Bar Harbor, Fish-Eyed by Accident
30 May 2017 (posted 2 June 2017)
Bar Harbor has cleared out. The hotel has cleared out. There's nobody at the Looking Glass. The weather is perfect for a bike ride: dry, sunny, not much wind, and maybe 60 degrees.
The tide is out again.
I think this is Cadillac Mountain on the left and Dorr on the right.
Back in grad school I learned about beach ecology and how the prevailing wind shapes the trees. It's obvious here too.
I've come up with a route that will put me on a carriage road near the hotel. I'll wind my way south past Eagle Lake to Jordan Pond, and from there I'll get on Park Loop Road. If I feel like it, I'll go up the mountain. I've downloaded the route into the $500 Piece of Shit. I've also hand-written a cue sheet because I don't trust the $500 POS.
The hotel is at the top of a long, steep driveway. I coast down and immediately turn up the next road, onto a hill. It is here that I realize that I've forgotten to inflate my tires. At home I always do that the night before a ride. This time I forgot. I wonder what pressure I'm running. 110 psi minus a month, whatever that is. On the road, I feel only a little mushy. The ride feels more like steel. Maybe I've been overinflating my tires all this time. Maybe 110 psi is too much for my girth. Well, the lower pressure will help me on the cinder path. I'll just have to be careful on tight turns and steer clear of potholes.
Riding on the carriage road is easier than I thought it would be on these 23 mm tires. I'm enjoying every second of this. I have achieved Bike Face.
The road isn't flat. There are low grades I don't notice at first. Not until I find myself high above Eagle Lake do I realize I've climbed at all.
The mountain between the trees might be one of the Bubbles.
I pass a little waterfall on my left.
At the foot of one of the Bubbles is a boulder field.
On my left is Jordan Pond.
Miraculously, the $500 POS and my cue sheet agree. I've successfully navigated myself all the way to the Jordan Pond house. But, oops. I've plotted a course that involves steps. (This happens a lot in my dreams.)
I'll take some pictures first.
Those are the Bubbles at the far end of Jordan Pond.
I know you're thinking it. Everyone does.
I carry Miss Piggy up the steps.
The asphalt of Park Loop Road feels good under my wheels.
I'm already climbing and I haven't yet reached the Cadillac Mountain road. The mountain is about 1500 feet above sea level. The mountain road climbs about 900 feet, which means I've already gone a third of the way up before the turn.
OK. Let's do this thing.
There isn't much wind at all. As for traffic, I practically have the road to myself. I drop into the granny gear and start to spin. It's three miles to the top and I don't plan to stop for pictures.
In the first mile, I come upon a woman on a hybrid, in sneakers, her helmet fastened to her handlebars, bless her heart. "You rock!" I tell her as I pull up next to her. "Girls aren't supposed to climb mountains!" She laughs and looks me over as I pass.
Beyond the shelter of the tall rocks, the road curves to the right steeply enough that all I see directly in front of me is road, a line of granite boulders, and the infinite beyond.
Two miles in and I'm starting to get tired. There's nothing for it but to keep going.
To my right now is a row of granite boulders and the infinite beyond. I sneak a peak at the valley.
Blork.
Not a good idea. Instead I amuse myself by looking at the license plates on the cars that pass me. Florida, Florida, Massachusetts, New Jersey (Hey!), Florida.
Are we there yet?
Around the bend there is more mountain, then the Blue Hill Overlook, and then I'm at the summit.
We did the thing.
Where's my photo-bombing boat at? Not here.
It's almost high tide.
I want to stop at the Blue Hill Overlook on the way down.
This is the not scary part of the descent.
When the road curved to the left and I was on the outside with only the row of rocks to keep me from falling off the edge of the universe, I started to feel a little queasy. This is the most frightening part of the descent. Last year I pulled over a couple of times; the wind was too strong and I was shaking. I don't have that excuse now. I'm tempted to clip out. I don't. Instead I move to the center of the road and feather the brakes. I hear a car behind me. I see in my mirror that it's from Florida. Maybe he's white-knuckling it too; there aren't any mountains like this one down there.
I don't even stop for pictures. (Instead, here's a doodle I drew back in the hotel room:
)Instead of continuing on Park Loop Road at the bottom of the mountain, I turned onto Paradise Hill Road and took that all the way to the end, a mile or so north of the hotel on Route 3. The $500 POS behaved itself the entire time. This is maybe the second or third perfect performance since I started using it in late December.
Below, clockwise from the top left: my Acadia National Park pass; the $500 POS; a carriage road map; and my hand-written cue sheet.
At lunch the Bar Harbor food weirdness continues.
I have a hankering for a Harbor Bar, so we stop in an old-fashioned drug store (it even has a soda fountain) and sit on a bench outside, sharing the mediocre mess. We're across from a building that's being restored.
This is what the center of town looks like after the Memorial Day crowd is gone.
I want to show Jack the place I went to on my last day here last year. I'm driving him to see the Egg Rock lighthouse off the coast of Schooner Head.
The late afternoon light is perfect for capturing the contours of the hills beneath Dorr Mountain.
At Schooner Head, we follow the path to the rocks.
Last year the air was hazy. I couldn't get a good focus on the lighthouse. Today I'm trying again. I take some pictures standing. I lie on my stomach on the rocks. I use Jack's tote bag as a makeshift tripod. I'm convinced that none of the pictures came out, but I don't bother to check. My hefty memory card is more than half full, so it takes forever to backtrack through the photographs.
As it turns out, they're all in focus.
Every
single
(and six more just like these).
Some rich bastard has spoiled the landscape:
We walk farther along the path.
A couple is standing above the cove, looking down at the stray lobster trap float. He's contemplating scrambling down to get it, thinking that his father would like it, but he doesn't have the nerve.
I do, and I fetch it for him. When I turn around, he's already walking away. Jack calls after him and he comes back. I give him the float and a piece of another that was stuck in the rocks. We figure we've done our duty to clean the beach, and he gets a souvenir.
One more picture, then we'll get back in the car and find some dinner.
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