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Published: August 22nd 2007
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Atlantic Seaboard
Here I am at the Atlantic in Maine, where the coast is rocky, and the lobster is everywhere. I Say Maine, You Say Lobster, but I say Acadia
Finally, I entered the last state on the Atlantic seaboard: Maine. I've been looking forward to visiting Acadia for oh so many years, I can't believe it is finally here. On my way to the park, I stopped at the
Rachel Carson National Wetlands Reserve, a lengthy spread of waterways right along the Maine coast. I took a short self-guided walk, and was eaten by mosquitoes. That was it — I was buying DEET. For so many years I had relied on Skin So Soft, but with these pests, I was not fooling around any longer. You see, bugs like me...I smell sweet to them, and they love my blood, and I don't like to share my blood with them, no matter how important it may be to their survival, they will die if i can get to them. Anyway, the wetlands were nice. Had lunch in Kennebunk (where Tom's of Maine has an outlet, by the way), and picked up my bug spray.
Toll Roads...What's Up with That?
So, as I roll through the northeast, there are toll roads upon toll roads. What's the deal with that? Why not charge people tax on
Sunrise from Cadillac Mtn
Well, this mountain (really hill) is where the sunrise touches the USA first, in theory. Nice view, nice day, nice sunrise. gas so that the side roads aren't all clogged with people trying to avoid paying the annoying 35 cents? Perhaps the word "toll" is more palatable than "tax" per the elected official parlance, but let's get real here! These paltry sums are collected, but probably barely meet the salaries of toll collectors. Despite the ugly three-letter-word, a gas "tax" would mean that you pay by the gallon consumed (like in CA), regardless of the road you travel (although our bridges also incur a separate bridge toll). I must admit, though, that the toll roads are nice because there are few exits and merges, many miles between them, drivers speed (a bit too fast for my taste, and I was passed by not only BMWs and Porches, but also Olds and Pontiacs). The concept reminds me of driving I-5 in CA. But, enough about tolls. Let's just say, I find them a waste of time and a hassle to keep lots of change around.
The Park
After a lengthy drive on toll roads and side roads, I finally made it to my destination —
Acadia National Park near sunset, 1 quart of Maine blueberries (at $6) on the passenger's seat). I tootled around the island a bit on the way to the campground, saw some beautiful, picturesque harbors, and lots of trees. Lucky for me, there were about 5 campsites left in Seawall Campground (the one that is first come, first served, rather than the reservation only one), so I took one and set up camp. Wow - I'm really here.
Each day in the park was great, and the
Acadia Byway was a nice route, past lots of pretty sights, and a gorgeous seashore. There was so much to take in:
• Hikes to do — Dorr Mtn, Beech Mtn, Mansell Mtn, Perpendicular Trail
• Walks to take - the Great Head ranger-led hike, Ocean Path to Sand Beach
• Routes to drive — Park Loop Rd,
• Food to eat — wild blueberries, breakfast in town, ice cream
• Sunrise — at Cadillac Mtn, the highest point on the eastern seaboard, and one of the first places in the USA to see the sunrise
• Water to wade in — Echo Lake, (not Long Pond, since it was a public water supply), and the ocean (too cold to do more than just touch it, for me, at least)
A Country of Accents
One thing I'm not getting used to is the New England accent. As I've been driving northward along the Atlantic, the accent is getting thicker and thicker, to the point that I want to ask the person with whom I'm conversing to slow down so I can understand them (not that I did, but I wanted to). You'd think I was from another country as I struggled to understand what the checker at the grocery store, the gas station attendant, or the restaurant server was saying to me. And those are the people from the area. Then, in the parks, there are people who are seasonal workers, like the campground hosts, the rangers, the gift shop cashiers, are from Atlanta, Mississippi, New Mexico in the USA, or from Germany, England, or Bulgaria, seeing America and on work visas. What a wonderful place the parks are to have such a wide ranging group of visitors and workers, but still, the accents are trying on my ear, so I have to be patient with myself to listen carefully and respond simply to be sure I understood what was being said to me.
The Subaru is King
In this part of the country, the Subaru is incredibly abundant - even more so than in New York and Connecticut. Seems that at least half of them have a canoe or kayak or bike on top, and another quarter have a dog in the back. Which leaves folks like me with neither rooftop gear or dog for the remainder (at least in my humble estimation of the counts). It really seems like every 4th car is a Subaru; in fact, on many roads, I had two in front of me, and one behind me. Funny. That makes four out of five cars are Subarus in some cases.
Wild Things
As for critters, the park is surrounded by water from the Atlantic Ocean, and heavily covered with trees, mostly pines. The "mountains" are quite short, but mostly rocky, so they are quite dramatic. The critters I encountered included a couple of deer with huge antlers, a few woodpeckers, lots of Eider ducks, and a few fish. Some pretty flowers were out, but my favorite plant was the blueberry bush. Ummm! And, in Bar Harbor (pronounced "ba ha bah" - I don't know why the Rs are not pronounced), the very heavy Boston accent was in abundance, not to mention the cavalcade of Boston Red Sox garb; some of these folks seemed quite wild to me, too. A storm whipped up one night, and I saw some beautiful lightning displays, and fog shrouded the bays in the morning and late evening for some spectacular scenes.
Speaking of people and weird things, I noticed a lot of the folks, including kids, wear Crocs, those rubber, bright-colored water-loving clogs. In fact, it seemed a lot of French Canadians were the wearers of this fashion, including a mix (not match) of colors. Also, blueberries are to Maine what garlic is to Gilroy — people really dig it. In fact, at one ice cream store in
Brewster, some local specialties are Moose Tracks (with bits of malt balls, and chocolate in caramel ice cream) and Lobster Bisque (yes, made from Maine lobsters).
Well, that was a wonder four days. I feel like I really got to see most of the park, relax some, stay "put" with my camp, and get some miles on my feet (not just my butt). And, that is where I end my Eastward trek.
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