A Classic Case of Bar Harbor

Having just spent 45 days in Canada, we crossed the border with a renewed love for America. American food. American grocery stores. Legit cell phone coverage. Miles instead of Kilometers. The Eastern Time Zone.  All of it.  

We had just crossed into Maine when we spotted our first wild blueberry stand and broke out our dusty, forgotten American dollars to purchase a $5 pint.  The lady at the stand snickered "That's a lot of rig to be hauling all the way over here for just one pint." 

Indeed, Lady. Indeed. 

If you've never had wild blueberries from Maine... you are missing out.  The legend and lore is true... they taste nothing like store-bought blueberries. Instead, they taste like little balls of blueberry candy. We ate them by the handful as we cruised through northern Maine and on to Bar Harbor. Delicious!

We set up camp at Mt Desert Narrows Camping Resort as the nightly food trucks cruised through the campsites and our kids ran off to make new friends. At Max's request, we bought a blueberry pie for "later" or "soon", as he says whenever he wants you to make or buy him something that he has no intention of eating.  We set the pie aside in favor of barbecue from Mainely Meats. God Bless America.  

As the sun set and the mosquitoes descended, we called our sweaty babies inside for showers and dinner, barely getting food into their bellies before they were asleep. A few episodes of Master of None later, we turned in as well.  Lights out. Windows open. 

Lying in the seaside darkness, we nodded off as the fifty-degree winds whistled through our little Jayco. 

Suddenly, our early bedtime was interrupted by our neighbor screaming something that rhymes with "DUCK!" 

Panic ensued in Site 88.  Thuds. Screaming. 

What was happening?

We shot up from our slumber and, of course, pressed our faces to the screen... wondering if we needed to call the police.  Minutes went by. More movement. More sounds. More screaming. Suddenly, the door of the 1982 Class A with a neon pink decorative stripe opened.  Two semi-clothed older folks stumbled out.  The man was wearing only boxer shorts. The woman, a t shirt with no pants. Neither had shoes.  

For what seemed like an eternity, they padded around their campsite. Examining the surrounding areas, under their camper, and around their picnic area. 

Eventually, they retreated to their rig. Moments later, they were back outside... this time with more clothes, flashlights, bug spray, and a renewed zest for their very heated argument. 

"But she doesn't know where she is!" the husband screamed. 

"Well, I'll just wait right here by the door," the wife replied. 

"The door? The door! The door means nothing to her! She's gone. This is stupid. Stupid. Stupid. THIS IS THE CLASSIC CASE OF HOW YOU LOSE A CAT!" 

Ohhhhhhh good it's just a cat and not a dog... we're going back to bed. Kidding... kidding.  

Now... this is probably a good time to tell you that these people were already a little weird. We'd tried to make friends upon their arrival and they were not having it. They had also parked their RV backward (causing us to be door-to-door) and, to level the poorly parked rig, had put their front two tires up on cinder blocks. This is just not done. 

So, even though our first instinct would have been to get out of bed and help our new neighbors find their cat... we held back when we remembered that they were unfriendly, partially clothed, and had taken on an impossible task. After all, that cat clearly wanted out of that RV... and was not coming back any time soon. Also, we are both allergic to cats. Also, the mosquitoes. These were all the ways that we assuaged our guilt as we remained in our cozy, mosquito-free bed. 

But the search kept going... and going. They spent the better part of an hour flashing their lights into trees and under cars. Their footsteps on the gravel outside began to sound more and more desperate. We couldn't take it. We had to help. We began working on a plan to explain why we'd waiting so long to come outside. Mark agreed to get up and get dressed. 

Then Screamy McScreamerton got all sorts of pissy again and grabbed his wife by the arm and made her go inside. He told her to go to bed and turned off all of the lights in the camper. If he didn't want her help, we decided that he certainly didn't want ours.  We closed our windows and discussed the great life that this cat will now lead as it wanders oyster beds and enjoys the Bar Harbor lifestyle.We discussed the man's observation that this was a "classic case" and wondered how many other cats had been lost in this manner. We told ourselves that we'd done the right thing.. but we were awake for hours listening for a "meow" in the night.  

Morning came and curiosity, though it may have killed their cat, was not going to get the best of us. Mark wandered outside, spying the neighbor, and went about his customary morning greetings. Screamy McScreamerton, though he was eager to talk about our Florida license plate, made no mention of the missing cat.  In fact, he made no mention of the cat for the rest of our stay in Bar Harbor. We decided that the cat must have been found... or at least that's what we told ourselves. 

Other than spying on Screamy McScreamerton, the rest of our week in Bar Harbor was spent 

relaxing, eating, hiking, exploring and enjoying the perfect weather.  Here are a few of the highlights... which are mostly food related :)

The Grub

Mother's Kitchen is the best sandwich shop...ever.  Boxed water, picnic tables, bumble bees buzzing about.  Perfection. 

Beech Hill Farm, part of the College of the Atlantic, is a fantastic farmers market. Look at those veggies! 

Rosalie's Pizza in Bar Harbor. Mystic Pizza vibe with Maine beers.  Love. 

Trenton Bridge Lobster Pound lets you pick your soon-to-be-doomed lobster and watch it be boiled alive. Like the neighbor's lost cat, you may feel badly about the entire process... until they serve it up 15 minutes later with some delicious butter!

Charlotte's Legendary Lobster Pound... a roadside stand complete with the best scallops ever, multiple fire pits for warming yourself against the chilly fog, a pet goat, and a wall of water guns with which to soak your brother in the nearby field. Just when you think things can't get any better, Charlotte herself comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and making sure you loved your meal. Is she Gwen Stefani? Maybe? Retro chic and red lipstick rules. 

Acadia National Park 

Wonderland Hiking Trail is short, flat and easy hiking. Cool trees, rocky beaches, and mysterious sounds emitting from the forest. Super fun! 

Thunder Hole... where waves roll in and make thunder! Boom! So cool! 

Beech Mountain Trail had us climbing up, and then down, some crazy huge rocks. People slipped. No one fell. No one whined. Amazing views. Even better work out. You can't beech that! 

Finally, people ask how we do all of our Decibels Audiology and Decibels 180 work while on the road. The answer is simple... Andy Schaps packs up our Naples life and overnights it to us via FedEx! Look at Mark carry that heavy box... he's so strong! 

Another great week in Bar Harbor, another long drive home ahead of us. Naples, here we come!