways--Camp Wood for Sale.  Individuals were selling small armload bundles for $2.00 or $3.00 each.

The Waldo-Hancock
Memorial Bridge looks
almost like a sculpture
in the sky.

"Trying to make a few dollars," said Andy, "but it also could be a result of the ash bore.  Wood cannot be transported, so campers who want fires are forced to buy wood locally."
We crossed the new Waldo-Hancock Memorial Bridge. The sign in the observation pullout said it had been named "the most beautiful steel bridge in America."  However, the reference was to 1931, the old green bridge, closed to traffic and removed in 2006.  Regardless, this one is striking.
As we crossed the Penobscot River, I spotted a huge concrete structure on a point upriver. "That looks like an old fort," I told Andy.
"Yup," he joked, "probably Fort Knox."
"Oh yeah, very funny.  Haha!" I snickered.
We crossed the river and read the entry sign--Fort Knox State Park.  A guard house charged admission.  We kept driving.

Curtis Island Lighthouse on an island in the bay
warns boats of the rocky shoreline.

In Camden we found the overlook for the Curtis Island Lighthouse out on an island in Camden Harbor.  A trail led to the water from the intersection of Bay View Street and Beacon Avenue.  It was a well-to-do area of really nice homes and only a short walk to the water.
Main Street Camden bustled with activity--beautiful hanging baskets of flowers, small neatly kept shops, lovely views of the harbor.  "This is a classy town."  Andy said, "No Wal-Mart, no K-Mart, no Target."

Temperatures reach into
the 70's at Rockport
Harbor Park on the water.

Rockport Harbor Park provided the best view of Indian Island Light, a tiny blip of a white tower on the horizon far out to sea. But in the park we saw the old lime kilns from the 1800's that were used to prepare the limestone from 15 area quarries for plaster board and grout in New York City buildings.

The Rockland Breakwater Lighthouse attracts walkers and
tourists alike on this warm September day.

A statue to Andre the Harbor Seal remembered the Honorary Rockport Harbor Master, born in 1961, abandoned on one of the islands and raised in Rockport where visitors enjoyed his antics in the harbor.
The Rockland Breakwater Lighthouse required a two-mile walk out and back on the gigantic granite boulders of the breakwater in the harbor.  "That's built for permanence," said Andy.  "It protects Rockland and Rockport."

A mile of granite slabs as a breakwater sets the lighthouse
 apart from the mainland coast.

A popular spot, the flat surfaces made walking easy, but uneven stone and irregular spaces between the rocks challenged my focus.  I watched each step for two miles.  Waves lapped on both sides, and with the tide high, the water in places was only about ten inches below our feet.

Not to be disturbed by my
camera, this cormorant
poses in style.

               Cormorants aired their wings on the rocks, lobster men washed their boats as they came home from the day's catch, and a couple two-masted schooners sailed by.  At 2:00 p.m., as we returned, the temperature hit 78 degrees... in Maine... in late September.

A volunteer guide at Owls Head Light
welcomes us to the tower.

Owls Head Light, run by the Coast Guard, contains a 1,000-watt bulb that reflects from a #5 Fresnel lens, installed in 1856.  The light can be seen 20 miles out to sea.  Here, for $1.00 each we were invited to climb the metal rung ladder to the top and feel the heat of the lens.  The view of the bay was spectacular, but tourists were banned from the outside walkway for safety reasons.

Marshall Point Light extends far out on
the rock point of Port Clyde.

At low tide we step from stone to stone around
the tower at Marshall Point.

The Marshall Point Light in the town of Port Clyde was originally built in 1832 and reconstructed in 1858.  It gained fame after being used in the movie Forrest Gump.  The last lighthouse keeper donated the house, now a museum and shop, connected to the 25-foot white granite light tower by a long ramp.

Barnacle-covered lava offers
excellent footing on the damp seaweed.

