This week I’ll put a bow on my Maine musings. Jane and I made the drive to Bucksport for a two-day layover at the Bucksport Motor Inn, just off U.S. Route 1. If you’re not New England savvy, you wouldn’t know of the scores of mom-and-pop motor inns that still operate here, far more than any other region in the U.S.
Of course, we were able to park right outside the door of our whistle-clean room, accessed with an actual key attached to a plastic oblong piece that gave the room number, address and the words, “Drop in any mailbox, return postage guaranteed.” In addition to the old-fashioned furniture in the room, which we found really retro-cool, we were pleased to see a flat screen for our TV viewing moments.
Typical of the motor inns I remember from our family vacations back to my father’s Bostonian roots back in the 1950s and early ‘60s, there was no breakfast, but we took care of that next door at a New England morning tradition, Dunkin’ Donuts, which originated in the early ‘50s in Quincy, Mass. Then it was on to Acadia National Park and Bar Harbor, an hour’s drive away.
When we arrived, we were stunned by how busy the park was with full parking lots at two of the top attractions, Jordan Pond and Thunder Hole. Another attraction, Cadillac Mountain, could be seen by reservation only, 24 or more hours in advance. Fortunately, we’d seen all three on a Maine sojourn a half dozen years ago.
Perhaps the recently liberated from their pandemic house arrests caused the spike. Despite the heavy tourist volume, our visit was still well worth it, since there were many trails open for our hiking, lots of picnic tables for our food breaks and several overlooks far less crowded off the 27-mile-long Park Loop Road. The overlooks provided terrific views of the North Atlantic and surrounding islands and the blaze of autumnal colors. With its 3.5 million nature lovers annually, Acadia is in the top 10 of most visited national parks.
Later in the day, we made the short drive into Bar Harbor on Mount Desert Island. Much of the town was as we remembered it on our last visit, with several trendy shops, art galleries and restaurants and pubs. So nice were the views of Frenchman Bay off land’s end and its small islands, including one, Bar Island, which is actually part of Acadia. For three hours a day, at low tide once the waters recede, the island is accessible by foot across a connecting sand bar.
On our previous visit, we timed it perfectly, walked across the exposed ocean floor and hiked the island. This time, our timing wasn’t as good, but we were able to walk out within about a football field of Barr Island before the returning waters stopped us. I gave Lady Jane a lesson in skipping stones, with my best effort being a seven-skipper.
However, while I was occupied with my stone-skipping tutorial, I lost sight of what was going on behind us, and the water also returned on the Bar Harbor side, about 25 or so feet, so that necessitated shoes and socks off and a chilly prance through the ankle-deep water to get back on sand and eventually land.
The next day it was on to a town that Lady Jane noted watching the Weather Channel, Millinocket, in the middle of the North Maine woods. Outside of town, Baxter State Park can be found, and I will tell you that, of all my fall travels, travels full of beautiful festive foliage both here and abroad, without a doubt, Baxter was the most beautiful I’ve ever witnessed, with a close second being Needles Highway in Custer State Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
The park, which includes Maine’s highest mountain, Katahdin, can be hiked by the very experienced outdoorsman or woman, and those who do so can claim they walked to the absolute end of the famed 2,168.1 mile Appalachian Trail.
The 200,000-plus acres was purchased and donated to Maine by 1920s Gov. Percival Proctor Baxter. While there was once a lot of chatter about making it a national park, it was Baxter’s wish that the park in perpetuity belong to the people of Maine.
After paying our $6 entry fee, Jane and I spent four glorious hours hiking the trails, much of which were split-logged, which required careful traversing to maintain balance especially through the occasional wetlands. We marveled at Katahdin’s reflection in the waters of Sandy Stream Pond and listened to the glorious sounds of silence. The overwhelming crowds at Acadia were but a distant memory in this place of such beauty and solitude.
A final overnighter in Bangor and some time with the 31-foot statue of Paul Bunyan and then some final day tripping in Kennebunkport and a final lobster roll at the Arundel Wharf Restaurant completed our Maine tour.
On the drive home to our Midwestern cribs, Jane and I talked about our fall trips over the years and came to the mutual conclusion that while there is plenty of beauty if you look for it in all four compass points, there’s just something extra special about autumn in New England.
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