Maine 2025 6: Rainy Day

 

High Surf Warning in Frenchman Bay

18 June 2025

You wouldn't expect a normal person to take over 50 pictures on a rainy May 31 in Bar Harbor, but I am not a normal person.

Zygiella atrica webs on the balcony:

Bay view:

We were on our way to get breakfast at Cafe This Way when we saw this sign. If you don't know what this means, you are a Republican. 

Lilac, I think, next to the stairwell leading to our room:

Sheep Porcupine Island:

Sheep Porcupine Island

Burnt Porcupine Island

Bald Porcupine Island:

It was a good a time to swap wheels on Janice to get her ready for tomorrow's carriage road ride. The hex wrench tool I brought with me was falling apart. I figured that was a good excuse to wander down to the Bar Harbor Bicycle Shop for a replacement.

On my way, I passed a triplet of moose in a shop window. The store was closed. I thought about those moose for the rest of the day.

We've stayed at the Bar Harbor Inn ten times now. We'd never eaten at the Reading Room, and a rainy day was the perfect excuse. After lunch, I couldn't sit still in the hotel room. I needed to go for a walk now that the rain was petering out.

Eider ducks:

Cormorants and gulls:

Balance Rock:

Fog or mist or both:

The weather forecast included a high surf warning.

The same group of eider ducks floating along the coast:

Half an hour later, I was on West Street, near Town Pier:

The food at Stewman's Lobster Pound is not nearly as good as the seating:

In all the years I'd been in Bar Harbor, I'd never seen any of these little shops open, nor have there been any people wandering around here besides me.

There's a giant whale behind them.

The sky over Bar Island looked as if it wanted to rain again.

Some of the giant whale, and many lobster traps: 

Bar Island:

If these pictures look familiar, it's because I took the same ones a year ago.

Margaret Todd. Always Margaret Todd.

Cormorants:

The renovated Shore Path in front of the Bar Harbor Inn:

Jack had made dinner reservations at Brasserie LeBrun. It's very much his thing. It's not so much mine, but I dragged him all the way up here. When they presented the check, they put it in an old, beat-up book. Jack opened it and said, "I have this book!" The waiter looked confused. "Montesquieu. Early eighteenth century playwright," he said. He flipped through the pages. The waiter was holding another check in a different book. "I have this one too," Jack said.

When we got back to the hotel room, I went out on the balcony to photograph the Ziggy in the center web some more. I named it "Little Buddy." On this night, Little Buddy was showing me their butt.