Maine Event

Wikipedia, FiOS, and free MP3 tour guide. All the convenience of the modern life, yet the one rare commodity called TIME is what I don't have. I went on vacation to Maine, mostly for Acadia National Park, and much as I wanted to research about it prior to the trip, by the time we got there, all I knew about the place was that it had some great places for rock-climbing. An ex-colleague told me that some years ago.

I do know now that Acardia National Park is on Mount Desert Island, usually referred to as MDI by signs around the island and nearby area. The park does not take up the entire island, but rather is made up of donated land, so there are parts of the island where people have their normal lives. We visited Mount Cadillac, the highest point on the East Coast of the U.S. Along the way there were many scenic outlooks but our caravan of 4 mini-vans had to find one that was big enough to accommodate us. The picture above of my son enjoying a nice breeze is at one such place. The mountaintops may look barren from far above but up close there is plenty of vegetation.

We next visited Jordan Pond then Sand Beach. On the way out, we passed through Bar Harbor but I didn't realize it. At first glance, Bar Harbor is just another touristy town, with artsy shops and sidewalk cafes. However, not greatly highlighted is the fact that it has a natural bridge to nearby Bar Island. At low tide, you can walk from MDI to Bar Island over a sandbar. The sandbar is so wide the photo doesn't do it justice - only one side shows water. Another view of the sandbar from shore shows it as if it did not extend all the way to the island.

The reason the sandbar at Bar Harbor is important to me is that it reminds me of the Berhala Island in Indonesia. I spent a month or two there as a refugee, after a trip as a boat person from Viet Nam. Near the northern part of the island there was a sandbar that connects the island to its neighbor, larger island of Laytung (?). As a tall kid at the age of 12, I was able to use the sandbar, with water at the highest point reaching up to my chest. I still remember the story of someone, possibly my youngest uncle on my father's side, leaving a pack of cigarette in his shirt's pocket while using the sandbar and ruining the pack in the process.