Bar Harbor-Barred No More

Spruce Harbor Chalet-Frenchman Bay

Last summer, due to COVID, my beloved state of Maine wouldn’t have us. But this year the lobsters were awaiting us with open claws. 

Skipping stones at Bar Island

We started our planning late and as a result, could only find a Bar Harbor waterfront cottage for five nights. But then we got a big bonus. Our son Franky, who lives in Berkeley, was starting his one month ‘fire season vacation’ on the very day of our arrival and met us at the airport in Bangor. What a gift. He’s an artist, a hiker, an outdoorsman, a swimmer, a reader, a cinephile, a spiritual seeker, and a card. He made me laugh so hard I was bent over in pain. 

Are we at the top yet? North Ridge Trail

I had heard that Mika Brzezinski, who is broadcasting Morning Joe from Bar Harbor this summer, runs up Cadillac Mountain every day after the show. I thought I would emulate Mika, but I would walk instead of run. I envisioned walking up Cadillac Summit Road which gently winds up to the 1522-foot summit. But Darr and Franky envisioned something else—hiking (a harder variant of walking) the North Ridge Trail to the summit which involved steep inclines, ankle rolling on rocks, and quite a bit of panting. We didn’t make it quite to the top, but close enough to feel accomplished. This 4.4-mile round trip took close to three hours, and had slyly been marked “difficult” in one part of the guide book and misleadingly “moderate” in another. 

 Wonderland Trail 

The next day we spent on the “quiet side” of the island in Southwest Harbor where we took easier hikes on the Wonderland Trail and the Ship Harbor Trail. The scenic payoffs of these trails equaled or surpassed those on Cadillac Mountain. Here, after walking through the fir-lined forests, we were treated to beautiful pink granite rocks, views of the ocean to infinity, cool ocean breezes from our pink promontories, and the ultimate reward afterwards—lobster rolls on the dock at Thurston for Lobster. 

Harvest Moon Shore Path

We were lucky enough to be in Bar Harbor during the full Harvest moon which we saw from the Shore Path. Terrifying in its immensity and illumination, shiny and other worldly, soothing and reassuring. The creatures of the deep could get no rest that night. 

Lobsters at home

Between the three of us we had lobster in six forms: lobster roll, lobster stew, lobster melt, lobster Caesar salad, steamed lobster, and a lobster made up of blueberry syrup to accompany cheesecake. We had clam chowder, we had fried clams, we never had ‘steamahs.’ The cottage user’s guide encouraged us to have a dinner of mussels that we could pick off the rocks of our very own shoreline. We never did, it seemed too arduous for a vacation. So I have no mussel memory. 

Sunrise from the cottage

Our house was a simple rustic A-frame with a broad deck and a sweeping view 50 feet above Frenchman Bay. There were 67 steps down to the shore. The bedrooms were tiny, but it was cozy and well stocked and perfectly located, only 6 minutes to Acadia National Park and 10 minutes to Bar Harbor. There we had great dinners at Gayln’s and the West Street Café. We had fairly good dinners at the Chart Room and the Black Friar Inn and Pub. MDI Ice Cream is still the best. Lunch is good at the Side Street Café, and by all means have the popovers at Jordan Pond House. Air has never tasted so good.  

It's not cold, it's bracing

If there is anything I am proud of as a mother it is our early introduction of the boys to lobsters and to Sonoran Mexican food, both of which they have embraced in a tight hug. But during summers in Maine I also introduced them to the benefits of the cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Franky took the note and ran with it. One morning he sneaked down the 67 stairs and had a bracing swim in the Bay. Another day he and I spent some time at Sand Beach and enjoyed the thrilling aftermath of a Maine dip. Franky swam, went underwater with his feet straight up dolphin-like, and came out discussing his oneness with 71% of the Earth’s surface. The water temperature was 56 degrees. So refreshing, life affirming, salty, healing. I know, most of you will just have to take my word for it. The cottage “user’s guide” advised us that “most people do not swim in salt water without wet suits.” Bwah! 

Camden State Park

We took a little day trip to Camden, a perfect picture postcard of a place. We had a delightful lunch at the Camden Deli and left with a whole Maine blueberry pie which we endeavored to consume in the next two days. Let the teeth whitening begin. Franky was impressed by the fact that a place as beautiful as Camden was such a short drive from the stunningly beautiful Bar Harbor. I think he was catching onto the full concentration of beauty that is Maine’s rocky coastline. It’s not like being in Tucson where you have to drive 6 hours to find the next beautiful place, Sedona. (Sorry Phoenix, Glendale, Prescott. Sorry, not sorry.) 

Skylight in the bedroom

But Maine is like that. Just when you’ve been awed by Kennebunkport you find out there’s Booth Bay Harbor, just when you’ve been dazzled by Ogunquit you find Biddeford Pool, just when you’ve ferried to Vinalhaven, you discover Chebeague Island. And so on. We are so lucky to have the state of Maine, and I hope Maine feels the same way about having us.

A Maine moment