Acadia Nat. Park

“See this?” I said to Jim. He turned to look at my treasure, “To me this a certifiable miracle.”

I was holding a maple leaf. The outer edges were dark rich red. The colour became more vivid towards the centre. Many of the leaf’s veins retained a burnt orange tint. And there was a second part to this miracle – there wasn’t just one; there were millions of them. And not just maple (though they are my favourite). Oak, birch, aspen, ash and more provide leaves of all of colours and shapes.

Acadia National Park is one of only two natural areas preserved by the U.S. park system on the eastern seaboard (out west there are about twenty). Yellowstone was the first National Park in the world, and it was established in 1872.

“I guess by the time they thought about parks, all the good land out east was already taken,” Jim said.

Acadia was taken also – but in a philanthropic gesture that one doesn’t see today, the Rockefellers and several of their friends got together and purchased the land for this park and just gave it to the government. This has resulted in some interesting boundaries to the park. Schooner Head is a good example. Surrounded by the park, this point of land ends with large cliffs with crashing waves down below. Cradled just to the south is a small, protected beach. A mansion – complete with an observation tower, sits in the very centre of the scene. This is someone’s summer cottage.

We were viewing this from a roadside pullover. It was built so we mortals can glimpse across the bay and into the lives of the fabulously wealthy. We continued driving past Schooner Head on the park loop road. I was studying our map.

“Precipice trail – it’s printed in bold type.” I said. “That is usually a good sign.” It was to be our next hike.

The sign at the trailhead noted that it wasn’t actually a hiking trail – it was a non-technical climbing route. After the Bugaboos we could handle anything.

“You know it is steep when you couldn’t make it without using your hands,” I said to Jim as I pulled myself up another boulder. Soon the character of the trail changed. It began to follow granite ledges, using metal rungs and ladders to bring you up to the next level. Sheer drops were common.

The top of Champlain Mountain was an extensive rounded knoll. Rounded masses of granite were interspersed with stunted pine and bright red bushes. We could see from Bar Harbour to the end of the island. Huge splashes of red and gold gave colour the entire landscape.

The Rockefellers did not quit giving after they gave the land for this park. John D Rockefeller Jr. loved riding his horse drawn carriage and he also loved building roads - so he built forty-five miles of Carriage roads through the park. These roads are smooth gravel and nice and wide (about sixteen feet). They gently weave around mountainsides and by lakes shores. They cross streams, waterfalls, cliffs and roads by intricate and unique stone bridges. They are permanently and irrevocably off limits to motorized transport. They are the very best bike paths I have ever ridden on in my life.

“I feel like I am in some kind of fantasy land,” I said to Jim as we stopped our bikes at one of the bridges. This bridge had turret-like areas at each end. We leaned on its rough stone railing and admired the stream as it meandered down the hillside. A maple tree from below the bridge displayed her rich orange foliage at eye level. The road surface itself could barely be seen though the thick carpet of fallen leaves. This kind of scene just kept repeating itself.

The granite of Acadia’s mountains reach down to her coast. Great slabs of it invite people to wander along the shoreline. A short path from our campsite ends at a large rocky overlook. From there, Otter Point is just across the bay and the waves are booming off the reef at Hunters Head. We arrived just before sunset carrying our happy-hour picnic. Lobster trap buoys bobbed in the waves. A seal swam by, unconcerned. The sun slowly disappeared. It took me less than a week to fall in love with the place.

That was actually the end of this blog as planned but I want to add something that is happening now. As I type this we can hear the hum of search and rescue helicopters. Those lovely rocky shores that I described above, today took someone’s life. They either fell or were swept from the rocks at Otter Point. We watched zodiacs and tour boats slowly searching up and down that stretch of water. Wardens left their cars on the loop road, one after another, and are standing above the water – looking. Grey institutional blankets are being wrapped around family members shoulders. Darkness is coming quickly.