Maine Stay

Schooner window box

In Maine at last with galpal Judy. Why have I deprived myself of this geographic super-food for four years?

Trying Bar Harbor this time, busting out of the Southern Maine routine. Bar Harbor is like a Maine concentrate. In one tiny package you find the essence of Maine, the air, the light, the architecture, the accent, the mellow, the still, the sea, the sea, the quiet, the cool.

Had my first Maine lobster last night at Galyn’s. The waiter asked me if it was my first rodeo with a lobster.  I wanted to say that I grew up in the rodeo, that it was my job to manage the rodeo clowns, to tame the crowds, to pick up the lobster leavings, and wrestle many a maverick lobster into boiling water.

Not my first lobster rodeo

Unbidden, a waitress explained the difference between soft shells and hard shells, the molting process, the fact that the tails are tougher because that is the lobster’s “muscle.” This was like explaining photosynthesis to a botanist.

View from  our room at The Bayview 

The Bayview, the loveliest of loveliest oceanside sites, is only one mile from “town.” There I discovered The Shore Path, a little zen strip for running. Acadia National Park awaits me, yoga at sunset, and other joys upon joys.

Shore Path

I have been here only 15 hours. Decompression strikes very fast in Maine. I will have to watch out for the bends.

Morning in Bar Harbor