Late in the day at low tide, we carefully stepped far out on the barnacle-encrusted rocks to snap pictures with the sun behind us.  In short sleeves we studied the tide pools and crisscrossed the black lava rocks. It was a wonderful day to be outside in Maine.

Muscles, clams and barnacles
live in the tide pools at low tide.

Andy did his good deed for the day at Denny's.  We had three coupons about to expire.  He gave one to a couple of elderly ladies in the parking lot before we went in the restaurant.  After dinner, he gave another to a mother and two children sitting next to us.  "They won't do me any good," he explained.  "They are going to expire in two days. Enjoy a few dollars off."  The hostess didn't seem to mind at all!

Vesper Hill Chapel far out on Beauchamp Point
us a place of quiet beauty and serenity.

After dinner we looked for the Vesper Hill Chapel on Beauchamp Point. An open air place of meditation, this outdoor chapel was dedicated to youth who needed a place to think and recover spiritually.  Surrounded by flowers and huge old pine trees, Vesper Hill overlooked the ocean and by 6:30 p.m. was almost enveloped in darkness.

TRIP #5, 2014--In for a Treat

In for a Treat

In the morning sun the clear water of Jordan Pond reflects
the colors of autumn on the shoreline.

This morning two cruise ships had anchored in Frenchman's Bay. Bar Harbor will be jammed with people.  We'll stay away for a while today.
Andy read that Acadia National Park was rated the #1 national park by U.S.A. Today readers.  Attendance here equals that of Yellowstone, but the park covers much less acreage--only about 35,000 acres compared to Yellowstone's two million acres.  Both can boast beautiful fall colors, but Yellowstone probably has snow by now.  We're hiking in sweatshirts, even though the chill is setting in.

The hike around Jordan features
beautiful colors and gorgeous scenery.

Our first hike was the Jordan Pond Path, a 3.3-mile loop all the way around Jordan Pond, for beautiful views of the water--the area's drinking supply, and the Bubbles--Les Boob-les Mountains, in the distance.

As we round Jordan Pond on the 3.3-mile trail,
twin hills called The Bubbles rise in the distance.

From the parking lot, we took the right fork, a trail of packed earth and crushed stone that followed the contour of the pond.  Felled birch trees gave evidence of beaver, and a beaver house right by the bank suggested recent habitation. A bough with fresh red maple leaves fluttered from near the top of the pile.  We rounded the far end of the pond, crossed the bridge and entered the field of scree, jagged broken rocks left by the wearing down of a granite mountain.  With a slower pace and some balancing, we made our way to the boardwalk.  "This is the longest boardwalk I've ever been on," said Andy. Planks of halved trees bolted next to each other extended for a mile back to the start.  Walking was easy, except when planks shifted slightly under the weight of bodies.  But the views of the water and autumn-tinged mountains were stunning.
When we pulled off the road into a graveled parking lot that overlooked Seal Harbor, a stranger said, "You are in the a treat!"

The Terrace Trail to
Thuya Lodge offers gorgeous
views of the harbor below.

Part way up a steep stone path and natural stairway, another stranger said, "You are so lucky. Just wait for what is ahead."
The path led to Thuya Garden and Thuya Lodge, high on the rocky slope, wooded with northern white cedar and overlooking the bay.  The home belonged to Joseph H. Curtis, a Civil War veteran and a Boston landscape architect and engineer, who spent his summers in Northeast Harbor from 1880 until he died in 1928. Without living progeny, he left the property to the residents of the town of Mount Desert. Interpretive

Guide Ellen shows us around Joseph Curtis'
home, the Thuya Lodge, completed in 1916.

