All too soon, our mini-vacation comes to an end.  After attempting unsuccessfully to cajole our kids into eating all the leftover food so we didn’t have to lug it home, we set off for Acadia one more time.  After yesterday’s tough hike, today’s ambitions were lower.  We promised an easy walk along the seaside path near the Park Loop Road.

The payoff vs. effort ratio of this one is sky-high.  Granted, you’re walking along a relatively well-traveled path that is mostly in sight of the road, but the views out over the ocean are spectacular the whole way, and there are copious opportunities to leave the main trail and climb around on rocks.  (Or, if you’re Lanie, to pretty much climb along rocks the whole way, except for towering cliff-like sections that your stodgy parents refuse to allow you to attempt.)

We worked in a visit to the famous Thunder Hole along the way, but unfortunately the tides were too low for us to hear any actual thundering.  We had to content ourselves instead with exploring the tidepools that would be covered up when the tides rose.  We also saw some rock climbers rapelling down the cliffs from sea level (an activity Zoe was supposed to get to try on a UMaine summer trip, which, like everything else, was canceled).

Eventually we left the ocean behind and made our way back to the car to drive home (a compromise between one family member who was ready to leave hours earlier and another who would have been content to hang around on the rocks for hours longer).  Bob and I are hoping to manage another quick visit in October, when ideally we’ll be coming up again to pay a visit to Zoe at college — assuming that doesn’t all turn into a pipe dream.

All that remained of vacation, beyond a four-hour drive, was a stop for a late lunch at the Sea Dog Brewery in Portland.  I’m not sure we were quite ready to be done with our getaway, but at least Daisy was happy to see us.

The theme of the day

Long-time readers may remember our last trip to Acadia, seven years ago.  The short version is that it poured rain the whole time, eventually flooding our tent, soaking all our possessions, and sending us packing a few days earlier than originally planned.  So we’ve been delighted that the weather seems to be repaying its debt this time around — with abundant sunshine, warm but not humid days, and cool, pleasant evenings.  Even the predicted hurricane only caused a bit of rain after dark.

On the other hand, not everything has gone so smoothly.  First there was yesterday’s heartbreaking popover situation.  Today we got hit by another COVID impact — lack of parking.  (I should pause here to say how impressively the park, as well as the town

When the stairs finally ended, the steeply sloping rock face was not any better.

of Bar Harbor/state of Maine, are dealing with the COVID situation.  Park buildings like the visitor center are closed, but rangers are available under outdoor tents to provide advice and answer questions.  Masks are mandatory and every business has a “No Mask, No Service” sign as well as a maximum occupancy limit — and people are more or less compliant.  So despite the town and park being pretty

crowded, and with people from all over the place, rates are still among the lowest in the country.  Businesses are able to operate and tourists are able to shop and eat out.  Quite a contrast with other vacation destinations that refused to enact any measures and then become hot spots.)

Anyway, the usual shuttlebus isn’t running this year, so everyone has to drive into the park.  It was our bad luck that the hike we’d planned — much talked-up by the friendly ranger we’d met on the way in, who generated a lot of excitement with talk of slot canyons and boulders and a long stretch of rock that you could ride down like a slide — started near the Jordan Pond House,  whose popularity once more cropped up to foil us.  (It was also unfortunate that we’re traveling with (almost) three teenagers, and so our arrival at the park wasn’t what you’d call early in the morning.)  After a frustrating hour driving around attempting to find somewhere to park, including following random people who we felt looked as though they might be returning to their cars, we had to admit defeat.

Plan B consisted of pulling into the next parking lot we came across, in the Sieur de Monts area of the park, which we hadn’t explored before.  Luckily there was a ranger on-site to advise us, and she was able to recommend a loop trail to the top of nearby Dorr Mountain.

The trail began with a long set of stone steps heading quickly up the mountain.  Then we came to the top and turned the corner, and there were more steps.  And more steps.  Basically, the entire Emery Path consisted of steps running up the side of the mountain.  We were in awe of the effort it must have taken to construct the trail (since we were finding it quite taxing just climbing it).  It was another one of those magical Acadia trails that provide views the whole way, as we were hugging the outside of the mountain throughout.  Zoe and I both found it oddly reminiscent of the hike to the Sun Gate at Machu Picchu, though the environments were certainly very different.

As we continued around the loop we were impressed with the variety of terrains — stone steps, open rock faces, birch groves, narrow paths winding through forests of small evergreens, stunted by the exposure.  After our descent we followed a long, flat trail along a marsh, with green and orange grasses glowing against the deep blue water.  It was hard to imagine that the hike we’d missed could have been much better.

After our hard work on the hike, the girls were keen on another visit to the beach that they’d loved so much a couple of days ago — but alas, this too was a bit disappointing, with small waves, more seaweed, and even a jellyfish.  Still, you can’t beat the views.

