In the morning, I headed to the private beach near my cottage to give Tucker his first glimpse of the sea. As he does with most any body of water, he waded right in, regarding the small waves with first puzzlement and then delight. The seagulls bobbing further from the shore were most attractive, and if I hadn’t called him back I am sure he would have been on his way to Nova Scotia.

This beach was made up of very sharp, very slippery rocks, which were in turn covered by razory barnacles. I worried about Tuck ripping up his feet or me twisting an ankle—neither ideal ways to begin a couple of days of hiking—so I cut our time on this stretch short and headed in to Acadia National Park.

I briefly stopped at the visitors’ center to pay my $10 admission and chat up the rangers about a good hike. Some of the Acadia hikes involve iron ladders over granite cliffs, and though Tucker’s scrambling skills are improving, his lack of opposable thumbs might make those routes challenging. We settled on a nice, easy starter hike: Gorham Mountain to Sand Beach.

Tuck was so thrilled to be off leash in the wilderness that he was literally flying along the trail, racing ahead then back to check on me and then back out ahead. For every mile I did, he did at least three. The trail started with a nice granite path—which I would soon learn was a signature of Acadia’s trails.The way was marked with blue blazes and rock cairns.

Sand Beach, our destination, in the distance:

We encountered perhaps ten groups of hikers on this trail. We were the only solo woman/dog pairing, and I was asked to snap countless portraits of happy trail companions. I must have looked approachable, or interruptable. Alas, no one offered to take my picture, or my dog’s, which I find sociologically very interesting. Does one need to be traveling with another human to warrant the making of a photographic memory? Or any memory at all?

I knew the minute I stepped on this trail that I was in for a treat. The combination of blue ocean, pink granite, inky green evergreens, white birch, golden beech, late fall colors and blue sky added up to my dream hiking combination. Every sense was full to its max and I was loving it. I’ve never hiked through deciduous forest with a sea view, so my paradigm was shifting with every step.

Truly one of the most enjoyable walks of my life.

We made our way down to Sand Beach, where Tucker graduated to slightly larger waves. He’d run after and chase them as they broke, take a tumble as he was rolled in the surf and then right himself, shake off, and look around, confused and a bit crestfallen that his toy had disintegrated beneath his feet. Thank goodness there’s always the next set headed toward the shore. I truly believe he could play in the ocean all day. It’s the happiest I have ever seen him.

The ridge in the photo above is what we just hiked: Gorham Mountain.

Up next, our adventures in Acadia continue with an oceanfront evening hike.

When last I wrote of my New England adventure, I had just left Gorham, New Hampshire and was headed toward Maine. I was fascinated and impressed by a style of architecture I saw almost everywhere: farmhouses connected to various outbuildings connected to gigantic barns.

It is so wonderfully sensible, in such a cold climate, to be able to do most of your chores and tend your animals without having to go outside. I loved the looks of these frankenhomesteads and how they grew as the need arose.

I was still traveling along Route 2, and it wasn’t long past the Maine state line that I came upon an antique store housed in one of these architectural wonders.

Route 2 is lined with “antique” stores—most of them selling junk out of mouldering houses—but Steam Mill Antiques in Bethel had a wonderful upstairs room filled with old books on all sorts of subjects that interest me. I picked up a trio of Euell Gibbons’ 1960s forager/naturalist cooking classics, including Stalking the Wild Asparagus, as well as an original copy of We Took to the Woods, Louise Dickinson Rich’s autobiography of going back to the land in Maine. All books that have been parked on my Amazon wishlist for years—how nice to find them in their natural habitat!

It didn’t seem like too much longer until I was in Bangor, Maine, which I detoured to visit on my way to Bar Harbor. Bangor is a place I’ve always wanted to see, and it totally didn’t match my expectation. I suppose that’s because I’ve always envisioned it grey-skied and covered with feet of snow. On this nice fall day, it looked much like any other New England town, with a small downtown of old buildings. I didn’t see  much that caught my eye from the car, so I headed east again toward the ocean.

And there it is, my first glimpse of the sea. Right next to the landmark Trenton Bridge Lobster Pound which was, sadly, closed for the season.

The sun had set when I pulled in to Hanscom’s Motel and Cottages a few miles north of Bar Harbor. I had taken a darling freestanding cottage for the evening, with a full kitchen and nice, fast internet. Just the perfect size for a girl and her dog!

It was wonderful to pick up a few groceries and be able to cook a bit after eating out for so long. It was also nice and quiet, and I settled in to rest up for the next day, in which Tucker met the ocean for the first time in his life and we hiked Acadia National Park!