TRIP #5, 2014--See Summit to Sea

See Summit to Sea
"Forty percent chance of showers in Ellsworth this morning," announced the weatherman at 8:00 a.m. when we returned to the room after breakfast. I could hear the cloudburst as I turned in the key and checked out.  And by 9:00 a.m., as we drove towards the Schoodic Peninsula, the downpour steadily beat on Little Red's roof.
"She's leaking again," I told Andy.  I stuffed Kleenex and napkins into the molding above my window.   Quickly the pieces saturated.  When I reached up to take them down, the cold stream ran down my arm.  Wake up call!

At the top of Schoodic Head
we follow the trail
out to the overlook.

"It's only water," joked Andy, but he wasn't getting wet.  We parked at the Frenchman Bay Scenic Overlook, and the dripping got worse.  It was finally high tide when we were sitting by the ocean in daylight, and we couldn't see a thing!
By 10:15 a.m., when we crossed the channel to Acadia National Park, Schoodic Peninsula, the rain had stopped and a couple patches of blue sky broke through.  "I think we'll just drive the six miles around the peninsula and come back to the start," said Andy.  "It's supposed to clear.  Maybe that will give it enough time."
At the top of the drive on Schoodic Head (440 feet), the gravel road and summit trail were completely dry.  We climbed the quarter-mile loop over granite outcroppings covered with grey and multi-shaded green lichens, around blueberry patches, and under balsam fir boughs. A little sun poked out temporarily, but the overcast sky melded into the grey ocean in the distance.

The sun comes out as we
climb along the rocky
shorelines.

"I'm guessing," mused Andy, "but I think parts of the Maine Coast aren't developed because people don't have access to fresh water.  The rock inhibits deep wells, and shallow ones get contaminated with salt."
Lower shores of the Schoodic Peninsula were damp from rain, but color had spread across the forest floor in a stunning array of yellows, reds and oranges. As we came to the first beach stop, the sky promised to clear.  A sea gull landed near the pebble beach and waited for the sun.

Gulls welcome us with noisy chatter.

                       A sea gull rookery near the water's edge attracted lots of visitors, both avian and human.  Huge shelves of pink granite and black slate jutted into the water, and the tide was low enough for us to scramble from ledge to boulder and back.  Waves crashed and sprayed in every direction.

Waves crash as we scramble over the exposed granite cliffs.

"I could stay for a long time," I said, following Andy as fast as I could.  I guess the gulls thought so too.  They called to each other in a cacophony of nature.  One even posed and then stood, shook his tail feathers and took off.

Wild flowers find a foothold in
protected rock crevices.

"We never saw this Point when we were here in 1971," said Andy.  "It was a very dreary day then, and the Point was closed as a Coast Guard base."  Now we know what we were missing.

Down at the water
a strong breeze whips
across the barren rock.

Back up on top the scenery looks
very different under a blue sky.

Along the road around the Peninsula, we could see the shoreline shelves of pink granite.  "Finally blue sky without the mud flats of low tide!"  Andy heaved a sigh of relief, as I snapped a picture just outside the window. It had cleared to give us gorgeous views by noon.
The first non-native resident of Fraser Point was Thomas Fraser, a freed Black man who lived here with his wife and seven children in the 1790's. He set up a salt works near the mouth of Fraser Creek.
We took the same gravel road and foot trail to the top of Schoodic Head. Again, we were the sole visitors, but this time we had a panorama of blue sky.  Walking over the bald lichen-covered granite to the lookout was almost hot, in spite of the breeze.  We took the same pictures, amazed at what two-and-a-half hours could do.  But we were even more amazed when we turned around to head back to Little Red.  A white mist blew in around us; we stood in a cloud, and suddenly the scenic distance disappeared.  It all happened in five minutes.

The grey moves in and
mists Schoodic Head.

Tinges of color in the
undergrowth show
autumn is on the way.

Down on the beach again, the receding tide had uncovered an island.  As the fog rolled in, we picked our way across the wet seaweed and partly dried stones to the now accessible land.  As I took pictures, Andy called from behind a granite boulder mass."Look what I found!"  He had a red and white lobster buoy in perfect condition.
At another point he picked up a nearly brand new hat and an old plastic bottle.  "I do my part," he said.  "Did you know that a plastic bottle lasts 100 years and a glass bottle, if it isn't smashed, can last up to a million years!"

Spectacular rock beaches surround the
Schoodic Peninsula.

That certainly ought to make people think about littering.  The sun came in and out as we picked our way over the millions of smooth stones.  Tiny black spiders scurried away under our feet.  They had certainly chosen a scenic place to live.
Bar Harbor Cellars on Mount Desert Island gave free wine tasting.  We tried nine samples each from a mild refreshing Riesling to a sweet Apple Raspberry.  The fruit wines were particularly delicious.
After checking in at the motel and settling down in the room for the next few days, we headed into Bar Harbor to explore the village. "Do you remember any of this?" asked Andy.  What had been a quaint village in 1971 was a bustling tourist business that even attended to a daily cruise ship in the harbor.  People crowded the sidewalks and jammed the doorways of the small shops nestled between huge hotels.  We looked around.  We have four days to shop and check out the town.