"Gunk!"
12 June 2023
I decided we should drive over to Sieur de Monts to walk around the Wild Gardens of Acadia, then drive along Park Loop Road to the Jordan Pond House for lunch. We hadn't been to the pond in a few years. I also had to fulfill the quest for Elaine's special mugs.
The first thing we saw when we got to the gardens was a pair of frogs in a little pond.
I started walking down some of the paths that lead from the garden. I wasn't wearing hiking boots or my ankle brace; I wasn't planning to do anything serious. I was sort of scouting out where I'd go, maybe, later, by myself. The Emery and Homans Paths had stone stairs. We doubled back and wound up on the Hemlock Path, a wide, flat, gentle slope away from the springs.
We encountered a 3-sided structure with placards explainng that Acadia is well fucked by global warming.
And, of course, the hemlocks are succumbing to an invasive pest.
There was still evidence from the spring flood that had swamped the gardens all the way to the parking lot.
(I found this photo of the spring flood from the MD Islander; it's the view from the parking lot looking towards the Jesup Path:
.)This is the Emery Path.
We passed the end of the Jesup Path boardwalk through the Great Meadow.
This is Homan's Path.
This is the Hemlock Path, which is the one we took.
Where the Hemlock Path crosses the northern end of the Jesup Path, the Jesup section that goes to Park Loop Road was still closed from the spring flood. At the other end of this was where the park service was fixing the culvert so that this whole area doesn't flood again.
There was another 3-sided sign:
As we turned towards the Jesup Path boardwalk, a young woman in an electric wheelchair was leaving the path. This is why I like Acadia National Park so much. It's accessible to everyone.
Ferns were fiddleheading in the wet meadow.
Fungi were fungusing on old tree trunks.
On our way back to the parking lot, we passed a girdled tree, stripped of its bark to prevent the spread of the invasive emerald ash borer.
We began our drive along Park Loop Road. I didn't try to stop at the spots we'd seen before. Sand Beach and Thunder Hole looked crowded anyway. I stopped instead somewhere north of Otter Creek, in one of the last spots one can look out at the ocean before the road turns towards the forest.
While we waited for a table at the Jordan Pond House, I went into the gift shop.
And there they were, four of them, ready for me to purchase.
Elaine only wanted two, but I bought three, as a souvenir of my quest. Plus, it's got a moose, so.
The rain was still holding off, so we strolled down to the bottom of Jordan Pond after lunch.
There was no cell signal down here. If we wanted to drive up Cadillac Mountain, we'd need a timed reservation from recreation.gov. I drove to the Eagle Lake overlook, got a signal, and reserved a spot on the mountain for fifteen minutes ago. Cadillac Summit Road was just around the corner.
The wind was whipping something fierce when we got up there. I dragged Jack up the short path that leads to the true summit.
That's the summit marker in the center of the rock.
I walked towards the edge, where the rocks let on to a view of Dorr Mountain. The wind was so strong it made me dizzy. I had to sit down to take pictures.
Yes, there's a cell phone tower at the top of the mountain.
We went over to the parking area, where the paved path around the not-quite-summit is. Jack stayed near the top while I looped around, taking pictures and being battered by the wind.
Still more signs explaining how we've screwed up the planet:
And we should feel bad about colonialism too. We really should.
In the summit gift shop I saw a massive stacks of Elaine's mugs. I was here buying water and keychains yesterday, but I didn't notice them in the far corner. Even if I had seen them, my pockets weren't big enough to carry two of these home.
Around the corner were more moose mugs. I did buy one of these.
On our way out of the park, we drove past the culvert repair that I'd avoided yesterday. One lane was open.
I wonder how much the beavers had to do with it all.
This is the stream on the other side of the road:
When we got back to the hotel, I decided to go out again. I hadn't yet been on the sand bar. The tide was out. I needed to go to the sand bar at least once. There's a list of Things I Must Do, and being on the sand bar is one of them.
Sometimes I have dreams that I'm about to leave Mount Desert Island. In these dreams, I realize that I didn't do a Thing I Must Do, and I try to figure out if I can Do The Thing in the short time I have left.
Now, as I trudged down the slope to the sand, I ran the checklist. Shore Path, check. Sunrise, check. Sunset, check. Cadillac, check. Sand bar, check. Carriage roads, not yet. I had to remind myself that I'd only been here for two full days. There were three more to go.
I was halfway out when the rain started.
The light was dull and gloomy. I'd have to come back.
I turned around and trudged towards town, my windbreaker zipped up and the hood covering my face.
Somewhere on West Street, as I was walking behind two other people going my way, a couple coming the other way stepped aside to let us pass. One of these people was a gray-bearded Boomer with a southern accent. As I walked by, he blurted out, sounding sort of drunk, "Smile! You'll look better!"
I swear to you, my right hand was halfway into flipping him the bird when I remembered where I was. I kept my fingers under my sleeve and resented my restraint for the rest of the walk home.
Jack said it was better that I'd done nothing. Had I responded, "Stop being a sexist asshole! You'll be better!" I'd only have reinforced his stereotype of the bitchy feminist. Which I am, but that's beside the point.
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