Bar Harbor via Biddeford, ME

8:44 AM

I’m back at Maureen’s place. I’m alone. Everyone has left to go back to the real world. Maureen is at class. She’s back on task and focus. Sean and Mike left a few minutes ago to make the 8 hour drive back to Rochester. Here I am, the sun shining, the beach beckoning from her window. I’ll type, pack, hit the beach, and then head to my aunt and uncle’s outside of Boston.

I left off sitting in the Opera House, waiting to see what the rain would do. I will tell you it didn’t do much, other than rain. On Saturday, from 7 AM to 11 PM, it rained. It was not constant, but almost constant. Forrest says he saw soft rain, big globs of rain, sideways rain, etc… We saw a lot.

The rain came down but we did not let it stop us. I was impressed by our skill and cunning in finding ways to pass the time. I had a rain poncho that is used on a sailboat. I had it zipped up all the way and the hood with a visor on it covering my head. I probably looked like a true fisherman with my scruffy beard. We plodded around downtown Bar Harbor looking for something to do. None of us are overflowing with money, so we avoided shopping. At around 10 we headed into Nature’s Way Café looking for breakfast. A bacon, egg, and cheese croissant set me at ease. The rain pored down as we were in inside. That seemed to happen a lot during the day, it would rain the hardest when we were inside. I guess that’s good.

Bar Harbor is a beautiful place. It sits right on the harbor and is touristy, but not overblown. The Main street is packed with shops, art galleries, and restaurants. It wasn’t too packed but that was probably because of the rain.

After breakfast we walked for a while and headed to the pier. We took a few pictures. You couldn’t see too much because of the dense fog. We met up with the fog again and again.

Not too much time passed and we headed into a place that must have been a chain, Geddy’s, for lunch. It was a perfect day for soup. The soup du jour was Beef Barley. Perfect. It was a perfect day for soup. Not a perfect day for bland soup. Not too great, but the waitress was nice and my grilled ham and cheese offset the soup.

Now it’s noon and we have a whole day ahead of us. We have one of the largest national parks to explore, Acadia, but we can’t hike, we can’t hang at the camp site, and we can’t take a nap anywhere. Sean and I were feeling a bit rough still, but all of us could have used a few minutes of shut eye. It had been stressful waking up to water and rain. But, we trudged back to Mike’s car and decided to hit the sites.

I’ve been teased by a lot of things in my day. We all have great potential things that lead to nothing. Our day turned into a tease. We paid the $20 for entry into Acadia. We saw the entry for the Precipice Trail. Sean had heard of this from a friend as a must do. We got out. We looked up and couldn’t see much other than some trees, some big rocks, and some fog. No go for now.

We then headed to Sand Beach. This was a little better because we were at sea level. This beach runs about a mile wide and is flanked by pines and large boulders. The wave sound was soothing to us. I took some pictures of the sides of the beach/water and wondered what the fog was hiding. You truly could only see maybe 50 yards ahead of you.

We then hit Thunder Hole. This is another spot on the water. The hole is a spot where the water rises, falls, and makes a loud noise as the water smashes upward into the rock. Hence, the thunder. We watched for a while. You could see the erosion that gradually took place. Around the hole were tons of rocks that the waves crashed in on. I took some more pictures of rock, water, and our friend for the day, fog.

We were all a bit angry at our circumstances. We came from hundreds of miles away to see this park. And all we get is the tease of what has to be spectacular views of water and mountain, ruined by weather and fog. The weather forecast for Sunday was clear and sunny. We talked about going back to Biddeford, its gorgeous here too, but we stayed the course. We drove through the park for a while but eventually bagged it because you couldn’t see anything. I didn’t come all this way to hang out with fog.

We headed back to town. It was time to eat again. We saw a place that had an early bird special. Frugal times call for frugal searches. We were in Maine. It was lobster time! I was pumped about that. We found a place: $12 = 1 1/8 lb. lobster, salad, potato, and veggies. Sold. We went in, wet, probably a bit smelly, and rough looking. The place was nicer than we looked. We didn’t care. It was lobster time. The hostess was in her 40’s and she didn’t seem too friendly to us in our shorts and t shirts. I still gladly handed her my rain coat to take care of.

