Entering the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave

Monday the 12^th of October was one of the few clear days I've seen since I entered New Brunswick. Spent the morning getting my rig set to travel, then took a bike ride up past the bar that leads to Ministers Island and Van Horne's castle there. It was low tide but the place closed for the season on Sunday. Oh well, I enjoyed the brews and salad I had at the Red Herring Sunday afternoon as well. Here's a summary I wrote of the history of St Andrews:

 

The port of St Andrews was founded by a cadre of shipping magnates who escaped America in the wake of the Revolutionary War as United Empire Loyalists. In the early years their enterprise benefited from a combination of restrictive trade laws and smuggling across the St. Croix River. As trade restrictions disappeared the setting of the Maine border frustrated an attempt to become a trans-shipment centre by building a direct rail link to Montreal. As their commercial enterprises began a rapid collapse investors decided to exploit the area's potential as a summer resort for the idle rich trapped in industrial cities of New England and Montreal. If they couldn't use their railways to ship goods, they'd transport tourists instead.

 

When the CPR took over the rail lines they built the baronial Algonquin Hotel and in its wake those who could afford such luxuries built private summer homes and entrepreneurs built a wide assortment of Inns and Resorts. The president of the CPR took over an entire island for his summer castle. People came for the season and departed in the fall. With the advent of affordable motor cars a growing middle class found shorter vacations within their means. Today even a working-class stiff such as myself can afford to stay in the RV Park here. Arriving by rail is no longer an option and nothing remains of Van Horne's Private Whistle Stop beside the Bar Road to his island estate. Alas, the road in remains something of an afterthought.

 

My last day there was spent looking out at rain, fog, and scudding clouds but the sea remained majestic.

 

Wednesday Morning I left early stopping at the town's one gas station to fill-up before heading to St Stephens for the border crossing to Calais, Maine. My luck holds, I tendered my passport, supplied my vehicle license number, and related my travel plans and was sent on my way. Maine's Coastal Highway One to Acadia is great until you hit the unimproved sections; then the road becomes narrow, winding, broken, with crumbled edges. The route I took to Acadia was via backroads but I did stop in a small town called Milbridge for groceries at Shop N Save. A small-town store was well-stocked, had quality goods and an excellent selection. After, it was a short drive to Mount Desert Island. The staff being 'out to lunch' at my  first choice for camping I drove on to the park proper. Loads of tourist traps along the way. The chamber of commerce welcome centre was not welcoming, or the man who staffed it was rather dour. The park office I stopped at was apparently not the one I wanted. Finally I found the park Interpretive Centre up 52 stairs. Got the info I wanted from a helpful gal, watched the proffered 15 minute introductory movie, picked up the audiotour CD, and got my park pass. Drove down to Blackwoods Campground and decided to stay there the night, with or without an electrical hook-up. My neighbour's generator did not make for a peaceful afternoon but somehow I weathered 29 degree freezing temperatures to spend the night.

 

Thursday morning I got started bright and early to do the 27 mile Park Loop described on the Audio Tour. The views of the rockbound coastline were brilliant though the sun was blinding, but good to have nevertheless. Eventually the roadway enters the wooded interior and I stopped at Jordan Pond to savour the smell of popovers baking in the Tearoom there. I was too early to partake. The drive up Cadillac Mountain sees one gain an ear-popping 1000 ft in elevation to a height of 1532 ft above sea level. The view is indeed worth the gas it took to get there. The wind, however was cold. The gift shop was chilly but I picked up a park guide and a bottle of blueberry jam before I walked the loop trail around the summit. When people from the cruise ships in Bar Harbour began showing up in their tour buses it was time to make tracks. Drove back to find Narrows Too Campground and this time waited out their lunch date to stay the night.

 

Here's a summary of the history of Acadia:

 

Acadia National Park is unique in that it's land holdings were assembled by rich private citizens who then donated them to the government for the purpose of creating the park we have today. Rockefeller alone donated one third of the park and built miles of carriage ways and beautifully sculpted bridges along routes of his own design. The park then was a grass roots effort which has always enjoyed the enthusiastic support of its neighbours. On the other hand it also presents a confusing jigsaw puzzle of parklands and private property. The Schoodic Peninsula is 50 miles by car from Bar Harbor and the park encompasses all or part of numerous off-shore islands.

 

Aside from Cadillac Mountain, the East's highest peak Acadia's most significant feature is its peaceful shoreline habitat. Mount Desert Island and the Bar Harbor area have been home to a summering wealthy elite who have spent the season in massive summer 'cottages' since the mid eighteen hundreds. A forest fire following a dry summer swept away a way of life in 1947 burning 10,000 acres of private and public lands and destroying hundreds of homes in the process. Most were never rebuilt. However thanks to the foresight of the land trust which assembled the park it is available in a relatively undisturbed state today for all to enjoy.

 

If I were not attempting to outrun rapidly approaching winter weather I'd dearly love to hang around longer.

 

Began my day early this morning, Friday, October 16^th and set out for Salisbury Massachusetts 250 miles distant. Highway 3 was subject to powerline tree trimming for 17 miles but I-95 was brisk going. I detest toll highways and had only 3 of the four quarters I needed to pay the toll, the gal accepted them as payment. After gas, cash, and tourist information at a rest stop set out along small town byways for Salisbury Beach. When the staff were out til 6 at the first campground I drove up to used their high-speed Wi-Fi to catch up online, then drove over to Salisbury Beach State Reservation where the sign read camp and see us in the morning. I found a site with 30 AMP hook-up and called it good for the night. The campground is massive and the pounding surf a palpable presence everywhere in the park. The seagulls own the beach and the campground is sparsely occupied.