Our Acadia

To understand the origin of the term “Down East,” you have to know a little about geography and history.  Some sailing experience helps, too.

First of all, Down East generally refers to the part of the coast of Maine from Penobscot Bay to the Canadian border, as this map courtesy of GORP.com shows.  It includes Hancock and Washington counties and generally excludes Mount Desert Island, although usage varies.

(For example, GORP.com does include it.  But the same article that says Down East Maine generally doesn’t include Mount Desert Island, says it does include Bar Harbor.  That writer may well be among the many New Yorkers I’ve spoken with who say they’ve been to Bar Harbor, but never MDI.)

More geography.

Take a look at the New England map at the right and note how far east the coastline of Maine extends beyond Boston, Massachusetts to the south.  (That’s why Cadillac Mountain on Mount Desert Island and Mars Hill further north are, depending on the time of year, the first locations in the U.S. to see the sunrise.)

Now for the history.

The term Down East Maine came into usage in the late 1700s and early 1800s.  During this period, many American cities were being built by the lumber, limestone, and granite from Maine.  So active was this sailing commerce between Boston and Maine, for example, that one schooner captain said, “The entire Maine coast was one vast neighborhood in which every schooner was as familiar as the house next door…”

That brings us to the contribution to the term made by sailing vocabulary.

When you’re sailing with the wind at your back, you’re sailing down wind.  During the Age of Sail in New England, the prime sailing season was from late spring through early fall – when the prevailing winds were from the southwest.

Thus, those ports in Maine were “Down East.”

Every time I am in Maine, my neighbor, who is an accomplished baker, brings me a treat.  Blueberry muffins, cranberry bread, or a plate of the ginger snaps she just made for her little girls are a welcome sign like no other.

This neighborly gesture is usually my first emotional reminder that I am back in Maine, where women bake skillfully and not without a little bit of competition for potlucks, library fundraisers and church suppers.

Last summer when a new “Pies for Sale” went up in front of a house on Main Street, Southwest Harbor, it was important news for locals  and tourists alike.  I’m already plotting that maybe this new source will lessen the fierce competition among buyers for the pies sold at the Somesville Union Meeting House next year.

My musing about what to make for Thanksgiving has started, and I think my neighbor’s pumpkins muffins – perhaps converted into a loaf – will be on the menu.  If I get to work baking next weekend, the aroma of the cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger in my kitchen will heighten my anticipation of my favorite holiday.

But I don’t need this to remind me of how thankful I am for friends like my neighbors in Maine.

I went on a Hawk Watch during my October hiking trip to Acadia National Park.  Call me a nerd, but I think hawks are interesting.

• Hawks see much farther than people do – and eight times more clearly.
• This keen eyesight plus their hooked beaks and taloned feet make them effective predators.  But they also pirate food.
• Female hawks are larger than males, sometimes twice so, and most pairs mate for life.
• The most common hawk in North America is the red-tail, but not all of its 14 subspecies have the distinctive coloration.
• Northern birds migrate south during the winter.

Which brings me back to the Hawk Watch.

Every year, from August to October, park rangers, volunteers, and visitors gather on the northern ridge of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park to count the migrating raptors.  The purpose of this data collection, to which Hawk Watches throughout the U.S. contribute, is to monitor the populations of hawks to ensure their preservation.

According to the National Park Service, there’s been a large increase in the numbers of bald eagles, peregrine falcons, and osprey compared to the 1970s.  From the 1940s to 1970s, their populations were severely threatened by the pesticide DDT, which caused eggshells to thin and few young to survive. It was banned in 1972.

What do eagles and falcons have to do with hawks, you’re asking.  That’s another fact you should know:  “Hawk” is the general term for some 270 species of birds which are daytime predators.

Most of the migrating hawks we saw that day from Cadillac Mountain were sharp-shinned hawks.  “Sharpie west of Ironbound,” the Raptor Intern Delora would call out.  All binoculars would then search the sky for the speck.

Veteran volunteers were savvy about identifying birds and all of the islands in Frenchman Bay.  They had great equipment.  They were also warmly dressed and had snacks.

For the rest of us Raptor Ranger Lora had plenty of information and a tray of brownies. Visitors came and went; kids participating in the Junior Ranger program interviewed Ranger Lora.

You can learn more about what goes on at a Hawk Watch in Acadia National Park by reading the “Riding the Winds” journals, created each year by Acadia’s raptor interns.  This year Delora Hilleary, shown below with a raptor specimen, added stunning illustrations to her observations about the migrating raptors.

