NUMBER ONE

Business travel has its advantages. I’m not talking about frequent flyer miles and Hilton rewards though. Occasionally I get sent somewhere worth visiting. Last week, I had a job in Bangor, Maine. Now Bangor is the kind of place I’d actually pay to go to, and I was traveling for free. To make things even better, flying back on Friday would cost $1250. Returning Saturday night dropped the airfare to $850. The boss graciously agreed to pay for my additional expenses if I stayed over an extra day and got the cheaper fare. Since my job ended on Thursday, that left me with nearly two full days of leisure in Maine. Now, mid-April isn’t exactly prime tourist season, but that actually worked out to my advantage, too.

I arrived in Bangor late Tuesday night. As a public service to the citizens of Bangor, I should probably point out that the correction pronunciation of the city is “Bang-gore”. Not “Banger”. Yes, thank you, we’ve all heard those jokes. I’m going to skip that section of the trip report and move right along. So anyway, I arrived late Tuesday in a snowstorm, and worked all day Wednesday and Thursday. I worked hard – after all, I wanted to go hiking Friday, and didn’t want to be inconvenienced by leftover work. How’s that for an incentive plan?

Thursday evening, I got some exercise running on a trail along the Kenduskeag Stream. The stream, which would easily qualify as a river in North Carolina, tumbles down out of the hills before emptying into the Penobscot River in downtown Bangor.

It was a bit chilly at 6pm as a vicious wind knifed through the valley, reminding me that winter wasn’t quite through with central Maine. I headed downstream from the upper-most parking area, following the creek past lazy flatwater and powerful rapids. The largest rapid is a real monster located just below the I-95 bridge. To my untrained eye, I’d guess that it is a solid class IV. I had to stop to check it out. I have enough canoeing skill to understand how to run rapids like it, but not nearly enough to actually pull it off. This particular rapid requires an approach on the far left, followed by a quick traverse against the current to the right side, where a 5’ drop waits. The final plunge is a doozy, as a monster hole waits at the bottom. I’m sure it has eaten more than it’s fair share of canoes.

There were lots of canoes and kayaks in the parking lots, but nobody was actually running the river while I was there. I was disappointed, as I would’ve enjoyed watching them run this rapid. Later, I found out there was a major canoeing event on Saturday, featuring over 500 boats. Of course, I was off hiking and missed the whole thing.

The rest of the run was very enjoyable. There is a road nearby, but otherwise I might’ve been out in the vast Maine wilderness. The illusion lasted approximately 12 minutes, when I crossed a bridge over the stream and found myself in the middle of downtown Bangor. There are many good things you can say about Bangor, and here’s one. They don’t have the nasty sprawl that inflicts so many cities these days. Like, for example, Charlotte.

I was up early the next morning for a trip to Acadia National Park. Christy and I visited Maine a few years ago, but it was a short trip and we never made it to Acadia. We had focused that trip on Baxter State Park and Mount Katahdin. Since it was only April, and the higher mountains were still snowbound, Acadia seemed like the ideal destination.

My first stop Friday morning was in downtown Bangor, at the house of Stephen King. No trip to Bangor is complete without a stop to see the home of the city’s most famous resident. The house was impressive, but not some absurd mansion you might expect from a celebrity. The best part was the front gate, which was decorated with carved bats. More interesting is the property next door that Mr. King recently bought. It’s being renovated, and the whole town is excited over what he has planned. I hope he’s building a haunted castle. How appropriate would that be?

I left Bangor for the annoying 50-mile drive to the coast. Traffic was aggravating, but hardly significant compared to what it must be in the summer. Before long, I crossed the Isthmus onto Mount Desert Island. I tuned in the park radio station, where I heard what I had most feared. The park road and visitor’s center were still closed. The park website had claimed a tentative opening date of April 15^th – the same day of my visit. However, nighttime temperatures were still below freezing, and the snow along the shoulder of the road suggested that conditions hadn’t allowed most of the park facilities to open on time. What to do?

