Day one by land, Day two by sea
Despite some overcast skies, ChemGuy and I decided that if the nature cruise we'd seen advertised was sailing, we'd be on it. To our joy, the boat headed out of the harbor with about 15 people aboard. ChemGuy and I selected what we determined (via non-specific, non-stated criteria) to be the prime wildlife viewing and photographing seats. I readied the camera; ChemGuy readied the binoculars. As we traveled out of the harbor, our talkative naturalist explained some of the types of wildlife we might hope to see during our tour. We saw lots of sea birds (terns and eider ducks) and sea mammals (seals, porpoise, but no whales). Our bird list for the trip lengthened when we found osprey at home in a nest on top of a rock column; we floated by a perched bald eagle. We circled around Bear Island to view the lighthouse.
Our tour included a visit to a fishing village on Little Cranberry Island. We visited a small museum and had some free time to explore the town. ChemGuy declared that it would nice to live on an island "if you didn't have to go anywhere or do anything". The town had a very small general store, complete with a wall of mailboxes. Lobster pots with various colored buoys were piled up along the streets near the waterfront. Flowers were blooming in gardens; clothes were drying outdoors on lines. Our visit there was a trip backward in time; complete with the idyllic slow-paced, small town feel, but also the challenges (postal service, package delivery, other forms of communication) of isolation in our highly-connected world.
After the tour, ChemGuy and I wandered along Main Street and had a bite to eat. We enjoyed an elevated view of the harbor as we climbed a path up the granite cliffs through terraced gardens. It seemed there were many paths through the terraces; ChemGuy and I definitely took a "less traveled" one. We stopped to count various species of lichen. Based on color variations alone, there were dozens. Our hike up the cliff was not simply for the views or the climb. At the top of the cliff, we found beautifully maintained gardens. The azalea garden was in nearly full-bloom. Huge, bright flowers of every color imaginable covered the bushes. Hundreds of bees happily buzzed in and out of the large blooms. Thankfully, I didn't have any close calls with the insects as I documented our walk with the camera. The top of the cliff was not home to just one garden, though; ChemGuy and I also wandered around a gorgeous Asian-inspired garden. Peaceful and calm; ChemGuy and I were mostly silent through this part of the walk. Every once in awhile we would comment on a plant or part of the woodwork, but we both felt the quiet of the space and surrendered to it. We tried to take a detour through a more remote part of the area on our way back down, but felt as if we were walking and walking without a reliable destination. So we turned around and walked in a direction we *knew* would lead to the main path. The detour was worth it, though. We're pretty sure we spotted a glimpse of a pileated woodpecker in the woods. Another bird for the list.
On our drive into Northeast Harbor that morning, we'd passed a public golf course...so on the return trip to Bar Harbor, ChemGuy stopped in to ask about rates and his chances of getting out to play. He was told that if he arrived early in the morning, he'd probably have no trouble getting out with a couple of other "golf orphans". A happy, smiling ChemGuy returned to the car and said "I can play golf tomorrow morning, right?" Of course.
We were greeted by more delicious afternoon sugary-snacks at our B&B; afterwards, we decided a bit of rest was in order. We weren't sure what we wanted to eat for dinner, nor were we particularly hungry, so ChemGuy and I decided to wander around town. We discovered a local brewery that offered tours and tastings on Saturdays. (What could be better than golf and beer in Maine for ChemGuy?) We looked at a few menus for restaurants and passed by one that was proudly proclaiming super-fresh, super-local halibut with sweet corn. I love halibut. I desperately wanted halibut. I got my halibut.
Even though we weren't dressed particularly fancily, ChemGuy and I wandered into the garden in front of the restaurant and around to the side door. The building was beautiful. We felt a bit intimidated and were in the process of deciding whether or not we were too timid to wander in when the door opened. A man in a tuxedo invited us in for dinner, saying that he'd have a lovely table for the two of us in a few minutes if we wouldn't mind waiting in the bar area. We'd be welcome to have a cocktail and rest before dinner. The inside of the converted house was just as nice as the outside. We were treated like royalty by everyone inside. Our table was an adorable table for two in front of the fireplace. The wine recommended to us was spot-on and not even the most expensive in our price range. We ordered an appetizer of crab cakes to share. I ordered the halibut; ChemGuy determined that after all of the seafood he'd consumed recently he just wanted a big piece of beef. I should point out that ChemGuy rarely wants a "big piece of beef". I was mildly surprised, but selfishly realized I'd probably get a bite or two of filet with my halibut. And that sounded like a great idea.
The entire meal was one of those rare, seemingly choreographed experiences. Our glasses (water or wine) were never empty; plates and crumbs were cleared without notice. Every possible need was anticipated. After dinner, ChemGuy ordered coffee. Before our server brought it out, he said "I couldn't help but wonder, Sir, if you would prefer decaf at this hour." And out came a french press of decaf.