We got back to our place in time for an evening stroll into town for beers at the local microbrewery (Bob and I) and an expedition for smoothies and salt-water taffy (girls).  Everyone will certainly sleep well tonight.

The girls stopped to say hello to us at the microbrewery on their way back from town. One of them is distracted by her phone — and it’s not even the one you’d think!

The latest calculations are that we put in more than 20 miles in today on our rented bikes, mostly over the national park’s gravel carriage roads.   We stuck to the trails described to us “more moderate,” and while we expected these to be flat and gentle, they turned out to be a fair bit less moderate than that.

Looks flat but is probably uphill

The carriage trails are lovely, wide, shaded trails, but owing to the nature of the terrain in this part of the world, they are not really flat.  Lovely, but rolling with hills.  On many of the hills some or all of us would have to dismount and walk our bikes up.

It was a hardship that seemed bearable when we  were driven by the promise of a large ice cream sundae inside an even larger popover at the Jordan Pond House, conveniently located at the farthest point in the Tri-Pond Loop we were executing today.

On the far side of Jordan Pond, we could practically taste the popovers.

This thought kept us pedaling along rather briskly for most of the morning up and down the undulations of the landscape, though at one point on a particularly long climb, we all got passed by a jogger.

Deflated troops after a bag lunch in a lovely setting

While we did see all three ponds gleaming magnificently in the sun, we didn’t actually ever get to latch onto any of those popover sundaes.  The darned line at the Jordan Pond House was just too long, and, probably due to coronavirus restrictions, it seemed not to be moving at all.  The hill-climbing jogger would have passed this line like it was standing still, because it was standing still.

Popovers, no; wild blueberries, yes

It was a difficult decision to make, but we ended up just eating our bagged lunch and refilling our water bottles several times at the Jordan Pond House before making our way through the rest of the loop.

Many a strategy board game loss was avenged on the adventure golf course, mateys.

One concession for the missed confection was to head almost directly to an adventure golf set up we saw yesterday on the way into town.  We headed back out there almost as soon as we returned our bikes to the rental place.

The line for golf was long, too, but at least it moved.  We opted to play the easier, original course and cruised right along once we got our clubs.  The going was much slower on the flashier new course.  Then we headed downtown to make up for lost ice cream and also to have dinner.

We even managed to break our beer fast at dinner with a sample flight of various Maine brews.

See, it all works out in the end.

Well, we managed to go a whole day without drinking any beer.  Somehow.

We covered a lot of ground and saw a lot of brewpubs — it is Maine, after all — but we didn’t settle in for a pint, even to share.  Here’s what we did do:

On the Waterfront Trail in Bangor

Jen and I satisfied our suspicions that Bangor is a walking-friendly city by following two separate urban paths, the Kenduskeag Stream Trail and the Waterfront Trail, only to discover that a tiny sliver or our morning walk was also a tinier sliver of the East Coast Greenway.

And the East Coast Greenway

The Greenway connects 15 states. After this morning’s walk only 14 more to go!

As it turns out Bangor is more than friendly, It is a borderline fanatical stalker of walking.

To our benefit, of course. We are walkers.

Jen and I managed to do all that — and to not stop in for a pint at the Sea Dog Brewery on the waterfront — by 10 am, and we got everyone out of our downtown Bangor loft by 10:30.

This gave us plenty of time for adventure as  we explored more of Downeast.   We got to Mount Desert Island well before it was time to check into our new accommodations, so we sidled up to the Acadia National Park Visitors Center,  then  hit downtown Bar Harbor for some pizza.  And even then we still had time for adventuring before Air B’nB would be ready for us.

First we hit one of the crown jewels of the park, the vertiginous Beehive Trail, with its steep climbs aided by iron rungs, railings and bridges.  This was a little too much to bite off the last time we were here.  Lanie was six and much more likely to fall off than she is today.

The warning sign at the trailhead is bracing but   we all took to the trail like we had sticky spider powers.  Nadia was most of the way up before she realized how little she liked where she was.

Jen navigates an iron bridge.

The views from the top — actually there are views all throughout the trail if you look up from the iron rungs — took in the green of the trees, the grey of the rocks and the blue of the ocean, with dramatic waves of white fog closing in dramatically over the islands to the northeast and encroaching on Great Head and the Sand Beach.

By the time we made it down the back way, via the gentler Bubble Trail, we were hot enough to brave the Maine waves.  We joined a surprising lot of people in the frigid water for a late-afternoon cool down. Happily, the fog seemed to hold off from the beach and we enjoyed the warm sun as soon as we got out of the water.

Not a bad way to pass the time before our rooms were ready.

