Sunset on Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park
14 September 2020
Jack and I are driving to the top of Cadillac Mountain to see the sunset. I'm doing a little recon, too. Tomorrow I'm probably biking up the mountain. I've done it four times already, and driven up here more times than I can count. Still, I'm watching every curve, reminding myself of where I'll be freaking out if I dare look anywhere but at the double yellow line.
The parking lot at the summit looks full. We find a spot near the top. There's a Biden sticker on the Georgia car in front of me. I thank the people in the car and wish them luck down there.
The summit isn't the best place to watch the sun go down. There are too many trees in the way of the horizon. I'm here anyway. Might as well get a few pictures.
The wind up here is blowing so strong that it's difficult to keep my camera steady. Like the first time I was up here, in 2016, on my bike. Four years later I'm still being triggered.
Bar Island, Sheep Porcupine Island, Burnt Porcupine Island, and the town of Bar Harbor:
Egg Rock Lighthouse:
There's still half an hour to go before sunset. It's going to be a good one.
The summit has a paved path that's accessible to everyone:
Otter Creek and the Park Loop Road causeway:
The Margaret Todd and Bailey Louise Todd, anchored in the bay until the high winds pass:
The Margaret Todd and the tip of Sheep Porcupine Island:
The luxury yacht anchored in the bay in front of our hotel:
On our way up the mountain we saw some cars parked along west-facing curves. We're going to drive to the first one, near the top. The turnoff, meant for two cars at most, is full. People are parking along the road. I do, too.
This is the section of road that gives me the heebie-jeebies on the way up, whether I'm in a car or on my bike. On foot it's not so bad. I find an unoccupied granite block and settle in. I'm glad I bought the tacky hoodie. It's serving me well here against the whipping wind.
The sun sets into haze and clouds:
Last night I dreamed that I was up here with the Hill Slugs. We were taking pictures of the sunset. I looked up. "The whole sky!" I said. It was bright red-orange.
The whole sky, now:
What if I mess with the exposure time? I drop it to 1/1000 and 1/2000 to see what happens.
This happens:
(At the time, I was unaware that the haze and orange sun were due to the wildfires in California and Oregon. I hadn't thought that the smoke plume would reach this far this thick and this soon. One of my friends online sent me scurrying to multiple news stories about the east coast's brilliant sunrises and sunsets.)
Almost, but not quite, the dream:
In real life:
Low exposure again; it's more dramatic:
And that's it. Sun's down. People start leaving. I stick around. The sky after sunset is worth seeing.
In the gloaming, the vertigo-inducing ascent:
Now it's getting dark.
We drive slowly down the mountain.
I'll be back tomorrow. I'll probably get up early for the sunrise too.
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