Tag Archives: Maine

Friendly Chipmunks and Ghost Ships

This week was a week of hiking. Our excursions took us to the tops of mountains, to abandoned islands, and across disappearing land bridges. Much to my fiancée’s joy, we climbed to the top of three different mountains over the course of the trip. Penobscot, Dorr, and Cadillac. Alice also climbed to the top of Sargent mountain, from which my father and I turned back after our trip ended up going overtime and we had to get back for another event.

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IMG_20170712_123835529.jpgOur abandoned island was Bar Island. After getting lost following a hurried flight from a swarm of bees, we stumbled upon an old fort that may have been from the civil war. This is just one of the chimneys that remain from that old fort.IMG_20170710_180227073.jpg

The bridge to Bar Island is below sea level at high tide, so it is only open for part of the day. A warning sign says that if you end up on the island at high tide you can wait for nine hours or call a water taxi for $150. I suspect you could also take your shoes off and wade back to shore, but I never got to try it.

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It was here at Bar Island that I first saw the ghost ship.

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The reason I know that this ship is of supernatural origin is due to its unusual size and anachronistic appearance. It also moved slowly and in a straight line, as if it were floating just above the surface of the water.

The flora and fauna were a particular highlight of the trip. Chipmunks abounded, and once I fell asleep and found a seagull nearly on top of me.

 

See below a squirrel fight I recorded.

All in all, I’d say it was definitely worth the legwork.

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Bah Hahbah

As I write this entry, I am sitting in a breakfast joint, possibly the only one in Bar Harbor, Maine (as the locals call it, “Bah Hahbah”). It is 6:15 AM, and the establishment is packed. A woman in a shirt depicting welsh corgies floating through space emitting comically bastardized dog sounds (e.g. “bork bork.”). Her accent seems out of place. Mostly Eastern European, although not without a flair of upper New England. I have ordered the wild blueberry pancakes, which I am told are the best in Bar Harbor.

The waiter stops by with my food. She is from Kiev. The pancakes are thick and goopy, soaking the chunky wild blueberry sauce that came with them. Butter, served as a scoop in a plastic cup, melts and sinks into the surface of the pastries until they become saturated with the purple sauce, at which point it sits on top in a white and purple swirl.

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As a savvy reader may have guessed, food has been one of the main attractions of my trip to the harbor so far. My first experience with the area was a Japanese restaurant. We enjoyed rather standard Americanized Japanese fare in an atmosphere juxtaposing faux traditional affectations with color-shifting neon lighting. Our waters were served with what were described as “hand-twirled” drinking straws, and the tea included traditional style cups, except that they were four times the size. The water had a subtle spicy taste, and my aunts, with whom I was traveling, assured me that this was due to high heavy metal content.

IMG_20170708_135517814.jpgWhen we arrived at our rental house, supper was salad with grilled cheese in a much more literal form than one might expect. Halloumi is a cheese made from sheep’s milk that holds up under heat, and thus can be sautéed in a pan, giving it a beautiful browned appearance and a taste that lives up to what one might imagine if you fried cheese in a pan.

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Dessert was s’mores. On the theory that every dessert can be improved with judicious application of alcohol, I tried drizzling whiskey on my s’more. The first bite, I only added a drop and couldn’t taste it. The second one, I poured on half a capful, and the s’more burned my mouth and throat. Thus I have eliminated “pour straight whisky on top” from the list of ways alcohol could improve s’mores.