Took off on a 400 mile drive yesterday morning up Route 1 from Boston and found myself along the Maine seacoast. Kittery, Kennebunk, Freeport, Portland, August, Bangor… flashes of ocean, forest, small towns, and then to bed.
This morning, a forty mile jaunt brought me to Mount Desert Island, and suddenly all that I remembered from just a day ago seems to belong to a different time.
What was this place of mist and fog, rock and tree, leaf and water that I saw before me? And what was all of those.. things.. that I was so worried about on Wednesday?
My mind was filled with the scenes that Champlain must have seen when he mapped Mount Desert in the late 1600’s – bald mountaintops covered in deep forest, steep cliffs and granite dropping into the Atlantic spray, a quiet perch on a lonely shore, far from the sounds of cities and cars.
It was at Jordan Pond, just after you turn north from the sheer cliffs that make up Otter Point, that life slows down for a pot of tea and some quiet contemplation as one ponders the “bubbles” in the background. But a lone kayaker rowed across the still waters. Earl Grey mixes with honey as the sealgulls flew by…
It was later in the day, long after the morning ascent to the top of Mount Cadiliac, that the mist rolled in and hid the bald summit. The mist came in, like a blanket, wiping away the thoughts and worries that had been in my mind before… and added such a mystery to the mountain.
And then here, along the cliff walk just outside of Bar Harbor, someone had left a rock cairn for others to see…
It brought the perfect balance to the day….