Guide Ellen invited us in to Thuya Lodge, the rustic home on the hillside.  Completed in 1916, the house is just as Mr. Curtis left it, with the Terrace Trail he designed to traverse the hillside from the harbor.  Unknowingly, we had just climbed it.
Ellen explained that Curtis had left the property in the care of his friend Charles K. Savage, the grandson of the man who had originally sold him the 140 acres.  A life-long resident of Northeast Harbor and a gifted landscape designer, Savage renovated two upstairs rooms to accommodate his growing library of botanical and horticultural books, added a landing in the harbor and an orchard, and created the magnificent Thuya Garden, a semi-formal herbaceous English garden, now also a Monarch Butterfly Way Station.
"I'm ready to move in," said Andy.  "This house is just gorgeous--not big or ostentations, just wonderful."
He wasn't kidding.  Ellen described it as "warm, inviting, livable," and she was a gracious hostess.

Upstairs, the rustic hillside Thuya Lodge home shows
the influence of horticulturist Charles K. Savage.

We browsed in the rooms and marveled at the 30-foot beamed ceilings and dark stained, wood-board tongue-in-groove walls.  "Mr. Curtis probably scaled back his original plans," said Ellen.  "He started the house, his wife died in 1915, and he finished construction in 1916.  He was also pre-deceased by his only son."  Ellen said Andy was not the first person today to want to move in.
"The house breathes," she said, "but it has no insulation.  It's only a summer home.  Mr. Curtis extended his season here with four fireplaces."

Monarch butterflies lite on flowers
in the Thuya Garden.

The Thuya Garden was as much a joy as the lodge.

Thuya Garden blooms in the brilliant colors of autumn.

A designated Monarch Butterfly Way Station, the garden bloomed in every imaginable color.  "How can all these flowers live in Maine in late September?" I wondered.  But it was the kinds of flowers all planted in full sun patches:  zinnias and asters, dahlias and Lisianthus and unusual blossoms like Actaea simplex that Andy especially admired.  He even made plans for a flower garden in our yard. Monarchs landed on the blossoms and stretched their wings, folding and unfolding delicately.  Fragrance permeated the air, and bees had a field day.  This is a place of sheer beauty.

Bright sun explains why these
flowers can grow in Maine.

"I promised you coffee," said Andy, as we walked Thuya Drive for the mile back to Little Red.  He kept his promise in grand style with fresh blueberry turnovers at Colonel's Landing, a restaurant and bakery in Northeast Harbor.
Asticou Azalea Garden, built by Charles Savage at the same time as Thuya, had a very different character.

Asticou Azalea Garden,
also designed by Savage,
reveals a very different flavor.

Just as gorgeous, this showcase incorporated Japanese style with flowering bushes, reflecting pools and raked white sand rock gardens.

Asticou incorporates Japanese rock garden techniques.

                  The final hike of the day took us to the top of Flying Mountain at 284 feet.  The 1.5-mile loop trail wound through white cedar woodlands to two granite overlooks that opened on views of Somes Sound.  "I think we took the better way," said Andy, as we descended 149 log steps and a whole lot of rocks and tree roots back to the parking lot.  I had shed my sweatshirt; Andy had left his at the car.  At 4:15 p.m. the temperature on the bank in Southwest Harbor read 66 degrees.
Andy appeased me.  We had seen some creative projects with sea shells at Northeast Harbor. So at 4:30 p.m. he agreed to drive back to Seawall Picnic Area in Wonderland to collect shells.  Timing was perfect; it was low tide.  But to avoid the traffic jam from road construction in town, we circled the island to return to Bar Harbor.  No crisis!  It was our last night here.

From Flying Mountain we look out on Somes Sound.

We made two observations as we returned to Bar Harbor on route #102:        1. Trees are definitely changing.  Hardwoods and undergrowth show lots more yellow and orange now.  2. Maine roads need a great deal of attention.  Little Red took all the bumps and bangs in stride... or more accurately in shock absorbers.
Our evening ended with a return to the Dog and Pony Tavern in downtown Bar Harbor with great food like barbequed chicken flatbread, relaxed atmosphere and wonderful service. Whoever said retirement wasn't the life!