Peak Bagger's Delight

The "trail" leading down from Sargent Mountain in Acadia National Park.    Peak Bagger's Delight winds its way up, down and over four summits-- Bald, Parkman, Gilmore and Sargent.  It is only a four mile hike but strenuous and for me difficult.  It took us nearly five hours to complete-- a time probably lengthened by rain and wet rocks.  It is particularly "delightful" because the four peaks are in close proximity to each other and can all be seen one from the other.  There is a great deal of hiking above treeline and lots of granite-- my favorite things.  As I lagged behind John and our friend Rick Fitzsimmons I spent some time channeling Otzi, the "Ice Man" found in the Italian Alps-- plodding along feeling weary and anxious for a bit of rest-- finding a slightly sheltered niche between the rocks and falling asleep, never to wake.  I, on the other hand, plodded along and reached a rocky summit where I could rest and carry on with renewed energy.

Here you see John and Rick at the summit of Sargent-- we had fog at times but the wind often swept it quickly away giving us the typically superb views of mountain and ocean that one gets in Acadia.  After Sargent there is a beautiful walk along the open ridge before dropping down into the woods and a very difficult trail back to the parking lot.

An uneventful trip home, a pleasant glass of wine with Liz and Rick on Kaler Road, a very satisfying alfredo with onion pizza from Belfast Variety (the Greek Salad not so great-- iceberg lettuce, too much feta), an hour with the three nannies from "Berkeley Square" and so to bed.

Catching Up by Photo- yet again

When I named this my "everyday" blog, I meant not that I would post everyday but that it would be about ordinary, daily life-- just saying!  What I find, however, is that we did a couple of extra-ordinary things in late August and September and that left a big blogless space.

Departing from routine, John and I drove on the 27th of August up to Caribou, Maine and embarked the next morning on a loop bicycle ride from Caribou to St. Agatha, to Van Buren and back to Caribou.  We were accompanied on this jaunt by Liz and Rick Fitzsimmons.  It was the first time I had ridden a bicycle with panniers and I had some trepidation about it but in the end didn't notice much difference.  We carried very little-- just one set of bike clothes, one set of apres bicyclette and one set for sleeping.  I didn't even take a book-- something that I regretted.  The weather wasn't fabulous but we escaped a heavy downpour while touring one of the catchall museums seemingly typical of the area and it was great that we were never hot.  If anyone tells you that "the County" is flat, they are wrong-- my idea that we would be passing through great swaths of potato fields was a fantasy-- even where the area was heavily agricultural, the hills were not gentle.  But as John reminded me, it takes hills and valleys to make scenic beauty and much of what we saw on the trip was quite lovely.  Our first night, at the Long Lake Motor Inn in "Sain Agatte", was especially nice.  There was a welcoming bar to reward us for riding forty miles against the wind and the hotel staff arranged to drive us up to an excellent restaurant and had the restaurant staff return us to the hotel!

Liz and Dereka:  Photo by Rick

The highlight of the next day came when noon approached with no sign of any possible place to eat--  then, like a mirage out of the potato fields, appeared the "Misty Meadows Organic Farm" in Grand Isle.  Much more than a farm, the family owned enterprise includes a superb organic restaurant where they were very gracious about providing a gluten free meal for Liz and where I had possibly the best fried fish ever.  John had the daily special, beef stew with all the ployes he could eat and there were even cats to pat.  Although we knew it to be the case before we went, we all found it surprising that people who have lived their whole lives in Maine speak French in preference to English (although totally bilingual) but I was further surprised to learn that Gloria (?) at the Long Lake Inn speaks French first but cannot neither read nor write it.  She told us that reading and writing in French was forbidden in the Maine public schools.

We rushed back in time to liberate Darby from the Canine "Country Club" and to prepare for the next day arrival of Margaret, Andrew, Andrew's dad, Ron Richter, Eliza and baby William.  It was a jolly crowd at dinner, made strangely hilarious by the news that four days after FINALLY getting a job, Margaret discovered that she was enceinte.  That makes two daughters expecting at the same time-- something that gives them both a lot to talk about and me another grandchild to adore.  Here are the three of us, back at our old favorite game of Acquire.  Eliza won as always.  Ron and Andrew went off to hike and camp while the rest of us had a nice lazy weekend.

On Tuesday the 4th of September, John and I tooted off to an AMC facility in the North Maine Woods called Little Lyford Pond Camp.  It was an annual "over 50" outing and once again we were accompanied by Liz and Rick.  The camp was lovely (but surpassed by the nearby Gorham Chairback facility that is six miles away and that we visited after our second day hike).  An old "sporting" camp, it was purchased and rehabilitated by the AMC.  It poured the first night and into the morning and I was secretly hoping for an entire day of knitting and reading but it cleared enough for us to take a four miles walk around the two ponds.

In the later afternoon John and I took the l.5 mile nature trail-- walking very leisurely and paying close attention to the interpretative signs-- a lovely interlude for the two of us.

Each of the cabins had a private outhouse!

On the second day we hiked up the Third Mountain Trail to the Appalachian Trail and Monument Cliffs-- a totally gorgeous hike of the kind I love most-- pine trees, rocky, steep and difficult climbing but much preferable to a steep dirt trail through hardwoods--

Our days have been saddened only by the loss of Robin Richenaker.  While I knew Robin myself it was mostly because she was an especially close friend to Joan Herrick.  Their camps on Pitcher Pond are adjacent and for eleven years Robin and Joan walked their dogs together.  Robin has battled depression for many years and on the 31st of August choose to end the battle by suicide.  R.I.P Robin.