Day Five: Mountains, surf, and kits.

We awoke today with the clouds back where they should be - in the sky. No more fog covering the sound. The forecast said showers were possible but it was a beautiful day. Clouds were moving in and out but weren't thick and ominous. I am so glad Amy loaned me her sleeping blinders so that the 5am sundid not wake me. I slept until 8am and it was lovely.

Our perfect life would include starting every morning out with coffee and diet pepsi with good books and a peaceful, beautiful view. On this trip we have it: We sit out on the porch, reading and occaisionally watching lobster boats troll by. Today, I was reading Jaqueline Winspear's Elegy for Eddie, Amy was reading Wonderstruck by Brian Selznik, and Mark read the Bible and The History of Mt Desert Island.  When we finally decided to get going, we headed out to climb the "mountain" that we have been looking at from our porch all week. The two moutains are Parkman and Bald Mountain, and the trail was rated "moderate." I agree that most of the trail was moderate, but a good part was also positively strenuous. You had to scramble up and down rock faces, and there was one area was so treacherous they had installed an iron handle for safety. It was adventurous. It was exciting. It was painful.

However, it seems as though every hike in Acadia has a great payoff. We were afforded magnificent views of the sound, surrounding lakes, and the ocean. The higher we climbed, the better the views became. The trails themselves are not long - our hike today was only about 2.5 miles, but since you spent a good bit of time climbing straight up, it took a while.

 Rock cairns or blue blazes marked the trails. The erstwhile visitor's center had signs warning against creating random cairns which would mislead flatlanders like us.

I have evidentally developed a squint.

Notice how almost all the pictures have me bringing up the rear. Eventually they just put me in front to keep track of me.

I started hiking with my youth group waaaay back in the 70's and early 80's and during that time had some pretty amazing experiences. It's hard for me to hike a trail without flashbacks of 500 pound backpacks, the tramp of 2 dozen pairs of dusty feet, freeze dried food, and toasty toes around the campfire at night. We climbed Mt. Whitney one year (14,400 ft) and experienced canoeing and rock climbing as well. My minimum comfort level has skyrocketed since that time, and staying in a cottage with a view and taking short day hikes is more my style. But as Mark and Amy waited for me to catch up or catch my breath, as my knees and muscles complained, I was very aware of how many years have passed since those days. It is an odd experience. I still feel like that 18 year old who thought she could do anything.  The year we hiked Whitney, there was an elderly lady with a hiking stick and a 60-something companion doing the same trail we were. Our entire group stepped to the side of the trail so the two hikers could pass on the narrow trail. The elderly lady's companion announced to our whole group, every couple of feet or so, "she's 89!" It wouldn't have taken much more than a strong gust of wind to blow her off the mountain, but there she was. She hiked that trail every year (so said her publicist and right hand hiker). I did not come from a family of hikers, and I am forever grateful to the Dick Alexanders and Mike Farra's of my life who helped me experience the challenge of a tough climb and the thrill of a still mountain lake. I don't have much hope that I'll be hiking Whitney at 89, but I never want to lose the ability to experience the quiet of a mountain top, the cry of hawks above you, and time spent observing such beauty with people you love. People who forget about beauty die way before they are in the ground.

A little "where's waldo" for you - can you spot me?

Our hike today had two summits - we first crested Parkman, and felt quite accomplished since the last section of trail really was vertical ascent. We had a lunch there, and took our time taking in the almost 360 degree views. Then Mark asked if we wanted to go ahead and do Bald Mountain as well - it was only .2 of a mile away. Sure, why not? That's hardly any distance at all! What we didn't know was that in that distance you went straight down, and then straight back up. Ugh. But there were even better views from Bald Mountain. It was completely worth it.

Ok, what does it mean that Amy and I are holding our hands the exact same way? Mark, don't answer that.

These were teeny tiny - maybe 1/4 inch long each.

This view looks out to the Atlantic Ocean

 Altitude does strange things to people. Oh, wait. We were only at 1000 feet.

Amy is laughing because everytime she turns around to see if I've fallen off the mountain,

 I take her picture. 

These are about a 1/2 inch across - I was thinking of putting something next to them for scale, but then saw the ant in the picture. There's some scale for you.

 Right down behind this sign on the left hand side of the sound is our cottage. This sign lets you know that Parkman Mountain is 961 feet in elevation. Peanuts, right? YOU try going 961 feet straight up. I have no problem calling this hill a mountain now. Below, our cabin. See it?

Mark had hiked Acadia Mountain last evening on his own in the rain, and it was even more steep than today's climb. When he got to the top, it was fogged in. Not so, today. The top of Bald Mountain was spectacular and the sun came out a little and expanded our vista. We had very good views of our little cottage on the other side of the sound, and were able to see the old rock quarry we had heard about near the cottage.

After hiking back down to the car (which we somehow did with our knees still functioning) we headed to the coast to see the thunder hole at higher tide. There is something about just sitting and listening to the waves pound the coast that is hypnotic. The tide was indeed higher than last time we were there, and most people were keeping their distance. We camped on a rock for 20 or 30 minutes and just soaked in the sun and watched the ocean. I grew up with waves curling and flattening out on the sandy beaches of Southern California. These waves were much different - sneaking up on the rocky coast and smashing at the coastline with fury. I can see why people gather at the shore when a storm is brewing. It is hypnotic.

This artist had a wonderful location for his painting. I want to be him when I grow up.

 It is impossible to capture the power of the sea. Just a few days ago at low tide we were able to rock hop quite a ways out where today it was covered in churning water. It was a completely different experience today.

As we began our way back to the cottage, I realized that I did have a few regrets for the day. Although we were well prepared with sunblock and bug spray, neither of those items made it with us for our hike. And so of course I am sunburned and bug bitten - and as I look in the mirror, I don't think my anti-aging cream is going to be able to take care of this. It's probably written in tiny print on the anti-aging cream that frying your face in the sun voids their product guarantees. And then there's my unfortunate sandal tan . . .

On the way back we saw this lighthouse and I took 15 million pictures trying to get one to work.

We also went out of our way for a "Nature Center" only to find it was about the size of my living room and it was closed. Only open on weekends. Thanks a lot! They did at least have some pretty ferns.

This evening we saw a fox (or foxes) and four kits near our cottage. We knew there had been a red fox around the cabin but had seen nothing more than a white tipped tail disappearing into the woods. As Mark drove back from the store this evening he saw the whole family and came to get us to take a look. We were able to walk right up to the area where they were playing and take some pictures. Mom and Dad Fox were more skittish but didn't seem concerned that their kits were playing and romping right in front of us.

Tomorrow the goal is to go biking. The entire National Park is criss crossed with 45 miles of carriage roads, built by John D. Rockefeller. They were built so that people could have "the perfect park experience." These beautifully kept trails are as wide as roads and paved with a small tight gravel. Motorized vehicles are not allowed on the trails, and so they are preserved for hiking, biking, and horseback riding. They are also popular cross-country skiing trails in winter. Bike shops rent bikes and bike racks so that you can take your bikes wherever you wish to go within the park. We can't wait! It is supposed to be a little cool tomorrow and we may have a little rain, but we are undeterred. For tonight, it's jacuzzi on the porch and getting our legs in shape for another day of activity in paradise.