So, revelation number one: I'm alive! Haven't been here in a while, I know. Revelation number two: I got to somewhere!
This was a long time coming, folks. Tony and I haven't had any time off together since we hit up Europe back in August of 2012. So when Tony called one day during a break at work and told me he'd figured out we could take nearly a week off to go somewhere, it was cause for celebration. At that point I didn't even care where we were going, just that we needed to GO.
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| Home sweet home, from Tues night to Sun morning. |
Things got even better when we decided to go somewhere new for me, but somewhere familiar and beloved for Tony: Acadia National Park, on Mount Desert Island, Maine. And so it was that on a Tuesday afternoon, after Tony's students had been dismissed, we found ourselves Maine-bound. Since we didn't cross the Maine border until around 10 PM, I didn't get a good look at the place; we drove over the water to Mount Desert Island without even knowing it, and when we found our way to the campground and our site, we pitched our tent assisted by our car headlights around 1:30 AM; when those were switched off, we were engulfed in the deepest blackness I've ever seen until we woke up in our tent at Blackwoods Campground the following morning. We were awakened by the grating sounds of what was either a crow or the three-eyed raven, come to lead us north of the wall. Either way, we woke up in Maine.
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| Fog obscuring the treetops at Sand Beach |
It had drizzled during the night, so we emerged Wednesday morning into a soft, pine-scented, damp world. The thick layer of fallen needles absorbed the sounds of our few neighbors, and with no fire to warm us, the morning was especially cold. We decided to drive into Bar Harbor for coffee and breakfast, and so my first impressions of Maine were of the mountains cloaked in fog, the roadways streaked black with damp. A flash of white, and suddenly an eagle was in sight, landing on the rocks above a small pond; I knew then that we were somewhere wild. In Bar Harbor we found a coffee shop clearly catering to locals but welcoming campers. After bagels and coffee we drove back toward camp until we found the entrance to Park Loop Road, which, as you might guess, circles the main part of Acadia. The fog hid most of the views; and then it began to rain. Undeterred, we decided to don our rain gear and climb our first mountain, Gorham. Lo, by the time we reached its peak, the fog was beginning to roll away, and the first rays of sun we'd seen all day kissed our grateful, dampened cheeks. We decided to eat the snacks we'd packed and see if the weather improved. We shed a layer of clothing, chewed, and waited.
And then...the first sight of blue water.
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| The view from Gorham Mountain, after fog had rolled away. |
The view showed me not just how far we'd climbed, but also why Tony had been so anxious to bring me here. He's what he calls a "ridgerunner," raised in the foothills and rocky ledges of the Pocono mountains. I grew up in the Chesapeake Bay watershed, never far from a bay or river, and splashing in fresh and salt water for much of the year. Acadia has the mountains and the rocks, and the blue, blue ocean. It was the best of both worlds, an essence of each one of us, combined into one.
A fitting metaphor, considering that we're getting married, don't you think? Oh yeah, that's one of the many things to happen since I last blogged ;-)
In my coming posts I'll go into more detail about the trails we climbed, the places we ate, our campground accommodations, and our too-short stay in the Camden/Rockport area. But for now, I'll sum up our trip with just a few words and phrases: Dark skies. Quiet. Mountains. The ocean. The sun on your freshly freckled face.
What could be better?
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