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Monday in Maine
Oct. 23rd, 2024 07:20 amOn Sunday, the half-marathon route was from Northeast Harbor to Southwest Harbor, basically along the road around Somes Sound, a fjord (formed by a glacier). I remarked to friends that it was not what I expected a fjord to be and had trouble imagining Viking longboats being rowed there, but a couple of folks in small motorized boats came close to the shore to yell encouragement to the runners.
Monday I went back to Southwest Harbor in the car to go around the bottom of that part of the map. The first two days I noted that the park was pretty, but I got to the Seawall picnic area and was spluttering with amazement, fascinated. So many rocks, piled up by the sea to make a wall (sort of) without human intervention. After that was the Wonderland trail. It was pretty wondrous for a person who could walk easily enough. The first little part was billed as suitable for wheelchairs (flat, hard-packed) but then poof, not so much. There were parts later on that it was narrow and uphill through rocks. I saw people I'd guess to be slightly older than I am walking with those extendable poles. I worry about falling but haven't really considered those yet. After Wonderland was the Bass Harbor lighthouse - there is an exceedingly short walk to one side of it, then a longer one with lots of steps (and a handrail) down to the rocks. Pleasant sounds of the buoy bells. Then Pretty Marsh. I guess I was wrong about what a marsh is also. The picnic area at Pretty Marsh was deserted, but at least that meant that there was no line for the chemical toilet, unlike the previous stops. Again my non-compliance with the buddy rule made me nervous.
Little rocks. Big rocks. Pink rocks. Sedimentary rocks. I think I have learned about myself that while I like mountains with pretty trees, I am more wowed by rocks with water crashing on them. A reminder to spend more time on the north shore, only an hour from home, not the very many hours on the road I spent this long weekend. And available by commuter rail from Boston, so I wouldn't even have to drive, necessarily. It is an irritation to me that the final stop on the Amtrak Downeaster line is Brunswick, not anywhere near as far as Acadia. There are freight trains that go farther. Can't we extend the line (we, she says, as a taxpayer and Amtrak user, not as someone who will do anything to make this happen). In years past (geez, must be more than fifteen) I have taken the train to Saco, near to the Ferry Beach Conference center, a UU place where Flo first went to camp and then worked for a summer or two. I didn't want to drive the whole way from Acadia home in one stretch. More accurately, I didn't want to crash and burn because I would have been driving in the dark and tired for the last couple of hours, so I devised a plan to detour slightly and spend the night in Old Orchard Beach, the next town north of Saco along the coast. I hadn't stopped to think that the Downeaster trains went through there, but the tracks were only about a block from where I was staying, and one could certainly hear the warning blasts and the rumble. The 5:30 AM one yesterday didn't wake me, because I wasn't sleeping anyway. I stayed in bed another hour and then went out to walk on the beach for a little over an hour, and watch the sunrise, along with many other people by the time it actually popped up at 7:05.
This was part-way through the sequence from rosy-fingered dawn through squintingly bright. Note the surfers on the right. They stopped and turned toward the sun to watch it rise, along with all the folks on the beach. The surfers were reasonably wearing wet suits. The air temp was in the 50s, but the water was colder. I only waded in as far as my calves.
Monday I went back to Southwest Harbor in the car to go around the bottom of that part of the map. The first two days I noted that the park was pretty, but I got to the Seawall picnic area and was spluttering with amazement, fascinated. So many rocks, piled up by the sea to make a wall (sort of) without human intervention. After that was the Wonderland trail. It was pretty wondrous for a person who could walk easily enough. The first little part was billed as suitable for wheelchairs (flat, hard-packed) but then poof, not so much. There were parts later on that it was narrow and uphill through rocks. I saw people I'd guess to be slightly older than I am walking with those extendable poles. I worry about falling but haven't really considered those yet. After Wonderland was the Bass Harbor lighthouse - there is an exceedingly short walk to one side of it, then a longer one with lots of steps (and a handrail) down to the rocks. Pleasant sounds of the buoy bells. Then Pretty Marsh. I guess I was wrong about what a marsh is also. The picnic area at Pretty Marsh was deserted, but at least that meant that there was no line for the chemical toilet, unlike the previous stops. Again my non-compliance with the buddy rule made me nervous.
Little rocks. Big rocks. Pink rocks. Sedimentary rocks. I think I have learned about myself that while I like mountains with pretty trees, I am more wowed by rocks with water crashing on them. A reminder to spend more time on the north shore, only an hour from home, not the very many hours on the road I spent this long weekend. And available by commuter rail from Boston, so I wouldn't even have to drive, necessarily. It is an irritation to me that the final stop on the Amtrak Downeaster line is Brunswick, not anywhere near as far as Acadia. There are freight trains that go farther. Can't we extend the line (we, she says, as a taxpayer and Amtrak user, not as someone who will do anything to make this happen). In years past (geez, must be more than fifteen) I have taken the train to Saco, near to the Ferry Beach Conference center, a UU place where Flo first went to camp and then worked for a summer or two. I didn't want to drive the whole way from Acadia home in one stretch. More accurately, I didn't want to crash and burn because I would have been driving in the dark and tired for the last couple of hours, so I devised a plan to detour slightly and spend the night in Old Orchard Beach, the next town north of Saco along the coast. I hadn't stopped to think that the Downeaster trains went through there, but the tracks were only about a block from where I was staying, and one could certainly hear the warning blasts and the rumble. The 5:30 AM one yesterday didn't wake me, because I wasn't sleeping anyway. I stayed in bed another hour and then went out to walk on the beach for a little over an hour, and watch the sunrise, along with many other people by the time it actually popped up at 7:05.
This was part-way through the sequence from rosy-fingered dawn through squintingly bright. Note the surfers on the right. They stopped and turned toward the sun to watch it rise, along with all the folks on the beach. The surfers were reasonably wearing wet suits. The air temp was in the 50s, but the water was colder. I only waded in as far as my calves.