Compare these two pictures of me on Cadillac Mountain’s South Ridge Trail this October and last.

Gauging the weather and what to pack for a fall trip to Acadia National Park is a key challenge, but the rest is bliss.

One reason is that during autumn the mountains on Mount Desert Island’s eastern side – in the areas of Bar Harbor, Ocean Drive, and Jordan Pond – are much less crowded.  We chose two of the most popular, Cadillac and Champlain, to hike this fall.

The West Face of Cadillac, according to Tom St. Germain, is the shortest, but most difficult, of the eight ways to hike to the top of Acadia’s tallest mountain.  During a mile of hiking, the elevation changes 1100 feet.  The granite face often seems to be at 45-degrees – not an angle of repose for a hiker.  We used crevices in the rock to be able to move across it. 

After rigorous stretches, we’d stop and look back over Bubble Pond. 

West Face Trail then intersects with South Ridge Trail to reach the top of Cadillac Mountain at 1532 feet.

For the descent we hiked down the South Ridge of Cadillac all the way to The Featherbed, a small glacial pond filled with rushes, the inspiration for its name. 

This 5.2-mile hike compensates you for all of its challenges by ending with a long stroll on a carriage road beside Bubble Pond.

For our hike to the top of Champlain Mountain, another popular peak, this year we chose an old trail that was new to us.  Beachcroft Path was built in 1915 as part of the Memorial Paths program created by George Dorr and was reinforced twenty years later by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Depression.  This history gave us a lot to think about as we climbed the stone stairs in switchbacks up the western face of Huguenot Head.

 Beachcroft Trail has great views of the Tarn, as well as Otter Creek and the Atlantic beyond. 

Huguenot Head then connects to Champlain Mountain, where you ascend first on more stairs, then across a sheer, steep west face marked by cairns.

The spectacular top of Champlain, overlooking Frenchman Bay at an elevation of 1058 feet, is the same reward hikers get when they climb the Precipice. 

With late afternoon sun spotlighting the Porcupines, we descended along the north ridge of Champlain on Bear Brook Trail. 

The walk back along the road past Beaver Dam Pond was a bonus.

To help you plan your itinerary for Acadia National Park, including the best restaurants in Bar Harbor and other nearby villages, visit OUR ACADIA.

Steal a shower cap from your motel to cover your camera in the rain.

This was one of the first photography tips we got as eight of us clustered around Ranger Bob Thayer, who would lead the three-hour program “Focus on Acadia,” an offering of the National Park Service at Acadia National Park in Maine. 

From mid-May to mid-October visitors to Mount Desert Island join park rangers on walks, campfire programs, hikes, and boat cruises to learn more about Acadia and build knowledge as naturalists.  Ranger-led programs range from tidepool school to birding for beginners.

This rainy October morning was the last time this season Ranger Thayer would be teaching his photography workshop, but neither that fact nor the drizzle that would turn to steady rain before we left the Sieur de Monts Nature Center impaired his enthusiasm.

Our group included a retired couple with tripods in tow, a point-and-shoot mom accompanying her daughters who were definitely “off auto,” and another park ranger who admired Thayer’s skills.  Fred and I were the novices.

The photography lesson began.  Think about light and composition.  You must know your equipment.  Anticipating the format in which you will present your photographs is an important first step.

Starting our field work, the park ranger helped us think through our first shot, as he set up his own camera on a tripod.  We were on Jesup Trail where a “cathedral” of golden foliage covered a new boardwalk. 

Then we looked through his viewfinder and realized this wasn’t any ordinary park ranger walking us through some canned curriculum.  We were in the company of someone genuinely talented. 

Bob Thayer, it turns out, is a naturalist, photographer, and author of three books, including Acadia’s Carriage Roads, which I had bought years ago. And here we were, taking it all in, courtesy of our National Park Service.

The instruction continued.  Walking alongside the Wild Gardens of Acadia,  Bob Thayer pointed out potentially interesting shots and convinced us that, despite the many “must see” spots to photograph in Acadia National Park, some of the best are the simplest.

Then we jumped into our respective autos and the caravan moved to our next destination.  The rain thwarted the customary stop at Sand Beach, which was an acceptable trade-off because this bad weather was giving us terrific light that made the foliage pop.  Our next stop was Monument Cove, where Fred took these shots.

After another stop along the coastline, we concluded at Jordan Pond, where we learned a “painterly” technique created by moving the camera on a slow shutter speed. 