I decided to drive to the visitor’s center anyway. I reached the parking area, where I found a few cars. This seemed somewhat promising, as there wasn’t anybody around. I parked and headed up the steps towards the main building. I reached the door, and saw a few people inside. They must be open! I walked in, and was greeted with a hearty cheer. Inside were 4 or 5 rangers and employees. They congratulated me for being the first visitor of the year. Having never won anything before, I was particularly thrilled when they presented me with a free Acadia National Park calendar for my achievement. Even better, a French couple showed up a few minutes later. How horrible would it have been if they had arrived first?

Acadia National Park is located on the Atlantic coast, but features rugged granite mountains, lakes, and spruce /fir forest in addition to the sea. If you will, imagine Stone Mountain State Park (NC), multiplied by about 20, and dropped right on Cape Hatteras. That might begin to describe Acadia National Park. So, where to go?

I talked with a ranger, and decided to hike Cadillac Mountain. Normally I would avoid a mountain like Cadillac, as there is a road to the summit. Is there anything worse that a long tough hike to the top of a mountain, only to meet a busload of tourists at the summit? I reasoned that now was the time to do it if I ever was going to. After all, the park had just opened, and it was a pretty chilly day. That should hold the tourist population down a bit.

Cadillac is the highest peak in the park, at a whopping 1500’. Save your chuckles though. For one thing, most of the trails to the summit start close to sea level. They aren’t long, either, meaning that they are steep. I would quickly find out how much a 1500’ peak can resemble a true alpine experience, especially in April.

I drove the park loop road a short distance to the Cadillac North Ridge trailhead. I started my hike around 10AM, and from the beginning the scenery was great. The ridge was mostly open, allowing views out over the harbor. I wound my way through stunted fir trees, and avoided the occasional patch of snow or ice blocking the trail.

Most of the hike was an open ascent along a rocky path. Once or twice the trail passed near the summit road, and a couple of times I heard the cars of hardy tourists as they braved the drive to the top. The biggest surprise of the hike was nearly stepping on a snake stretched out across the trail. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see a snake, considering the lingering cold. By the time I neared the summit, the wind was howling, and I found myself wearing a gore tex jacket, hat, and gloves. This was a bit of a shock, as it had been nearly 80 degrees when I left Charlotte a few days earlier.

The summit of Cadillac Mountain is a windswept bald of bare rock. I might’ve believed I was on Mount Washington as I bundled up against the chill. From the top, the views extended north, east, and south over lesser peaks, bays, harbors, islands, and the open sea. Only a wooded ridge to the east prevented a 360-degree view.

There were a few cars at the summit parking lot, but I didn’t stick around long to chat with the few tourists there. No sooner had I arrived than I was ready to head down. I found the path heading east, towards Dorr Mountain, and descended steeply. The path here was hard to follow, as it was difficult to spot the cairns in the open, rocky landscape. Finally I dropped enough to get out of the worst of the wind. A few minutes later, I found myself on a rock ledge with an unusual view. I was down in the “gorge”, a narrow notch between Cadillac Mountain and Dorr Mountain. From my vantage point, I could look down the gorge to the north to the harbor, and to the south to the sea. It was a perfect lunch spot, so I stopped for a few minutes and enjoyed the sun.

I resumed the hike, continuing the descent to the base of the notch. The gorge trail runs through here, but the ranger had advised against it because of lingering snow. He was right. I stomped through snowdrifts lingering in the dark spruce, fir, and birch forest before beginning the steep ascent of Dorr Mountain. It was actually a relief to be going up, as the steep trail down had required considerable concentration to follow the route and to prevent a fall.

A few minutes later, I reached the open summit of Dorr Mountain. Dorr is lower, but provides a nice vantage point to view Cadillac Mountain. To the east, a handful of islands broke up the expanse of the ocean.

After a brief pause, I was ready to head down. I followed the ridge north, descending steadily, and occasionally steeply. Eventually I reached a gap, and followed a connecting path past a tiny pond to the Gorge Trail. Once on the Gorge Trail, it was an easy hike along a stream out to the park loop road. From there, a short road walk completed the 6-mile loop hike.

