SP Road Trip: Mount Desert Island, Maine

SP loves a road trip. Pack a bag, gas up the car and tell me where to be and when we’re leaving and I will make an ideal travelling companion. I’ve been hanging around the East Coast here at summer’s end, mostly for business but as the posts have revealed, have been privy to some pretty spectacular road trips. And how appropriate that my last trip of Summer Aught Nine should take me to one of my absolute favorite places on earth: Mount Desert Island, Maine (correctly pronounced as dessert (“deh-ZERT”) even though it is spelled as desert (“DEH-zert”) and more specifically, Northeast Harbor.  I made my inaugural visit last summer at the invitation of an old friend, CEP, whose family have a summer cottage there and are old-line settlers of this rustic patch of America. That weekend was filled with the events surrounding a fancy wedding and one can imagine that we saw the gilded side of life on that trip. This year, CEP extended another invitation so we drove up from New York for a long Labor Day weekend and we took our sweet time making our way up.  First, an overnight stop in Lake Dublin, New Hampshire before hitting the road to the island. Then a stop at the mothership: L. L. Bean in Freeport, Maine. I’ve been to Mecca before, years ago when it was still in the old building, which was preferable to the new one as now Freeport is like L.L. Bean Disneyland, a big sprawling, bland-design multiplex of outlet saturation. But inside! Oh it’s still the same. I spent an hour in the hunting and fishing department alone. It felt like church, and I mean that in a good way.

To put the record straight, many parts of this special place are as exclusive and as social as they are remote and rustic. The history books refer to these people as rusticators and it is a quaint word aptly used. When one is house-guesting here, the expectation is to rise and shine and hike the nearest mountain then jump into a frigid lake. Well, that isn’t SP. Being a Southerner raised on the lake and the Gulf, I do not stick my toe into water that is not a tepid 80 degrees. But I digress. Much has been written about the life on MDI, in particular Northeast Harbor and Seal Harbor. Town & Country has profiled the place, many books are written about MDI as the summer home of the American aristocracy. Rockefellers, Peabodys, Mellons and Fords all have summered on the island for generations. Since SP was on the island for a few days, I had the opportunity to engage socially — it can be very social here — and on many an occasion had to answer the inevitable “What do you do?” question. A writer. Oh and what do you write. A blog on manners and style and recently, on my travels; I’m writing about Mount Desert Island. Then, silence. Writing about MDI is akin to a reporter sneaking into a private club. The members would not only be aghast that someone had broken their ranks, but they would retreat hastily into their little crab shells so as not to be associated in any way with publicity. But a funny thing happened on the way to the island. Once I revealed that I was writing about MDI but my perspective centered on NEH, the residents of the other towns and hamlets began to pitch me on the virtues on their own little corners of the island. Well for sheer beauty, you must not forget Pretty Marsh. And for affluence well, Seal Harbor is the home of the Rockefellers. And so on. Pride and privacy — it seems– go hand in hand. So the challenge to apply the SP mantra — that you don’t have to be rich to live the good life — is a tough one. I would never take you to a place that was private and exclusionary, so in the midst of blue blazers and private boats, I have ventured out to find where democracy lives on MDI and am happy to report that I can amend the SP mantra for this special edition of Road Trip to say, one doesn’t have to be a Rockefeller to live the good life (on MDI).

The first full day offered an invitation for a lobster bake (the locals call them picnics) on Baker’s Island. As I’ve said, SP being reared in the South is not one for cold water or rocky climes. All of which characterize this area to a tee. After a beautiful boat ride across the sound, the tender deposited us on Baker’s Island. The first thought? Oh great, a cold, rocky, damp island. How nice. BUT, just beyond the rocky shore was a verdant pasture dotted by 19th century dwellings and one of the first lighthouses built on MDI. Heaven. Then the sun began to set and the vista of Acadia National Park, especially Cadillac Mountain — was historic. The setting sun dancing before us fought for attention with the rising full moon as lobsters steamed in the pot, bringing the whole picture into clear focus and I realized what being a rusticator is really about. Sitting in, soaking up and finally dining on the simple pleasures truly defines life’s rich pageant. And how to end such a sublime experience? a raging bon fire, toasty smores and dancing around the fire pit. The boat ride home under the full moon across the bay was like sliding into a dream.

The rest of the trip was filled with hikes (SP succumbs) followed by the famous popovers at Jordan Pond House, sailing, more socializing and trips to town. All this is to say, anyone can enjoy the natural brilliance of this rustic corner of America. Acadia National Park is one of this country’s premier national parks. Bar Harbor is the big town on the island and there are many shops, hotels, bars and a very active town square and a good place to land to begin your exploration. But it is in the little hamlets and the mountains that you will find the true  heart and soul of this place.

SP Recommends:  buy a seat on a boat out of Norhteast Harbor marina and take a day trip over to Cranberry or Bakers Island. Spend the day hiking Acadia and reward yourself at the end with tea and popovers at Jordan Pond House. And whatever you do, tackle a whole lobster at any one of the lobster pounds along the highway. As any local will tell you, there is only one place to eat a lobster, and that is here in Maine. All the others are just pretenders.