31 August 2013 | Mackerel Cove, Swans Island, ME USA 44’10.14N 68’26.22W – Somesville, Mnt Desert, ME, USA 44’21.60N 68’19.64W
You’re on holiday. You get onto a public bus bound for the bottom of a mountain. Around you everyone is fully kitted up ready for a big day out. There are helmets, poles, packs, thermal tops, and big boots everywhere you look. Are you in the Alps or the Rockies about to carve some snow and grab some knarly air, nope, you’re in Arcadia national park ready for some epic hiking.
The entrance to Arcadia national park had been billed as the only Fjord in America, where eagles soared and stunning wooden boats nestled under the mountainous peaks. This was exactly what we found as we motored into the heart of the park and anchored right in the centre of this jewel of Maine.
Everything in Arcadia is setup for great hiking, the hills are covered in well marked trails, free busses take you all over the island and they even book wall to wall blue skies for you to enjoy. To make matters even better, for once in America we actually had a trail map and we giggled over the trail grading being, Easy, Moderate, Strenuous and Ladder. Ladder being exactly as described, vertical ‘walks’ up ladders! Over the course of 4 days in Arcadia we took full advantage of everything the park had to offer and found that the only thing that isn’t laid on are the replacement feet that were needed every night after big days on the hills.
Each morning we’d catch the first bus to the bottom of a range of hills and ridges and we’d then walk our little legs off as we took in peak after peak. Each mountain surpassed the last, as far below us we would either have the glistening ocean or lakes so dark they looked bottomless. As we looked west we could see all the places we have been over the past weeks and to the east we saw a coastline that will have to wait until next year to be explored.
After walking the hills each day we had the final challenge of getting back to Ruffian. We looked like seasoned pro’s as we always seemed to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere and magically, within minutes, another bus would turn up to whisk us home. If by chance a bus wasn’t present we always seemed to be lucky enough to be simply offered lifts home.
Our time in Somesville wasn’t all play, play, play, as always there were jobs to complete to keep Ruffian in tip top form, amongst these was the spectre of the holding tank raising it’s smelly head once again. Iain had had the joy of cleaning the inside of the tank in the Caribbean and now something was blocking the vent pipe. The vent pipe enables air to escape as ‘deposits’ are made and with this being blocked there was the danger that the holding tank was being turned into a pressurised ‘dirty bomb’, ready to explode at any moment.
Armed only with a rusty coat hanger and a fairy liquid bottle filled with seawater Iain intrepidly opened up the pending biological weapon and cleared the blockage. As the gas escaped he was worried that the Americans would declare war as this WMD enveloped him and Ruffian. With the holding tank all fixed and both it and Iain cleaned the only antidote to this terrible toxic gas was a dip in the freezing Maine waters.
Back on Ruffian we are still getting used to once again living the floating life and most importantly acclimatising to living in a tiny space. We’ve found that after our ‘shore break’ we seem to be able to turn Ruffian into a complete bomb site while completing the simplest of tasks. Keeping things tidy whilst cooking dinner takes a herculean effort and tools seem to be scattered far and wide, turning up in the unlikeliest of places, whenever they are rolled out. We are also taking joy from some of the things we’d taken for granted, like chatting to locals about their lives and our adventures or finding wifi in the remotest of spots.
With September and the fall nearly upon us Mount Desert marks the extent of our ‘northing’ and ‘easting’. From here we’ll turning around heading south and escaping the winter that will turn this playground into a winter wonderland. Mount Desert has been amazing, a real crowning glory and in the words of the great philosopher Arnold Swartznegger. ‘We will be back.’
A great start to the day at Swans Island.
Glassy seas as we entered the hiking haven of Mount Desert.
Even Larry peeled himself away from Ruffian to take in the park.
Our timing was perfect. Fog offshore, sun onshore.
Fiona takes in the enormous view.
Sunsets over hills on Ruffian.
Ruffian sits happily under the mountains in super flat water.
The views go on for miles and miles and miles on Mount Desert.
Another day, another mountain, another view.
The trees gave welcome shade on the way up and great handholds on the way down.
Uh oh. Fall is approaching. Best start to think about heading south.
But not before we take in yet more stunning viewpoints.
With all Larry’s time at sea he seems to have replaced his mountain legs with sea legs.
We saw heaps and heaps of wildlife, but we never got to see a moose or a bear.
Granite, mountain, view. It must be Mount Desert.
Here’s looking at you kid.
Hmmmm. Just what you need after a nice long hike. Iain was getting into American culture and Fiona simply said ‘No. No thank you. No’.