Compass Harbor
11 July 2026
May 30 was windy on Frenchman Bay, too choppy for the Margaret Todd's tourist passengers. She was moored in the harbor instead of at her dock.
I convinced Jack to take a walk on the Comapss Harbor path, which begins on Route 3 just outside of the southern end of Bar Harbor. It's short, flat, and full of yapping birds.
Compass Harbor is between the end of the Shore Path and Schooner Head. Here, there was a view of Bald Porcupine Island and the breakwater construction.
Farther along, the path branched off to a washout. I could see the rest of the trail on the other side. I climbed down, but I didn't scramble up the other side.
It looks better in grayscale:
There was more shoreline to see as the path curved:
Jack, whose feet always hurt, groaned when he saw the steps. It wasn't all that bad.
The Compass Harbor path connects to the Schooner Head path. We weren't going to walk all that way, but I did want to see some of it, having driven and biked along Schooner Head Road enough times to see that there was something walkable behind the trees.
At the edge of Schooner Head Road was a field of lily of the valley. Lilies of the valley? Lily of the valleys? Whatever. There were lots of them.
The path led behind some houses. What a backyard! When we reached Schooner Head Road again, we turned towards town. A Museum of the Streets sign gave a history of the Jackson Lab, or "Jax," to those of us who regularly order C57Bl6/J from them.
I took pictures of the roadside vegetation so I could learn some stuff.
bracken fern
probably pear
blueberry
lupine
Wait, what does that sign say?
We drove to Northeast Harbor to look for lunch, winding up at the Captain's Table, which is always where we wind up, because there's really no place else to wind up. The tables all have ocean depth maps under clear plastic, which is fun to look at until the food arrives.
There are a couple of shops on the main street. There used to be a bookstore that also sold, among other things, hand-made felted wool cat beds. That shop is gone, but the bed we bought is covered in cat hair.
No, but I could try.
On the way back, we visited the Wendell Gilley Museum. Gilley was a local who became famous for carving realistic birds from wood. Jack was not impressed. I was, because of the skill and patience involved.
Jack considers the Veranda at the Balance Rock Inn to have the best food on the island. It's certainly the fanciest place we've been. It's on the Shore Path, one public park away from the Bar Harbor Inn. I always keep an eye on the sky in case there's a worthy sunset about to happen.
The blob of butter they served with the bread looked like a baby harp seal, so I cut in some eyes.
As per tradition, we opted to skip dessert for ice cream later. The clouds were hinting that a Town Pier sunset might pan out. While Jack finished his wine (Yquem again), I scurried down the Shore Path, camera out.
I made it to the floating dock in time.
Time was when these little trees at the edge of Bar Island were thriving.
"You got your money's worth this time!" Jack said when I met him at a bench on the eastern side of the pier.
Moonrise was at almost the same time as sunset, but I didn't remember until it was well over the water an hour later. The position of the moon was farther southeast than it was the other few times I'd seen it rise here, later in the summer, across the water from the hotel. I'd been hoping to see it from the hotel room balcony, where I could set up a tripod, but I had to go down to the shore path instead and shoot freehand.
It didn't work out as I'd hoped. I ended up mostly using my phone and playing with exposure times.
It looked better in grayscale.
Bad photography or not, it was pretty anyway.
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