In three hours each of us had received individual instruction and encouragement.  The “lecture” was informative for participants at every level.  I had even discovered parts of the park I’d never seen, despite my explorations during the last eight years.  

We said our thanks and goodbyes.  As some headed to the Jordan Pond House for popovers, Fred and I walked back to the parking lot with Bob Thayer.  I told him about my Web site to help people plan trips to Acadia, a hobby; I do marketing for a living.

That reminded me that the most powerful word in the marketing dictionary also applied to this workshop, which had been substantive, customized, and inspiring.

It was also  free.

 For the best Sunday brunch in Bar Harbor, Jeannie’s, 2 Cats, and Café This Way all have fans.  Whether it’s for blueberry pancakes, a trout omelet, or Eggs Benedict, these three all get their share of rave reviews. 

But on this early autumn Sunday morning, it was less about the food and more about the ambience as I decided where to have Sunday brunch in Bar Harbor.

 That didn’t necessarily mean that my food rating would be inferior.  In fact, I started with a thermos of freshly brewed Sumatran – stronger than what most restaurants serve.  Then I headed to Bar Harbor’s Eden Farmers’ Market for the selecton of a pastry. 

 As I walked into the market in the YMCA parking lot next to the Ball Field, a young lady made an unequivocal recommendation for homemade donuts, but I pressed on. 

There were purveyors of everything from rainbow chard to squash and carrots.   

When I found the baked goods, the seller at first distracted me with a story.  “I’m on my third marriage,” he confessed.  “I’ve finally learned how to make a relationship work.  I don’t call her my wife.  She’s my life manager.”  

 Then he recommended the blueberry scones. 

I proceeded down Route 3 and took the fork left on Schooner Head Road.  At the very end I parked and grabbed by pack full of breakfast.

The birch trees on the trail to Great Head stood like ushers as I moved swiftly forward.  Brilliant berries of the sumac represented a change in vestments for the season. 

 At the top of this little peninsula, 56 feet above sea level, I celebrated the beauty of the views overlooking Sand Beach and toward Bar Harbor. 

Then I ate, joined by other hikers.

To descend, you can walk down toward Sand Beach to complete the 1.4 mile loop for this little hike.  Or you  can process the way you entered.  Regardless, the congregation of hikers all chatted about the beauty of the morning and the good fortune we had to be on Great Head overlooking Sand Beach on this morning in September.

To read more about the best restaurants in Bar Harbor and throughout Mount Desert Island, visitors to Acadia National Park can find detailed reviews on OUR ACADIA.

As a shellfish lover who had spent summers on Cape Cod, I knew that there were many different types of hard and soft shell clams, often with regional names.  Quahaugs, littlenecks, cherrystones, nanny nose, gaggers – these were all familiar.  But the only place I’d seen “rats” was on the sign on Route 102 between Trenton and Somesville on Mount Desert Island.  I had always wanted to send a picture of that sign to Jay Leno.

One day in August we had an urge for clams.  With a notion to make linguine con le vongole, we headed up the road marked by the sign, with the flag waving us on.  Every hundred feet there was another sign beckoning us along this country road until we arrived at our destination 7/10-mile into the woods.  

There, in what appeared to be a converted garage, were clams for sale.  The woman had cherrystones, which are slightly larger than the littlenecks usually used in clam sauces, but we opted for steamers so that Fred could have a few as an appetizer. 

We worked from a recipe of Tyler Florence, adapting it as we went.  While the pasta was boiling, we sauteed garlic and a little cayenne (I was out of red pepper flakes) in olive oil, then added some white wine and lemon, into which we threw the clams to steam until they all opened up.  We tossed the pasta into the clam mixture, added a little butter, and sprinkled on some fresh herbs.

Scott Worcestor of Sawyer’s Specialties in Southwest Harbor, whose selection from artisanal producers gets rave reviews from Food and Wine, suggested we use a Portugese vinho verde for the recipe.  It was perfect – light, fresh, and inexpensive.

But the hero of the dish were the clams, dug earlier that day by Richard Alan Taylor, otherwise known as “Rats.”

The story goes that, when a post office was built in Bass Harbor in the early 1900s, federal officials asked what it should be called.  A no-nonsense Mainer replied, “Name it after the president for all we care.”  Thus, the village, as well as the post office, came to be called McKinley, until 1961 when folks petitioned it be changed back to Bass Harbor.

