TRIP #5, 2014--Autumn Signs In

Autumn Signs In
First full day of fall, and up here in Maine the leaves are turning.  It's not cold outside, but it's damp, much like an Oregon day on the other coast.
Andy said, "I read last night that they get lots of fog here."

Fog blankets the shore,
obscuring the Bass
Harbor Head Lighthouse.

"So this morning we are seeing what is typical," I answered.  The world was socked in a white cloud.  There's hope though.  It's early in the day.
We also noticed For Sale signs everywhere.  The recession must have hit this area particularly hard.  "But they are not giving things away," said Andy.  "I looked at the real estate books last night."
There were lots of signs of land for sale, as well.
 A red squirrel ran across the road in front of us in Pretty Marsh, a picnic area in the woods.

Ship Harbor Trail follows
the rugged coastline.

The Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse, constructed in 1858, cost about $4800 to build.  The land then was $80, purchased to build a lighthouse to protect shipping interests from the dangerous rocky coastline.  The light, although automated and managed now by the Coast Guard, has never gone out.  "We'll come back if the sun comes out," suggested Andy, after we had descended three banks of old wooden stairs and clambered over granite rocks.
"But fog is the purpose of lighthouses," I answered.  This one was definitely fulfilling its purpose.  The light flashed red, and the fog horn blasted in the distance.  We were surprised how many people were out at 9:00 a.m.
Ship Harbor Trail, a generous 1.3-mile loop, wound around a bay with moss-covered forest and blueberry patches.  Up and down the trail gently climbed inland and then turned out toward the water.  There, the waves crashed and broke against the pink granite of little coves and shoreline.

Sunshine and clearing skies create a
beautiful scene at the lighthouse.

Wonderland Trail followed a straight line of forest on a peninsula for 1.4 miles out to the point and back.  "We took this trail many years ago," said Andy.  There were lots of short side trails out to the water.  "I think this is what we are going to get all day," said Andy about the fog.  But no sooner had he said it than a small patch of blue opened up before us."Eat your words!" I joked with him, and the whole sky changed to blue.
"We're going back to the lighthouse! Come on!" he exclaimed.  It was a four-minute drive, and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity.

Artists and photographers capture the perspectives.

At noon the Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse was a popular place.  Couples held hands to make their way across boulders, photographers set up tripods and adjusted for the light, and artists with easels dabbed away with oil paints.  The contrast to early morning visitors was amazing.  We scrambled out toward the crashing waves as far as we could go, me grabbing Andy's hand for dear life and balancing the camera.  Surefooted?  NOT!  but he got me there safely for some beautiful shots of the lighthouse and shoreline.

In all weather the Bass Harbor Head
Lighthouse protects ships from
the rocky Maine coastline.

Seawall Picnic area was a low-lying rocky beach. 
We pulled in right on the stones next to 10 or 15 other cars, but the area was so expansive there was "private" beach for everyone.  Andy found another lobster buoy, and I looked for sea shells and caught some digital waves breaking. "The tide is going out," said Andy.  "Can you imagine what those waves are like when the tide is coming in!"  The sea gulls scolded, apparently delighted to see us leave.

Far below us from the ledge on St.
Sauveur Mountain we can see islands
in the Somes Fjord.

"Southwest Harbor will be our coffee stop," said Andy.  He didn't count on the prices at Little Notch Bakery though.  Two small coffees and two blueberry pastry pockets were $14.00.  "That's worse than New York City," he said, bringing the goodies to the outdoor table I had reserved for us.

Temperatures warm to the low 70's
in the afternoon.

St. Sauveur Mountain (679 feet) afforded a challenging afternoon climb from sea level.  "That was some workout," Andy said, as we made it back to the car.  "I was more concerned coming down because down is more dangerous."  He was right, but the two-hour trek was well worth our efforts.  The views from the trail out-croppings were stupendous.  Broad expanses of sheer granite gave us places to stop and admire the fjord more than 600 feet below.

Blueberry patches add swatches of color to the already
gorgeous landscape on St. Sauveur Mountain.

The roots, slippery pine needle-covered surfaces and huge rock chunks forces us to watch our steps, but the colors were amazing on this first full day of autumn.
"I could live there," commented Andy about the old Carroll Homestead, "even if it isn't by the water."
The old farm house, surrounded by haphazard stone walls just piled to clear fields, was buried in a wooded area.  We peeked in the windows and walked around the apple trees in the yard.
A mile or so away Echo Lake glistened in the afternoon sun.  A man in a wet suit paddle-boarded over the small waves.  "That takes some skill," said Andy, "and that water must be mighty cold."

Sailboats cruise along
Somes Fjord in the
afternoon breeze.

At 4:00 p.m. we took Sergeant Drive around Northeast Harbor for views of Somes Sound.  It's the only true fjord, an inlet carved by a glacier and flooded by the sea, on the American eastern seaboard.  Somes Sound is as much as 150 feet deep, so it never empties, even at low tide.
In the last two days fall has painted the silver maples and blueberry patches with shades of deep red.  Maybe it was the chill of the cold front or the shorter days or just the late afternoon sun, but we suddenly see a big difference as the slight tinges of yellow become gold here and there.

From Schooner Head Overlook the waves crash on rock
outcroppings as the tide comes in.

After dinner in Bar Harbor we drove to Schooner Head Overlook as the setting sun cast last rays on the jut of land.  The incoming tide sent waves crashing over boulders along the coast.  They broke in white bursts and sent spray high into the air before rolling in to shore.  It was a steep walk down to the rock cliffs below, but the well-worn path indicated many others before us had enjoyed sunsets looking out at Schooner Head.

Andy scrambles up the rock ledges
that overlook Schooner Head.

Downtown Bar Harbor was considerably quieter than last night.  All the cruise ships had left.  We walked around town again.

As the sun goes down, the wind picks up
in the harbor at Bar Harbor.

Most visitors were bundled for winter in coats and scarves, but I guess I can't blame these tourists from warmer country.  Wind gusts of as much as 40 m.p.h. blasted the pier, and boats rocked in the harbor.  Clouds again moved in, chasing away the day's high of 72 degrees and letting us know that winter was on the way.