On our last day in Maine, after Mount Megunticook, we drove to Pemaquid Point, on a peninsula south of the Camden area. It was the loveliest drive!
We watched the breakers roll in about five o’clock. These pictures don’t give an idea of the scale. They were bigger than they look and it seemed that whenever I lowered my camera a really immense one would peak and crash. They could easily pulverize you if you strayed too close to the water.
David and Maria told us that this year in Acadia, some people had been swept off the rocks by a large wave and killed. We respectfully kept our distance.
This was my fourth visit to Maine. On my second trip, I’d formed the desire to hike to the top of Mount Megunticook, which overlooks the city of Camden. And guess what we found there? More rocks!
Our friend, David, grew up in Ellsworth, the gateway to Acadia National Park, so he was the perfect guide to his old stomping grounds. Acadia is still home to many turn-of-the-century mansions, but many others burned down in the great fire of 1947.
John D. Rockefeller Jr., a skilled horseman, wanted to travel around the mountains and valleys of Mount Desert Island without having to put up with motorists, so he built quiet carriage roads throughout and gorgeous stone bridges over the many streams.
Thunder Hole with tide too high for any thundering
David’s favorite bridge and carriage trail
We beguiled ourselves on the way home by plotting a novel about the Great Fire of 1947, based on a dream David had had.
Blurry shot of trophy buck. Lucky for him he lives in a park!
Ah! Civilization again….
Our friend, Maria of Maine
Matt and David beach-combing on Clark Island.
A quarry on Clark Island. A visitor said she was going to go swimming here the next day. Well, the water would be warmer than the air, I guess! These New Englanders are tough!
This is a trail. I’m not joking.
Hiking in Maine was a humbling experience. I am by no means a backpacker, but I do consider myself to be in pretty good shape….generally. Well, the words, “Maine Guide” now generate the same level of respect and awe as do, “U.S. Marine.” The only difference between a hiking trail in Maine and a mountain stream bed, composed mostly of boulders, is a few handfuls of soil between the boulders. I was exhausted coming down. I felt that my insides had been jounced to pulp. Meanwhile twenty-somethings are bobbing past, dressed in shorts, with a spring in their step. Would I have liked Maine hiking better when I was younger, I wonder? Just kidding…..It was great!
The Cirque of Mount Katahdin
On day two in Maine, we woke early to drive to the Roaring Creek trailhead at the base of Mount Katahdin. The temperature had dropped drastically overnight. It was in the forties with high winds. I was freezing!
Our destination was Chimney Pond, which lies at the base of a cirque, above which looms Mount Katahdin.
From Tadoussac, we drove to Maine, wanting to hike in Baxter State Park, home of North America’s highest peak, Mount Katahdin. We stayed in Millinocket, where we found a paucity of newer or posh hotels. We stayed at the Heritage Motor Inn, in which we were quite comfortable, but the town didn’t feature sufficient night-life for us to want to stay more than a night. I think the montane wilderness is the big attraction and nature lovers mostly opt to sleep primitive. I took these pictures on the afternoon of our arrival. We walked to Cranberry Pond, then shared a glass of wine and Brie in a picnic area at sunset.
One of those wonderful chance acquaintances one meets on the road invited us to share one of his family’s (grandfathered) cabins on an island in one of the Togue Lakes at the entrance of the Park. We had to regretfully decline as we’d already paid for our hotel and left our luggage, but apparently we might have awakened in the morning with a view of Mount Katahdin off the front porch. Sigh…..
North of Tadoussac, there are sand dunes overlooking the Saguenay. On the sand dunes, are numerous clumps of birches, which look too perfect to be natural, though they are.
We sought out the vacation home of a French friend of ours, Patrick. Matt spent a week with him on the Saguenay a couple of years ago and wanted to show me the place. We missed Patrick by only a day, as it turned out, but his housekeeper let us in and we took a few pictures.
Charming house in Tadoussac