Paul came over and greeted us. He seemed friendly enough. We were in the back corner table, upstairs. The blinds creaked behind Maureen, who was seated across from me. They were those heavy wood blinds, so we kept and eye on them. The restaurant was on the pier, but we couldn’t see anything because you guessed it, the fog. We were seated and ordered beers. I thought it would be fitting to have a beer with my lobster. There was an older couple to my right (my back was to the room) and another to our left. Our group talked and laughed about the day. We did a lot of laughing this weekend. We told some stories and we must have said one that the couple to the right did not like. They sat down and within 4 minutes got up and moved to another table. We looked at each other and wondered what was said. It didn’t seem like we said anything too offensive. “Paul, did they move because of us?” He didn’t really say yes or no. Whatever. We carried on.

“The special please.”

“The special please.”

“The special please.”

“I’ll get the chicken.”

We looked at Sean as he ordered the chicken. We gave him a hard time as we sat in a harbor of Maine, chomping at the bit as we waited for our lobster. He doesn’t like seafood. I was psyched as Paul came back with the pregame, a bowl, a wet nap, some nut crackers, and a bib. Lobster was to be coming soon. Mike and I displayed our bibs proudly. We were definitely the annoying tourists to the other people in the place. We lived it up. They were tourists too, but worked hard not to be one.

The little guy came out proudly, fire engine red, eyes staring up at me. Some would sense compassion for him, I thought I heard him say, “Eat my claws first.” I ate claw, tail, and then claw. Each bite, dipped in the butter was sweeter and sweeter. It made the rain and the hassle and the tease all go away. I ate slow. I’m learning as I travel and eat with all different people, I am a slow eater. I always seem to be the last one done. Maybe I’m like my sister says, maybe I am slow.

We feasted. Sean’s chicken looked good but there was no way I made the wrong order. We all laughed as the water from the lobster would spray out as we broke a certain piece. Life was good. Mike is a pretty big guy, 6’4?, he could have gone for the double deuce of lobster. I could’ve to, but one was enough.

We ended dinner with Paul taking our picture (will be put on site soon), us asking him again if we drove the people away (no answer), and me asking the hostess for a phone book so I could call some hotels. It was 6:30 and the rain continued on. The group decided against the tents. They called for the rain to end by midnight, but by that point our beds would be water filled. We decided to seek alternative shelter.

I got the numbers and we headed back to home base, the Opera House. I have a streak for this trip and I did not want to break it. It’s been 4 ½ months, but I’ve never paid for a hotel or slept in my car. I did not want to break it because of this. I got online and looked for a hostel in town. After a lot of searching it looked like there was only one. I got the number. I asked the guys working if they knew of any. They mentioned the same one I had.

We had some desert, they make great deserts every day there (éclairs, cinnamon rolls, cookies, etc…), and Sean had a coffee. It was time to venture back to the camp site, asses the damage, and figure out a way to pack it up without drenching everything in our cars. It was still raining. We got in the car and I got on the horn.

Day’s Inn – $169

local motel – $149

Best Western – $159

They had everyone where they wanted them. It was raining and not stopping. If you didn’t want to camp, you had to pay the piper. We/I did not want that. The Opera House said to ask for Ron at the hostel. I dialed, “Hey Ron, this is Andrew Harrison, the guys at the Opera House said to call about a room…”

He sounded like a happy guy. “We’re pretty full. The guys room is booked. I could pull out a mattress and put you on the floor.”

I explained there were 4 of us and one was a female. “Perfect,” he said. “I have a private room with a queen and 2 bunks.”

I told them. Sold. “How much is it?”

“$75.”

Sweet. There were a couple of rules. We had to check in by 8:30 and had an 11 PM curfew.

We conferred for a second. “We’ll take it.”

