Acadia National Park, Maine

My son Isaac got married in Maine last week. The whole family and many friends gathered in Maine to celebrate. I decided to go a week early and camp in Acadia National Park on Mt. Desert Island. This is one of the "blue days" and I spent the day combing the beaches and exploring rocky outcrops.

It rained on and off during my visit, with the highlight being a rip roaring thunder storm the night David and Lindsay and Eva came up to camp with me. Clouds are one of my favorite things, so the rain didn't really bother me; well maybe a little bit.

 For the first few days, I explored the park by myself, and spent one beautiful afternoon here at Jordan Pond. Flowers were blooming all over the place. A beautiful walking trail led through the woods, past a stream and around the pond.

The park has 45 miles of historic carriage roads that are open for hiking, biking and horse drawn carriages. I nearly got run over there was so much activity!

On my way down to Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse, I stopped along the way and took several short hikes with views of the ocean, waterways, trees and clouds. The rocky beach here is also littered with shells, hundreds of little tiny shells everywhere.

 

 

I was so happy David, Lindsay and Eva came up to camp with me for three days. These young people are so brave! Rain was forecast for their entire visit, but that didn't stop them. David got the rain tarps organized while Lindsay prepared a delicious grilled chicken and vegies dinner, plus freshly made  couscous; all that after being on the road all day. Eva was delighted with the tent, the dirt, the trees, the rain. She is such a happy little girl!

Lindsay and David were so good about everything; the rain, the mud, you name it, they just kept smiling! It made me so happy to have them with me.

One morning we explored Sand Beach in the fog; it was eerily beautiful with wisps of fog weaving in and out of the pine trees.

Throughout the island, Rockefeller not only had the carriage roads built but also commissioned hundreds of masons to build stone bridges with arches, and tunnels. Each bridge is a work of art, completely made of hand hewn stoned cut from the island. Each stone took one man an entire day to cut; you can see why it took 25 years to complete the project.

My son David, with little Eva on his back. It wasn't all that long ago, he was on my back in a little pack that was probably not as high tech as his, but the same nonetheless. Some things never change.

 Major David James Little on his mama's back!

My beautiful kids, David and Lindsay with my granddaughter Eva. Nothing stops that little one.

After we explored the foggy beach, David found a hiking trail that took us through the trees up to an overlook of the ocean. So very pretty.

Little Eva walking down the trail!

Me, Lindsay and Eva at the top of the foggy mountain.

Not twenty minutes after standing in the fog, the trail took us out to an overlook of Sand Beach. By then the fog had somewhat lifted giving us a spectacular view of the beach and the Beehive; that bump in the middle rises to 520 feet.

Little Hunters Beach is a gorgeous rocky alcove, where the sand is completely covered in well worn rocks. Oh how my fingers itched to collect, but the big fat sign at the top of the stairs said, "Do not take the rocks off the beach." Doesn't get much clearer that that. I ended up taking one little rock but by the time I got to the top of the stairs I was ridden with guilt and had to chuck it back down the hill into the ocean.

Maine is very romantic; not in the Hawaiian islands kind of way, but in a rough, natural, challenging way. I loved it.

 Looking down into the cove of Little Hunters Beach.

 Before the kids joined me, I spent time down on the southwestern tip of the island. After visiting Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse below, I stopped at Cap'n Nemos for the best lobster chowder. The place was filled with locals drinking beer and watching the football game. I enjoyed sipping my chowder and talking with people.

The Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse; quite the sight to behold.



 Its hard to get used to seeing pine trees at the beach as opposed to palm trees.

  Part of the romance; cloudy skies, rocky harbors, sailboats drifting by, the hint of a storm coming.

 

I almost leaned over a little too far to get this picture and got quite a fright. Then I couldn't figure out how to gracefully get off the rocks I had climbed onto, without screaming like a girl. I took several deep breaths, then slowly crab crawled out of there.  

 Ponds always excite me; so much color, rhythm, balance and light.

Kings Canyon National Park, California

Last month in early June, my friend Janet and I went camping for a week up in Kings Canyon National Park. We had the most perfect, shady campsite right on the Kings River. The site was huge, private and totally awesome. That is my tent, the Big Fat Frog, my home away from home. Janet had a huge blue tent the size of 3 tents. One evening a vole crawled underneath her tent and I had to grab a broom and scoot him out of there. He stood up on his back legs and chose me off, flashing those big teeth and making all kinds of noise at me. I screamed every time I whacked him with the broom, until finally he gave up and raced off into the woods.

Here is Janet, looking so beautiful as she played her guitar.