Today Bass Harbor, one of the most lucrative lobster-producing ports in Maine, draws tourists, among them President Obama and his family, to see this quintessentially quaint fishing village and the Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse, built in 1858 (shown above).  But it is primarily a working harbor and still home to laconic Mainers.

I am a fan of seafood purveyor C.H. Rich, for example.  They’re open 365 days a year and sell crab, lobster, whatever they’re catching.  We had just come off a hiking trail and I was trying to calculate if we had time to get over to Bass Harbor for something for dinner so I called to ask what time they were closing.  “When all my boats are in.” 

That was it.  Tired of hype?  Here you go.

We first discovered Bass Harbor seven years ago when we rented a hillside house there overlooking a former sardine canning factory, the wharf, and the busy working harbor. 

In every way Bass Harbor is the opposite of Bar Harbor.  On Mount Desert Island it is on the southwestern part of the island, known as the “quiet side”  versus Bar Harbor’s northeastern location.  Where Bar Harbor has cruise ships, Bass Harbor has lobster boats.  There are a few good restaurants, but not a t-shirt or souvenir shop to be found. 

I love two nearby easy walking trails, Wonderland and Ship Harbor.  The Seawall picnic area, facing south to the Atlantic, is a great place to cook outdoors and relax.

Bass Harbor is appealing at all times of year.  Summertime is great for outdoor dining.  Photographers love fall.  And, as I said, C.H. Rich is open year-round.

The  best time of day to visit Bass Harbor is at sunset.  We often end up taking in its golden charm after a dinner at Thurston’s Lobster Pound in Bernard.

So, plan to include Bass Harbor on your next trip to Mount Desert Island.  If you’re looking for a small, romantic, waterfront inn, check out Ann’s Point.  For other things to do during a visit to Acadia National Park, here’s a guide to the best restaurants, local markets, guides and boat cruises.

When I was a little girl growing up in Massachusetts, I learned that the two primary crops of Maine were potatoes and blueberries (and that the state bird was the same as ours – the chickadee).

Now, as a New Yorker for more years than I’ll admit, I’ve discovered a cocktail that combines those two great crops and makes me as happy as when I’m listening to a chickadee.  It’s called Maine Lemonade.

Maine Lemonade is a summer concoction created by spiking a glass of lemonade with blueberry vodka.  Adding extra ice cubes and a sprig of mint puts it into cocktail category.

The trick, though, is to use Cold River Vodka.  Cold River Vodka is a 100 percent Maine potato vodka that is flavored with Wyman’s Wild Maine Blueberries.  The flavor of these smaller, more intensely flavored berries is sweetened only slightly, which makes Cold River Vodka the perfect foil for the tartness of lemonade. 

And Cold River Blueberry Vodka is a “true” vodka at 80 proof.  Remember that as you cope with the fact that summer is, really, almost over.

(But don’t lament for long.  Plan a trip to Maine to see the fall foliage.  Ideas here.)

President Obama chose coconut.  My husband blueberry.  And I opted for two scoops – kahlua chip and salt caramel. 

I’ll never feel the same about Haagen-Daz again.

Apparently I’m not alone in my assessment of MDI Ice Cream.  This is what all of Mount Desert’s best restaurants – including Red Sky, Havana, Café This Way, and Fathom – choose to pair with their homemade puddings and blueberry pies. Red Sky, in fact, has built a banana split with bruleed banana, maple-candied almonds and sun-dried cherries around three flavors of MDI Ice Cream.  When Downeast Magazine published their itinerary of what to do in Bar Harbor, their late-night recommendation for the active traveler was a visit to MDI Ice Cream.  And this summer both Food and Wine Magazine and Mother Earth News have included them on their lists of best artisan ice creams nationwide. 

Still, MDI Ice Cream is a low-key place that avoids sensationalism.  No lobster ice cream here.  Linda Parker founded it in 2005 in Bar Harbor, where there are now two retail shops, one on Main Street across from Havana and the other on Firefly Lane just off Main Street and across from the Village Green. After six years in Bar Harbor, she has also opened on Exchange Street in Portland.

Taking a look at their flavors, you have no trouble buying into her motto: Fearless Flavor.   Chili chocolate, blackstrap banana, candy shoppe, nectarine prosecco, nutella, mango jicama habanero, lemon basil, and cookies.  But, believe me.  They’re not weird.  They’re delicious.

Ice cream and summer vacation go together.  And, let’s face it.  You can’t take it with you.  Like the breeze on Sargent Mountain or the sound of the gulls over Bass Harbor, we’ll enjoy it while we’re here.  So, for now, move over Haagen-Daz.