That worked out pretty well. A dry place. A bed! I had not slept on a bed since last Saturday night. 4 nights on the boat, one night on the floor at Maureen’s, one night camping, and now a bed.

We sprang into action as we barreled the 15 miles to our camp. It rained. We got out, took out the poles, drained the water, stuffed things into garbage bags, cleaned up the place, and were at Ron’s doorstep at the Bar Harbor Hostel by 8. We were wet and tired, but we were in.

This is a long entry.

We walked in and there was Ron to greet us. He was in his 40 – 50’s. He had a long ponytail that was grey and a small headband on. We shook hands. He sat with all of us in the foyer and asked about us. He then explained the rules.

• 11 PM curfew. 10:59 is better.

• No sleeping bags – Lyme disease threat

o They provide linens

• Japanese theme, no shoes

• Wake up call at 8 AM

• Keep things super neat

• When showering, turn the fan on in the bathroom, open the window

o Make sure the shower curtain is spread all the way around

• Treat people the way you’d like to be

We were cool with all of that. We had a place! We headed back out into the rain and brought in our stuff, after taking off our shoes. The room was nice. The whole place is pretty new. They are still working on the kitchen and the backyard. If you are a traveler reading this: This is a place to stay. Come to Bar Harbor/Acadia/Maine regardless, but if you’re a hosteller, this is top notch.

So now we had a place. We settled in, met some Canadian students who were there, and headed back out into the drear for some relaxation. We were a bit frazzled at this point. But still, the 4 of us who had never hung out together, and in a stressful time, there was no arguing or bickering. We were all cool to each other and what we wanted to do.

The day of teasing continued as we could not camp, with the stars and a fire. We were confined to a room. At least it was not a hotel.

We went to a place we were told had good lobster, Rupunini’s. We weren’t eating, but we were glad to find a place with 3 bars. We went upstairs and sat in the room where the band was setting up. It was a young crowd and I ran into 4 people from Boston who I met while we stopped under an awning waiting for a deluge to subside. They were in the same boat as us, as they were camping and had to bag it because of the rain. They were in a hotel down the street.

The scene in there was mellow and cool. St. Germane played through the restaurant. My head bobbed and hands tapped. My stomach had been off during the day. The beer probably did not help, but it had been a long one. The band came on. They started with a John Scofield cover. It ran long and pure. 15 minutes of heaven. They said they were from NY and had come a long way to get here. So had we. They played and at first, there was probably only 15 – 20 people in out room. There were others in the bar area. We didn’t care as Revision sounded great. They were jazz and funk. My head stayed on the bob. We all felt happy to be where we are at and toasted to it. The band came on at 10ish. In between songs I asked one of them where they were from. They said Ithaca, which is about 90 miles from Rochester. I told him we were from Roch and he said he went high school at McQauid. He is from Rochester! Small world. Things were looking up for us.

The band played on and we settled into our new place. Pretty people were abound. We still fit in with our long sleeve t’s and scruff. As time wore on the tease continued. We had a freakin’ 11 o’clock curfew. From the sound of Ron, it was pretty firm.

We did not want to leave. WE went from very tired at 8:30 to very fire up at 10:30. Our waitress from lunch arrived at the place as well. She was a head turner. I talked with her as we left at 10:45. She remembered us. “3 guys and a girl. And soup.” I laughed and smiled as I walked out the door. Tease, tease, tease.

We ended up back at the hostel at 10:55. Ron was in the foyer waiting. We weren’t the last ones in though. Sean and I stayed down and talked with Ron. Mike tried to hit on some of the pretty girls that were staying in the hostel. As Sean and I entered our room after our thought provoking conversations with Ron, there were two girls sitting on the bed playing cards with Mike and Maureen. If you’ve read this very often, you will know this is a real account. This is not fiction or dream scenes. The three guys and three girls did not get wild and crazy. They played cards. I washed up. I was not overly friendly to the girls as they quizzed me about what I was doing and my journey. It was time for bed.

I climbed into the top bunk and called it a day. A day that was tease but one that we managed to turn into a fun, action packed one. The sun and Acadia awaited us.