Hill Slug Chronicles: Maine 2024 Day 2: Sunrise Park Loop Cadillac Shore Path

Tenth Time Up

19 June 2024

A year ago, smoke from the fires in Nova Scotia and western Canada made for dramatic sunrises through haze. The air was clear this year. As far as Bar Harbor sunrises go, this first one wasn't exceptional. I was hoping for more cloud drama. Still, there's no such thing as a bad sunrise on Frenchman Bay.

There are always lobster boats leaving the harbor before sunrise on weekdays. I can hear them, even without my hearing aids, before I see them, because sound bounces around the harbor and the islands. It gives me time to set up the shot.

I zoomed in on Sheep Porcupine's dying trees between the bow and mast of the Margaret Todd.

When I mess with exposure times, the color changes. This one looks ominous.

I still have the sun filter from the eclipse. I taped it to the lens. Meh.

Once the sun came up, I went back to sleep. Jack was awake hours before I woke up again. Outside our window, the construction crew was getting ready.

The weather was perfect for my annual bike ride on Park Loop Road and Cadillac Mountain. I didn't bother with the video camera this time. The battery isn't holding charge for long these days. It's enough for my commute, but not much else. This freed me up to stop for pictures if I wanted to.

I went south down Main Street, only to find the road completely closed for sewer reconstruction at the other end of town. I hopped onto the sidewalk, which was more of a bumpy, gravel-strewn adventure than actual pavement. I'd planned to come back this way; now I'd have to take a shortcut.

There was more construction on Park Loop Road as crews were repairing storm damage on the Ocean Path near Sand Beach and Thunder Hole. These are the most heavily-trafficked areas on a slow day. I got through it. Somewhere along the way, I stopped for a picture of Janice and the coast.

I wanted to get some shots of the Otter Creek inlet at the Fabbri Memorial, but that was under construction too. The fence I usually lean my bike on was down. I rode in and out of the parking lot without stopping.

At the Otter Creek causeway was more construction. The storms had done some damage, and the culvert had already been deemed inadequate long before this past winter.

The tide was out and a group of kids was running about on the shore.

On the creek side, one can see Cadillac Mountain in the distance.

After Otter Creek, Park Loop Road turns away from the coastline and heads into the woods. It goes around the base of Day Mountain and reaches Wildwood Stables. Somewhere in here, it becomes two-way again. The parking lot at Jordan Pond always looks full, but there's nowhere near as much traffic here as there is at Sand Beach and Thunder Hole. There's a swooping descent near the Bubble trails, then a climb, then another descent, then another climb, and then the trees go away to reveal the Eagle Lake overlook. I always stop here.

After this, it's game on. Cadillac Summit Road is around the bend. Cars need to reserve a time to be on the summit. Bikes don't. I waved to the guard at the gate and dropped into a lower gear.

The first bit of the Cadillac climb feels the steepest. It's under thick tree cover. When the view opens up, it's a grind without much of a view, unless you look in your mirror. I tend not to do that. I don't need to be giving myself the heebie-jeebies less than a mile in.

Behind me, Oli's Trolley pulled up. This is a sightseeing bus that's a good alternative to driving. I've never been on it, but I like knowing that it's an option. There's another bus, the Island Explorer, but that one starts its season later. I wondered what the folks on board were thinking when they saw me poking along. The driver gave me plenty of room as the bus passed. It was going slowly enough that I was able to read the trolley's name, "Spirit of Mount Desert," in Italics along the front side, as it passed.

Next there's the sharp turn to the left, sharp enough that there's a yellow arrow sign against a wall of rock. Sometimes there's a little waterfall farther along. Today it was dry.

Then, around the corner, a sharp right, and it's the sky, the road, and the granite blocks, "Rockefeller's teeth," in between. I'm on the mountain side at this point, so I feel safe.

Now I'm in the second mile. The climb is a touch steeper here, just a percent or two. I've done this enough times that I know that I'll start to feel demoralized right about now. I've done this enough times to know I'll get over it. This section is straight, until it isn't.

There's a turn to the left, some more seemingly endless grinding, and then, with a turn to the right, the real fun begins.

This is where the mountain side is across the road and the only thing appearing to separate me from certain death is the steady row of Rockefeller's teeth. I've learned not to look out. Truth is, it's a long way between here and the ocean, but it doesn't look like that. From the road, it looks like a cliff. Eyes forward. Eyes on the double yellow line.

