A Little ME Time - Of Trinkets, Tide Pools, and Technicolor Yawns

The end of Pax Kindelis

It was a misty, moisty morning and cloudy was the weather when our final B. H. sunrise asserted itself. For some reason a foggy morning keeps the riff-raff in bed longer, so I was able to secure a good hour or two of Kindle-time out on the balcony before I heard the shuffles within and my budding apprentice photographer emerged with her mother's digital and a smug expression that indicated she'd been using it and wasn't afraid to wield it again.

Photo by the backup camera crew.

Wrapping up a rather dense-packed vacation, checking out of the Wonder View wasn't as depressing as it sometimes is. We settled accounts, made arrangements to stow the Great White Wonder for a few additional hours, then awaited the Bar Harbor shuttle for one last morning hurrah in town.

The Wonder View Inn is a pet-friendly establishment and we had the good fortune to have neighbors on both sides who had brought quiet but very affectionate dogs along with them. L and N had spent a couple of cumulative hours over the course of our trip hanging out on the balcony playing with one or the other of the "puppies" between the balcony bars, with much excitement generated on both sides. At one point an ill-adviced game of fetch on the elevated balcony resulted in L and I spending 30 minutes in the woody undergrowth below looking for an overly enthusiastically returned rubber ball. As it would happen, as we sat waiting outside the lobby for the town shuttle one of our next door neighbors also pulled up to check out. This gave the kids one final opportunity to be bathed in saliva by the large, dopily happy mound of fur in the backseat - a Goldendoodle, a golden retriever/standard poodle mix. A disturbingly cute and good natured mutt.

On every trip of note we are obligated to address the gift-buying fetish that flows down the Harris family line (a line which, not surprisingly, also retrieves the bulk of the gifts purchased). Our morning ambitions were simple and semi-capitalistic - a walk through the kitsch shops and then a final walk by the coast. The trinket acquisitions were done by seasoned verterans and there is very little of interest to report there, other than to note the Bar Harbor could do with a couple more benches strategically placed outside the myriad "Christmas in July" stores.

By the time we were ready for our ocean walk the mists of the morning had mostly burned off, leaving a few rag-tag fog banks hanging out here and there looking rather foolish. There is a well-maintained walking path that weaves its way along the promentory rich coastline for a mile or so south of Bar Harbor. It is host to numerous rose hedges and meticulously disheveled (New) English gardens as it winds its way between the rocky waterline and the high-class blue chip hotels that look down their long lawn noses at us. It is a delightful family favorite.

Cool granite textures

The kids couldn't care less about the Martha Stewart retreats on the land side of the path. They are all about the rocks and ridges and the million teeming tidepools on the water side. Every time we go Stacy, gathering all her inner peace and centeredness, has to close her eyes, commit herself to Providence, and turn the kids loose to scamper on those fatal Maine granite boulders. She will stand off to the side and whimper slightly as she watches (or shields her eyes) as they dart and weave over and through the slippery rocks and crashing waves. Like a veteran returing from an umpteenth combat mission, you can't quite tell if Stacy emerges from these experiences a little more stalwart, or a little more prone to post-traumatic stress syndrome.

The tidepools proved glorious. Many varieties of seaweed were pointed out; many conchs and whelks and periwinkles were gently abused. The highlight was a challenge from Daddy to find a crab in what appeared at first glace to be a lifeless landlocked pool. The challenge was quickly taken up and dozens of unexpected lifeforms were brought to light before the crowning achievement - the coveted crab - was uncovered. The excitement of the victory prompted crab-walks all the way back to town.

Crab hunters on the job.

Ah HA!!!

The remaining vacation hours were a blur of bustle to get home. We drove to Portland and crashed at an airport hotel in prep for an early morning flight out. We got to the airport and our plane on the morrow without serious incident. The only "hiccup" of note occurred as we were taxiing to the runway for our departure out of Portland. The man sitting next to me had seemed a little anxious. I suspect he was a little scared of flying. His tension built until just before we got to the runway. And then...

"Ummm, flight attendent. Can I have a couple of wet paper towels please?..."