The food kept up with the service. My halibut and sides were delicious. Our server said the brother of one of the chefs had caught the fish that morning. ChemGuy's steak was, in his words, the best he'd ever had. I thought it was a fantastically prepared, high quality, well-seasoned selection; it probably ranked high on my list of top restaurant beef selections. Because of the entire experience, ChemGuy decided maybe we should return again the following evening. We asked our server, who graciously made reservations for us. (It was pre-peak season, so we really had no trouble doing whatever we wanted whenever we wanted.) We left feeling full, and happy, and even a bit pampered.
Our tour included a visit to a fishing village on Little Cranberry Island. We visited a small museum and had some free time to explore the town. ChemGuy declared that it would nice to live on an island "if you didn't have to go anywhere or do anything". The town had a very small general store, complete with a wall of mailboxes. Lobster pots with various colored buoys were piled up along the streets near the waterfront. Flowers were blooming in gardens; clothes were drying outdoors on lines. Our visit there was a trip backward in time; complete with the idyllic slow-paced, small town feel, but also the challenges (postal service, package delivery, other forms of communication) of isolation in our highly-connected world.
After the tour, ChemGuy and I wandered along Main Street and had a bite to eat. We enjoyed an elevated view of the harbor as we climbed a path up the granite cliffs through terraced gardens. It seemed there were many paths through the terraces; ChemGuy and I definitely took a "less traveled" one. We stopped to count various species of lichen. Based on color variations alone, there were dozens. Our hike up the cliff was not simply for the views or the climb. At the top of the cliff, we found beautifully maintained gardens. The azalea garden was in nearly full-bloom. Huge, bright flowers of every color imaginable covered the bushes. Hundreds of bees happily buzzed in and out of the large blooms. Thankfully, I didn't have any close calls with the insects as I documented our walk with the camera. The top of the cliff was not home to just one garden, though; ChemGuy and I also wandered around a gorgeous Asian-inspired garden. Peaceful and calm; ChemGuy and I were mostly silent through this part of the walk. Every once in awhile we would comment on a plant or part of the woodwork, but we both felt the quiet of the space and surrendered to it. We tried to take a detour through a more remote part of the area on our way back down, but felt as if we were walking and walking without a reliable destination. So we turned around and walked in a direction we *knew* would lead to the main path. The detour was worth it, though. We're pretty sure we spotted a glimpse of a pileated woodpecker in the woods. Another bird for the list.
On our drive into Northeast Harbor that morning, we'd passed a public golf course...so on the return trip to Bar Harbor, ChemGuy stopped in to ask about rates and his chances of getting out to play. He was told that if he arrived early in the morning, he'd probably have no trouble getting out with a couple of other "golf orphans". A happy, smiling ChemGuy returned to the car and said "I can play golf tomorrow morning, right?" Of course.
We were greeted by more delicious afternoon sugary-snacks at our B&B; afterwards, we decided a bit of rest was in order. We weren't sure what we wanted to eat for dinner, nor were we particularly hungry, so ChemGuy and I decided to wander around town. We discovered a local brewery that offered tours and tastings on Saturdays. (What could be better than golf and beer in Maine for ChemGuy?) We looked at a few menus for restaurants and passed by one that was proudly proclaiming super-fresh, super-local halibut with sweet corn. I love halibut. I desperately wanted halibut. I got my halibut.
Even though we weren't dressed particularly fancily, ChemGuy and I wandered into the garden in front of the restaurant and around to the side door. The building was beautiful. We felt a bit intimidated and were in the process of deciding whether or not we were too timid to wander in when the door opened. A man in a tuxedo invited us in for dinner, saying that he'd have a lovely table for the two of us in a few minutes if we wouldn't mind waiting in the bar area. We'd be welcome to have a cocktail and rest before dinner. The inside of the converted house was just as nice as the outside. We were treated like royalty by everyone inside. Our table was an adorable table for two in front of the fireplace. The wine recommended to us was spot-on and not even the most expensive in our price range. We ordered an appetizer of crab cakes to share. I ordered the halibut; ChemGuy determined that after all of the seafood he'd consumed recently he just wanted a big piece of beef. I should point out that ChemGuy rarely wants a "big piece of beef". I was mildly surprised, but selfishly realized I'd probably get a bite or two of filet with my halibut. And that sounded like a great idea.
The entire meal was one of those rare, seemingly choreographed experiences. Our glasses (water or wine) were never empty; plates and crumbs were cleared without notice. Every possible need was anticipated. After dinner, ChemGuy ordered coffee. Before our server brought it out, he said "I couldn't help but wonder, Sir, if you would prefer decaf at this hour." And out came a french press of decaf.
The food kept up with the service. My halibut and sides were delicious. Our server said the brother of one of the chefs had caught the fish that morning. ChemGuy's steak was, in his words, the best he'd ever had. I thought it was a fantastically prepared, high quality, well-seasoned selection; it probably ranked high on my list of top restaurant beef selections. Because of the entire experience, ChemGuy decided maybe we should return again the following evening. We asked our server, who graciously made reservations for us. (It was pre-peak season, so we really had no trouble doing whatever we wanted whenever we wanted.) We left feeling full, and happy, and even a bit pampered.