I did a second hike that afternoon. I drove the park loop road past a pretty beaver pond, but turned off just short of the Sand Beach parking area. A short drive down a side road led to the Great Head trailhead. From the parking lot, I followed a path through the woods along the edge of a rocky peninsula. After only a few minutes, I reached a side path that led down to the waterline. After spending all morning in the park, I had finally reached the sea. There were a few tidepools here, but there was little to see except seaweed and clams.

I watched the waves for a while before hiking on. The trail led around the headland, providing sweeping views of the ocean and a handful of wooded islands. On the far side of the peninsula, I walked along the inlet that ends at Sand Beach. Beyond the beach, the sheer rock face of The Beehive looked like a little version of El Capitan in Yosemite Valley as it loomed over the valley. That was where I was heading next.

I crossed the sandy beach, which is something of a novelty in this land of rocky coastline. From there, I crossed the parking lot and up the road a short distance to The Beehive Trailhead.

I climbed up through a birch forest and reached a junction after only a few minutes. I turned right to make a direct assault on The Beehive. From my perspective, the mountain appeared vertical. How would the trail get up there?

I found out all too soon. Many years ago, iron rungs were hammered into the granite. Without them, the hike would be an exciting rock climb. Even with them, it was an adventure. At times I was clinging to a ladder high on a cliff. At other points, I traversed a narrow ledge, clinging to the rocks. The Beehive may be only 700’ high, but that’s more than enough to do some serious damage to the human body in the event of a fall.

I was beginning to have second thoughts, but the idea of going back down was more frightening. At one point I passed two people, tentatively working their way down. Seeing them was almost a shock, as I’d seen only one other hiker on Cadillac Mountain.

A few minutes later I climbed the final rocks to the summit. From the top I had a fine view of higher peaks farther inland, as well as the ocean far below. After a quick snack, I consulted the map and found that I could continue ahead and loop back down on a different trail. It looked less precarious than my approach route, so I headed that way.

It was a good choice. I descended to a junction, but continued ahead to reach a small lake known as “The Bowl”. The Bowl is a lovely alpine tarn tucked among the mountains. It almost sounds silly referring to a pond at 700’ as an alpine tarn, but from where I was on the snowy shoreline, with rocky peaks all around, it seemed appropriate. If someone had told me I was in Wyoming, I may have believed them.

I left the lake behind, descending rapidly through the woods. In no time I found myself back at the park road. From there, I followed an old road back over to the Great Head parking area. Just before reaching the car, I spotted a deer grazing in a grassy field. It was a fine ending to an unusual hike. In only a few miles, I had walked through the woods, along a rocky coast, across a Sandy Beach, up sheer cliffs, and past an alpine lake. How’s that for variety?

After my hike, I drove the rest of the park loop. I made several stops. My favorites included Otter Cliffs and Thunder Hole. At Thunder Hole, waves rush into an opening in the cliff, creating a noise that is indeed like thunder. After that, I continued to Jordan Pond, where I found a partially frozen lake nestled below more rocky peaks. From there, I drove through Bar Harbor, but decided to head back to Bangor for dinner. I had eaten at the Sea Dog restaurant and brewery the night before, and decided to return. This time though, I was having lobster!

I got up at 6AM Saturday to return to Acadia. I had to be back in Bangor by 3:30 for my flight home, and I wanted to spend as much time in the park as possible. Traffic was lighter on Saturday, and I reached the Seawall area on the southwest end of the park by 8AM. My first destination was the Ship Harbor Nature Trail. The trail is only a little over a mile long, but claims the distinction of passing through 7 different ecological zones. I couldn’t tell you what those zones are, but the path did lead through spruce / fir forest, hardwood forest, a rocky coast, and a saltwater marsh. I think there may have been a desert in there somewhere, too.

My favorite part was hiking below towering spruce and fir. This area reminded me of the Olympic Coast in Washington. I found tidepools at the shoreline, and wandered over slippery rocks exploring them.