The evening was calmer.  We moved into  the second floor of a victorian close to downtown Bar Harbor.  The place is also a short walk to a supermarked where we provisioned with lunch items and even fixings for a dinner in.   Follwing that, some of us took advantage of the low  tide and walked across the sand bridge in the harbor to take in the sunset, along with a few score of our fellow tourists and a deer that apparently decided it didn’t want to be on Bar Island anymore.

On the sandbar

Still no beer, though we did pass an open brewpub on our way downtown for ice cream.  And while some of us stayed behind for the sandbar walk, everyone was in for the ice cream trek (though Jen eventually decided she’d rather get something from a bakery we passed).  I got homemade Maine blueberry softserve.

And off the island

Though we have found Bangor, ME, to actually be quite a bit nicer than we expected, it’s not so action-packed a place that we felt the need to operate at our usual death-march vacation pace.  So, it was 10:45 before we rolled out of our rental apartment and headed north to Orono, to finally check out the place where Zoe will be living in about three short weeks.

Zoe and I had visited the campus once before — during a cold, rainy, muddy day in March just as everything was shutting down — and the rest of the family hadn’t seen it at all, so we were looking forward to visiting on a nice summer day.  The campus didn’t disappoint, although the ghost-town level of emptiness was a bit eerie.  We were able to locate (though not enter) Zoe’s dorm, nearest dining hall, and the locations of the limited number of in-person classes that she’ll have.  (At the moment, her schedule is over half remote, but luckily she does have at least some in-person classes.)  The one building we were allowed to go inside was the Center for the Arts, because the museum of Native American art and artifacts was open.

Skipping stones on the Stillwater

The campus runs along the Stillwater River, which provided a lovely peaceful spot for an afternoon walk.  The nearby downtown, though about the same size as Durham, managed to offer several dining choices — and most of them were NOT pizza!  We saw at least three brewpubs in Orono (and several more within walking distance of our apartment in Bangor).  We’re not sure why Durham seems unable to pull this off.

Ice cream break at the Family Dog

Fortified with a long day’s walking (as well as burgers, local beer, and ice cream), we had one last stop to make before returning to the apartment.  A short walk away from our downtown Bangor apartment is the famous home of Stephen King.  Just in the brief time we were there, on a random Tuesday afternoon, we saw several other groups coming to stroll down the historic street and peer through the iron gates at the King mansion.  In addition to the cool gates, the main attraction is a carved stump that is supposed to represent a lot of King’s books.

Our neighborhood has lots of nice options for dinner.  Tonight we chose a noodle shop that the kids had seen on our way in.  After stuffing ourselves with noodle bowls, we felt the need for a good long walk (or at least, most of us did — there was a small contingent that instead felt the need to lie on the couch and watch TV).  Our main observation was that Bangor has a lot of hills.  In a few places we thought we were back in San Francisco.

Is this a lovely European piazza? No, its Bangor, Maine!

We are still trying to follow safe practices, and we have not actually been completely sequestering in our house for quite some time, but this is our first blog-worthy, whole family adventure since Nadia’s big birthday trip. We’re in another state, even.

Maine obligingly lifted quarantine orders for New Hampshirites several weeks ago.

Aside from escaping cabin fever, we are also are planning to acclimate ourselves to Zoe’s soon-to-be new home on the U Maine Orono campus.  Jen and Zoe are the only ones who have seen the campus; they squeezed in a visit mid-March just as the school was shutting down.

Before we could get there, we undertook some retail therapy, and maybe even below-retail therapy at the outlets in Freeport.  The LL Bean factory outlet, Old Navy, and the Nike store all benefitted from our visit.  We also managed to visit our first microbrewery of a trip that promises many more microbreweries.  Maine likes its craft brew.

This broke the drive up into nice, manageable chunks.  An hour-and-a-half to Freeport; a few hours of shopping; then an hour-and-a-half drive to our final destination of the day: Bangor.  Aiding the drive was  a very ineresting RadioLab episode about the long-term effects of the 1918 Pandemic.  Did you know that both Ghandi and Hitler got career boosts from the Spanish Flu?

Bangor turns out to be charming city combining aspects familiar to us from our stomping grounds of Dover and Portsmouth.  It’s a fair bit grittier than Portsmouth and a few notches hipper than Dover.

Texting whoopie pie menu and expecting a rapid response

Dinner on Bangor’s Market Square. The restaurant makes its own beer.

Bangor lumps both those places together, with an ample sprinkling of microbreweries — we’ve found four here without really trying — and a mix-in of whoopie pies.

Jen has found us a nice, central Air Bn’B apartment, and later she figured out how to text the whoopie pie bakery menu to the girls and collect their order.  (I opted for the “Down Easter,” which has molasses cake and blueberry cream filling.)  Jen’s a hero of this trip.

She was rewarded with a round of Terraforming Mars before road weariness took its toll on all of us.

Tomorrow we visit Orono.