Seaboard Chronicles: Day 2

First, before I do another thing, a big shout-out to all who stopped by and were gracious enough to share your comments.  It's a wonder my head will fit through the door; you are all very, very kind!  Thank you.

Ok, so I am a little bit giddy at the moment, but we will get to that shortly.  Today started well.  We had a date to meet at 9 and eat breakfast at Jeannie's Great Maine Breakfast.  So we did; and what a breakfast it was.  The food was relatively straightforward - eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, home fries; you get the idea.  Oh, and baked beans!  This is Maine, you know!  What set the place apart, however, was the sheer quality of this food.  Everything on the plate was homemade, from the toast and accompanying strawberry-rhubarb jam to those baked beans, and everything in between.  And when I say homemade, I mean every bit as good as what comes out of my own kitchen (trust me, I've heard the word "homemade" abused more times than I care to count).  The general consensus was that this was very likely the single best breakfast any of us had eaten.  Really.  Unanimously.  High praise.

No, we didn't finish it all.  Sigh.

Blah, enough about breakfast. (Be forewarned; I like good food.  When I get it, I tend to wax rhapsodic.)  Around 11, we headed back to the hotel, checked out, and headed up to Acadia National Park.  (I have observed that my paternal ancestor has mellowed considerably.  Gone are the days of rising at 6 AM, snatching a Little Debbie on the way out the door, and hitting the trail by 7.  I am not complaining.)  We were completely fogged in, so today was not to be a day of sweeping scenic vistas; we would interact with Maine on a much more intimate scale.  After a quick stop at the visitor's center, we hit the trails and the fun began.  (I mean that - this girl is never happier than when she straps on her hiking boots and leaves civilization behind.)  Our route consisted of hiking 1.8 miles up the Gorge Path to the top of Cadillac Mountain, and then returning via the 2.2 mile Cadillac Mountain North Ridge Trail.

Gorge Path was aptly named.  We literally hiked up the gorge.  In fact, hike may be the wrong word; scrambled over boulders in a steeply uphill trajectory might be more accurate.  1.8 miles of this, mind you.  It was wonderful.  (Understand when I say this that I have learned to embrace burning lungs, pounding heart, and rivers of sweat pouring off of my body.  These are good things, and these things most definitely did occur.)  In due time we reached the top of Cadillac Mountain and began our descent.

 

Their expressions say it all...

I would like to take this moment and honor my mama, who is not quite as enthusiastic an outdoorsman as my father and I are.  She fought her way to the top, never lagging, never complaining, and exhibiting nothing but true sportsmanship.  This is what doing the hard stuff looks like, folks, and I salute her.

The trip back was still steep, but less strenuous.  Although there were tough sections, the majority of the trail was relatively straightforward, and we made good time.  You notice I did not dwell on the view from the top.    As previously mentioned, we were pretty much completely fogged in, so though I understand the view is spectacular (you supposedly can even see Mount Katahdin, which any Appalachian Trail afficionado will recognize), I have no firsthand knowledge of that view.  That being said, the trail still held a certain charm.  Fog can be beautiful in its own way - cool and soft and gray and mysterious; it has this way of...enveloping a person, and its wispy presence added an almost surreal drama to the trail.  Side note, they say that if you stand on Cadillac Mountain at dawn, you will be the first in America to witness the sunrise.  Love the idea, but it did not happen, not this time.

The view (I dedicate this picture to Marc T.)

See all the peeps?

Cheaters!!!

Slight change in aspect from the beginning, no?

These two are the view when the fog started to lift a bit.  Potential...

We made it back, collapsed into the van, and drove the rest of the park loop.  Aside from one pretty, rocky spot where the ocean met the land (and where none of us had the energy to climb down and explore), the ride was pretty uneventful - lots of lush, green woods, and not many views.

Ok, I love this.

Hard work had burned off that bountiful breakfast, and so we stopped at Mount Desert Island Ice Cream.  Google it.  Look up the flavors.  And then eat your heart out.  Yes, it was that good.  It was so hard, but I finally settled for a flight of four flavors (they were little scoops!) - Butter Brittle, Cranberry Bliss Bar (tasted just like the Starbucks creation), Mexican Chocolate (cinnamon and...curry!) and Cereal Milk (Cap'n Crunch steeped in the mix and then removed; this was absolutely phenomenal).  I had to turn my back on Blackstrap Molasses Banana, Thai Chili Coconut, Bay of Figs (Dad loved that one) and so many others.  Let's just say that if these people would like to expand their operations into North Florida, I would have no complaints whatsoever.

Mom and I browsed a few shops, and then we hit the road.  Canada-bound!  It was so funny - as I was driving, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was driving the backroads of North Georgia or Eastern Alabama.  Rolling hills and thick woods pressed up against poorly maintained two-lane highways, with very little sign of human habitation.  What homes were visible tended very much to the Southern pattern - mobile homes in various states of repair, lonely farmhouses, abandoned equipment in front yards...  I felt right at home.  (Grimaces.)

We grabbed a quick drive-through dinner (it was that or eating at one of about three structures in the space of around 100 miles that made various dubious offers of food and set Dad to whistling the theme from Deliverance...) and then it was time for a hugely momentous occasion!  For the FIRST TIME, Carrie left her home turf, fled her beloved US of A! (Hopefully the first of MANY.)  This is ridiculous, but it was kind of a big deal!  First, I got a little clutchy and homesick at leaving my land; then, I got a bit nervous, pulling up to customs, handing over the passports, answering the questions.  Very suave I felt, not!  We had to pull in so we could get our books stamped (we're such tourists...) and when we officially crossed the line, I felt positively celebratory!  My senses went on high alert - I found myself looking around and trying to literally absorb every sight I could see in this strange new place.  (Oh brother, I was a few feet away from Maine.  How strange could it be?)  All in all, so far there don't appear to be too many differences across the border, aside from the speed limit signs.  And yet, there is this certain...zest!  I like it!  We're off the grid now, cellularly speaking, and I must admit I felt a bit tense, not being able to reach for my trusty iPhone and pull up my navigation when I wanted it.  We fell back on Streets and Trips, which led to a few directional adventures, including the discovery of an entire Interstate not included on the map, and a portion of our route being completely closed for construction.

We made it through, though, and arrived safely at our destination - the Inn at Frederick, in Saint Andrews, New Brunswick.  I sleep tonight in the bedroom of a grand old house, built I don't know when, but certainly not within the last 100 years.  I haven't been here long enough to take pictures, but trust me, there will be pictures.  I have never experienced accommodations quite like these, and I am literally giddy with the novelty of the whole thing.  But it's too late for tonight; tomorrow will come soon enough.

Tomorrow, and with it the search for whales, and the exploration of Minister's Island...