Acadia Mountain

Fall is here, and we walked home from brunch today; a ride we'd normally take a 12 minute cab or a 30 minute subway took us over an hour walk, but we didn't mind. It rained yesterday but the leaves have already shrunken back to curled, crunchy edges. You know I breathe the biggest sigh of relief when fall arrives.

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Wanted you all to see Walker's photos from our trip to Maine last year, but I honestly don't recall enough about each specific hike to share details. Instead, I am thinking of how it feels to be where we are right now: chalkboard signs on every block with cups of hot chocolate piping steam wiggles. Walking an extra half block to go by a few thin orange-leafed trees. The frustration of fitting bins of summer clothes into a tiny cab to go to a  windowless storage unit, where the lights are on a timer that buzzes like a mosquito. Trays of root vegetables: purple, yellow, orange, pink--mapled and olive oiled in the oven.

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But harkening back just a bit, these photos are from our first hike in Acadia National Park, the park that is contained in the island of Mount Desert. We had pre-bought our car's park pass (about $25/week) and kept it in our Apple Wallet for going through each time. This hike up Acadia Mountain was our first in the park for the week.

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It was a 2.5 mile loop that again, I remember as much of as these photos show.

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The hike was rated difficult and there was quite a bit of rock on the way up.

Looks like I stopped for an unusual number of photos, which likely means the ascent was fairly steep,

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and I was catching my breath, or letting my heart jump back into my body.

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Pretty soon, the top!

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All the mountains on Acadia are rocky, the rough stones of the mountain rubbed through the wind-blown pines at the top. 

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It is 6:30 here in NYC now, and dark enough already for car lights along the FDR to shine into the river. Broccoli is softening into soup on the stove. I am sharing photos of a place that holds that cool autumn feel year-round. Do you know how?

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Enter windbreakers! And the first view down a fjord.

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And then? Back down again, hands to rock to avoid slippage.

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We stopped at the nearby Beal's in Southwest Harbor,

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for the obvious main point of any restaurant in Maine.

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Wicked good lobstah stew for Alie; always a roll for Walker.

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And now it is time to blend the soup that sadly has no lobster and no butter, but still reminds of the deep exhale of autumn. Happy November, all!