I was back at the saltwater marsh being deafened by squawking birds when my camera died. 5 minutes earlier it had been working fine, but all of a sudden it wouldn’t focus. This was accompanied by a cryptic “zoom error” message that told me nothing. I fiddled with it for a while, without any luck. When I returned home, I was delighted to find out that the 1-year warranty had expired a couple of months earlier. I returned the camera to Fuji anyway, hoping that they will be able to repair it.

I returned to the car and took a leisurely drive around the western part of the island. Afterwards, I still had several hours to spare. I didn’t consider my options for long before deciding to do another hike.

I drove south through the center of Acadia and stopped at the Parkman Mountain trailhead. A network of trails starts here, leading towards Parkman Mountain and Sergeant Mountain. Sergeant is the second highest peak in the park, but I didn’t think I’d have time to hike there. Instead, I settled on a shorter loop connecting Parkman Mountain and Bald Peak.

The parking area held several cars, promising that the trails would be busier than they had been Friday. Not only was it the weekend, but it was a warm sunny day at the end of a harsh winter. If that didn’t get the locals outside, what would?

My hike started on one of Acadia’s old carriage roads. The carriage roads are graded gravel trails open to hiking, horseback riding, and biking. Biking in Acadia seems particularly appealing, and I’m looking forward to returning with Christy so we can try it.

After only a few minutes, the Parkman Mountain trail turned off the carriage road. I followed it up granite slopes, initially in the shade of the forest. As I climbed, the trees thinned, and soon I was scrambling up rocks towards the summit. I reached a junction in a minor gap between Parkman Mountain and Bald Peak, and decided to visit Parkman Mountain first. A few minutes later I was on the barren summit, taking in the best view of the trip. The vista encompassed rocky peaks surrounding startlingly blue lakes. To the south, the deep blue of the sea extended to the horizon, where it met the pale blue of the sky. The expanse was only broken by the occasional deep green of a fir-covered island.

I lingered for a while, until I spotted a large group of hikers below, beginning the final climb towards the summit. That was my cue to leave. I passed them heading down, and returned to the junction I had reached earlier. Instead of returning the way I came, I continued ahead, climbing again towards the top of Bald Peak.

Bald Peak is every bit as appealing as Parkman Mountain. Once again I enjoyed the view, and regretted not being able to capture the moment with my camera. It was hard to leave, but I knew Delta Airlines wouldn’t wait for me.

A steep, rocky descent ended with a gentle hike along a stream. Before long, I reached the carriage road, and returned to the car. It was still before noon, so I decided to drive to Bar Harbor for lunch.

I expected Bar Harbor to be like Gatlinburg, but it was more pleasant. I parked near the waterfront, and walked the main street, finally stopping for a lunch of fried shrimp. Afterwards, I visited the gift shop downstairs, where I found the perfect stuffed moose for Christy. After that, I still had 40 minutes before I’d have to return to Bangor. What else could I do?

I walked along the harbor away from downtown. I had noticed on the map that a sandbar runs from town through the water to Bar Island. Around low tide, the sandbar is passable, and the island can be reached on foot. As luck would have it, the tide was just beginning to come back in, and the sandbar provided an easy trail across the ocean.

I had just enough time to walk out to the wooded island and return. While on my walk, I called my Dad. We had visited Acadia when I was all of a year or two old, and I knew he’d get a kick out of where I was. While conversing, he pointed out that Bar Harbor and Bar Island had most likely been named for the sandbar I was walking on. Of course! And I thought it had been named for all of the drinking that goes on in town.

My wonderful weekend ended with a miserable flight. Getting from Bangor to Cincinnati wasn’t a problem, but from there to Charlotte was nearly a disaster. Not long after takeoff, the pilot announced that we’d be returning to Cincinnati due to a problem with the landing gear. All I could think was, “gee, if we’re going to crash-land, can’t we do it in Charlotte?” At least that way I could go to my preferred hospital, which would make my insurance company happy.

All sorts of emergency vehicles were waiting along the runway for us. Luckily they weren’t needed as we landed safely. 30-minutes later we were on another plane, and this one got me home without incident. That brought an end to another boring old business trip. I told my boss to send me back in 6-months for a follow up audit. That should be due in early October, when the fall colors are out!

Back to New England.

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