Maine 2025 5: Fog Park Loop Cadillac

Fog on Park Loop Road, Acadia National Park

15 June 2025

On May 30, we woke up to this view:

Half an hour later, the fog might have been burning off a little.

At breakfast, I stepped outside to the pool and fire pit and aimed the camera toward the coast.

At 10:00, I carried Janice down the outdoor flight of stairs, turned on the GPS, and clipped in. As I rode down the long driveway from the hotel to Main Street, I caught a glimpse of the harbor shrouded in fog.

This is the view where Newport Drive meets Main Street. Bar Island is across the water. The Geddy's moose is on the upper left.

I turned south. There wasn't much traffic on Main Street at this hour. I had to stop for alternating-lane traffic where a crew was paving Route 3 on the edge of town. After that, it was up the hill past Jackson Laboratories (the scent of autoclaved mouse food was on the breeze) and into Acadia National Park at Sieur de Monts.

I stopped for pictures at the first turnout where Park Loop Road meets the coast.

At the entrance booth, the ranger took my printed pass and exchanged it for a flimsy receipt I was guaranteed to lose.

There was the usual line of cars parked on the road near Sand Beach. After that, there wasn't much traffic. It was easy to stop for pictures.

Fog. Is. The. Best.

There were sections of the Ocean Path with nobody on it.

Toward the southern end of Park Loop Road, before Otter Cove, there's a path leading to steps down to the rocks below. I'd never noticed this before, and made a note to come back on foot. 

As I was stopped, a couple emerged from the stairs. I asked, "What's it like down there?"

The man replied, "I'm sorry. I am French."

"Ah. Is it rocky?"

"It is smooth," he said. "The water, she is low. It is -- " He slanted his hand upward."

"The tide is coming in," I offered.

"Yes," he said.

I stopped again at the Fabbri Picnic Area, as I always do, to take a photo of Otter Cove. Or not.

I stopped again on the Otter Cove causeway.

Mountain? What mountain? Well, I thought, if I can't see the edge, it won't scare me.

I looked toward the aqueduct that carries the water under the causeway.

I looked towards the ocean.

And then back to the creek side. Mountain? What mountain?

I stopped one more time before the road turned away from the water and into the woods.

I didn't stop again until I reached the Eagle Lake overlook, where I took pictures, had a snack, and chatted with a family from Boston.

Then, a few hundred yards down the road, sharp right turn, past the line of cars, wave to the ranger, drop down a few gears, and climb into the woods.

According to the forecast, things would be getting windy around 11:00. It was past that now, but as I emerged onto open road, I didn't feel much of a breeze. Most of the climb up Cadillac Mountain is southbound. The wind was supposed to be out of the south. I guess I was lucky, or so slow that it didn't matter. 

This was my 12th climb up Cadillac Mountain. I did it twice last year, one in June and once in August. At home, on Rouvy, I climbed it two more times. I pretty much have the ascent memorized. That said, it never gets easier, just more familiar. There were no other cyclists around me. I could take my time with impunity. 

The newest Janice was ecstatic about reaching the top.

Much of the fog had burned off.

As I was taking pictures, I got talking with a couple who had driven their camper van all the way here from halfway across the country. They were headed to Newfoundland. We got talking about club riding, and I explained the Hill Slug ethos: We'll get there when we get there. A fastboy on a fast bike cruised by behind them right about then. I pointed him out: "Now he's fast."

The fastboy gave me a small grin as I moved over to get a shot of the remaining fog.

On my way down, I pulled into the Blue Hill Bay overlook, which has been renamed as "parking."

As I was pulling out again, I noticed a rock outcrop on the ocean side that I'd never paid attention to before. I slowed down to cross the road just as the fastboy blew past. He probably thought I was getting the descent jitters. Fat old lady, clueless. Whatever. I wanted to see what was across the road.

This was the beginning of the rest of the descent:

When I got to the s-curve, the one that always gives me the heebie-jeebies, I thought I was doing okay. But there's a section of the road that I swear reaches out and pokes me in the stomach every single time. I got past it and flew on down the mountain, staying on Park Loop Road to Sieur de Monts, past the autoclaved mouse food, and back into town.

We went to Bar Harbor Beerworks for lunch, because that's where we go after I ride up Cadillac Mountain. We share a giant soft pretzel and I get a sour beer.

We walked around town a little, and then I suggested we stare at the water for a while. All the benches in Agamont Park were taken. Jack grudgingly joined me on the grass.

The pilot boat was coming in after escorting the CAT through the harbor.

Margaret Todd was on her afternoon sail.

I watched the pilot boat captain moor the boat and the two crewmen hop into their motorboat to reach the pier.

This, in the real world, is not at all interesting, but when you're on vacation, it's fun to watch.

Jack was bored.

We had 6:30 reservations at Havana, where Jack was looking forward to his annual ounce of Yqem sauternes. On our way, we checked in on the foxes.

I watched the sunset via Bar Harbor Cam.

It was too cloudy for a colorful show, but from the roof of the Bar Harbor Inn, the camera picked up the sunset on the water. I missed low tide at the sand bar again.

But there's no such thing as a bad sunset on Mount Desert Island.

And, for the first time in years, the sunrise camera was up again. 

We had dessert at Mount Desert Island Ice Cream, where the flavors are wacky. They had the one I liked last year: lemon poppy jam. We sat on a bench on Village Green, then walked back to the hotel. I went out on the balcony to photograph the spiders. There was one regular now, in the middle of the balcony, that let me take picture after picture until I got a positive identification: another Zygiella atrica. I named it "Little Buddy."