This shot of  the Kings River was taken right below our campsite. Every night we grabbed our chairs and sat down by the river. I was reading an incredible true story about the sinking of the Indianapolis during World War II and Janet was playing Sudoku, determined to finish each difficult puzzle.

Down by the river all sorts of gnarled trees stood, half in and half out of the water, their roots grotesquely twisted around huge rocks.

One afternoon Janet led us on an adventure down the river. We walked through mountains of ashes left over from a controlled burn and I was getting discouraged. Finally we  found an open space in the trees and saw the most beautiful reflections in the still water.

Further downstream I took this picture; gorgeous green water, blue sky and tall trees.

The water was so clear you could see all the way to the bottom.

 We stayed in Sheeps Creek Campground but one afternoon, took a walk over to Sentinel campground. Even though the campground was closed, we decided to walk around and see the meadow, and even crossed the bridge, bypassing all the construction, and somehow made it over to the store where we promptly bought an ice cream. We hitched a ride back, as the bridge was officially closed and I dared not lead Janet astray again.

Early one morning we drove over to Zumwalt Meadow to take the loop hike around the meadow. I watched as these two young men dressed in very short shorts and tank tops, grabbed a bunch of food out of their truck and started over the bridge. It upset me as they left their unprotected ice chest in the back of the truck; a definite no-no. By the time we crossed the bridge over to the trail, the guys were quickly walking back. One guy had a huge jar of peanut butter and jelly, and a loaf of bread in his arms, and the other had cookies and sodas in his arms. They had no backpacks and just loaded the food into their arms. They told us they saw a bear on the trail and decided it wasn't such a good idea to hike Zumwalt Meadow after all.  We continued on and never saw the bear, maybe we should have lathered up with peanut butter instead of bug spray. 

Huge rocks left behind from an avalanche, cascade down the mountain like a waterfall.

 Wild roses were in bloom; so fragile and so very pretty.

We accidently startled a mother duck with a bunch of tiny ducklings and they all quickly swam out from the shore where they were hiding. She made sure all her ducks were in a row and safe from the likes of us. It was so sweet.

 Zumwalt Meadow, fresh and green in the early morning light.

 

One afternoon me and Janet went to Roads End where this huge rock sits overlooking the water. It is actually called the John Muir Rock and supposedly Mr. Muir used to stand on the rock and preach to people about the Sequoias and Yosemite, the places he so dearly loved. That would be me standing on the rock, building up my courage to jump in the water. 

Tall spindly pines mixed in with burnt remnants create a ghostly atmosphere.

 Roaring River, tumbling down the mountain like a bunch of kids at play.

 One morning we left very early and took the 9 1/2 mile hike up to Mist Falls. Most of the canyon was still in shadows when we started heading up the trail.

Janet in the middle of a tree, a living tree, amazing isn't it.

Lush fern line the trail up to Mist Falls.

After several miles of walking down a flat, sandy trail, the trail heads upward and comes to this bridge. We were all alone all the way up and were standing on the bridge when a group of about 30 kids came jumping and laughing and talking up the trail and soon were sprawled out all over the bridge. Nothing like peace and quiet. We let them go ahead of us and never saw them again!

The sun is just starting to break through the trees and light up the canyon. It was right after we turned this corner that Janet found the bear.

Janet was ahead of me and suddenly she turns around and quietly says, "Susan there's a bear in the trail." I didn't believe her and pushed ahead of her and found this guy walking towards us. I got out my camera to get a picture and Janet is persistently saying, "Susan, get out your bear spray." I kept trying to focus my camera, and she kept saying get your bear spray and finally I got the bear spray out and was ready for action. He kept advancing and we turned into a bunch of cowards and ran down the trail and hid in the rocks. Twice more we tried to head up the trail, but there he was peeking his huge head around the trees, looking to see if we were gone. Finally an old man came by and saw us up in the rocks. He agreed to scare the bear away, so we promptly followed him, the old man clapping, me screaming, and Janet blowing her whistle, sort of like an early 4th of July parade. Finally the bear lumbered off into the bushes obviously disgusted with our show.

The old man took our picture on this slab of granite overlooking the prettiest view in the canyon.

That pink dot is me, sitting on the rocks in front of Mist Falls. What a fabulous place!

View from the top of Mist Falls.

View through a tree of Mist Falls.

On the way back we encountered a Rattle Snake on the trail. I was in front this time and slowly stepped backwards. I said, "Janet there is a rattler on the trail." She was so upset. The bear was nothing to her, but the vole and the rattler just about did her in. We let him slither by and then proceeded down the trail.

 When we were nearly back to our car, I noticed this lichen on a rock and thought it looked just like a Native American pictograph! Good bye one and all. May your journeys be sweet, may God protect you along the way and may His presence abide with you. Adios!