The road bends to the left and the disorientation gets a little worse. But, up ahead, there's a rock outcrop on the left where the road turns again. Get there and you're done.

Mostly. The optical illusion is gone because there are small trees and rocks on either side now. Up ahead is the summit. The road becomes a small loop here. Hidden behind shrubbery is the summit store and bathrooms. There's a water fountain there now, too.

I went directly to the overlook at the edge of the parking lot, as I always do. I posed Janice against some teeth.

The summit path is ADA-compliant, which is what I like about it the most.

Bar Island is lower right in this north-facing photo:

That's the town of Bar Harbor down there. Bar Island is on the left and Sheep Porcupine Island is on the right.

There's the Margaret Todd, still moored in the bay.

I circled back to the summit shop. This was my tenth climb. I wanted to get something to commemorate it. I found a lightweight, wooden keychain. This bike now has four trinkets, but who's counting? I crossed paths with the Spirit of Mount Desert again.

On my way down, I pulled into what used to be called the Blue Hill Overlook. Now the signs read "Cadillac Parking."

I must have had a tailwind on the way up, because the descent was the wobbliest I'd experienced since my first climb. I rode the brakes and stuck to the center of the road on the s-curves at the bottom of the middle mile. The wind was pushing Janice around. It wasn't fun. I had a flash of panic, which I thought I'd gotten past last year, but I hung on. I knew all I had to do was get to the not-waterfall and I'd be fine.

Instead of completing the Park Loop, I turned off towards Hulls Cove. This would get me away from the construction on Main Street. All the routes I knew except for this one would dump me back where the road was torn up. Taking the West Street extension into town is a miles-long plummet ending at an intersection with Route 3 and no traffic light.

West Street has traffic, so I took it easy, glancing to my left to sneak a peek at the sand bar. I usually go all the way to the pier, but this time I turned up the short, steep incline on Main. I couldn't remember if I'd climbed it before, but it wasn't as bad as it feels on foot.

Our tradition after my annual Cadillac climb is to get lunch outdoors at Bar Harbor Beerworks. Giant soft pretzels have been a thing there for years. We always get one. Nothing beats a Philly soft pretzel straight off a lunch truck, but these come close.

In the early evening, I took a walk along the Shore Path in front of the hotel. I wasn't supposed to be there, as the little sign reminded me. These signs had stopped the regular flow of foot traffic (I missed hearing the crunch-crunch of gravel underfoot from our hotel balcony), but there were still some folks, like me, who tend to ignore "road closed" signs. Anyway, I was paying to be here, so on I went, north towards the pier.

This much had been completed. Landscaping would have to wait.

And now I knew why it was taking so long. The stones at the top of the seawall had been hand-laid into the cement.

I turned south and got a good view of the wall under construction in front of the hotel.

I got as far as the path in front of Grant Park, where Balance Rock is.

I walked a bit past the boundary.

Using my camera's zoom, I focused on the other end of the Shore Path, where the seawall had collapsed completely. No restoration was happening there.

I turned my camera towards Frenchman Bay to get some pictures of Egg Rock Lighthouse.

That's Bald Porcupine Island in back and Balance Rock in front:

Returning to the Bar Harbor Inn's section, I took some more pictures of the seawall under construction:

I walked north again, on the thick gravel above the path.

This section looked finished, but at the far end, it was blocked off.

Of course, I went around it and headed for Margaret Todd's pier.

There had been repair work here, too. There were new boards, a new piece of railing, and what looked like new I-beams shoring up the curve.

We had dinner reservations at a new restaurant on Cottage Street, set for 8:30 p.m. so that I could catch the sunset. I took a few photos from our balcony before we went to watch at the pier.

Bald Porcupine is my favorite Porcupine.

Some of the sand bar was still exposed. I prefer to take sunset photos from halfway across the bar. I wouldn't have been able to do that tonight.

Kayakers at sunset make for better pictures.

The pier is a popular place to watch the sun go down. Sometimes I walk down to the floating dock on the western side.

I decided to try to be artsy instead, placing the sun in the middle of an open circle in the pier's railing.

Whoops. Missed on the auto-focus here:

The sky looked so different to the east:

I zoomed in on the tip of Bar Island:

Sheep Porcupine's dying trees looked pathetic. I wondered what conditions allowed them to grow for so long and then changed to kill them so quickly. Salt water intrusion into groundwater from sea level rise?